I gave her a disbelieving look as I took off my coat and hung it on a hook on the wall.
‘I’m not,’ she added. ‘Your dad’s a proud man and, despite my best work, he’s still very old-fashioned about a lot of things like work and money and lifting a single bloody finger to help me around the house, but I did a good job with you. If you’re sure this is the right thing to do, you’ve got my backing.’
‘Wow,’ I replied. ‘Thank you.’
Then she leaned forward in her seat, finger wagging in my direction. ‘But what I will say is, that doesn’t mean I won’t worry. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, we weren’t as comfortable as your dad’s side of the family and that’s always in the back of my mind. If you were still with Michael, I’d be less concerned. On your own without a job, that’s a lot, isn’t it?’
She wasn’t going to ask me about my job but she was going to panic about me becoming a penniless spinster. Classic mothering.
‘I’ll find another job,’ I promised, the tiny creases around her eyes deepening slightly as she formed a thin line with her lips. ‘And I really, truly, honestly couldnot be better off without Michael in my life. He’s happier without me and I will definitely be happier without him in the long run.’
I’d confirmed that last night in Bernard and Lesley’s hot tub.
‘All you want as a mother is for your kids to have an easier go of it than you did,’ she replied, wringing her hands together as she hunched over the table. ‘I know you all make fun of me for always thinking the worst but when you grow up without very much, it’s hard to imagine the best.’
The expression on her face was a familiar one, I’d seen it when Cerys told her she wanted to go to Oxford and when Manny came out. Supportive but with concerns. She knew Oxford would be hard for Cerys after going to a local comprehensive. She believed Manny should love whoever he wanted to love but she also came from a generation that believed his life would be more difficult because of it. She didn’t quite understand that they had to be true to themselves and do what felt right, even if it wasn’t the easier option. It had to be hard, acting as a human bridge between two such different generations, especially when the younger one spent most of their time rolling their eyes at you.
‘This is for the best,’ I said as Cerys and Manny made their way back from the bar with a bottle and four glasses. ‘Abbott & Howe isn’t a good place for me. I never told you this but when I was a trainee, I used to eat my packed lunch in the toilets because I was so embarrassed that I couldn’t afford Prêt every day like everyone else, and Mum, sometimes I still do it. I eat my lunch in the ladies because it’s too stressful to eat at my desk and there’s no time to leave the office. That can’t be right, can it?’
‘No,’ Cerys and Manny chorused as one as she poured the wine and he distributed the glasses.
‘I thought it would change when I qualified but it didn’t change. Now I’ve been there ten years and every time I buy a new pair of shoes or some ugly, expensive suit I would never normally wear, I think, this is the outfit that will make me feel like someone who belongs here, but it never does.’
‘If he was talking to you right now, your dad would tell you that’s all in your head,’ Mum said, picking up her wine and swirling the ruby-red liquid around the glass. ‘My little girl belongs in any room she walks into.’
‘And he might be right,’ I admitted. ‘But why keep fighting with myself when I could leave and do something else? Life doesn’t have to be the thing you choose when you’re twenty-one.’
‘Or the person you choose when you’re twenty-one.’
All eyes turned to Cerys and she quickly cleared her throat.
‘Or however old you were when you met Michael, I don’t know,’ she corrected. ‘That’s what I was talking about.’
‘I think it’s brilliant,’ Manny declared, raising his glass in a toast. ‘You’ve been fucking miserable for years, fading away in front of us. I can’t wait for you to get out of there.’
‘You didn’t think to mention it before now?’ I asked, clinking my glass against his.
‘Would you have listened to me?’
‘No.’
‘Shut up then.’
I looked at my mum, my sister and my cousin as they sipped their wine, every single one of us smiling. Until we tasted the wine.
‘Manny, what is this?’ I asked, gagging.
‘It’s cheap, Gwen, it’s cheap,’ he replied, glugging it down. ‘Some of us live in London on a teacher’s salary.’
‘I’ve drunk worse,’ added my mother, spoken like a lifelong educator.
‘I haven’t,’ Cerys said, spitting it back into the glass. ‘Gin and tonic anyone?’
Mum rubbed my back with a comforting hand and Manny filled her glass up to the brim while she wasn’t looking. ‘Your dad will come around,’ she said. ‘It might take a while but he won’t be upset with you forever.’
‘It’ll all be forgotten by tomorrow,’ I promised as I looked out the window just in time to see the snow begin to fall. ‘I can almost guarantee it.’
One bottle turned into two and two turned into we might as well do another bottle since it’s only a glass and a bit each, and by the time we set off home, we were going to be really quite late for Dorothy’s party and the snow was thick on the ground. Manny and Cerys marched on ahead, singing the dirty version of ‘Good King Wenceslas’ while Mum and I strolled along behind them, arm in arm.