cried like a child, proper wa-wa-waaaas, with gulping, coughing and hiccups; my heart nearly broke. She was in such a terrible state I gave her the two emergency tablets and put her back to bed again. As soon as she was breathing peacefully I closed my fist around the tranquillizer prescription Dr Bailey had left — the first chance I got, I'd go to the chemist.
Then, in a riptide of fury, I rang Dad, who sounded surprised — surprised , no less — to hear from me.
'You come home tonight and explain yourself,' I said angrily.
'There's nothing to explain,' he tried. 'Colette says -'
'Fuck Colette, I don't give a fuck WHAT Colette says. You get over here and have some respect.'
'Language,' he said sulkily. 'All right. I'll be round at seven.'
I hung up the phone and the ground actually rocked beneath my feet. My father was having an affair. My father had left my mother.
I settled myself on the bed beside Mam and began to read the book that was all about me.
Mid-afternoon, Mam opened one eye. 'What are you reading?' she mumbled.
'A book.'
'Ah.'
4
TO [email protected]
FROM Gemma [email protected]
SUBJECT What kind of woman steals the love of her life from her best friend, then writes a book and doesn't mention it?
Another day, another douleur
More shocking news just in. Lily's book is out. Yes, Lily 'Every man for myself' Wright. Lily 'Bald Patch' Wright It's the maddest thing I've ever read, sort of like a children's book, except there's no pictures and the words are too big. It's about a witch called Mimi (yes, you heard me, a witch) who comes to a village, which might be in Ireland or might be in England or might be on the planet Mars, and she starts interfering in everyone's lives. Making up spells with instructions like, 'Include a handful of compassion, a sprinkling of intelligence and a generous helping of love.' Gag-making. And I'm not in it, you're not in it, even Anton doesn't seem to be in it. The only person I recognize is a spiteful girl with ringlets, who has got to be Cody.
It took me only four hours to read but I suppose millions of people will buy it and she'll be a millionaire and a big celebrity. Life is such a bastard.
As soon as I'd finished, I had to get Mam up because Dad was coming. She refused to get dressed - she's getting way too fond of that dressing-gown. And as for Dad's porridge bowl, she's holding on to it like she's waiting for the Forensics people to bag and label it as Exhibit A.
Then in comes Dad - using his own key which I thought was well out of order-and I got a real fright. Less than two days and already he looks different. Sharper, more defined around the edges, less blurry, and it struck me how very serious this whole business is when I saw that he was wearing new clothes. Well, I'd certainly never seen them before. A brown suede jacket -Christ in the marketplace! Rudimentary sideburns, much comb-over action going on with his hair, and, worst of all, trainers. Oh, mother of God, the trainers. Blinding white, and so chunky that it looked like they were wearing him, rather than the other way round.
'So what's going on?' I asked.
And without even sitting down, he announces that he's very sorry, but he's in love with Colette and she's in love with him.
It was the weirdest, most awful thing. What's wrong with this picture? Absolutely fecking everything.
'But what about us?' I said 'What about Mam?' I thought I had him there because all my life he's been devoted to us. But do you know what he said? He said, 'I'm sorry'
Which of course meant he wasn't. He just didn't care, which I didn't understand, because he'd always been so gentle and kind. It took a while to get what was happening, because this was my DAD, you know? Then - with another terrible fright - I saw that he was in that loved-up cocoon where all you can feel is your own happiness and you can't imagine that everyone else doesn't feel it too I never knew it happened to old people, to parents.
Then Mam
Then, in a riptide of fury, I rang Dad, who sounded surprised — surprised , no less — to hear from me.
'You come home tonight and explain yourself,' I said angrily.
'There's nothing to explain,' he tried. 'Colette says -'
'Fuck Colette, I don't give a fuck WHAT Colette says. You get over here and have some respect.'
'Language,' he said sulkily. 'All right. I'll be round at seven.'
I hung up the phone and the ground actually rocked beneath my feet. My father was having an affair. My father had left my mother.
I settled myself on the bed beside Mam and began to read the book that was all about me.
Mid-afternoon, Mam opened one eye. 'What are you reading?' she mumbled.
'A book.'
'Ah.'
4
TO [email protected]
FROM Gemma [email protected]
SUBJECT What kind of woman steals the love of her life from her best friend, then writes a book and doesn't mention it?
Another day, another douleur
More shocking news just in. Lily's book is out. Yes, Lily 'Every man for myself' Wright. Lily 'Bald Patch' Wright It's the maddest thing I've ever read, sort of like a children's book, except there's no pictures and the words are too big. It's about a witch called Mimi (yes, you heard me, a witch) who comes to a village, which might be in Ireland or might be in England or might be on the planet Mars, and she starts interfering in everyone's lives. Making up spells with instructions like, 'Include a handful of compassion, a sprinkling of intelligence and a generous helping of love.' Gag-making. And I'm not in it, you're not in it, even Anton doesn't seem to be in it. The only person I recognize is a spiteful girl with ringlets, who has got to be Cody.
It took me only four hours to read but I suppose millions of people will buy it and she'll be a millionaire and a big celebrity. Life is such a bastard.
As soon as I'd finished, I had to get Mam up because Dad was coming. She refused to get dressed - she's getting way too fond of that dressing-gown. And as for Dad's porridge bowl, she's holding on to it like she's waiting for the Forensics people to bag and label it as Exhibit A.
Then in comes Dad - using his own key which I thought was well out of order-and I got a real fright. Less than two days and already he looks different. Sharper, more defined around the edges, less blurry, and it struck me how very serious this whole business is when I saw that he was wearing new clothes. Well, I'd certainly never seen them before. A brown suede jacket -Christ in the marketplace! Rudimentary sideburns, much comb-over action going on with his hair, and, worst of all, trainers. Oh, mother of God, the trainers. Blinding white, and so chunky that it looked like they were wearing him, rather than the other way round.
'So what's going on?' I asked.
And without even sitting down, he announces that he's very sorry, but he's in love with Colette and she's in love with him.
It was the weirdest, most awful thing. What's wrong with this picture? Absolutely fecking everything.
'But what about us?' I said 'What about Mam?' I thought I had him there because all my life he's been devoted to us. But do you know what he said? He said, 'I'm sorry'
Which of course meant he wasn't. He just didn't care, which I didn't understand, because he'd always been so gentle and kind. It took a while to get what was happening, because this was my DAD, you know? Then - with another terrible fright - I saw that he was in that loved-up cocoon where all you can feel is your own happiness and you can't imagine that everyone else doesn't feel it too I never knew it happened to old people, to parents.
Then Mam
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