2

3 September

Lisa called Carol, her big sister. Lisa always called Carol if she was feeling a bit down. Lisa thought Carol would cheer her up, but that was a mistake. Carol never made Lisa feel better, but Lisa never learned! The good news was that sometimes Carol could boss Lisa out of a bad mood.

‘It’s a good thing that the kids can be on their own more/ said Carol. Carol sounded so sure of herself. Lisa was never sure of herself.

‘Is it?’ asks Lisa.

‘Yes. You’ll have more time to yourself.’

‘But I don’t want more time to myself,’ said Lisa. ‘I have too much time to myself as it is.’ Lisa liked using her time to look after her family.

‘You can do more hours at work. The extra cash will come in handy,’ said Carol.

This was true but not a comfort. No one liked to be reminded that they needed more cash, and no one liked to think that they had to work harder. Lisa worked hard enough as it was. She was a single mum. Carol didn’t understand how much work that was. Carol was a rare thing. Carol was happily married.

But Lisa did enjoy her job. She worked in a small café just up the road. It was not a posh café, more of a grotty caff. It was not the sort of place that sold millions of different types of coffee. The coffee came out of a jar and you just had to add boiling water. There were no posh sandwiches with tiny tomatoes and smelly cheeses. It was the sort of place that sold everything fried and with chips: fried egg and chips, fried bacon and chips, fried Mars bar and chips. The place was even called ‘N Chips’.

Lisa had worked at ‘N Chips’ since her divorce. Before that she’d been a stay-at-home mum. Keith did not like her going out to work. He said he was the money-maker, but that changed when he left with the Big Breasted Woman. Then he wanted Lisa to make her own money.

It was not a bad little job. The boss, Dave, was good about Lisa changing hours if she ever needed to pop into the school or take one of the kids to the dentist. Dave understood about bringing up kids alone. His mother had done it and his sister was doing it. Who’d have thought Lisa would ever be so fashionable?

Dave and his wife didn’t have kids. They were getting on a bit now. They were Lisa’s age and too old to bother. Lisa had never asked Dave if they’d ever wanted kids. It was not the sort of thing she would ask. Paula would, given the chance. Paula was at an age where nothing was private.

For example, the other day Paula had asked Lisa if Lisa had ‘sexual relations’ with her boyfriend, Mark. Lisa was very embarrassed, even though Mark had been part of their lives for a few months now. Wasn’t that the wrong way round? Paula had had ‘the talk’ at school. She’d had a good idea about the birds and the bees before she’d had the proper lesson at school. But now she’d had the lesson she felt totally grown-up. Paula saw a chance to embarrass and confuse her mum. Every kid loves to do that! After asking about her mum’s personal life she quickly asked, ‘Can I have my belly-button pierced?’

Lisa was so hot and bothered by the ‘sexual relations’ question that she said she’d think about the piercing. For ages she’d said, ‘No. No. No,’ but anything to change the subject. Later, when Lisa had time to think about it, she realized she’d been tricked.

For the record, Mark and Lisa were having sex. Thank you for your interest! Lisa was forty-two, with three kids and a divorce under her belt. She was officially not-so-young, not-so-free and not-so-single. She was also not-so-comfortable talking about her sex life with her young daughter – or her mother, come to that. She wasn’t modern enough to deal with it.

Lisa was never very modern. Even when she was young, she was old-fashioned. She was a nice girl who just wanted to settle down and have a family. She didn’t regret it. She loved her family more than anything in the world.

She’d never thought about A levels like Kerry might. She’d never wanted her tummy-button pierced like Paula did. She’d never had an ambition to play football for Manchester United like Jack did. Maybe that’s not surprising!

Her ambition had been to marry, then to live Happily Ever After, the way they do in fairy tales. Her problem was what was after ‘After’.

Lisa thought that by the time she reached the age of forty-two, her only problem would be whether to use sew-on or iron-on labels to name her kids’ school uniforms. Instead, she had to struggle with what she should call the man in her life.

‘Husband’ was so simple. But Mark was not her husband. Mark was a man who had come round to give her an estimate for converting the loft. And slowly but surely turned into… Well. What?

The term boyfriend seemed so young. Lisa thought she was too old for a boyfriend. Her daughters talked about boyfriends. She wished they didn’t! She wasn’t ready for them to grow up!

Lisa’s mother called Mark a toy-boy. Every time she said it, she nudged Lisa and winked. At moments like those Lisa had sympathy for her kids. Parents never stop showing you up! True, technically, Mark was a toy-boy, as he was five years younger than Lisa. But didn’t toy-boys date older women for their money? Mark couldn’t be in it for the money. Lisa had none. Her idea of a good investment was buying two lottery tickets.

Carol thought Lisa should call Mark her partner.

‘As often as possible,’ she said, ‘to make it clear to everyone that he’s yours. It’s a competitive world and he’s a catch.’

It sounded a bit desperate to Lisa. But even the kids agreed with Carol. Single, Lisa was a drag. They didn’t want to have to look after her in her old age. Jack had said so. The boy wasn’t known for his tact! But ‘partner’ put Lisa in mind of cowboys – ‘Howdy partner’ – or people who liked people in their own hockey team.

Lisa’s brother, John, said Lisa should call Mark her ‘dude’. This was proof that he lived on a different planet from anyone else Lisa knew.

Lisa wondered how come everyone else seemed to know how to label her relationship. Where did her voice go?

Only Mark didn’t seem to care what Lisa called him, as long as she did keep calling him, which was sweet. Men are sweet at the beginning, aren’t they, thought Lisa. But, like cream cakes in a shop window, they go off.