Free Second Night by Gabriel J Klein Page B

becomes a chore?’
    Maddie answered. ‘It depends what else is going on in your life. It’s a pleasure as long as it’s satisfying. Otherwise it’s just a chore.’
    â€˜Is it a pleasure or a chore for you, Maddie?’
    â€˜Both, I would say.’
    Sara looked at her directly. ‘But aren’t you bored being alone all the time?’
    â€˜She’s not alone,’ protested Jemima. ‘She’s got us.’
    â€˜But that’s not enough,’ said Sara.
    Maddie thought about it. ‘Am I bored? Yes, I suppose I am, in a way,’ she admitted.
    â€˜What was Tom like?’
    Maddie’s eyes softened, looking inward to the place where he still lived and everything that had happened since was just a dream. She smiled as she answered. ‘He was very physical, broad-shouldered and narrow in the hips.‘
    â€˜That sounds like Caz,’ said Jemima.
    Maddie nodded. ‘But unlike Caz, your father was always talking. He had a wicked sense of humour. He used to make me laugh until I cried.’
    â€˜Sounds like Jas,’ said Sara.
    â€˜Yes, like Jas,’ agreed Maddie. ‘He did some crazy things. Most people really liked him. A few couldn’t cope with him. Sometimes that was difficult but it was mostly funny too.’
    â€˜Definitely like Jas,’ said Jemima.
    â€˜And then he died, and the laughter died with him,’ said Sara.
    Their eyes met.
    â€˜Yes,’ Maddie admitted, ‘the laughter died with him.’
    â€˜That’s not true!’ exclaimed Jemima. ‘We still laugh, you know we do.’
    â€˜Yes, but it’s not the same,’ objected Sara. ‘You need a lover, Maddie.’
    â€˜I’m afraid that’s not my department any more.’
    â€˜Why?’
    Maddie laughed ruefully. ‘My children told me they would find me one. As you can see, I’m still waiting.’
    â€˜That’s because no one’s good enough,’ said Jemima.
    â€˜For her, or for you?’ asked Sara.
    â€˜If they’re good enough for her, they’ll be fine for us too.’
    â€˜Don’t you think that’s a bit selfish?’
    â€˜Of course it isn’t. How could she be happy with someone we didn’t like?’
    â€˜She wouldn’t fancy your boyfriends.’
    â€˜I should hope not!’
    â€˜So why should it be any different for her?’
    â€˜It just is,’ said Jemima obstinately. ‘Isn’t it, Ma?’
    Maddie opened the oven door. A burst of steam evaporated into the hot room.
    â€˜Perhaps that would depend on the lover,’ she said carefully. ‘The bread’s done. Are the teacakes ready, Jem?’
    Jemima put a finger to the warm, skin-soft dough left to rise on a tray under a cloth. ‘Yes.’
    â€˜I don’t want my kids telling me what to do,’ said Sara. ‘I can’t see the point in always being encouraged to develop my individuality if I’m going to have to end up suppressing it, just so that my children can have the convenient ‘parent’ label to categorise me with.’
    Jemima immediately objected. ‘We don’t categorise Ma.’
    â€˜Yes, you do,’ Sara answered. ‘You don’t expect her to need any kind of a life other than what you are prepared to allow her.’
    â€˜But we are her life.’
    â€˜Only temporarily. In a few years’ time you’ll be going to university and what do you expect her to do then? Families don’t live just for each other any more. Your grandparents live more than two hundred miles away in the West Country. Mine live in Oxford. We don’t expect to see each other more than once or twice a year, and that’s normal rather than exceptional nowadays.’
    â€˜But that makes it more special when we do,’ argued Jemima.
    â€˜It doesn’t alter the fact that our generation is going to have to completely re-evaluate this