Selma
Kent, UK
5 August 1991
A few days after receiving the order from Mike, I found myself walking into a small courtroom. It felt alien to me after my time in the cave. It was so bland in comparison, so lifeless. Mike too, in his grey suit: loose because he’d lost weight. It gave me a hint of guilt to see him like that, but then I remembered how it felt to have that cold stark emergency residency order handed over to me. He wasn’t even giving me a chance to share equal time with our daughter. He wanted her all to himself, citing concerns I might whisk her away. I was still kicking myself about that stupid threat I’d made about him not being able to watch Becky all the time. No doubt he’d latched onto that and thought I’d kidnap her. My own daughter!
Mike’s solicitor glanced up as I walked past. I recognised him as one of Mike’s football buddies. His eyes widened as he took me in. I looked down at myself. Had I really changed that much in just a couple of weeks? I took in the brownness of my wrists against the white of my blouse, felt the length of my dark hair against my bare arms. The blouse felt itchy against my skin, it seemed so long since I was out of summer dresses. But I’d left my hair down, something I wouldn’t have done normally if going to court.
Looser hair. Darker skin. A deeper happiness? Despite that awful morning when I received the order from Mike, the past two weeks had been relatively calm. Idris had convinced me there wasn’t much I could do and he was right. So I’d thrown myself into writing, writing almost a third of the novel in just two weeks! It gave me a thrill just thinking about it as I stood in that courtroom. I knew it was special and then Mike wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if I got a big book deal!
I took the seat adjacent to Mike and his solicitor. Mike coughed, taking a sip of water as he glanced at me over his glass. I smiled at him. I wouldn’t stoop to his level. He frowned and turned away.
The judge entered and proceedings began. It was nothing new at first, just a confirmation of the residency order and whether it should be maintained. I felt a flicker of hope, but then Mike’s solicitor mentioned about me threatening to take Becky that night, as witnessed and confirmed by Becky herself. I was shocked at that. Why hadn’t Becky just lied? Surely she was old enough to know what impact this would have; that it might mean her not seeing her mum.
Then it was my solicitor’s turn. I liked her. Julien had recommended her and she was surprisingly young, maybe in her mid-twenties, with a permanent smile on her face. She’d loved the cave when she’d visited to go through things with me and that made me warm to her too, especially her informal manner. But as she stood up now, a steely look appeared in her eyes and I could see she was a different person in court.
Good. I wanted Mike to learn his lesson.
‘My client strenuously denies threatening to abduct her own daughter,’ my solicitor said, ‘and as the only witness is a very confused eight-year-old child, she’s surprised this has even had to come to court.’
Mike looked over in surprise. ‘You did say that, Selma, and you bloody well know it!’ he shouted out.
The judge looked at him sharply and Mike’s solicitor put a soft hand on his client’s arm. Mike continued glaring at me. I decided to just smile back and that seemed to wind him up even more.
Good. I wanted him to look bad in front of the judge. It was disgusting what he was trying to do, drive me and my daughter apart.
‘My client simply wants to come to a suitable arrangement whereby she shares joint custody of her daughter with her husband,’ my solicitor continued, ‘ideally agreed via mediation, in her daughter’s best interests. She’s shocked and saddened it has escalated to a situation which could lead to her not seeing her daughter at all.’
The judge looked at Mike. ‘This seems like a sensible option to me. Can we agree to set up a mediation session?’
‘No,’ Mike said. ‘She threatened to take our child away!’
‘I didn’t,’ I said simply. ‘I swear I didn’t.’
‘Well, I refuse to mediate,’ Mike said, crossing his arms. ‘You don’t know my wife like I do. It’s impossible to believe a word she says.’
The judge sighed. ‘I have read all the documents and heard the evidence, and I tend to agree with Mrs Rhys’s solicitor that she does not pose an abduction risk.’
Mike shook his head in disbelief. I felt like punching the air but restrained myself.
‘However,’ the judge added, looking at me, ‘I am concerned, if you were to be granted joint custody of your child, that your current living conditions might not be suitable. So, while mediation and prearranged visits between mother and daughter take place, which I insist on,’ he said, raising an eyebrow at Mike, ‘I will be asking social services to produce a welfare report on both parties’ living conditions which will be heard at another court hearing in twelve weeks. But until that report is produced, there will be no overnight stays in the cave, Mrs Rhys. Do you understand?’ I reluctantly nodded, trying to hide my disappointment. ‘Right, let’s move onto arranging visitations during this interim period.’
