Whit
Ihead back to the office after taking Mimi home when Mum texts.
Brin is coming for dinner this evening.
Istare at my phone, abandoning a dozen responses ranging from
assumptions about his motives to him turning up with a bag of laundry.
Eventually, I settle on:
have fun!
Should I set you a place at the table?
Sorry. I’m busy this evening.
Doing anything nice?
I’ll be in the office quite late, and then I have a date.
With Mimi?
Bloody hell. That was quick. She must be using the talk-to-text
function.
Mimi is my PA. She is not dating material.
Rubbish! Mimi is a doll. I can absolutely see you together.
Ihope she hasn’t got binoculars.
Better get yourself to the opticians because that is NOT
happening.
Who’s the date with, then?
Angelo from the Italian place on the corner.
Leaning back in my chair, I smile as I watch the little blue bubbles
flutter across the screen of my phone. That’ll give her something to think
about. How to answer that strategically.
You’re thirty-six. I think I would know by now if you were gay.
Maybe I’ve been ke eping it a secret.
I’m sure you have lots of secrets, but one of them isn’t a
hankering for a little man love.
Angelo isn’t little.
Angelo has hairy fingers and sweats excessively. If you were
gay, in a million years I can’t see hirsute middle-aged men as
being your type.
Maybe I’m into bears.
Darling, there’s more chance of you getting Yogi to roger you.
Iburst out laughing, but she isn’t done.
Now, Mimi is another story. I see the way you look at her.
Bye, Mum.
Why does no one in this family want to give me
grandchildren? I’ll have arthritic fingers before I get the
chance.
Your grandchildren have four legs and shaggy coats.
Just like Angelo.