Page 76 of Don't You Forget About Me

I open my mouth but Geoffrey continues:

‘Your mother thinks it’s a fabulous idea. She says to tell you if you accept, she’ll take you shopping. Get you some new threads,’ he prods a finger towards my pink fluffy coat, hung over the back of my chair. ‘Something more befitting a woman who’s chalked up the Big Three Oh.’

And … here it is. Geoffrey’s been sent on a mission to sort me out. What part of this plan didn’t strike Mum as utterly abysmal?

‘It could be like that bit inPretty Woman,’ I say, smiling sweetly, confident now I’ve got his number. ‘I too would be grateful to be rescued from my life as a call girl by a wealthy businessman.’

Geoffrey startles and then manages to return my smile, a twitch of the mouth. I bet he thinks it’s possible I’ll end up turning tricks.

‘And you might want to tone down your, er, anarchic funnies on the shop floor. Not everyone will get it.’

I swallow, and effortfully set aside the usual barrage of insults which Geoffrey wrapped this offer in.

‘That’s very nice of you and I’ll definitely think about it.’

‘Ah, the polite brush-off. Come on, Georgina, I may be quite a lot older than you but I’m not some dotty old relic you can condescend towards.’

Wow. I swallow hard. I don’t want a fight but Geoffrey’s not leaving me much choice. I push my Elephant’s Foot away an inch, because clearly the ‘faking it’ part of this is over.

‘What do you expect me to say? “Yes, thanks, can I start Monday and never mind The Wicker, I’ll text them my resignation right now”? I have commitments, Ihavea job.’

‘Oh for goodness’ sake, your indispensability to some grotty boozer! Yes, I am sure they’ll be scouring Yorkshire trying to find another person with opposable thumbs, capable of placing a glass on a counter top and counting coins. It’ll be like that hunt for a pop star programme. Soda Pop Idol hahaha.’

My blood was warm, and now it’s hot. How fuckingdarehe.

‘I’ve got an idea, Geoffrey. Why don’t you treat me as an intelligent adult, with some respect, I’ll do the same for you, and we’ll see how it goes?’

‘The trouble with that is, dear girl, you’re not treatingyourselfwith any respect. Thirty years of age, no qualifications, not a pot to piss in, roaring around town like a teenager, bringing unsuitable fellas home to meet your parents. You really worry your mother, you know. It’s selfish.’

‘Do I,’ I spit. ‘That’s a shame. She worries me too.’

‘Then there’s this bolshie attitude. Why won’t you listen to people who want to help you? You’re still young enough you could turn things around, but you need to look lively.’

I stand up and begin to gather my things, including the offensively cheap pink coat.

‘Geoffrey, thank you for your time, but I’m not listening to you because you’re being incredibly presumptuous and unpleasant and acting like you have the right to tell me my life is a disaster.’

‘… Isn’t it?’

‘Oh, seriously, up yours.’

Geoffrey changes colour, to a deep magenta.

I detect from the movement of eyes around us that every table in proximity has been listening in.

‘Don’t you dare walk out on me, or I promise you, you’ll regret it,’ Geoffrey hisses, with a beetling menace. Not a man used to having women defy him.

‘Who the hell do you think you are, my dad?’ I say, no longer in full control of myself.

‘Good God, no.’ Geoffrey does an exaggerated reel back. ‘I’m twice the man that useless adulterer was.’

I walk out, which I could promise Geoffrey, whatever he thinks, is preferable to anything I’d have said if I’d stayed.

So Mum knew about the affair, then. What a way to find out. And for all Geoffrey knew or cared, that could’ve just been the way I found out, too. Virulent dislike is now hatred.

25

As I power home at double the usual speed, clammy with exertion and indignance, I replay the encounter and anticipate the tsunami of familial aggravation this is going to unleash.

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