New York Girl (formerly known as Maple Street)

Chapter Fifteen

 ‘Buzz off.’ I moaned, pressing my face deeper into the pillow – but it was no use - the banging was relentless.

Throwing the blankets to one side, I jumped out of the bed, padding my feet against the laminate wondering who would be banging at my door, seven thirty on a Saturday morning.

 Stepping to one side, I was too stunned to say anything for at least a few seconds. 'Mom?’

In she walked, rolling a bright red suitcase behind her. She looked me up and down, and eventually spoke with the same nonchalant tone she always used. ‘Hey, Honey. Why are you not dressed yet!’

'Mom, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?’

'It's your Father.' I felt my stomach turn and everything around me seemed fuzzy. ‘It’s over.’ She continued.

‘What?’

'Don't look at me like that Lucy. You must have known something was up. I knew he had been seeing that floozy for months.'

'Dad is having an affair?!'

'Be quiet, your neighbours will hear you.’ She whispered.’ These walls are so thin. Pour me a Gin & Tonic will you honey.'

I wanted to point out that it had only just gone eight in the morning but the obvious answer would have been the time difference, so instead I kept quiet searching through the cupboard for the green bottle. 'Here you go.'

At first I just hovered around the kitchen staring at the foreigner that was my own mother. ‘Mom, please tell me what’s happened.’

 She shrugged her shoulders, sipping into the glass. 'He’s fallen for someone else. I have known about it for months, ever since she moved down the road. I'm telling you, it was the gingerbread biscuits that did it for him.'

'Gingerbread biscuits?’

'And her ungodly dress sense, tottering around in her front garden, watering her flowers, bending down for the whole street to see what she had for breakfast! Martha Battenberg - the street, bike.'

'Dad would never do this to you. You have been married for thirty years for goodness sake!’

'Don't forget the five year courtship beforehand.’

'Has he left you for her?' I asked, plonking myself down onto a chair opposite her.

'He doesn't have the foggiest clue that I even know about her. That's how oblivious he is. He would have a coronary if he knew I was here!' She laughed.

'You have to tell him! He can't get away with this.'

She took another sip of her drink and looked up at me. Her aging face had grown a few more wrinkles since I had last seen her but her grey eyes still had that same sparkle.  'My dear Lucy, you don't know men at all do you? Let him have Martha Battenberg. It won't be long before he tires of her. But you have to promise me one thing.’

'Of course, Mom - anything.’

'Don't tell him I'm here. I don't want him raining on our parade.'

'What do you mean our parade?'

'I have been thinking, you know, about this whole American thing. Maybe you were right after all. It doesn't seem so bad. I can avoid the calories if I ask for a medium sized burger right? And I have been practising my accent ''becoys'' instead of ''because'' and I am a dab hand at darning socks.'

'Mom, people don’t darn socks over here. And what are you talking about? Your home is in England with Dad.'

 She got up from the chair and started to pace the floor. 'I could get a job, just like you did. I could live like they do in Dynasty or Dallas! Maybe I could meet my very own JR!'