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was based on the fact – no, the fiction – that she was financially secure! That her home was her home whatever happened. Jeez. I can’t believe she could have been so dumb. I mean how do people not know things like that? How could she have been so naïve?’
    I can see from Dee’s expression that she is considering pointing out that my mother certainly doesn’t have the family monopoly on naïvety. That it’s pretty rich of me even to suggest it. But she is too much the good friend to voice it. Anyway, it’s different. My heart might be a soft touch, but my head has never failed me. Oh, damn. Now I’m fretting about Charlie again. Damn .
    ‘And y ou forget,’ she says instead, ‘she’s from a different generation. Women didn’t concern themselves with that sort of stuff back in her day.’
    My mother in particular didn’t concern herself with ‘that sort of stuff’. Any stuff, if she could get away with it, frankly. There was always someone else to do it for her. ‘Anyway,’ Dee continues, ‘I’d hang right in there and get everything you can. If you can prove she paid for the conservatory, then they’ll have to pay her back for it, won’t they? That’s something, at least, isn’t it?’
    Something but not much. ‘I think Doug’s going to look into it. Mind you, that Corinne doesn’t strike me as the sort of woman who’d roll over without putting up a fight. I wouldn’t mind, but, you know, she looks pretty well-heeled to me. So why all this haste to get Mum out and sell up? It’s so heartless.’
    Dee sighs. ‘I guess she’s just thinking ‘why not ?’. It’s not as if she’s got any reason not to, is it? And you know what families can be like, especially with later marriages. Sounds like they weren’t terribly thrilled about it in the first place.’
    I nod. ‘You’re certainly right there.’
    ‘Oh, but your poor mum. It’s pretty mean, isn’t it? They could at least have given her a few months to get herself sorted.’ She shakes her head. ‘Life takes such horrible turns sometimes, doesn’t it?’ She looks reflective for a moment, and I think ‘Yup, she’d know’. Then she pats me. ‘Anyway, you just hang in there. I’m sure if you fight it she’ll get what she deserves.’
    I don’t like to think to o hard about what, to my mind, constitutes what my mother most ‘deserves’. A good ticking off is the very least of it. ‘Well,’ I say, ‘whatever she gets – assuming she gets anything – it’s not going to amount to very much. Certainly not enough to buy somewhere.’
    ‘So where will she live, then? A council place?’
    I almost choke on my water. My mother ? Diana G aaaa rland? In a council flat? She’d rather squat in a tuareg’s tent. I pick my racquet up again. ‘That’s exactly the problem. That’s the worst of it, frankly. It’s not actually been said in so many words, but you know, she’s unnaturally un-fazed by all this. If you saw her you’d see. She’s really not that bothered at all . Even for an inveterate nomad. No tears. No hysterics – either actual or acted. No fuss at all. Almost the opposite in fact. ‘
    ‘Well, hats off to her for taking it so bravely, I say. That’s got to be a good thing, hasn’t it?’
    ‘It’s the worst thing imaginable! Dee, don’t you realise? I think the reason she’s taking it all on the chin is that she thinks she can come and live with me !’
    ‘Oh, I see .’ But she doesn’t. She thinks she does but she doesn’t. And if I thought I could explain, then I would readily do so. But how can I explain to someone like Dee? Her home life is so grim she’d probably consider living with my mother as a veritable stroll in the park.
    Yeah. As in Jurassic. We get back to our game.
    Is there some sort of game going on in other departments too, I wonder? Because when I get back from badminton, mottled pink, sweaty and looking like I just went ten rounds with a wardrobe, the man himself is waiting outside