"And what's more," Mum continued, "he liked liked you. No wonder Helen's nose is out of joint." you. No wonder Helen's nose is out of joint."

"That's crap!" I protested loudly.

"It's not," said Mum calmly. "It was obvious that he liked liked you. Although, then again," she continued doubtfully, "I thought he you. Although, then again," she continued doubtfully, "I thought he liked liked me too. Maybe he's just one of those men who make every women feel beautiful." me too. Maybe he's just one of those men who make every women feel beautiful."

Now I was feeling very confused indeed.

"But Mum," I tried to explain, "I'm married to James and I love him and I want to fix my marriage."

"I know that," she said. "But maybe a little fling is exactly what you need. To get your self-confidence back. And to get your feelings for James in perspective."

I stared at Mum in horror. What was she talking about? This was my mother mother, for God's sake. What on earth was she doing encouraging me to have a fling, and me a married woman? And with my younger sister's boyfriend, of all people.

"Mum!" I said. "Get a grip. You're scaring me. I mean, I'm not eighteen anymore. I no longer think that the best way to get over one man is to get under another!"

Too late, I realized what I had said. I could have bitten my tongue off.

Mum looked at me with narrowed eyes.

"I don't know where you heard a vulgar expression like that," she hissed.

"But it certainly wasn't in this house. Is that the way they talk in London?"

"Sorry, Mum," I mumbled, feeling mortified and ashamed but at least back on familiar territory.

I sat on the couch beside her feeling awful.

"Well," she said after a while in a more conciliatory tone, "we'll say no more about what you just said."

"Okay," I said, feeling relieved.

Thank God! I was just about to start packing my bags for my move back to London.117.

"Anyway," she said, "he's twenty-four."

"How do you know?" I asked her, amazed.

"Aha." She winked at me, touching her nose. "I have my sources."

"You mean you asked him," I said. I knew my mother of old.

"I might have," she said coyly, giving nothing away.

"So you see," she continued, "he's not too young for you at all."

"Mum," I wailed in anguish. "What's this all about? Anyway, I'm nearly thirty and he's only twenty-four. So he's still far too young for me."

"Nonsense," said Mum briskly. "Look at Britt Ekland, always being photographed with that fellow who's young enough to be her grandson.

Although maybe he is her grandson. And that other floozy, the one who goes around with no clothes on, what's her name?"

"Madonna?" I ventured cautiously.

"No, no, not her. You know the one. She has a tattoo on her backside."

"Oh, you mean Cher," I told her.

"Yes, that's the one," said Mum. "I mean, she must be my age if she's a day and look at the way she carries on. None of them a day over sixteen.

I suppose Ike must have been the last man she was with who was older than her."

"Ike?" I asked her, my head swimming slightly.

"Yes, Ike. Her husband," said Mum impatiently.

"No Mum, I don't think Cher was married to Ike. Cher was married to Sonny. Ike was married to Tina," I told her.

"Who's Tina?" she asked me, sounding baffled.

"Tina Turner," I gently explained.

"What's she got to do with anything?" said Mum, sounding outraged, looking at me as if I'd gone completely crazy.

"Nothing at all," I tried to explain, feeling that I was fast losing any grip on this conversation. "It's just that you said that Cher and Ike...Oh, never mind, never mind. Just forget it."

Mum sulkily muttered to herself that she didn't have to forget anything.

That I was the one who had brought Tina Turner into the conversation.118.

"Stop being angry, Mum," I told her in a placatory fashion. "I get your point. I see what you're saying. Adam isn't too young for me."

I glanced nervously at the door as soon as I had said this. I half expected Helen to come bursting through and shout, "I knew you fancied him, you horrible old lady." And then attempt to strangle me.

She didn't. But the fear still lingered.

"But anyway, Mum," I continued, "the age question aside, aren't you forgetting a couple of other vital points? Like the small fact that Adam is Helen's boyfriend."

"Aha!" she said, holding up her index finger and going all sagelike and wise-old-womanly on me. She practically put on a black headscarf and developed a squint, "but is he?"

"Well, why else was he here?" I asked, reasonably, I thought.

"To help her to write her essay," said Mum.

"And why would he do that if he's not her boyfriend? Or at least if he's not making a damn good attempt to be," I asked again, reasonably, I thought.

"Because he's a nice person?" said Mum. But she sounded a bit doubtful.

"Anyway," I said, "it was obvious that he really liked liked her." her."

"Was it?" she said, sounding genuinely surprised.

"Yes," I said, quite emphatically.

"But even if he is her boyfriend, he won't be for long," predicted Mum.

"Why do you say that?" I asked, wondering what other information she had gleaned from the beautiful Adam.