Mike’s jaw was tight as his solicitor whispered in his ear. Then Mike sighed and nodded. Over the next ten minutes, they agreed Becky would meet with me three days a week at pre-agreed venues. It wasn’t ideal but it was something.
As I walked back to the cave later, I felt energised. Mike was trying to make it as difficult as possible but the courts were clearly seeing sense. Still, I was annoyed it had come to this. If Mike had only kept his mouth shut, we could have come to an arrangement without Becky having to be caught up in all this drama. And Mike was always saying I was the dramatic one! Wasn’t he the one who’d thrown me out then served me with an emergency order? If anyone was tearing their family apart, it was him.
As I approached the cave, I was surprised to see nobody was outside. It was nearly six, and usually people would be gathering by the fire before dinner. I was expecting the tinkle of Caden’s guitar, laughter from Oceane, the clinking of glasses.
But there was nothing.
I frowned, hurrying towards the cave. But as I stepped in, I felt an amazing energy in the air, so intense it made me stop in my tracks. Everyone was sitting at the large table, hands linked, eyes closed, even young Tom. And at the head of them, Idris, his face serene.
When he opened his eyes, he looked right into mine. I felt my stomach tilt.
‘She’s back,’ he said. Everyone else opened their eyes too, stretching and smiling.
‘What were you doing?’ I asked, sitting down as Donna got up to pour me some gin.
‘We were focusing our currents on you,’ Idris explained. ‘On trying to ensure your court session was successful.’
I smiled. Yes, it was all a bit woo-woo. But it was sweet of them. So I bit back my usual cynical response. ‘Thank you,’ I said instead. ‘I think it worked.’
Oceane’s eyes lit up. ‘What happened?’
‘Mike lost it,’ I said, taking the gin Donna handed me with thanks. ‘Got really angry. The judge was not impressed.’
‘Yes!’ Tom said, punching the air.
‘So what now?’ Idris asked.
I turned to him. ‘Social services are doing a report which they’ll present in twelve weeks. In the meantime, I can see Becky three days a week.’ I sighed. ‘But she can’t stay here.’
Idris frowned. ‘That’s a shame.’
‘Does that mean social services will come here?’ Donna asked, suddenly looking anxious as she peered at Tom.
Idris put a hand on her arm. ‘It will be fine.’
Donna’s face relaxed. ‘Yes, it will,’ she said, suddenly soothed and relaxed, almost as though hypnotised.
‘I know this is a lot for you all to deal with,’ I said, sighing. ‘It won’t be nice having strangers poking about the place you consider your home.’
‘Our home,’ Anita said, smiling at me.
‘But it is necessary,’ Idris said, voice firm. ‘We are family now, all of us.’
‘The Children of the Current,’ Donna said with a smile.
I frowned. ‘The Children of the Current?’
‘It came to me while I was in the current earlier,’ Idris explained. ‘That’s what we will call ourselves.’
‘Okay, just don’t tell social services that,’ I said with a nervous laugh. ‘They’ll think we’re a cult and no way will Becky be able to stay.’
Maggie rolled her eyes. ‘Cult? Honestly. You know I heard some bored housewives gossiping about us when I went to the shops earlier? Apparently, we’re going to hole up in this cave and poison each other so we can enter a special heaven made of caves.’
Everyone laughed. But as I watched Donna staring adoringly up at Idris, I wondered if there was some truth to the cult element for some of the group. Then I shook my head. If there was, it wasn’t Idris’s fault, it was Donna’s. She just wanted to latch onto someone, something.
‘Okay, I have an idea,’ Idris said, clapping his hands. Everyone went quiet. ‘I think we should all focus our energies on making the cave as child-friendly as it can be before the visit from social services. I’m going to ask everyone to temporarily put their individual projects on hold.’ Everyone smiled but I noticed Donna was frowning. ‘I believe, if all of us work together, we can make the cave a child’s paradise for Becky, for any child who lives here.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked. ‘I don’t want to take everyone away from their work.’
‘Of course!’ Idris said as everyone nodded … apart from Donna.
‘You don’t know how much that means to me, Idris.’ I impulsively threw my arms around his neck. The scent of him overwhelmed me, the feel of him too, so close, his soft hair on my lips. ‘Thank you,’ I whispered in his ear. ‘Thank you so much for doing this for me.’
He looked down at me, his face heavy with emotion.
Everyone around us started filtering away as though they sensed we needed this time alone.
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Thank you thank you thank you.’
‘You keep saying that,’ he said, laughing. ‘But I’ve done nothing.’
