‘Er …’

‘She kept a clean house isn’t what I want on my headstone; I’d prefer she led a dirty life to be honest. I think I’ve reached that age they talk about, when you couldn’t give a monkey’s what anybody else thinks.’

‘Right.’ My vocabulary has shrunk to almost non-existent. For somebody who makes a living out of books this is not good.

I can, however, see why my father was dazzled by my mother thirty years ago. I’m not sure she can actually be my biological mother, but she certainly is amazing. She’d make a great mate.

‘That’s why I decided that this would be our, sorry my, last party, and so I wanted to go out with a bang! Though I might be doing that with Art later as well.’ She winks.

‘What? Oh no, no don’t explain! Too much information,’ I shout as she makes an ‘oo’ face. ‘What kind of a name is Art?’

‘It means Bear man.’ She pulls the wide-eyes grinning kind of rude face you should never see on your mother. This party is going to remain with me for a very long time.

‘Oh God, why did I ask?’

‘He’s nice, a bit unconventional, but very nice.’

‘You are being careful, Mum?’ What if he’s a weirdo, or an axe murderer, or bigamist, or, oh my, what if he’s a swindler?

‘No, I’m not being at all careful. That’s the point. But you don’t honestly think I’m ready to shrivel up and die, do you? I’m not that old! Don’t you worry about me though; after living with your dad for so long I’m immune to smooth talkers. And Art isn’t some young boy preying on older women, not that I’m old.’

‘No way are you old!’ I’d forgotten Bea was there. She’s been quietly hanging on Mum’s every word. ‘Look, do you two mind if I go and grab another drink? This is kind of a mother-daughter thing, I feel a bit of a lemon.’

‘Oh, you’re not! You’re welcome to stay,’ Mum says, but Bea just smiles, blows me a kiss and sidles off with her phone in her hand.

‘Anyway, I’m not about to elope with Art, it’s just lovely to be with a man who’s interested. There’s life after a split after all! Your dad will be furious; he always used to be if anybody showed an interest in me. The slightest sign and he’d be there at my side, pulling faces!’ She sighs. ‘Such a hypocrite. But I believed in him, in us, believed we were meant to be, but,’ she brushes her hands together as though wiping him away, ‘we’re not. And if a man can still turn me on when he’s two hundred miles away … well he’s worth meeting, don’t you think?’

‘You haven’t met him yet?’ I feel faint. What if he lets her down? What if she’s ghosted like I was? What does she mean, turn her on from two hundred miles away? Exactly what kind of messages has my mother been swapping with this stranger?