"Because of the way Helen is," said Mum. "Helen just wants to make him fall for her. Then she'll torment him for a while. And then she'll discard him," said Mum. "She was always like that. Even as a child. For months before Christmas she'd be pestering us for this doll and that bike. And the turkey wouldn't be even eaten before she had broken every single thing that Santa brought her. She wasn't happy until she had destroyed everything. Dolls' heads and legs and bicycle chains and saddles all over the place. You'd break your neck on them."119.

"That's not a very nice way to talk about Helen," I said, echoing what Mum had said to me earlier.

"Maybe not," said Mum with a sigh. "But it's the truth. I love her and she's a good girl, really. She just needs to grow up a little bit. Well, a big bit, I suppose."

"But you said that Helen might be in love with Adam," I said.

"I said that Helen might think think she's in love with him. An entirely different proposition," she said. "And even if she is in love with him, although if you ask me I think she's too immature to be capable of it," continued Mum, she's in love with him. An entirely different proposition," she said. "And even if she is in love with him, although if you ask me I think she's too immature to be capable of it," continued Mum, "it would do her no harm at all to be dealt a little bit of hardship by life.

She's had everything far too easy. A little bit of heartbreak goes a long way.

I mean, look at how good it's been for you. It gives you humility."

"So you want me to have a fling with Helen's boyfriend to give me back my confidence and to give Helen a bit of humility," I said, finally thinking that I had grasped what Mum was saying to me.

"Good God," said Mum, annoyed. "You're making me sound like that one out of Dynasty Dynasty. Playing God with people's lives and all that. It sounds very cold-blooded when you say it like that."

"I'm not saying that I want anything to happen, exactly," she continued.

"But I really did feel that Adam was very attracted to you. And that, if he is, and if anything was to happen, and if you survive Helen's attempts on your life-by Jingo, there's an awful lot of 'ifs' there-then maybe you should just let what's going to happen happen."

"Oh, Mum," I sighed. "You've made me all confused."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," she said. "Maybe I've got it all wrong. Maybe he doesn't like like you at all." you at all."

I've had enough, I thought.

"Well, I'm off to bed," I said.

"Sweet dreams," said Mum, squeezing my hand. "I'll be in to kiss Kate good-night."

And off I went to my bedroom and got ready for bed. My nightgown was obviously annoyed with me. It didn't take kindly to being neglected and left at home while I wore Helen's leggings and shirt to the shopping center. I was your120.

friend, it told me. I saw you through the rough times, it reminded me.

You're fickle and nothing but a foul weather friend. The minute things pick up, and you start feeling a bit more normal, you just discard me, throw me over.

Oh shut up, I thought, or I'll never wear you again. And then you really will have something to complain about.

I had more important things on my mind than disgruntled nighties and their grievances.

As I lay down I realized that I hadn't really thought of James in about three hours.

This was an absolute miracle.

All in all, it had been a most unusual day.121.

twelve.

The following day dawned bright cold and blustery.

I know this because I was awake at dawn.

It was a typical March day.

The rain had finally stopped.

But there's absolutely no symbolism in this fact. Let's face it, the bloody rain had to stop sometime.

After I had given Kate her bottle, I sat with her on the bed as I burped her. It was fast becoming clear to me that although I had been lucky enough to be dragged out of the mire of misery, this newfound liberation brought with it certain responsibilities.

Yesterday had been very nice. Really good fun.

But, and the thought came to me unbidden, there's more to life than having fun.

The little man in my head with the sandwich board, which normally says "The End Is Nigh," was today proclaiming "There's More to Life Than Having Fun."

He works for my Conscience Department.

I hate him.

The miserable bastard.

He's always showing up with his board and ruining things on me, especially when I'm shopping, proclaiming weighty things like, "You Have Four Pairs of Boots Already" and "How Can You Justify Spending Twelve Pounds on a Lipstick."

He would completely ruin my shopping. Either I wouldn't 122 buy the item in question. "I'm sorry," I would stammer as the assistant paused putting the shoes into the box and fixed me with a murderous stare.

"I've changed my mind." Or else I would buy it but I'd feel so guilty about it that all the enjoyment would be gone.

Anyway, today the miserable old killjoy reminded me that I had to do a lot more with my life than hanging around a supermarket introducing Kate to boxes of frozen chocolate mousse. What kind of value system was I giving her?

Or making dinner for my family. Or getting odd little crushes on my sister's boyfriend.

I walked over to the window with Kate in my arms and we stood looking down at the garden that Michael so lovingly didn't tend. I was feeling a bit like a man who is just about to face a firing squad. It was time for me to face the music.