‘You’ve done everything. This place has! I’ve written words of a novel I didn’t think would see the light of day.’ I paused, trying to find the words. ‘This place has liberated me. All my life has felt like a waiting room. But now you’ve arrived, I’ve arrived.’
‘What if I’ve been the one who’s been waiting?’ Idris murmured. ‘What if you’re the one who arrived for me?’
His eyes dipped to my lips and I felt my heartbeat match the thump of the waves nearby. Suddenly, I knew I could kiss him right in that moment. Maybe it was the gin I’d quickly slugged down. Maybe it was the comfort of having everyone rooting for me. Or maybe it was the pure chemical reaction of being so close to him? The need to press my lips against his overwhelmed me and I didn’t care if anyone saw. They didn’t conform to society’s normal rules anyway, that’s what they always banged on about.
I stood on tiptoes and Idris moved his lips towards mine …
‘Idris, can we talk?’ Donna was standing by him, tugging at his arm. I wasn’t even aware she’d come back.
He turned to her with a smile. ‘Of course.’
I felt a sense of frustration bubble inside. He was so quick to pander to the others, even when we were having a moment.
‘How can I help?’ he asked Donna.
‘Can we talk alone?’ Donna asked, looking at me.
I raised an eyebrow.
‘If that’s what you want,’ Idris said. ‘Come.’
I watched as they walked further into the cave, trying to contain my annoyance. Donna was jealous, I could tell. God knows I’d seen it enough before, that green-eyed monster. They both bent their heads low, Donna frowning as Idris listened patiently. Then he put his hand on Donna’s shoulder and looked her in the eye, saying something. She sighed then nodded, heading to the table and sitting down.
Idris came back.
‘What was that about?’ I asked.
‘She’s just concerned people might be resentful that they’re having to take time away from their individual projects to help you,’ Idris replied. ‘But when I explained how this would benefit Tom too, she agreed.’
I looked at Donna, who was watching us with a furrowed brow. ‘Doesn’t look like she agrees.’
Idris sighed. ‘It’s hard for her, Selma. She likes you but she can see how close we’ve got.’
I looked at him in surprise. He was saying it, just like that.
‘I suppose she sees herself as my right-hand woman,’ he continued. ‘But she needs to learn I don’t favour one person over the other.’
I tried to hide my disappointment. Maybe I’d imagined the connection between us?
Later that afternoon, I lay on my belly on the sand sipping gin, my pen moving over the pages of my notepad, filling them with new scenes and ideas. Caden strummed on his guitar as Oceane danced, the sunlight flickering over her bare tanned legs. In the distance, the sun shone above the sea, painting the tips of the waves gold.
I peered down at Mojo, who was stretched out beside me. She’d taken a liking to me, following me all over the cave and settling down next to me wherever I sat. Maybe it was because of Becky.
Becky.
I peered down the beach. How was my little girl? I wished she was here. My house seemed a world away, the town too. It was as if we were on an island set apart from the rest of the world. And yet people passed all the time when the tide was low, locals taking their evening or morning strolls, tourists checking out the cave as more and more people grew curious about the ‘cave dwellers’, as we were beginning to be called. And now I was one of them. In fact, right at that moment, there were two young men sitting apart from us all, watching. What did they think when they saw me? That I was a mum and housewife desperate for a change? Or an author on the cusp of something great?
I preferred the latter.
After a while, Anita strolled over to them.
‘Getting ready to take photos of the sunset?’ she asked, gesturing to the camera around one of their necks.
‘Yep,’ the man with the camera replied, smiling.
‘Why don’t you come join us?’ she asked them.
‘All are welcome!’ Idris called over.
The two men smiled, following Anita towards where I was sitting. One of them – the man without the camera – had dark hair to his chin and a goofy smile, and the one with the camera was lanky with pockmarked skin.
Anita passed them the bottle. The man with the camera took a swig but the other man shook his head. ‘I’m Nic,’ he said. ‘This is Ollie.’
Anita and I introduced ourselves. ‘Ah, the local author,’ Nic said. ‘I thought I recognised you from an article I read about your book coming out.’
‘Oh, it was a tiny article,’ I said.
‘Are you living here?’ Nic asked me.
The question made me dumbstruck for a few moments. I supposed I was now. ‘Yes,’ I said.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘In a cave?’
‘I know. It sounds mad, right?’ I replied. ‘I was cynical too at first but it’s wonderful, really.’
‘What’s so special about this place then?’ Nic asked. ‘Why a cave?’
