They had a particularly idiotic row at the weekend. Mum asked if Dad minded her going out for the day on Sunday for some colleague’s birthday. He went, ‘Sure, fine,’ in the distracted way he does when he’s trying to read and you’re pestering him. But instead of saying ‘good’, she attacked him. ‘You really don’t care if I’m here or not, do you? As long as you’ve got your books, I can prance naked down the street for all you care.’ ‘What have I done?’ he kept asking. ‘I don’t know what I’ve done! I thought you wanted to go out.’ ‘I’m sick of being invisible!’ Mum yelled. On Sunday she dressed up in a shocking pink top and black wool trousers that were clearly new, although they’d both signed the Compact, and didn’t come home till after I’d gone to bed. And then Mandy nosedived. She rang up one afternoon just as I got in from college and I dashed to answer it. She said she was getting married. I stood in the kitchen with my coat on staring out at the cold dark garden while Mandy babbled away in my ear.
What do You think about The Testament Of Jessie Lamb?
