girlfriends on the horizon?’ I tried to keep my tone light, tried to force the question to sound innocent.
‘What’s that supposed to mean, Mum?’
‘It’s not supposed to mean anything.’
‘So why are you asking that then?’
‘Nothing, Daniel, just asking, that’s all. It’s not a trick question.’
‘Well for your information, no.’ Daniel glared at me. ‘Not that’s it any of your business, anyway.’
I glared back at him. ‘I am your mother, Daniel, it is normal for me to ask these sorts of questions, you know. I just wondered if there was anyone, that’s all, I mean - ’
‘Give the lad a break, Andrea,’ Graham interrupted. ‘He’s too young to be worrying about that sort of thing, anyway.’
‘Or too old,’ I muttered and bit my lip.
‘Are you ready to order?’ The waiter was brusque, unsmiling, and standing too close to me at the edge of the table. I felt hemmed in.
‘Er, yes, yes we are,’ Graham said, without asking for my acquiescence.
The waiter scribbled our orders and turned away. I opened my mouth to continue the discussion, I wanted to ask about the girl – Jadie-Lee - but Daniel must have sensed what was coming and was quicker.
‘So, Dad, who do you reckon is going to win this afternoon?’
‘Hmm, not sure. Fairly academic though, to be honest. Both clubs are destined for a mid-table position, it’s that kind of clash, it won’t impact the big boys at the top.’
I zoned out as they talked about the ‘big teams’ and ‘away form’ and ‘European trophies’. I hated football, I couldn’t see the point of it. It seemed wrong, somehow; grown men heaping adulation on younger, fitter men – just boys some of those players, even if they were very rich boys - purely because they had the dubious talent of kicking a ball hard in the right direction. These grown men would buy expensive shirts for themselves and their children, shirts that bore the names of the young football-kicking boys on the back and advertising on the front. I mean they pay to be advertising boards for large companies, how stupid is that? Then soon enough they would have to discard their silly, expensive shirts because their lovely, loyal player went and changed teams. All that posturing by the players in front of the fans, all that hand clutched to heart, that badge kissing, went straight out of the window when another club waved a few more thousand pounds under their noses, and so the shirts would be in the bin, and along would come a new player to be saluted, worshipped, and another shirt bought.
The waiter returned with three steaming plates loaded with Sunday roast, and dumped them down without a word. He’s not getting a tip, I thought.
I cut into a potato. It was slightly hard, not fluffy like the ones I made. I stabbed my fork into the Yorkshire pudding and it deflated with a warm, moist sigh. I turned my head slightly and took a breath, and paused until the waiter was on his way back to the kitchen and then I called out ‘excuse me’ and signalled him back. I pointed to my glass of wine and asked for another. I didn’t add ‘please’. I could feel my headache easing with each sip. Graham smiled at me, and I noticed a fleck of mustard on his silly, wispy attempt at a moustache. I forced a smile back, still surprised at this change in Graham. He seemed to really be making an effort, I didn’t understand it.
‘I was thinking that, after lunch, er, maybe we could go for a walk along the beach, what do you reckon?’
‘Er, love to Dad, but–’ Daniel was looking down at his phone, texting while he ate. I hated this modern world, where common manners took second place to technology, I wanted to pick up his phone and smash it. I squeezed my fingers tight. ‘See, Dad, Paul’s coming down to pick me up after lunch, we’re going for a few drinks, we’re maybe thinking of going to the pictures.’
‘What are you going to see?’ I said.
‘Dunno.’ Daniel mumbled. He was still texting, and I looked across at the log fire that was merrily burning in the corner of the pub. I wondered how long it would take for his phone to melt in that fire.
Graham was looking at me, his eyebrows still raised. ‘Er, what do you think, Andrea, shall we go for a little stroll?’
‘Er, I suppose, er, yes, okay, yes, maybe we