‘The atmosphere in the cave is conducive to getting into the current,’ Anita replied matter-of-factly. The two men exchanged looks and I saw it from their point of view. It did sound odd.
Nic tilted his head, curious. ‘Tell us more.’
As Anita explained what we did at the cave – not just getting into the current but the feasting, the welcoming rituals – the men listened, enraptured.
‘She’s a pretty good saleswoman, isn’t she?’ I said as Anita got up to get more drinks. ‘Has she convinced you to stay?’
Nic laughed. ‘I don’t think so. It’s a bit Shirley Valentine, don’t you think?’ He looked at Idris, wiggling his eyebrows.
I felt myself bristle. ‘It’s not like that,’ I said firmly. ‘See that man over there?’ I pointed at Julien. ‘He lost his business, his wife. In fact, he was on the verge of committing suicide, then he saw Idris save that boy. It stopped him from taking his own life and now he lives here. I wouldn’t call that a bit Shirley Valentine, would you?’
Nic thought about it for a few moments. ‘Wow. That’s quite something.’
I hesitated. I probably shouldn’t have told this stranger about something Julien had told me in confidence. But who was he going to tell? And wasn’t it important people knew just how influential Idris truly was?
‘Yes,’ I said with a smile. ‘Well maybe this place is quite something.’
‘It’s certainly been enlightening,’ Nic said, stretching as he stood. ‘But we better head back.’
‘You’re not staying?’ Anita said, back now with two beers.
‘Tempting,’ Nic said as he eyed the beers, ‘but I have work to do.’
‘Maybe we’ll see you both again?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, maybe,’ Nic replied, smirking. Then they walked away.
‘I bet they come back tomorrow,’ Anita said with a smile.
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I think they were just curious.’
‘You started curious and look where you ended up. I think Idris would like more people here. Wine?’ Anita asked me, holding up a bottle of wine she had tucked under her arm.
‘I think I’ve had enough.’
Anita laughed. ‘Me too. Maybe I should stop, I have classes all day tomorrow.’
‘Then you should definitely stop drinking!’
‘You are very wise,’ Anita said, giving me a quick impromptu cuddle. ‘I like you, Selma. I think we’ll be great friends.’
I smiled at her. I usually felt a bit awkward about displays of affection like that, but there was something about this place that was smoothing the rough edges of me.
I tried to focus on that over the coming days. I wasn’t seeing Becky until the weekend so it was tough. To distract myself, I threw myself into getting the cave up to scratch for the social services visit. Even Donna seemed to have got over her initial strangeness, helping me to create an indoor play area, painting the shelves of a bookcase we’d found at a local charity shop different colours and lining it with colourful books. Idris painted the walls around it with all sorts of animals: tigers and kangaroos, soaring exotic birds and fish. The kitchen area was improved with rat- and weather-proof cupboards. And Julien talked a plumber friend into lending us some equipment to make a more sophisticated toilet than the camping one we had.
When I wasn’t working on the cave, I wrote on the beach, one day to the next presenting bluer skies, the sea breeze a welcome respite from the growing heat. Sometimes I paused from my writing, simply watching the goings-on of the cave. I especially liked to watch Idris painting the new furniture Julien had made, his tanned arms sweeping back and forth, his hair, wavy from the sea salt, tied in a bun at the base of his neck.
As I slept at night, I was increasingly aware of Idris sleeping a few metres away. He slept with no covers on, just some shorts, hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling as though he could see stories dancing up in those rocks. I snuck occasional glances at him and once or twice caught him watching me, returning my gaze with no words.
Had I really imagined the spark between us both, in the way he looked at me? I thought of that moment we’d shared a few nights ago, before Donna had ruined things. There hadn’t been a moment like that since, as the group were too busy doing the cave up. But I wanted there to be.
Did Idris?
Or maybe he was that way with everyone. More crowds gathered to watch him paint and talk over those few days, mainly teenagers drawn there, bored during the summer holidays and fascinated by the bohemian group gathered in the cave. People seemed enraptured by Idris’s talk of getting ‘into the current’, some visitors even claiming to have achieved it themselves. Some people stayed overnight too, usually disappearing by the morning. It became a retreat of sorts. Even I had taken to doing readings from my work in progress, offering aspiring writers tips for getting published when I’d finished for the day, gathering a regular daily crowd who popped by on their way back from work to listen to me. It made me feel valuable, significant. Idris and I were becoming quite a team.
