The Full Legacy by Jane Retzig

weather closed in on us in a thick hot blanket of humidity. The day felt like a preview of what hell would be like for me if I didn’t mend my ways and stop sleeping with married women. I’d propped myself up on the sofa, still fragile after my illness of the day before, drinking a can of supermarket own-brand cola that really wasn’t very nice. I felt hot and sticky and miserable.
    And then my mother phoned.
    ‘Sinclair has asked me to marry him,’ she said. ‘What do you think?’
    ‘I haven’t the foggiest idea Mum. I’ve never met the man. Are you happy?’
    ‘Blissfully darling... There’s just one problem.’
    ‘He’s an international jewel thief?’ This wasn’t very tactful in the light of my father’s criminal activities. I kicked myself as soon as I’d said it. But, of course, I needn’t have worried. My mother always had been attracted to men who were “mad, bad and dangerous to know”.
    ‘No... nothing as glamorous as that,’ she said, giggling.
    ‘He’s already married?’ Like Ihad any room to talk on that one!
    ‘No darling – I mean, he has been – but he’s divorced now.’
    ‘What then?... Don’t keep me in suspenders...’ This was an old joke, probably a line from one of the ‘Carry On’ films my mum had been an extra in, or Frankie Howerd or somebody... corny but typical of how the two of us talked to each other.
    ‘He’s thirty five.’
    ‘Bloody hell!... er... I mean, oh well...’ I was trying desperately to be supportive and failing miserably. ