‘Thanks, it’s good of you,’ I say patiently, wanting to throttle her, but I know she’ll never change. ‘Is Mum okay?’
Miraculously, for once my tactics work and Jess is momentarily distracted. ‘Yes, I spoke to her yesterday. She’s been having trouble with Uncle Jim though.’
‘Oh no, is he poorly again?’
‘Well, you know how his stomach is?’ I think the whole world is au fait with my Uncle Jim’s stomach. It seems to have a life all of its own. I’m surprised he doesn’t send out a Christmas letter dedicated solely to the ins and outs of his digestive system. He is about ninety-three and one of the most dapper old gentlemen you have ever met, always in a smartly pressed shirt and tie, whatever time of day you might find him, yet he is also one of the most difficult. He usually has something wrong with him, but as soon as my mum tries to help, he won’t take the medicine. He really needs to go into a nursing home, but staunchly refuses and instead lives in a block of flats for older people, where they seem to have a competition going for who can be the most awkward and cantankerous.
‘I thought Mum sent him some medicine that would build him up a bit?’ I say.
‘Yes she did, but it was rather awkward because I took the stuff round, to save Mum, and left it outside Uncle Jim’s flat, as of course I couldn’t go in. Apparently after I’d gone, one of his neighbours, Geoff – you know, the one who lives in the flat next door and is ninety-eight, the one Uncle Jim looks out for?’
‘I remember.’ How could I forget? He’s always getting into some trouble or other despite my ill, elderly uncle’s expert care.
‘He got hold of the box of sachets prescribed to build up stamina after being ill, and he ate three of them.’
‘Oh no.’ I stifle a laugh. ‘I mean that’s terrible. Was he all right?’
‘He was fine, probably better than he had been in years, but Uncle Jim was furious with him, said he’d stolen his medicine and there was a right old ruckus. Without intervention it would have truly been a case of Zimmer frames at dawn. Mum had to calm him down – apparently she was on the phone for ages!’
‘Poor Mum, as if she hasn’t already got enough to do at work.’
‘She said it’s really busy at the surgery although they’re trying to do most of the appointments online to minimise contact.’
‘It’s a worry isn’t it? I wish now that she had a job where she worked from home. It would be a lot safer,’ I say, ‘and just imagine if she’d had her way – you’d have been working on the front line too.’
‘Someone’s got to do it, although I was never cut out to be a doctor. I hated science anyway. You should have stepped up to the plate as the prodigal daughter,’ Jess replies staunchly.
‘That was never going to happen. Science was the only GCSE I had to retake and in any case she was perfectly happy with my career in law. It’s the whole teaching thing she has issues with.’
‘I guess, but you can understand it was a bit of a shock to her after putting you through years of law school. I’d have loved to have an opportunity like that.’
I sigh inwardly. This is an age-old argument. Neither Mum nor Jess get the whole career change thing. For ages they just thought I was having a momentary crisis, which they expected to resolve along with the cessation of my seizures with the epilepsy meds, with the happy result of me going back to my legal career and everything returning to normal.
As always Jess is oblivious. ‘I’ve got to go now, but before I speak to you next I want you to try the app.’
I get the sense the world could be ending and she’d still remember to check.
‘I’ll speak to you tomorrow,’ I say.
‘I’ll be asking questions,’ Jess replies and with that she’s gone.
Half-heartedly, I click on the link she’s sent, but quickly exit it again. I can’t face it – it’s simply not the right time to meet someone now. It’s typical, just when I’m finally considering making some sort of effort to at least try to regain my trust in guys. They can’t all be unreliable and shallow, influenced totally by success and looks. There must be some genuinely nice blokes out there