By the time the weekend arrived, it was time to meet up with Becky in the seafront café. At first, I thought Mike and Becky wouldn’t turn up, but then I saw them approaching from the road in the distance. I smoothed my hair down, suddenly nervous. I wanted things to be as normal as possible for Becky but, the fact was, Mike and I were fighting for her, both desperate to present ourselves as the perfect parents. I could see it in the way Mike was dressed, smarter than usual in chinos and a white T-shirt. When they got to me, Becky seemed hesitant to come to me initially, Mike avoiding my gaze as he stubbornly crossed his arms.
‘Come on then, say hello!’ I said, opening my arms to my daughter.
Becky took a step towards me then smiled, jogging the rest of the way and throwing herself into my arms. I felt a surge of relief. The thought she might not have wanted to be cuddled by me would have thrown me into a spin of negativity. But of course she’d be confused, reluctant at first. As long as she quickly got over that and was in my arms, all would be fine.
‘Here, I got you something,’ I said, excitedly pulling out a book I’d found in one of the local charity shops about caves.
Mike rolled his eyes.
‘Thanks!’ Becky said.
‘I’ll see you here at six then, Mike?’ I said in as bright a voice as I could muster.
Mike’s jaw twitched, his hands clenching and unclenching as he struggled to contain his anger. He leaned down and gave Becky a quick peck on the cheek.
‘I’ve booked more time off work by the way,’ he said, hardly able to look at me. ‘It’s something we’ll need to discuss, how we approach things like the half-terms.’
‘Oh, I see. So I’m not an abduction risk any more, am I?’
Becky frowned and I inwardly kicked myself. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t stoop to Mike’s level.
‘You have a good solicitor, that’s all I’m going to say,’ Mike countered. He went to walk off then he paused, turning back to me. ‘Exactly how are you paying for your solicitor by the way? You haven’t touched our savings so I presume you have some money hidden away somewhere.’
I paused. The truth was, I had a small savings account I hadn’t told Mike about. It was my only form of financial independence. Maybe in the back of my mind, I’d known the day would come when I’d need it. It wasn’t much, just a few thousand pounds, but the solicitor fees were already draining a chunk of it and soon it would run out. The salary I’d get paid in a few days would quickly get sucked up with bills. The thought of work made me sick. I’d managed to delay my return until the week after next, calling my boss from a payphone in town to explain what had happened with me and Mike, but the idea of returning filled me with doom. I needed to talk to Mike about selling the house, I’d be free of any financial ties then. Maybe I wouldn’t need a job until I got another publishing deal if that was the case. The thought was just too tempting.
‘Selma?’ Mike pushed.
‘Oh, it’s just numbers, Mike,’ I heard myself saying. ‘Why is everyone so fixated on numbers?’
He laughed. ‘Do you realise how you sound?’
I felt a blush working its way over my cheeks. He was right. What did I sound like?
‘I just mean,’ I quickly said, ‘we should wait until we’re alone to discuss all this.’
‘Agreed,’ Mike replied curtly. Then he walked off.
‘Now, how are you, my darling?’ I asked, turning back to my daughter. ‘I have missed you so much!’
‘I’ve missed you too, Mummy. Why aren’t you at home? I don’t understand.’
I sighed. I knew this conversation had to happen eventually. I’d begged Mike that we both sit down and tell her but he’d refused, saying that I’d made the decision to leave for good, so I had to be the one to deliver the news.
‘What has Daddy told you?’ I asked Becky.
‘That you’re on a writing holiday.’ Becky folded her arms. ‘I hate your stupid writing.’
‘It’s not that, darling,’ I said softly. ‘Mummy’s moved out.’
Becky frowned. ‘You’re not living with me any more?’
‘Well, I’d like us to live together, in the cave. But Daddy wants you to sleep in the house every night. We both love you so much, we want you all the time, you see.’
‘So that’s why you’re fighting? You’re fighting over me?’
My stomach clenched with sadness. It wouldn’t have to be as painful as this if Mike would only bloody let Becky stay at the cave some nights! I watched Mike rush across the road in the distance. A bus approached and I imagined it speeding up, hitting him. All my problems would be solved then, wouldn’t they? Becky could live with me in the cave forever.
I put my hand to my temple. What was I thinking? I took in a deep breath.
‘We’re not really fighting,’ I said to Becky. ‘I just want you to live with me, and Daddy wants you to live with him. But the problem is, Daddy and I don’t want to live with each other any more.’
‘Why?’ Becky whined.
