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

a glass of white wine in front of her. She’s wearing a black sleeveless dress, and I immediately think that I am slightly underdressed in jeans and a t-shirt and a jumper. I realise two things: that this might be Jane’s first date in a long time; and that I appear more like I am heading to the pub with mates. Is this what they call dating distance? That being the gap between what one party expects from the evening compared to the other.

I bend down to kiss her on the cheek and, out of politeness, I offer to buy her a drink even though she already has one in front of her.

‘No, I’m good with this,’ Jane says. ‘You’re very smiley.’

‘Really? No reason why,’ I say.

‘I wondered if you might be having second thoughts and were madly grinning and thinking how the hell you were going to get out of this one.’

I shake my head slowly, and unconsciously become aware that my hands are on my hips like I’ve escaped from a West End musical and am about to burst into ‘One Day More’ at any moment. I must look odd, is what I am thinking.

‘God no, not at all, no second thoughts here, I was clearly having a mad grin moment. Possibly nerves,’ I say.

‘You have nerves?’ she asks.

‘Absolutely, every time, always.’

‘Do you mind if I ask you something?’

‘Sure, go for it, anything,’ I say.

‘Okay, don’t hate me for this. Did you only go out with me as you thought I might sleep with you?’

I’m knocked sideways when she says this. It’s lucky I don’t have a drink in my hand, as I would have spilt it, most likely over myself. There’s a drifting, empty, word-free space between us, as I struggle to formulate a sentence. The truth is, deep down where those unexamined reasons dwell and, if I am strictly honest with myself, I know there’s some truth in what Jane is saying.

Despite telling myself, and everyone else, that this was all about going slowly, she’s right. The sex is part of it – at some point. Now Jane has me in the spotlight, I have to come clean, which means this could be a short date. I know I could dodge the question and I could twist, turn, squirm and lie. I’m not much of one for squirming, and I prefer to take my punches. Besides, I’m sure Jane would recognise any wriggling as an admission of guilt.

‘Okay, honestly? There’s probably a degree of truth in what you said. I don’t know how much, percentage-wise. That said, whatever happens, we should take it slow,’ I say.

Jane is looking at me the whole time, and she is smiling, and when I finish, she is still smiling. I’m perplexed, and I find myself holding my breath as I wait to hear what she will say next.

‘That’s a good answer. Thank you for being honest. It’s refreshing, as long as it wasn’t one hundred per cent, and I agree we should go slowly. You’d better get yourself a drink,’ she says. ‘You look like you need it.’

After we have had our moment of truth, we sit and talk, and the conversation flows between us. We have another drink and leave for the Italian restaurant on Highbury Hill. I’m having a good time. I am partly surprised by this. I wasn’t sure if I expected to. Jane smiles a lot, tells funny stories about her son, who is called Jack. In return, I tell her stories about Luke. She is easy company.

‘I am,’ I tell Jane, ‘pretty sure I am making parenting mistake after mistake.’

‘That’s what we all do. You can read all of the books and, in the end, it comes down to instinct, and you seem to have good instincts,’ she says.

‘I’ve had a lot of help,’ I say.

I don’t mention either of their names. Without TSP, and Lauren’s letters, it is a given that life would have been a lot harder.

‘You’re a friend of Georgia’s mother, aren’t you?’ Jane asks as she takes a sip of her wine.

I’m pretty sure that’s a loaded question. I sense a little tension, and so I proceed carefully as I want to know what TSP has been up to.

‘She’s an old university friend, and part of the help I mentioned.’ Even though I know they do not know each other well, I ask the question anyway, partly as I want to hear Jane’s reply. ‘Do you know her?’

Jane shakes her head. ‘No, not really. I mean, I know who she is, and Jack knows Georgia. We’ve not spoken much. Lawyer, right?’

‘Yes, that’s right,’ I say.

Does everyone hate lawyers? Jane works for a homeless charity. I’m sure they must have lawyers too.

‘It was funny,’ Jane starts. ‘The other morning, I’m sure she gave me a look. A sort of proprietorial look, if you know what I mean. Nothing is going on between you two is there?’

This time, I do have a drink in my hand and I splutter on my beer. There has never been a hint of anything between us other than that brief moment right at the start when we all met at university, and that was a long time ago. I did see her first, and at the time I was already dating Sara, who knew TSP. That’s how Will and I met her. When I saw TSP that first time, I thought she was exactly what she is: tall, attractive and easy to like. Maybe there was a split second where I thought if I hadn’t been in a relationship… and then the moment was gone. Will walked over, introductions were made, and the rest is history.

Obviously, TSP cannot help herself and has publicly projected her school-gate disapproval. I swear it’s a battlefield out there. Right now, I’d like TSP to explain what she’s been up to. It’s okay for her to be mad at me but what is she doing casting furtive looks at Jane? I can