a measured, objective once-over. ‘Well, so are you,’ he said, matter-of-factly.
I could have deep-fried chips on my cheeks. ‘I’ve told you a million times, don’t exaggerate,’ I joshed desperately.
Once more, my son turned his studious countenance towards me. ‘I’m not exaggerating. Look. See all the hairs on your top lip? There’s millions of them. You have one or two on your chin as well.’
‘If only I’d taken a tip from mother nature and eaten my young.’ I laughed a little too loudly. The slight age gap between Octavian and me suddenly widened into a Grand Canyon chasm.
‘You must be the one she doesn’t have anything in common with, who has a good sex drive,’ Merlin continued, oblivious to my distress. ‘Although I’m not sure what that means … Does that mean you drive here for sex with my mother?’
Gin and tonic spurted out of my nose.
‘So, um, Merlin’ – Octavian’s polite private school education kicked in and he tried to tack into calmer conversational waters – ‘what do you want to be when you grow up?’
My eleven-year-old son took a long, serious look at my toyboy. ‘Why? Are you looking for some ideas?’ he said, without a trace of irony. ‘Actually, when I grow up I want to be taller,’ he then added logically.
The air had become too thick, too hot, too rich – like broth. I kissed Merlin with urgency. ‘Off you go! Grandma will be so worried about you …’
‘Gosh, Mum …’
I spasmed with fear. Hair follicles prickled up all over my body in a premonition of disaster. ‘Y … Y … yes …’ I whispered, in a voice that screamed NO!
‘Your breath smells so much nicer now. When you’re in bed in the morning, it smells like poo.’
When Merlin was safely dispatched, my jodhpured Adonis rose to erotic ardour with all the enthusiasm of a giant panda at London Zoo glumly coaxed to do his duty.
After he’d faked some equestrian-related phone call that demanded his immediate departure, I threw on some clothes, put on my sunglasses, even though the sun had long gone in, and stomped the block and a half to my mother’s home.
In the gloom of the hall, I excavated a space on the book-lined stairs, sat Merlin down and attempted to explain to him that it wasn’t always best to tell the truth.
His blue eyes lasered into me. ‘You want me to lie?’
‘Well, yes. Sometimes. For example … if I said to you “Does my bum look big in these trousers?” it would hurt my feelings if you said yes.’
‘But your bottom
is
far too big for your trousers.’
‘Merlin! That’s not the point …’ Losing my train of thought I stood up and craned over my shoulder to scrutinize my reflection in my mother’s hallway mirror. ‘Do you really think my bottom looks too big for these trousers? It just looks a little peachy, doesn’t it? Oh,’ I sighed in exasperation with myself and with him, and flumped back on to the stairs. ‘Look, there are just some things it’s not nice to say. Like, okay, you should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests you think she’s pregnant unless you can see her waters breaking and she’s lying on a birthing table with her legs up in stirrups.’
‘Why?’
‘Why? Because she might just be fat. Do you understand?’ I snapped, trying hard to keep the frustrated fury out of my face.
Merlin shook his head.
I looked at my eccentric son in disheartened despair. As usual, I longed for some operating instructions. ‘Oh, Merlin, just sometimes can’t you try to act normal? Okay? Just for my sake. Like, smile occasionally. Not glower. And don’t just volunteer information. Try to ask questions about
them
.’ My voice was raised in irritation. ‘
Will you promise to at least try?
’
Merlin just looked up at me with the huge, sad eyes of a dog that didn’t understand why he’d been kicked by his master. Just as well I wasn’t doing yoga any more, as I’d be crying into my hair during headstands.
My mother
I could have deep-fried chips on my cheeks. ‘I’ve told you a million times, don’t exaggerate,’ I joshed desperately.
Once more, my son turned his studious countenance towards me. ‘I’m not exaggerating. Look. See all the hairs on your top lip? There’s millions of them. You have one or two on your chin as well.’
‘If only I’d taken a tip from mother nature and eaten my young.’ I laughed a little too loudly. The slight age gap between Octavian and me suddenly widened into a Grand Canyon chasm.
‘You must be the one she doesn’t have anything in common with, who has a good sex drive,’ Merlin continued, oblivious to my distress. ‘Although I’m not sure what that means … Does that mean you drive here for sex with my mother?’
Gin and tonic spurted out of my nose.
‘So, um, Merlin’ – Octavian’s polite private school education kicked in and he tried to tack into calmer conversational waters – ‘what do you want to be when you grow up?’
My eleven-year-old son took a long, serious look at my toyboy. ‘Why? Are you looking for some ideas?’ he said, without a trace of irony. ‘Actually, when I grow up I want to be taller,’ he then added logically.
The air had become too thick, too hot, too rich – like broth. I kissed Merlin with urgency. ‘Off you go! Grandma will be so worried about you …’
‘Gosh, Mum …’
I spasmed with fear. Hair follicles prickled up all over my body in a premonition of disaster. ‘Y … Y … yes …’ I whispered, in a voice that screamed NO!
‘Your breath smells so much nicer now. When you’re in bed in the morning, it smells like poo.’
When Merlin was safely dispatched, my jodhpured Adonis rose to erotic ardour with all the enthusiasm of a giant panda at London Zoo glumly coaxed to do his duty.
After he’d faked some equestrian-related phone call that demanded his immediate departure, I threw on some clothes, put on my sunglasses, even though the sun had long gone in, and stomped the block and a half to my mother’s home.
In the gloom of the hall, I excavated a space on the book-lined stairs, sat Merlin down and attempted to explain to him that it wasn’t always best to tell the truth.
His blue eyes lasered into me. ‘You want me to lie?’
‘Well, yes. Sometimes. For example … if I said to you “Does my bum look big in these trousers?” it would hurt my feelings if you said yes.’
‘But your bottom
is
far too big for your trousers.’
‘Merlin! That’s not the point …’ Losing my train of thought I stood up and craned over my shoulder to scrutinize my reflection in my mother’s hallway mirror. ‘Do you really think my bottom looks too big for these trousers? It just looks a little peachy, doesn’t it? Oh,’ I sighed in exasperation with myself and with him, and flumped back on to the stairs. ‘Look, there are just some things it’s not nice to say. Like, okay, you should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests you think she’s pregnant unless you can see her waters breaking and she’s lying on a birthing table with her legs up in stirrups.’
‘Why?’
‘Why? Because she might just be fat. Do you understand?’ I snapped, trying hard to keep the frustrated fury out of my face.
Merlin shook his head.
I looked at my eccentric son in disheartened despair. As usual, I longed for some operating instructions. ‘Oh, Merlin, just sometimes can’t you try to act normal? Okay? Just for my sake. Like, smile occasionally. Not glower. And don’t just volunteer information. Try to ask questions about
them
.’ My voice was raised in irritation. ‘
Will you promise to at least try?
’
Merlin just looked up at me with the huge, sad eyes of a dog that didn’t understand why he’d been kicked by his master. Just as well I wasn’t doing yoga any more, as I’d be crying into my hair during headstands.
My mother
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