‘Adults are complicated. It’s hard to explain. You’ll understand when you’re older.’ I leaned forward, clutching onto my daughter’s small hand. ‘All you need to know is I love you, more than you know. So, what shall we eat? I’m thinking we should start with pudding.’
Becky crossed her arms, sulkily staring out of the window. ‘Not hungry.’
I sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.
‘Becky!’ two little voices shouted out.
I turned to see Gym Bunny Cynthia walk into the café, her twins rushing towards Becky. Cynthia raised an eyebrow when she caught sight of me.
‘Look what I got,’ one of the twins said when she got to the table, showing Becky a colourful tape recorder with a microphone attached.
‘Wow,’ Becky said. ‘A Rockin’ Robot. Can I have one, Mummy?’
‘Of course,’ I said. ‘I’ll bring one next time we meet.’
‘They’re expensive for what they are,’ Cynthia said. ‘Might be a bit of a stretch for you now you don’t have Mike’s income to support you.’ She pursed her lips slightly, suppressing a smile. So the word was already out about Mike and I splitting up.
I flicked my sunglasses onto my head, yawning. ‘I can afford to buy my child a toy, Cynthia. Anyway, you don’t need toys and money to have fun.’
‘Oh yes,’ Cynthia said. ‘Numbers are so passé, aren’t they? Watches too from what I heard,’ she added, looking at my watch-free wrist. ‘Getting into the current is so much better than all that, isn’t it? Especially when the current you’re getting into has piercing green eyes and a fit bod?’
I frowned. How did she know all that? Idris only talked about the current with outsiders, not the watch stuff.
‘Oh, nice photo by the way,’ Cynthia said, getting a newspaper out of her bag and slamming it onto the table. ‘Hot off the press.’
It was the local newspaper, the Queensbay Chronicle. On the front page was a photo of Anita and I sitting on the beach, drinking. The headline above read Inside Scoop on the Cave Dwelling Cult! Then beneath it, the byline: Words by Nic Carey, photos by Ollie Robertson.
The men Anita and I had been talking to a few days before.
‘Why are you in the paper, Mummy?’ Becky asked, peering at it.
I tried to compose my face but I could feel the hot burning blush creep over my skin. ‘It’s nothing,’ I said, turning it over so I didn’t have to look at the article.
‘Your mummy’s a cavewoman!’ one of the twins said, giggling. Becky frowned as other people in the café peered over at us.
Damn it, why had I talked to those men?
‘It’s a real shame, you know,’ Cynthia said with a dramatic sigh. ‘These two used to love playing in those caves but now they’re too scared.’
‘That’s ridiculous. Children are always welcome to play in the cave,’ I said. ‘It’s perfectly safe.’
Two women nearby raised cynical eyebrows and I felt my blush deepen.
‘Easy to say in this weather,’ Cynthia said in a loud voice so everybody could hear. ‘But after a few days of heavy rain, you’ll be changing your minds.’ People nodded. ‘And what about the winter?’ Cynthia continued, on a roll now. ‘It’ll be awful. Must be damp too, even in the summer. It’s no place for a child to be.’
I felt anger leap inside me. ‘Why? Because there’s no TV screen to stick your kid in front of?’ I shot back, looking pointedly at the handheld game device one of her twins was holding. ‘No plastic toys to keep them quiet? Just because this isn’t your life doesn’t mean it’s not the right life.’
‘Mummy,’ Becky pleaded in a little voice. But I wasn’t going to let Cynthia get away with this.
‘Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, love,’ an older man sitting at the next table shouted over. ‘I guarantee it’ll be a different story in a few weeks and I for one can’t wait to see it all fall down around your ears. Bloody cults!’
Cynthia suppressed a giggle and I imagined going up to her and smacking her in the face. But instead I stood up and smiled serenely.
‘I think we’ll get lunch elsewhere. Come on, Becky.’ Becky hesitantly got up and I marched her outside. ‘Have a lovely day being ignorant and bloody boring!’ I shouted over my shoulder, barely containing my rage.
‘You have a fab day being a crazy hippy, Selma!’ Cynthia shot back in an equally faux cheery voice. ‘And see you on Saturday, Becky darling!’
‘Saturday?’ I said to Becky as I strode out with her. ‘What’s happening on Saturday?’
‘Cynthia’s coming to our house for a playdate.’
I took several deep breaths to calm myself. A playdate? Funny how Mike had suddenly become Father of the Year. And with Cynthia, of all people. He knew I hated her.
As we walked down the street, I noticed people watching me and whispering, and I thought of that article.
What was Idris going to say?