Unknown - Game Over

‘Do you think Issie’s right?’ I want to know where I stand, but I’m not sure how much more straight talking I can take.

‘Yes,’ replies my mum, without taking her eyes off the drink she’s pouring.

‘Oh.’ We both silently watch the bubbles fizz and then settle, and I wonder if I’m going to have any friends left, if I get through this at all.

‘What are we celebrating?’ I ask apprehensively.

‘It’s not quite as simple as that, is it? I mean we could raise a glass to your new engagement but that would seem rather insensitive towards Josh. Poor boy.’

I stare at my shoes. ‘If only I could turn the clock back.’

‘You can’t. Ever,’ states Mum. And as if to prove her point I notice that the only sound in the kitchen is the clock ticking. Then in a kinder voice she adds, ‘But do you know something? I’m proud of you.’

‘Proud of me?’ I can’t believe it.

‘Yes. You’ve recovered. You aren’t letting your father ruin your life.’

‘Like he did yours, you mean,’ I mutter glumly. I really don’t want to be reminded of my father right now. All too clearly, I remember the innumerable occasions when my mother moaned and grumbled about him. I received the subliminal message loud and clear: men are bastards.

Not all of them. I remind myself.

Expecting an onslaught of bitter regret and fury from my mother, I cling to the thought as though it were a shield. Not all of them.

‘He didn’t ruin mine, darling. I have a lovely life. Bob and I are very comfortable with one another.’

‘Bob?’ I’m amazed. Surely her life is dished. Why else would it be so quiet? Except of course if she likes it that way.

‘Yes, Bob.’ She smiles and doesn’t elaborate. Thank God. I’ve had enough monumental shocks and surprises in the past twenty-four hours to last me a lifetime. I’ve discovered I’m capable of loving. I’ve learnt Darren loves me and revealed that I love him too. I’ve got engaged. Again. I’ve heard Issie say fuck. I’ve seen my mother open a bottle of champagne. I could not stand knowing that she has a sex life.

‘I’m proud of you for falling irrationally and uncontrollably in love. I didn’t know if you’d ever have the grit to do it. I thought your father and I had denied you that on top of everything else.’ She pauses and then adds, ‘Well done, Cas!’ I think she’s going to slap me on the back but she hugs me. It’s a small, tight hug – not exactly the huge grasping to the huge bosom that you see in movies, but then my mother hasn’t got a huge bosom.

It’s the best hug I’ve ever received.

We pull apart and grin at one another. I think I’ve just come first in the egg and spoon race. I must have because my mother is every bit the proud parent.

‘Issie,’ I groan.

‘Don’t worry too much about Issie, she’ll come round eventually. She’s too kind not to want to see it from your point of view,’ smiles Mum. Then she adds, in a tone I’m much more used to hearing from her, ‘Not that you should dismiss what she said – it was spot on. You have a lot of bridges to mend and maybe some of them will never be repaired.’

I can’t bear to think about that.

‘Now come and tell me some more about Darren. When will I get to meet him? Don’t forget to bring that bottle of champers.’ She takes my hand and leads me to the sitting room.

Mum sits on the settee and I sit next to her. We while away the early evening with chatter about Darren and, more shockingly, Bob. I tell her the big things that make Darren wonderful and some of the small things too.

‘He raises his eyebrow and it is sooo sexy. And he kind of ruffles his hair in a boyish way.’

‘Bob does that too. Not that he has much hair. Which does, I suppose, encumber the effect.’ We laugh. ‘Maybe you and Darren would like to have tea with Bob and me on Sunday.’

I think of a compromise. ‘Or we could all go to a restaurant.’

She sees it as that and meets me. ‘Yes, that’s a good idea. We can get dressed up. Make it a bit special.’

At some point I ease down the settee and find myself half slumped, half draped across Mum. My head is on her lap and she’s playing with my hair. She runs her fingers over my scalp. I have Darren. I have Mum. I am as safe and as loved as a child.

Buuuuzzzzzzzz.

‘Wonder who that can be,’ I mutter, annoyed that my bonding time with my mother is being so rudely unglued.

Buuuuzzzzzzzz.

‘Are you expecting anyone?’ asks Mum.

‘No.’ I drag myself towards the intercom but before I open the door it opens from the outside and Issie falls through it. She’s fumbling with her keys and mobile and handbag, which she drops, scattering tissues, money and make-up everywhere. I’m thrilled to see her.

‘Put the TV on,’ screams Issie. She’s tense and still angry, which incites her to forcefully yell, ‘Now. TV6.’ Yesterday this sudden boldness would have been unusual; now the unexpected is all that seems available. I do as she says.

I hear a familiar theme tune.

‘Sex with an Ex? But the series is over.’

Issie shushes me.

‘Hello. Thank you very much and welcome,’ says Katie Hunt as she bounds on to the stage. Her tits are trembling and, to make the job of the close-up camera easier, her shirt is unbuttoned one more button than necessary. ‘Well, ladies and gentlemen, have I got a treat for you!’ She winks cheekily, the way I taught her to.

Issie hands me a gin and tonic, which I take unquestioningly. I see that she’s poured Mum a sherry.

‘Tonight we are featuring our very own “voice of our generation”, only days before her wedding. We are going to see if she’s ready to say “from this day forward”, or is it a case of “from this lay forward”. The audience erupts into loud oohs and phwas. ‘Our celeb was given the opportunity to appear on the show but has declined, so instead we’ll meet her fiancé, Joshua Dixon. A big hand, ladies and gentlemen.’

‘Josh!’

The gin and tonic slips out of my hand on to the floor. The glass smashes and the liquid spills in all directions. None of us moves to mop it up.

‘Josh – you don’t mind if I call you Josh, do you?’ Katie purrs. Josh shakes his head, always one to be taken in by a pretty face. ‘Can you tell us a little bit about yourself and your relationship with your fiancée, Jocasta Perry. Tell us why you are here tonight.’

‘Cas and I have known each other since we were children.’

Ahhhhh, chorus the audience, no doubt incited by the stage manager holding up a big sign reading ‘HOW SWEET’. We have other ones reading ‘SHAME’ and ‘CONDEMN’. The signs were Bale’s idea.

‘I love Cas. I’ve always loved her, right through school, university and when we both got jobs.’ As Josh is saying this, photos of Josh and me appear on screen. One when we are about eight and he is pushing my swing. I’m grinning, a gappy, toothless grin, and kicking my legs high. You can see my knickers. Josh looks intense and as though he’s working hard to push me higher. In fact he was trying to push me off the swing so he could have a turn. Of course he was. He was a brother to me.

‘I’ve always loved that photo,’ says Mum. I scowl at her.

There’s another one of us at university, getting our degree certificates. Josh is adjusting my gown. Then several others, where we are doing our own thing. Josh in his chambers, me at various parties or functions. The thing they have in common is that I’m always surrounded by men and holding a glass of champagne; Josh is always alone.

‘Why haven’t they shown any of you working?’ asks Mum. ‘Or any of Josh partying? He’s such a cheerful young man and he seems a loner in these.’