Jane Wenham-Jones - Mum in the Middle - Feel good, funny and unforgettable

As I hurried along the dark High Street, head bent against the sharp wind, clutching the bottle of cherry brandy that Malcolm had thrust at me as my share of the first prize, I thought about Ingrid and her campaign against Jinni’s project. But slashing tyres? Surely nobody would get that worked up. I shivered, hoping I’d left enough lights on to make the house feel safe.

As I came round the bend, a crowd of youngsters spilled out of the pub, laughing and jostling. ‘You are such a loser, Connor!’ one shouted with glee, pushing another boy along the pavement. The first boy, Connor presumably, responded by taking his friend’s head in an arm lock and attempting to trip him up. There was more laughter, shouts of encouragement from the group and general shoving before one of them stepped back suddenly, nearly knocking me over.

As I gasped and steadied myself against the wall, another figure appeared amongst them.

‘Oi!’ said a loud and familiar voice, ‘watch what you’re doing, can’t you!’

‘Sorry,’ mumbled the boy nearest to me, as I turned in surprise to the owner of the stentorian tones.

‘Where’ve you come from?’

‘The station,’ said my daughter. ‘Where do you think?’

‘Danni is being a total nightmare!’ Tilly spooned chocolate powder into hot milk and balanced a biscuit between her teeth. ‘I couldn’t stand her anymore.’ She stirred the contents of her mug vigorously, put the half-bitten digestive down and opened the fridge. ‘You haven’t got much in here, have you?’ She sighed at the largely empty shelves and picked up a packet of cheese. ‘Not that I can eat anyway! I’ve got to lose half a stone before the next audition comes up’

‘You’re fine,’ I said, as I always did, smiling at my beautiful, sturdy daughter, who was always going to lose half a stone but never quite did.

‘Do you know some catwalk models live on balls of tissue paper soaked in orange juice before a big show?’ Tilly got a knife out of the drawer and began slicing through cheddar.

‘Well, make sure you don’t,’ I said. ‘Didn’t you have to work this evening?’

‘I did lunchtime and I’m not on till six on Sunday so I thought I’d stay here tonight and tomorrow. That’s okay, isn’t it?’ She began to spread butter on crackers.

‘Of course, darling. This is your home too.’

Tilly nodded. ‘I’ve brought some washing …’

I smiled indulgently, just glad to have her there. ‘Get it, then.’

I walked through to the cramped little utility room at the end of the kitchen. ‘This economy cycle is quite quick. If you–’ I stopped as the doorbell rang. I raised my eyebrows at Tilly, feeling a frisson of alarm at someone calling so late.

Tilly shrugged, unconcerned. ‘I’ll go.’

I followed her through to the sitting room as she swung back the front door, letting in a gale of cold air.

Jinni’s eyes were wide and angry. ‘Did you see anything?’ she demanded, her gaze swinging from Tilly to me. We shook our heads stupidly as Jinni stepped inside and gestured back at the darkness behind her.

‘It’s all I bloody need, right now,’ she said furiously. ‘Some bastard’s just smashed my window.’

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