Page 33 of When We Are Old

“But she’s your friend.”

“Yep.”

“So if I say next week for my birthday I want a party at home, would you let me?”

Hold on. How did we get onto this?

Cheeky mare distracted me again.

“How many people?”

“A few.” She shrugged.

“It’s not going to be one of these Facebook parties is it?”

Her expression and eye roll said it all. “You are so old, Mum.”

I started the car and flicked on the indicator waiting for a gap. I didn’t know what had happened to today, but it had all gone very weird and then some.

“I’ll have to ask Nonna; it’s her house.”

“That’s not what she’s saying.”

I eyed Hannah. “What's she saying?”

Hannah shrugged and slouched in her seat, muttering about not wanting to be picked up. Mental note to self. Don’t bother again.

“I was hoping you’d meet Matthew next week?” I tightened my grip on the steering wheel in case she turned into Godzilla and blasted me out of the car with her fiery breath of doom.

“On my birthday?”

I concentrated out the window.

“Mum!”

“Okay, well let’s get home and see how it goes. We will still need to ask Nonna.”

Hannah gave a little jump on her seat.

“What’s so exciting?”

“Nothing,” she said, but she looked too innocent, her eyebrows still resembling large caterpillars, smoothed out.

“Mm.”

* * *

“Of course she can have a party, darling.” Ma was wearing, well, Lycra.

I think my eyeballs would still be bleeding around my fiftieth birthday.

There were too many things in my head for me to think about all at once. So I went with the first and most pressing. “You never let me have a party.”

“Really, Veronica? Are we still carting suitcases of ill feeling around with us?”

Well that was rude.

“No.”