✉︎ From Stevie
So pleased for you. I hope I didn’t preach too much xx
✉︎ To Stevie
I needed the push. The next conversation won’t be so easy…
✉︎ From Stevie
Your mum? I’m happy to come along as moral support if you want
I couldn’t impose on him with that, could I? But after her scathing attack on me when I’d told her I was splitting up with Gary, I really didn’t relish telling her the baby news on my own.
✉︎ To Stevie
If you really mean that, I’d be eternally grateful xxx
✉︎ From Stevie
I really mean it. You tell me when and where. We’ll face this together xxx
‘This was a bad idea,’ I said a few days later as a man in his forties burst through the door of The Flag Inn, fought through a crowd of smokers and vapers, threw up over the withered raised flower bed in the car park, wiped his mouth, then staggered back inside to cheers and pats on the back. It was only 1 p.m. What a state to be in already.
Stevie took hold of my hand and pulled me away from Bertie. ‘C’mon. You can do this. I’ll be right by your side.’
‘She’s not very pleasant, you know.’
‘I know.’
‘She brings out the worst in me. You might not want to spend New Year with me after you see us together.’
Stevie squeezed my hand. ‘I know who the real Elise is and, if things get ugly in there, I know it’s down to your mum, not you.’
I nodded and sighed. ‘As long as we’ve got that crystal clear. Okay, let’s do this.’
We walked towards the door.
‘Did I warn you that she’ll probably be wearing a nightie?’
Stevie stopped and stared at me. ‘To the pub? In the middle of winter?’
I cleared my throat. ‘I’m afraid so. She says they’re cheaper and prettier than dresses.’
‘Oh. Okay. That’s certainly different.’
‘My mother is different. As you’re about to find out.’
I held my breath as we passed through the smokers and vapers then released it slowly as we stepped into the pub, knowing that the aroma inside wouldn’t be much better.
‘It stinks of BO in here,’ whispered Stevie.
‘I know. We won’t stay long. I promise.’
At the bar, I ordered a pint for Stevie, a mineral water for me, and a double whiskey without ice for Mother. ‘She’s over there, next to the jukebox,’ I whispered to Stevie. ‘And she is wearing a nightie.’
Stevie gasped. ‘So she is. Wow. That’s… erm… pretty special.’
‘Isn’t it? Let’s get this over with.’
I placed the drink down in front of her and she smiled without looking up.
‘Hello Mother.’ I sat down, indicating to Stevie that he should sit too.
She looked up. ‘Ah! The divorcee. What a treat.’ She pointed to the drink. ‘From you?’
‘Yes. Happy Christmas.’
‘It is now.’ She took a gulp. ‘Who’s the loser?’
I grimaced at her rudeness. ‘This is my friend, Stevie. Stevie, this is my mother, Marian.’
Stevie held out his hand, but she ignored it. ‘Pleased to meet you Mrs Morgan.’
‘It’s not Morgan. I’m not married to that arsehole anymore.’
‘That “arsehole” is my dad,’ I snapped. I reached for her glass and lifted it above my head. ‘Can we drop the insults? Or should I tip this on the floor?’
Her eyes widened with fear as she reached for the glass.
‘Can we, Mother?’
‘Okay. I’ll play nicely. Just give me my drink back.’
‘Say thank you.’
‘Ooh, we are feisty today, aren’t we? Have you finally grown a pair?’
‘Say thank you.’
Stevie placed a hand on my knee and gave me a reassuring squeeze.
‘Thank you,’ she snarled.
I placed her drink back on the table and took a swig of mine, wishing it was something stronger than water.
‘So, your divorce isn’t through yet and you’ve already found another mug. I guess some women can’t cope without a man in their lives, can they?’
So much for dropping the insults, but at least she’d stopped attacking Dad. I toyed with retorting, but what was the point? A battle of words would frustrate me and give her great pleasure. ‘Stevie’s not a mug. We’re friends. And I can cope on my own.’
She laughed and pushed a matted curl behind her ear. ‘When’s the big day?’
‘I’ve just told you; we’re not getting married.’
‘Not even set a date yet? Scared of losing the deposit when it all goes wrong?’
I sighed. ‘When what goes wrong, Mother?’
‘Your relationship. I give it a year from now, if you’re lucky. It won’t last long enough to make it up the aisle unless… ooh, don’t tell me you’re knocked up. Because if you are, maybe you’ll tie the knot out of duty, but mark my words, you’ll both be miserable. Because that’s what happens when people get married and have children. I should know. Ruined my life, didn’t it?’
Stevie gasped. ‘That’s your daughter you’re talking to. How can you be so cruel?’
‘Oh, it speaks,’ Mother slurred. ‘And it’s feisty too. I can see why you ditched the doctor for this one. I bet he’s a bit of a go-er.’
‘That’s it.’ I stood up and grabbed her drink. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
‘Noooo!’ she cried
I poured the liquid onto the wooden floor. ‘Oh dear, clumsy me.’
‘How could you?’ she snivelled.
‘How could I? Really? How could you, Mother? I’ve put up with your bitchy and sarcastic comments for far too long now and I’m not putting up with them anymore.’ I stood up and straightened my back, realising too late that I’d done a typical pregnant-woman-standing-up action.
Her eyes widened. ‘I was right. You are knocked up.’
‘Yes, Mother, I’m pregnant.’
‘I won’t babysit for it, you know.’
‘I wouldn’t want you to or trust you to. In fact, I don’t even want you to see my baby. I know that won’t bother you, though, seeing as you haven’t bothered to see Jess since she had Emily and Oliver nearly seven weeks ago.’
‘I’ve been busy.’
‘Shopping for nighties and drinking yourself into a stupor? Yes, I can see you have. Goodbye, Mother.’
I reached for Stevie’s hand, but he stopped and picked up his pint.
‘Leave it,’ I hissed.
‘I don’t want it,’ he said. ‘I’m just making sure she can’t have it.’
Mother grabbed my drink and gulped it then pulled a face when she realised it was water and not a gin and tonic as she must have hoped.
‘I hope you’re not expecting me to come to your wedding,’ she shouted as we paused at the bar for Stevie to hand over his drink. ‘Because I’m not sure you’re worth the price of a new nightie.’