Songs For Your Mother Gordon MacMillan (good books for 7th graders .txt) 📖

me, and it is Lauren wherever she may be right now, and increasingly, and I do think she is somewhere out there still. Don’t ask me why as I’ve no way of knowing. It’s a feeling. It’s what Lauren said. It’s the connection that goes all the way from here to there.

I grab my jacket from the back of my bedroom door, and I find myself looking at my guitar. I sit down on the bed and start to play.

I will never forget, the first time we met.

She had grey eyes, like English skies.

She lit up the day, in almost every way.

And I let her go, I fell so far below.

I just let her go, I fell so far below.

I sit there for a minute long after I stop playing until I hear the buzzer to the flat. It is only when I look up that I see Luke standing in the doorway.

‘What do you think?’ I ask.

He smiles, sheepishly, and turns back for the couch.

When I open the front door, the first thing Susan tells me is that she’s feeling nervous. She says it is a huge deal as it is her first occasion babysitting for me, which she tells me again that she can’t quite get over.

‘It’s okay,’ I say. ‘I can’t get over it either. You’re going to be fine. Take a breath. Luke is five, and you’re good with kids.’

‘Do you think so or are you saying that to butter me up?’

‘Well, of course I am trying to butter you up, and yes I do think you are good with kids, with Georgia and Dan. You need to catch up,’ I say.

‘I’m not ready to get started, sorry. Besides, I don’t even have a boyfriend. You’ve seen my Tinder. If I get any more dick pics, I might just join a convent.’

‘You know they don’t have wine in convents, right?’

Susan rolls her eyes at this, and we head back upstairs. Susan says hello to Luke, who looks up from the couch and smiles.

‘Like we spoke about earlier, Susan is going to look after you tonight while Daddy is out,’ I say.

‘Where are you going?’ Luke asks.

‘Not very far. To see a friend,’ I say, desperately not wanting to give too many details. Susan is no help in this department. She guffaws at the mention of the word ‘friend’.

‘A friend? Is that what we’re calling women you’ve met at the school gates,’ Susan says.

I give Susan a sharp ‘WTF are you doing? You’re killing me here’ look. She in return gives me a ‘what?’ as if what she had said was perfectly innocent. Under any other circumstances it would be, only not with Luke sitting right there.

‘I take back what I said earlier. You suck at this,’ I say.

‘Sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I’m sure she’s lovely,’ she says.

‘She is and, look, I didn’t exactly plan it, and it might be good for all of us,’ I say.

‘I won’t say anything else,’ Susan says. ‘I hope you write this experience up.’

‘Hang on, you want me to write about it?’

‘As your friend, I might not endorse your rush to date bereaved single mothers, I’m camp TSP on this one, one hundred per cent. This is a complicated set-up you’re getting involved in. However, as your editor, and a journalist, it’s more about the story and less about the moral dilemma. You need to get going on this and capitalise on it while you can,’ Susan says.

‘You know you have the ethics and heart of a tabloid journalist, don’t you? I’m not going to write about my life. I will probably get hung on the school gates,’ I say.

‘You know it isn’t that at all. I’m not hacking into someone’s phone and syphoning off their life. I’m looking for good human-interest stories with heart, and this is one of them,’ Susan says.

‘Do those double standards ever keep you awake at night?’ I ask, teasing.

‘You know very well that they don’t,’ Susan says.

‘True, I wanted to check. Luke, are you going to be good for Susan?’ I ask.

He nods at this and asks me when I’ll be back.

‘Not too late,’ I say.

‘So, what time should I expect you?’ Susan pushes.

I shrug at this and grin slightly. I swear it’s entirely involuntarily, which I know is entirely unbecoming. I feel momentarily unclean.

‘Oh, stop that, you look like a slobbery dog. It is not an attractive look,’ Susan says.

‘What?’ I say defensively.

‘Oh, you know very well what, and promise me you won’t do it even if the opportunity presents itself, which – and don’t ask me why – I am sure it will, as people with children always complain that they never have get any,’ Susan says.

‘Get any what?’ Luke asks.

Susan and I look at each other, both blaming the other.

‘Presents,’ I say.

Luke seems satisfied by this, and Susan rolls her eyes.

‘Give me some credit. I plan on taking it slowly,’ I say.

I put my coat on. I’m ready to go.

‘Are you going to watch the robots with me?’ Luke asks.

‘I am,’ says Susan. ‘It is exactly what I came round for.’

‘Okay, guys, have a fun evening, call me about anything. I’ll see you later,’ I say. ‘Give me a hug, Luke.’

He jumps up from the couch and throws his arms around me and I kiss his forehead and tell him I’ll see him soon. Susan places her hand on her heart as she watches this farewell moment. I give them both a final wave and I am out of the door.

I meet Jane in a pub at Highbury Barn, which is close for both of us and makes ‘getting back for the kids’, as she puts it, easy. These are all subjects, and lines of conversation, that I need to think about and have never had to consider before. I need to make sure that if something happens I can get back to Luke as fast as I can.

I walk into the pub and see Jane sitting there at a table with