I was finding it increasingly hard to cope with what I was learning about myself, about my past behaviour. I wanted to change my life completely, change everything and make it all different, make it all better. I’d had a long conversation with Mum about it, the previous day. Or rather, Mum had launched into one of her typical diatribes:

‘You can’t throw the baby out with the bathwater,’ she’d lectured. ‘You’re not a perfect mother, you’re not a perfect woman, you’re not a perfect daughter – that I can assure you . . . but you do what you can. Everyone manages as best they can, and it’s not a question of perfect mothers and hopeless mothers, pussycat. I’ve seen you with Louis, thousands of times. In his eyes, you’re the perfect mother, because you’re his mother. Don’t ever doubt that. If Louis is what he is today – and it’s not because he’s my grandson, but objectively – he’s a delightful boy, bright, sensitive and kind . . . well, if that’s what he’s like now, it’s thanks to you. You’re the one who’s raised that kid, and you can be proud of him. No, don’t say anything. I can see you shaking your head and you’re likely to come out with something stupid. You can be proud of yourself. I’m proud of you.’

My mother has a knack for making me blubber with her great monologues, which she always delivers just when I need them most. Being there and saying the right thing is also part of being a mother.

I grabbed my phone and called the community centre. Yes, there would indeed be courses during the holidays. No, none for adults. For under- and over-thirteens courses, I should contact Edgar directly. His training sessions were on Wednesday afternoons and Friday evenings.

‘Thank you, madame, I understand. I’ll go and see Edgar and sign up.’

15

15 to 10 Days

Edgar

‘OK, you can put the balls down and we’ll all go for something to drink . . . No shoving!’

Shit, I was in agony. My lungs were on fire, and every muscle in my body hurt like hell. I’d even discovered some I didn’t know I had. How was it possible to feel pain between my ribs and in my biceps, from playing football? When I’d embarked on this, I’d been expecting some discomfort, but I never thought I’d have aches and pains from head to foot. I was paying the price for my lack of exercise over the past twenty-five years. If I hadn’t promised Louis, I’d have long since given up these torture sessions. This was day three, I still had another day to get through. I was tempted to carve little lines on a tree, like a prisoner counting the days until freedom.