‘That happened when I was eighteen years old, which is an adult, so it doesn’t even really qualify. And I’m a single mother to a five-year-old. So what else have you got?’ Norah dared her.
She loved having her mother on the ropes like this. She hadn’t ever managed it before. But now they were both mothers. The playing field was levelled. Norah had seen behind the curtain. Her mother couldn’t keep telling her she didn’t know what was what when she was the one in the dark about the realities of Norah’s life.
But as her mother gasped for her next gambit, it occurred to Norah that if they kept going at it like this, her mother might have a heart attack. Norah should stop now.
‘Mum...’ she began, taking her tone down several notches.
‘You don’t know!’ her mother screamed.
Norah could see that it was too late for cool heads. Her mother was in the zone. She wasn’t coming down until she’d tired herself out.
‘Mum, let’s just calm down,’ Norah tried, knowing the futility of it.
‘You think you get it because you’ve got a child. But he’s five. It’s not complicated yet. But you wait. You wait ‘till you have to protect him from himself!’
Norah tutted. ‘When have you ever had to do that?’
‘That terrible Jennings girl!’ her mother yelled at her. ‘She preyed on you! Disgusting!’
Norah didn’t have the first clue what her mother was trying to say. She was truly off on one now. ‘What are you talking about?’ Norah asked.
‘I had to tell her to leave you alone! And I will keep doing it as many times as it takes until she leaves this family alone!’ her mother yelled.
‘What?’ Norah asked.
Her mother stopped to catch her breath. She was out of puff. ‘It doesn’t matter now.’
‘It bloody does!’ Norah said, her anger reignited. There was something to know here, and she sensed it was significant.
Her mother sat down on the sofa. ‘God, I need to sit down. I’m feeling woozy.’
Norah didn’t know if that was bullshit, but she wasn’t taking the chance. She went into the kitchen and boiled the kettle, assembling a cup of tea for her mother. She went back into the living room and handed it to the woman. She accepted it with a nod, not meeting Norah’s eyes.
Norah waited for her to take a few sips and then said, ‘Mother?’
‘Yes?’ her mother replied.
‘Are you OK?’
Her mother nodded. ‘Yes. Thanks for the tea.’
Norah smiled. ‘Good,’ she said calmly. ‘So now, with no shouting and no explosive rage, we’re going to talk about exactly what you meant just now.’
Her mother looked cornered as if she was considering how to get out of this. But Norah could wait her out. She’d been sacked, after all. She had all the time in the world.
Thirty-Five
Poppy was at the bake sale, which was being held in the school playground. It wasn’t going smoothly. Parents were manning besieged tables with panicked looks in their eyes, kids were clamouring for cookies and cakes, and freshly sugared-up ones were running around and smacking into people queuing. It had the slight air of a purge to it, if purges were catered.
Poppy was standing behind her stall with her frankly rubbish cupcakes (knocked together at six this morning), trying to serve the throng, but it wasn’t easy on her own. She had Luna by her side, but she was no help, too focused on trying to sneak items off the table into her mouth.
‘Luna! I can see you,’ Poppy warned her daughter.
Luna giggled, not that worried that she was anything other than a charming cheek monkey. ‘Mummy! It’s chocolate! I can’t help it!’
Poppy didn’t have time to be cute. ‘Luna, if you eat anything from this table, you better enjoy it because it will be the last time in your young life you ever know the taste of sugar again.’
An old guy who looked like someone’s grandpa asked for two cakes, just as Luna exclaimed. ‘Well, fuck!’
The old guy tutted.
‘Don’t tut at me, or you don’t get a cake,’ Poppy told him.
‘Fine,’ he said and walked off.
He was quickly replaced by a mum with twins. ‘Two cupcakes,’ please, she said a touch desperately.
‘Hold on a sec,’ Poppy said. She looked at her daughter. ‘Where did you hear that word?’
‘From you! When you missed a parking spot at Tesco.’
Poppy sighed. ‘OK, well, that’s on the no-no list, alright?’
‘You said it.’
‘I know, and that was wrong. So we’ll both stop, yes?’ Poppy asked, aware of the pleading that had entered her voice.
‘You want me to stop saying fuck?’ Luna checked.
