that.” Her face crinkles in humour.
“Right.” I know she’s trying to make me smile, but I’m too confused. “So…I should ask him?”
“I think you should.” She picks up the whiteboard cloth and rubs out Linus won’t come over. In its place, she writes:
“OK?” she says, when I’ve had a chance to read it.
“OK.”
“Good. Then ask him. Let’s make that your homework. Asking Linus.”
The first step is catching Mum in a good mood, when she’s not going to freak out or overreact or anything. I wait till she’s just finished watching an episode of MasterChef, then casually sit on the arm of the sofa and say,
“Mum, I’d like a phone.”
“A phone?” She sits up, her eyes wide circles, her mouth open. “A phone?”
If I’m the Queen of Overreaction, Mum is the Empress.
“Um, yes. A phone. If that’s OK.”
“Who are you going to call?” she demands.
“I just…I don’t know. People.” I know I sound scratchy, but she makes me scratchy.
“Which people?”
“People! Do you, like, need all their names?”
There’s silence, and I know what she’s thinking, because I’m thinking it too. My last phone wasn’t exactly a success. I mean, it was a nice phone. It was a Samsung. But it became like this portal. A kind of toxic portal to…all of it. It used to make me quiver with fright, just hearing the buzz of a text, let alone reading it. I don’t know what happened to it. Dad got rid of it.
But I mean, that was then.
That was them.
“Audrey…” Mum’s face is strained and I feel sorry I’ve ruined her nice evening of Master Chef and Grand Designs or whatever.
“It’ll be fine,” I reassure her.
“Do you want to call Natalie? Is that it?”
The name Natalie makes me shrink away a little. I’m not sure I’m quite ready to talk to Natalie. But nor do I want to give anything away to Mum.
“Maybe.” I shrug.
“Audrey, I don’t know…”
I know why Mum’s sensitive on this issue. I mean believe me, I’m sensitive too. (In fact, I’m oversensitive, which basically the whole world has told me.) But I’m not giving in. I feel resolved on this. I should get a phone.
“Audrey, be careful. I just…I just don’t want you to be…”
“I know.”
I can see a few grey hairs among Mum’s vivid brown highlights. Her skin looks kind of thin. I think all this has aged her. I’ve aged her.
“Dr. Sarah would tell me to get the phone,” I say, to make her feel better. “She always says I can text her, any time. She says I’ll know when I’m ready. Well, I’m ready.”
“OK.” Mum sighs. “We’ll get you a phone. I mean, it’s great that you want one, darling. It’s wonderful.” She puts a hand on mine as though she’s only just seeing the positive side. “This is progress!”
“I haven’t used it yet,” I remind her. “Don’t get too excited.” I sit properly on the sofa and shift up a bit. “What are you watching?”
As I’m moving the cushions around, I see a book, nestled in Mum’s lap. It’s entitled How to Talk to Your Teens by Dr. Terence Kirshenberger.
“Oh my God.” I pick it up. “Mum, what is this?”
Mum flushes pink and grabs it.
“Nothing. Just some reading matter.”
“You don’t need a book to talk to us!” I flip through the pages and see lots of lame-looking cartoons, then turn to the back. “Twelve ninety-five? You spent twelve ninety-five on this? What does it say? I bet it says, ‘Your teenager is a person too.’ ”
“No, it says, ‘Give me my book back.’ ” Mum grabs the book before I can stop her and sits on it. “OK, now are we watching TV?”
She’s still pink, though, and looks kind of embarrassed. Poor Mum. I can’t believe she spent £12.95 on a book full of crap cartoons.
She read it! She read the £12.95 book!
The reason I know is that on Saturday she suddenly starts talking to Frank at breakfast like she’s speaking a foreign language.
“So, Frank, I noticed you left two wet towels on the floor of your bedroom yesterday,” she begins, in weird, calm tones. “That made me feel surprised. How did it make you feel?”
“Huh?” Frank stares at her.
“I think we could find a solution to the towel issue together,” Mum continues. “I think that could be a fun challenge.”
Frank looks at me, baffled, and I shrug.
“What do you think, Frank?” persists Mum. “If you were running this house, what would you advise about towels?”
“Dunno.” Frank looks a bit unnerved. “Use kitchen towel and chuck