at a night of free drinks. I watched them together, Phoebe bossing Victor about, sorting the cuffs on his shirt, leaning up to whisper in his ear. And Victor, gentle with my daughter. Taking the mickey out of her, but in a way that built her up. I often heard him tease her, but there was always an underlying kindness with him, none of the stuff that passed for ‘banter’ that I heard her shrug off with her friends but carried a little shift of uncertainty in her voice signifying another hit to her fragile shell. Like Jasmine for me, Victor had shored up her self-esteem, lessening her need to draw attention to herself. She was still pinching tiny folds of skin on her stomach and folding over into an ‘I’m so fat’ before parties, but at least those occasions were interspersed with ‘I think I look quite good in this.’ She sometimes even badgered Victor to go for a run with her, which led to less time on her phone and, as far as I could see, a lot less agonising over who was doing what when.
Mum came in with Eileen from the post office. ‘Ooh, new dress, Jo? Very colourful. You look a picture.’
I chose to channel Jasmine’s positivity and assume that Mum was thinking of Monet’s Waterlilies rather than Edvard Munch’s The Scream, because red was well out of my comfort zone, but Phoebe had informed me that tonight of all nights I couldn’t be a shrinking violet. ‘We’ve got this, Mum. We’re going to show everyone that we are proud of who we are and we can’t do that if you’re in some woolly grey sack.’
Even if Mum had been handing me a barbed compliment, I forgave her immediately when, later on, I overheard Eileen say, ‘Strange that Jo’s Patrick fancied a black woman. I wouldn’t have thought he was the type.’
My mum seemed to double in size like a peacock spreading its tail. Phoebe had done an excellent job of picking her up on any un-PC comments over the last few months but I hadn’t appreciated that she’d actually taken any notice. ‘What type, Eileen, would he need to be for that? Look at that boy over there and tell me that his mother is any less—’ She paused, waving her mozzarella and tomato on a stick while she looked for the right words, then burst out with, ‘Any less anything than anyone, white, yellow, brown or bloody purple than anyone in this room!’
Eileen looked like she might choke on her celery. ‘I was just saying—’
‘Well, don’t just say.’
I watched them sit in huffy silence for a few moments, before Mum said, ‘Would you like a piece of pizza? If that’s not too foreign for you?’
At which point, they both started to giggle and I had a reprieve from having to go to the next town to post my mum’s parcels.
Whether everyone was here to support us or to rubberneck first-hand was immaterial. All that mattered was that we were a little warrior band, sometimes turning on each other but mainly battling forward united against the outside world.
I turned at the sound of my name. ‘Cory! You made it.’ I hadn’t seen him since the fiasco of our last meeting but he’d phoned me several times since and had now adopted the irritating habit of announcing ‘Family Liaison Services calling…’ Because it was Cory, he got away with it. Goodness knows why.
He enveloped me in a huge hug. ‘Get you in the red!’ He gestured to his girlfriend. ‘You remember Lulu?’
‘Of course! How are you?’
‘It’s so lovely to see you again. You all look so happy.’
‘We are.’ As I said those words, I realised it was true, not just a façade I presented in public.
Lulu was so much warmer than I remembered, so enthusiastic. And so right for Cory, almost as though over time she’d conquered the necessary magic formula of kindness blended with not putting up with any of his stupid nonsense.
Cory was fizzing with that energy I recognised from the days when we’d all be slumped on the sofa after work and he’d roll in later than all of us, clutching a bottle of tequila, and somehow galvanise us all into doing shots and having a karaoke sing-off.
As soon as Lulu went to hang her coat up, I raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s the story?’
He grabbed my hand. ‘I don’t want to hijack your evening.’
‘Hat time?’
‘I love her. So yes.’ He did a little