Page 32 of When We Are Old

Oh, I don’t know. I gave my two-day boyfriend a blow job in the office after sending all the staff out, because apparently, I have a sick pervert locked inside me. Oh, and I just found you holding hands with a boy.

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

I forced myself to stop. Do not be your mother, Ronnie. Do not be your mother.

“Jackson, would you like to come over? Maybe I could text your mum and tell her you are staying for tea?”

“Oh my god, you are so embarrassing.” Hannah’s face flamed to the colour of Mars.

“What? I’m being nice.”

“No, you aren’t. Get in the car, Mum.”

Wow. Overreaction.

I gave him a wave, although he was already walking away, pulling his hood up—clearly a terror to society.

In the car I turned to her. “What?”

“You aren’t cool.”

“Well, I’m not uncool,” I mumbled before giving myself a mental bitch slap. “And anyway. This isn’t about me. What are you doing walking around holding hands with some boy?”

“Some boy has a name, Mum. Jackson. And we are friends.”

I sighed, glancing out of the window at the standstill school traffic. “You’re thirteen. Way too young to be stuck in the friend zone. Believe me, it’s not a good place to hang out.”

“Because that’s what Matthew and you did?” She huffed a breath. “And anyway, I’m fourteen next week.

I side eyed myself in the rear-view mirror. “Yes, you are.”

Fuck. I don’t know what fact was more shocking. That I had a daughter who was nearly fourteen, or that I’d forgotten to organise anything for her birthday.

“Mm. So what do you want to do next week?” and does it by any chance involve going to Scotland to meet Matthew’s rather large and boisterous family? No?

“Just hang. Thought I’d go into town. Nonna always gives me cash. Jackson and Annabelle will want to come.”

Oh. The moment she said the words it all became clear. “The three of you?”

“Yeah. We're friends.”

Go on, Ronnie, say it… “Boys and girls can’t be friends.” I nodded with satisfaction. If there was any lesson I’d take it on myself to teach my daughter, this would be it.

“Sure, they can.”

“And Annabelle is friends with Jackson too?”

“Yeah.”

“And do they hold hands?”

“Well, no…”

“Hannah, love. I know you think I talk shit. But take this from me. It will end in tears.”

“Like you and Ange?”

“That’s different. She lied and kept secrets.”