Page 3 of Great Sexpectations
‘Josie! I’m on video,’ Mum finally answers.
Mum’s only on video because she’s being nosey and doesn’t want to feel like she’s missing out tonight. I swerve my phone around to face me, jogging up the stairs as I do.
‘Stop moving, you look like you’re on one of those ghost-hunting shows.’
‘I’m getting away from the noise. Mum, are you dressed up?’
I find a spare bedroom and close the door behind me. On screen is my mother. She’s mainly boobs, corsetry and a strong red lip, but she obviously lied earlier on, telling me she was off to town to have a coffee with a mate because she’s had a blow-dry and a manicure too. Still, I applaud the effort and smile broadly just hoping she’s not FaceTiming me from the driveway.
‘I am. It’s for the kids who visit. No one likes the houses where people answer the doors in their dressing gowns and don’t make a fuss. What’s it like there? Is it good? Is everyone having fun?’
I was under strict instructions from Sonny not to have our parents here tonight because as much as we love them dearly, they are a distraction. Not in a terrible way, just in a way that we must babysit them because they get drunk and loud and Cossack dance without any shoes and have to be driven to A&E to get shards of a smashed shot glass removed out of their feet (Dad, Sonny’s twenty-first birthday).
‘It’s plenty fun, just very loud. Lots of Sonny’s media mates, not many people I know.’
‘That’s your problem, Josie… you never mingle. Anyone cute?’
‘I wouldn’t know, they’re all in masks and make-up. Anyway, I was told to call you, something about Dad. It wasn’t an emergency then?’ I ask as I try to look over her shoulder.
‘Oh, you know when I bought the Haribo and the lollies and you hid them so your dad wouldn’t eat them all, where did you hide them?’
‘In the cupboard with the muesli. He doesn’t go near the thing.’
‘You’re so smart, my lovely girl.’
I laugh, loving that this is the purpose of this phone call.
‘Where is Dad? Was everything OK with the witch on the garage?’
‘Oh, all good. He called in some boys from the warehouse to help. He’s just upstairs putting some touches to his hair before our curry arrives.’
Do I adore how my parents have dressed up tonight for a curry at home and to put on a show for all the kids in the neighbourhood? I do. Do I worry slightly that they will keep the costumes on for other shenanigans? Yes, I do – especially when one of them is a rental.
My eye catches something behind my mum as she stands at our front door decked out in cobwebs and LED ghost lights. ‘Mum?’
‘Yes, Josie.’
‘Is that bowl of condoms behind you?’
‘It is. Trick or Treat?’
‘Mum. One… Who exactly are you expecting at the door? And two… What is the trick?’
Mum cackles, winking at me.
No, please don’t tell me your sex tricks because I’ve had some green Halloween themed cocktail and I might be ill.
‘Well, you know what it’s like round here. We get the very cute kiddies in their witch dresses, and they’ll get my Haribo, but occasionally you get a teen on the blag with a shopping bag so he can have a contraceptive and a telling-off from me. It’s called care in the community.’
‘It’s called people in the community referring to our home as the condom house. What will the neighbours think?’
‘I don’t care. I just care about kids coming to my door asking for money, Josie. They’re awful. Anyways, it’s all on theme. They’re part of our Halloween merchandise. They glow in the dark.’
‘I know, Mum. I ordered them in. Safety first,’ I reply.
Mum cackles again. The term cackle doesn’t really define it very well. It’s not witchy in any way. Her laugh is full of joy, warmth yet significant volume. Dad has often said we could place her on the shore and she’d help boats find safe harbour.
‘You did a very good job ordering these. I knew there was a reason we put you in charge of the business. Your father and I never thought seasonally. These are cute,’ she says, holding one to the air. ‘Do they do Christmas ones?’
