The Men in her Life

suddenly want something different?’ Simon asked.
    ‘New Labour, New Lover... I don’t know. I suppose it must have something to do with my father dying. About the last thing he told me was that I’d never find anyone and it’s just about the only thing I’ve got left to prove to him... I don’t know. Meeting Clare, who’s married with two children, and we’re the same age, well, you know how competitive I am...’ Simon laughed.
    ‘At least with an advert there’s not a lot of doubt about what you’re saying. You’re saying, I want a relationship, and presumably they’re saying that too...’ Holly went on trying to persuade herself.
    ‘But isn’t that half the fun?’ Simon asked, ‘I mean all that will she, won’t she stuff is quite a tum-on...’
    ‘Is it really?’ Holly thought about some of the girlfriends Simon had had over the years. Most of them had looked as if they had kept him guessing for quite a long time. ‘Trouble is,’ she said, ‘I never get that bit because generally I will. Not confident enough to run the risk of missing getting laid in case he doesn’t call again...’
    ‘Biological clock,’ said Simon.
    ‘Oh don’t start,’ Holly said, ‘why is it when you’re awoman of my age you only have three choices — mother, broody or sad? I’m not a mother, and I’m not broody, I’m just open to the idea of maybe having a sustainable relationship. That’s not sad, is it?’
    Simon held up his hands in protest.
    ‘You’re right, it’s just not me... so where the hell am I going to find this man?’ Holly demanded to know, finishing off the champagne, ‘shall we have another?’
    ‘I daren’t say no, now,’ Simon said.
    ‘Will you marry me, then?’ she asked him.
    She always asked when she was very drunk. It was so much part of the routine now, she didn’t think twice about it, but this time she noticed the briefest stricken look flash across his face. Perhaps it was a bit mean, she thought, to imply that she’d only settle for him because she’d been so bloody unlucky in love.
    ‘I’m afraid I once had a beard,’ he confessed, smiling again.
    ‘Oh well forget it then,’ she said, cheerfully.

    Mo wished that Holly would not ring her when she was drunk. Sometimes it was difficult to tell at first because Holly just sounded happy and talkative and they would chat along for a few minutes, but then she would start repeating herself, telling the story she had started off with as if for the first time and by the end she was sounding like a stuck record and usually crying a bit, and Mo would have to tell her gently to go to bed. There was an awful lot of drinking in Holly’s world, and everybody smoked, which made them drink all the more. Mo had never met a drinker who didn’t smoke. Her most vivid memory of her father was of him lighting his first bleary cigarette of the day, taking in a great draught, then coughing sour breath at her over the chequered oilcloth on the kitchen table. She hoped Holly wasn’t drinking too much. They said it ran in families. Mo had read articles about it in women’s magazines. It bothered her to see Holly recklessly ignoring all the health warnings, but she could never work out whether it was just how everyone behaved these days, or whether Holly was like that because she was unhappy underneath all her joking.
    ‘Mum? I just called to see how you were.’
    Mo looked at the dull green glow of the radio alarm beside her bed. It was after midnight. They’d always gone to bed later than most people, but as she grew older she found she needed her seven hours’ sleep each night. Next to her in the bed, Eamon shifted. She didn’t want to wake him up.
    ‘I’m in bed,’ Mo whispered.
    ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t wake you up?’
    ‘No,’ Mo answered truthfully, turning onto her side. It didn’t seem right to be talking to Holly when Eamon was there. It felt as if there were three of them in the bed.
    ‘How are you?’ Mo whispered.
    ‘Fine. Went out with Simon... I thought I’d see if you were all right...’
    ‘I’m fine...’
    ‘I meant to ring you earlier, but I’ve only just got back...’
    ‘Right,’ Mo said, ‘so are you all right?’
    ‘I’m fine.’ As the conversation went on, Holly sounded less ebullient. ‘Mum, do you think I’ll ever find the One?’ she suddenly asked.
    ‘The One?’
    ‘You know, a man with my name written on.’
    For a moment, Mo had a vision of a man walking down the street with