Lulu told Jack of what was going on between her and her boyfriend of her own accord. She’s never been short of bravery. She told Jack on Sunday evening as they were taking Fin to the bog walk. Jack said that in order to process it he had to drive slowly. I bet. If it was me I probably would’ve crashed into the hedge.
Sunday had been nice all day. On nice days there’s a lot of traffic on the road – people travelling back to the Midlands from a day out on the sea. Jack put his indicator to turn right to the bog walk. With the sun’s glare in his rearview mirror, he couldn’t see behind him clearly. A car was overtaking him at high speed. About eighty miles an hour Jack said. The car shot past him with millimetres to spare.
This exact same thing happened to me almost a year before, so I know the bone-crunching, spine-tingling feeling of having almost had this catastrophic crash. In dramatic style Jack was reminded of death versus life. That life might not go the way we want it to – but we were still alive.
Delphine and I just came back from rainy London. Man, did it pour in the city. As the train rolled through Birmingham and chugged (I wish trains still chugged!), the rain followed us home. It’s been alternately dark and grey. The wellies have come out as standard foot gear.
Once I was home, it was time to talk to Lulu. It’s true – I didn’t want to. I was mad at her. To be honest though, I was mostly mad I didn’t see it coming. And since we’re doing honesty – I’d been convincing myself I trusted her – which was a big, fat excuse. I didn’t want to talk to her anymore than she wanted to talk to me. Except I’m the parent here. Doh.
‘Go and talk to her, adult to adult,’ my mum said before we’d left for the train. ‘And whatever you do, don’t blame yourself. That what I used to say to myself when you were a teenager. Remember when I told you you’d understand when you had kids?’
I zipped up my raincoat. ‘Thanks, Ma.’
My mum grinned. Definitely grinned. ‘No problem.’
I’d been planning to be cool and detached with Lulu, except that Jack had became so annoying. He knows I hate answering questions about my feelings. Going for a walk with Lulu was like light relief than hanging out with him. Crafty Jack.
What came out of our walk? Honest conversation – from both of us. Thank goodness. And eventually a tale as old as time. Lulu said, ‘I’m worried what will happen if I say no.’
‘Is he pressuring you to do anything?’
‘Then why are you worried? Are you scared of losing him?’
‘Maybe a little. No, I mean not really.’
‘Then if you say no, he should be ok with it. You’ll find out why he’s with you – and if he likes you for you, then he’ll be cool about it.’
‘And if he isn’t?’
‘Then he isn’t worth being with.’
Yep, a story as old as time. Right after Beauty dances with the Beast, then should come the conversation about respect. Really, this should be where the Angela Lansbury the teapot starts singing.