Forty Nine

Although I had moved out of home a fair while ago, I was still in that phase where it felt awkward to knock on Mum's door but rude to walk straight in. Nina shuffled behind me as we waited for the door to open. Just like on the first day we had met on the golf course, I fought down the impulse to comment on the unlikelihood of getting bitten by a stranger. I just don't understand where the need to say that line comes from.

I wondered how Mum would react to Nina. It'd be a polar reaction at either end of the scale: over excitement or complete disinterest. Mum was funny like that, but I guess we all are in our own ways. At least they had the polar thing in common, well kind of.

'Maybe she's not home?' offered Nina as no signs of life came from the house. There was more than a little hope in her voice.

I had to agree it'd be an easy let off. I could say, "I came to see you Mum, but you weren't there... what a shame... I even brought Nina." But I knew better than that. Besides, Mum was never out. 'She'll be home,' I said quietly.

Three deadlocks and a safety chain clicked and jangled before the door swung in.

'Des, dear. What a nice surprise. You didn't tell me you were coming to see me. I would have baked. I could have made cake, or apple pie. I know how much you love your apple pie. I could make it now. Oh but I don't have enough butter. I've got marg though. Oh I wish you'd have called. I always ask you to but you seem to like to pop up out of nowhere. God knows what you get up to. You never tell me anything. Marg would be ok. And I've got copha and some apples. Who's this?'

Mum doesn't need a participant in a conversation so much as presence to absorb her sound.

'Hey Mum. This is Nina.'

I tried to step out of the way so Mum could see Nina, but Nina stepped at the same time and we did this awkward dance thing for a while feeling more foolish with every step.

'Hi,' said Nina when she finally got line of sight.

'Hello, replied Mum, flicking her eyes over Nina and planting me with a gaze of pure suspicion. 'Well, come on in.'

Nina flashed me a questioning or perhaps imploring stare and we followed Mum inside.

When I call Mum's place fogeyville, I don't mean that to be mean. But you know: doylies, masses of ornaments, dark wood furniture, paisley patterns, black and white photographs, a general clutter but pristinely clean. It's cute and it suits Mum's generation.

'So who's this Nina then?'

I winced. "This" in front of anyone's name is not a good sign. 'Er, Nina is right here, Mum.' Please don't embarrass me. 'And she's my...' it felt awkward to say, '...she's my girlfriend.' Nina and I shared a shy smile. I realised we hadn't so much as held hands yet.

'Is that so?' said Mum. She had her head in a cupboard and emerged with a mixing bowl and a rolling pin.

'What are you doing?'

'I'm baking, dear. Do try and pay attention. I'm making apple pie.' She filled a saucepan with water. '

'Mum really you don't need to. It'll take hours-'

'It's no bother.' Mum carried a pile of apples from the fridge and started to peel them.

'Can I help?' offered Nina.

Mum paused her peeling and turned to look at Nina. 'Do you bake, dear?'

'Um,' Nina shrunk back.

Mum pulled her lips tight in her fakest of smiles. 'I thought not. Probably best if I do it then. It's skill you know, learned through the generations. Every mother worth her salt has passed her knowledge onto her daughter. Even my mother managed it - though it was tough in her day, with the war. We didn't have luxuries like butter. Oh no. But still she managed to pass on her knowledge so that I would be an accomplished homemaker in my time, just like she was.'

Nina nodded apologetically.

I had no idea what had gotten into Mum - this was rude, even for her.

'I had a very interesting conversation with your father the other day,' continued Mum.

My stomach knotted. The other day... the day he came over and found freshly ravaged Lisa in my kitchen. Ut oh.

Fifty