Page 11 of Great Sexpectations
Dad closes the door and peeks into the kitchen. ‘She’d have loved to have been there, she’s had a moan, but your brother was good at smoothing it over. We’re all having dinner tomorrow at Brett’s restaurant – you’ll come, right? You have to.’
‘Will I be the only singleton there?’
‘Ruby’s bringing her brother.’
I flare my nostrils. I’ve only met Ricky Reynolds once. It was at Ruby’s twenty-second birthday party and he spent an hour telling me about his recent flings with veganism and a colonic he’d had at a health retreat which meant he could now get in a twenty-six-inch waist jean.
‘Look, just go in and fill her in on the gossip.’ He puts a hand to my cheek. It’s Dad’s move. He likes to hold and study my face like he’s in disbelief that I’m his daughter. He’s a handsome older man, a kindness in his eyes and his words, that makes you think he deals in antiques or garden design. ‘I’ll pop in the office later and we can have a coffee.’
‘Go smash ’em, Roger.’
He salutes me as I edge through the door. The kitchen lights are on and I hear the whirr of the dishwasher in action. I breathe a sigh of relief to see that there is still a full bowl of Halloween condoms by the front door.
Mum’s dog, Dave, the oldest Border terrier in the world, comes to greet me first and I pick him up to act as a shield. As I enter the kitchen, Mum is in her silk, floral dressing gown, sitting at the breakfast bar sipping from a cup of coffee. There’s an effortless glamour about Mum, she looks like she should have been on one of those swish eighties soaps, likeDynasty, naturally pretty even without the make-up and the big hair. She shifts me a look.
‘You’re up early?’ I say.
‘Your father lost his balls so I had to help him find them.’
I snigger. She doesn’t play along.
‘Dad was giving me strong Federer vibes today,’ I say, trying to lighten the mood.
‘Roger Federer is far too nice. I met your dad when he had the mullet and the cheeky smile. More Pat Cash, Björn Borg.’
I go over and put an arm around her, resting my head on her shoulder, Dave licking her hand. Good boy, help me butter her up.
‘Plus, I have meetings today and a school assembly in North London, so I’ve got to be out the door early.’
This is also what Mum does. She owns a charity encouraging kids to practise safe and positive sex. She speaks in assemblies, runs workshops and uses the breadth of her experience to change people’s perceptions of the industry she worked in. It sounds worthy, but most of the time she goes into secondary schools, they discover what she did and then teens go and find her past work on YouTube.
I perch myself next to her, in silence, waiting for her to interrogate me about last night.
‘You knew, didn’t you?’ she asks me.
‘Maybe?’ I’ve known for weeks, I just didn’t know when it was going to go down.
‘JOSIE! I AM YOUR MOTHER!’
Dave jumps down, away from the shrieking, and escapes to his bed.
‘And you are awful at keeping secrets. I’ve known what every birthday present has been since I was five because you’d tell me beforehand.’
‘How much did you know?’ she asks.
‘I helped choose the ring,’ I admit hesitantly.
‘I can’t look at you right now.’
I hug her tightly so she has no choice but to hug back.
‘I’ve seen bits on social media, but was it lovely?’ she asks, getting off her stool to make me a coffee.
‘It was actually. I may have shed a tear.’
‘Oh, Josie. Little Sonny boy is getting wed. I’m waiting a bit longer, then I’m calling Nan.’
‘Nan knows, she’s on Instagram now. She’s already commented on their announcement post with five dancing lady emojis.’
