come up with a million reasons why that wouldn’t be possible.
Before Patrick left, he gave strict instructions to Phoebe to ‘be good for your mother. No parties, no climbing out the window, no drugs, no shoplifting.’
She managed a ghost of a smile, and said, ‘I’ll be good. Got to keep fit for my rugby.’ Which had, to be fair, outlasted my expectations. In fact, it seemed to lift her mood no end, despite her coming in freezing and filthy. She’d been a bit more settled, less combative than usual, which fed right into my dilemma about the great unveiling of a half-brother.
I invited Mum round for the evening and tried to reel Phoebe in by asking her to make a cheesecake for her grandmother. ‘You know how she loves a bit of black cherry cheesecake. She’d be so impressed if you made one.’
Phoebe agreed, then marched in from school on the Friday and said there was a party that night and if she made the cheesecake, could she go?
I shook my head. ‘I’m sorry, love, but I can’t risk any trouble tonight. Not while Nan is here and Dad’s away.’
It didn’t take much for the storm clouds to roll in. ‘I suppose you’re going to let Victor go?’
‘It’s a bit different for him. One, I don’t mind him getting an Uber back on his own. You’re still a bit young to be in a cab by yourself. And two, I’ve never had any evidence of him taking drugs or getting totally off his face.’
‘Oh bloody saint Victor.’
I wished it would be enough to say, ‘I’d really like it if you stayed in just this once, with Nan and me and we had a quiet evening without any drama.’ Experience had taught me that Phoebe was gearing up for a fight and unless I nipped it in the bud, it would unfold in front of my mum, who wouldn’t hesitate to offer her wisdom.
‘Phoebe. No. The answer is no.’
And with that, she said, ‘Fair enough’ and started crushing the ginger biscuits and melting the butter in a pan. Which immediately had me on red alert, wanting to block every potential escape route. ‘Stop watching me like a hawk. I’m not going. You never trust me.’
‘The trouble is, love, you’ve broken my trust on quite a lot of occasions, so it takes a bit of time to grow back.’
‘You never look at the good I do.’
‘That’s not true, darling. I know you do lots of good things.’ I wanted to cut the oxygen off to this conversation. I was just too tired. I knew that I should grab the moment to reason, to talk things through, but right then, I just couldn’t be bothered to say the things I’d said a thousand times before.
Fortunately, Mum came bustling in with another random item that she was terrified I’d give to charity when she died so she was parking it in my house as a preemptive strike. ‘I found this little snow globe for Phoebe.’
I expected her to mouth ‘I’m not bloody nine’ behind Mum’s back, but she said, ‘I love snow globes’ and started dancing about shaking it.
Victor came into the kitchen and gave my mum a hug.
She put her hand up to his face. ‘Such a handsome young man. Have you got a girlfriend?’
He did that cheeky grin that reminded me so much of Ginny.
‘Mum, privacy!’ I said.
‘Oh, he doesn’t mind me asking. Expect he’s got all the girls after him.’
Victor did one of those funny little dances that teenagers did, even when you were asking whether they had any washing that needed doing. He didn’t answer, just got some milk out of the fridge and did a swaggering walk to sit down. I did love seeing these little signs of happiness in him.
Phoebe started sing-songing. ‘I know who it is…’
I raised my eyebrows at him. ‘Is it a certain someone with long blonde hair, beginning with G?’
And we all laughed and for a moment, I just enjoyed the hope, the energy, the boisterousness that came with young people.
Mum clucked about. ‘You eating enough, young man? And you, Phoebe, all this rugger Mum tells me you’re playing. Better build you up! You look far too skinny. You’ll snap in two.’
I gritted my teeth against the commenting on appearance. Sometimes I broke my own rule, but even saying, ‘Your hair looks nice’ to Phoebe meant she’d immediately respond with a negative about herself, ‘Look at this spot, though’ or moan about how her