yourself.’ Surprised by that sort of comment coming from a child of eleven, Mike explained that not only didn’t we talk like that in our house, we didn’t believe it to be true, either. There was no hierarchy in our house, he explained. No order of importance. We were equals and in all things we worked as a team. If a meal needed preparing, then someone would prepare it. There was no law that said that someone had to be me. But Justin was adamant. ‘That’s women’s work,’ he said. And though Mike then explained that there was no such thing as ‘women’s work’, he wouldn’t have it. ‘You won’t ever catch me doing women’s work,’ he said firmly.
Later that day, he came down from where he’d been playing on his computer in his bedroom to find me, Riley, David and Kieron playing Scrabble.
‘D’you want to join us?’ Riley asked him. Justin looked shocked that she’d even spoken to him. ‘Now, why would I want to do that?’ he said. He then, very pointedly, turned to Kieron and David. ‘Do you two want to play footie outside?’ he asked them. ‘We could set my new net up if you like.’
Riley set her Scrabble tiles down, her face fixed in a grimace. ‘I was only trying to be friendly!’ she snapped at him. ‘And you can see perfectly well that they can’t play “footie”. We’re in the middle of a game, if you hadn’t noticed, so –’
‘It’s okay, Riley,’ I interrupted, conscious of the sudden tension. ‘I’m sure Justin didn’t mean to be rude. How about you stay and watch who wins this round, eh, Justin? Then maybe the boys will have a kick about with you after.’
‘Yeah,’ added David, grinning. ‘Stay and watch us annihilate these girls, yeah? Then we’ll play footie.’
I loved David. He was such a great partner to Riley. Cheerful and funny, and also a rarity: a match for our very strong-willed daughter. Mike and I had both known him for longer than she had, as he was the son of a good friend of ours. I still didn’t think Riley realised quite how big a hand her mum and dad had had in having them ‘bump into’ each other so often.
But like many men, he didn’t see the signals the way us girls did, and got a scowl from his girlfriend for his well-meaning comment, made, I didn’t doubt, to try and lighten up the situation. Justin sniggered, too, which annoyed Riley further. ‘You don’t think much of women, do you, Justin?’ she observed sharply.
‘ You don’t think much of women, do you, Justin ?’ he parroted. ‘Nag nag bloody nag.’ Upon which he turned on his heel and left the room.
The boys still seemed largely oblivious to what was going on here, but Riley and I weren’t. Quite the opposite. We were seeing a pattern. And also a symptom, I thought – of a child trying hard to provoke a reaction.
‘I definitely think he’s trying to make you pay for what his mum said to him,’ Mike suggested, confirming my own thoughts, when we had a few moments alone together later.
‘Me and Riley,’ I said, nodding. ‘It’s that whole black-haired woman thing, I’m guessing.’ I sighed. ‘I wish he’d actually sit down and talk to me, instead.’
But that wasn’t happening. And there was more to come, too. It was obvious that we were really only scratching the surface of how much pain Justin was really suffering. The following morning I came down to find him sitting at the table, his empty breakfast dishes beside him, reading a magazine.
‘You’re up early, love,’ I said. ‘Mike make you breakfast, then, did he?’
He shook his head. ‘Nah. He went to work ages ago. I made it myself.’
He seemed proud of having down that. Good, I thought. Good . That would give him some much needed points for his chart. And so much for his ideas about women’s work …
I ruffled his mop of blond curls and he seemed happy to let me do so. ‘What you reading?’ I asked him.
‘The magazine out of Mike’s paper,’ he said brightly. ‘The
Later that day, he came down from where he’d been playing on his computer in his bedroom to find me, Riley, David and Kieron playing Scrabble.
‘D’you want to join us?’ Riley asked him. Justin looked shocked that she’d even spoken to him. ‘Now, why would I want to do that?’ he said. He then, very pointedly, turned to Kieron and David. ‘Do you two want to play footie outside?’ he asked them. ‘We could set my new net up if you like.’
Riley set her Scrabble tiles down, her face fixed in a grimace. ‘I was only trying to be friendly!’ she snapped at him. ‘And you can see perfectly well that they can’t play “footie”. We’re in the middle of a game, if you hadn’t noticed, so –’
‘It’s okay, Riley,’ I interrupted, conscious of the sudden tension. ‘I’m sure Justin didn’t mean to be rude. How about you stay and watch who wins this round, eh, Justin? Then maybe the boys will have a kick about with you after.’
‘Yeah,’ added David, grinning. ‘Stay and watch us annihilate these girls, yeah? Then we’ll play footie.’
I loved David. He was such a great partner to Riley. Cheerful and funny, and also a rarity: a match for our very strong-willed daughter. Mike and I had both known him for longer than she had, as he was the son of a good friend of ours. I still didn’t think Riley realised quite how big a hand her mum and dad had had in having them ‘bump into’ each other so often.
But like many men, he didn’t see the signals the way us girls did, and got a scowl from his girlfriend for his well-meaning comment, made, I didn’t doubt, to try and lighten up the situation. Justin sniggered, too, which annoyed Riley further. ‘You don’t think much of women, do you, Justin?’ she observed sharply.
‘ You don’t think much of women, do you, Justin ?’ he parroted. ‘Nag nag bloody nag.’ Upon which he turned on his heel and left the room.
The boys still seemed largely oblivious to what was going on here, but Riley and I weren’t. Quite the opposite. We were seeing a pattern. And also a symptom, I thought – of a child trying hard to provoke a reaction.
‘I definitely think he’s trying to make you pay for what his mum said to him,’ Mike suggested, confirming my own thoughts, when we had a few moments alone together later.
‘Me and Riley,’ I said, nodding. ‘It’s that whole black-haired woman thing, I’m guessing.’ I sighed. ‘I wish he’d actually sit down and talk to me, instead.’
But that wasn’t happening. And there was more to come, too. It was obvious that we were really only scratching the surface of how much pain Justin was really suffering. The following morning I came down to find him sitting at the table, his empty breakfast dishes beside him, reading a magazine.
‘You’re up early, love,’ I said. ‘Mike make you breakfast, then, did he?’
He shook his head. ‘Nah. He went to work ages ago. I made it myself.’
He seemed proud of having down that. Good, I thought. Good . That would give him some much needed points for his chart. And so much for his ideas about women’s work …
I ruffled his mop of blond curls and he seemed happy to let me do so. ‘What you reading?’ I asked him.
‘The magazine out of Mike’s paper,’ he said brightly. ‘The
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