Page 41 of The Best Ex of My Life

I do as I’m told. Instinctively, I reach for the remote and turn on the TV. I flick channels until Jordan asks me to stop on an old episode of The Big Bang Theory. It’s not a show I’ve ever particularly liked, but I’m happy to sit there sipping my wine and chuckling at the TV whenever Jordan does.

I don’t realise Mum is standing in the door watching us until I stand up to refill Jordan’s glass and catch her turning away.

‘How’s it going in here?’ I ask her while opening the fridge and pulling out the wine.

‘Fine.’

It doesn’t look like much has happened since we left her to it, but I’ve learned not to question her methods.

‘Good. Still need no help?’

‘Nope.’

It’s there again. There is, without doubt, something odd going on with Mum today. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was angry with me – with Jordan, but that doesn’t make any sense.

I go back to the lounge and sit next to Jordan again. He holds my hand, and I gradually turn the volume up to mask the slamming and banging coming from the kitchen.

‘Right. It’s ready,’ Mum shouts nearly an hour later. When we join her in the kitchen to sit at the little table by the window, her face is as red as the poppies in her borders, and the sweat dripping off her matches the rain sliding down the window.

‘Wow, Stella. This all looks amazing,’ Jordan gushes. ‘If it tastes as good as it looks, I’m in for a treat.’

He’s only doing what I advised him to do in the car, but it’s over the top for three plates of brown sludge and some rice from a packet. Mum barely acknowledges the compliment and tells us to dig in before it gets cold.

‘Why don’t you tell Mum about your charity boxing match?’ I suggest to Jordan when we’re halfway through our meal, which, to be fair to her, tastes remarkably better than it looks.

He swallows his mouthful and smiles. There’s been a distinct lack of interaction between Mum and Jordan so far. Mum’s not grilled him, not told him about any one of the many clubs she goes to each week, not asked him if he watches football before launching into a spiel about how much she hates it thanks to my dad and the hours she had to put up with it blaring out of the TV when they were together. Instead, she’s mainly watched us, and I’m not entirely sure she’s been happy with what she’s seen.

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘It’s next month, and I can’t lie to you, Stella, I’m dreading it. I’m sure Lizzie will back me up when I say I make a terrible boxer. It’s for a good cause though, so I reckon a black eye and a few bruised ribs will be worth it.’

‘I won’t back you up at all,’ I tell him before starting to smile. ‘He’s being modest as always, Mum.’ I put my hand on his arm in a show of support. ‘He’s been training for it for ages.’

‘Yeah, if you call a few gym sessions a week and the odd protein bar training. It hardly puts me up there with Tyson Fury.’

We both laugh at that, a little too much perhaps because there’s no way Jordan won’t be feeling the chill coming from my mother, but her face remains resolutely stony.

‘Right. Tell me, will you still get the sponsorship money if you lose?’

The rest of the meal passes in much the same way, with me trying to make conversation, Jordan being as charming as he possibly could be and Mum being surly and short with us both. Bewildered, I suggest Jordan returns to the lounge for a bit after we’ve finished so I can help Mum tidy up. He offers to help – of course he does – but I insist we’re fine. He must know I’m planning on asking Mum what the hell is wrong with her, as he gives me a small smile and walks quickly into the lounge, shutting the door behind him.

I gather up most of the plates and take them to the sink. Mum takes what’s left and follows me.

‘What was that?’ I ask, turning to face her. ‘Why were you acting like that with Jordan?’

‘I could ask you the same thing.’ Her eyebrows rise, and she gives me a challenging glare.

‘What? I was being normal. I was trying to have a perfectly nice meal with my boyfriend and mother. It was you that made it uncomfortable.’

‘That’s not true. The problem round that table wasn’t with me. It was with you and your new boyfriend.’ She makes a point of struggling over saying new boyfriend.

‘What? There’s no problem between me and Jordan. Jordan is great. As you would have learned if you’d have taken any interest in him. Instead, you showed him a deliberate lack of interest. It was bloody rude.’

I expect a retaliation, the next hit in one of these ping pong arguments we sometimes have that go on for far too long, as neither of us is ever willing to be the first to admit any wrongdoing, but instead she takes a breath. Her shoulders uncurl a little from where they’ve been up by her ears, and she nods in agreement.

‘You’re right. I have been rude today. Jordan’s clearly very nice, and that wasn’t on. I’ll apologise to him. But truthfully, it’s not him I’m interested in. It’s you. Seeing how you are with him. Or how you’re not with him. You’re not silly and goofy and clumsy and bright-eyed and all the things I thought you would have been when you met the right person. I’d noticed it before, but never more so than today. Where’s the excitement, Lizzie? I don’t hear it in your voice when you talk about him, and I don’t see it when you’re together. You’re so …’ she struggles to reach for the right words. ‘So still, so composed. Sorry, but I don’t think he’s who you’re meant to be with.’

‘Jesus, Mum. I don’t need to crumble in front of a man to show I’m interested. It’s probably quite a good thing that I can be with someone and still hold a rational conversation, don’t you think?’

She gives me the disapproving look I always get when I’m being smart with her. A fraught silence opens up between us that gives me time to consider what she’s said. She’s not the only one who has noticed I’ve not exactly been jumping around with glee these last few months. Karina and Teddy have both commented on how surprised they are with how I’ve been in this relationship, how very not-Lizzie I’ve been about Jordan. But it doesn’t mean anything is wrong. I’d say the opposite. This is a mature relationship, and the people in my life aren’t used to me having many of those. ‘Maybe I’m not the same in this relationship as I might have been in the past with boys, but I’m happy, Mum. I wanted to meet someone different, someone who could offer me a relationship completely unlike the ones I’ve had before, and I’ve got that. He’s great. We’re great.’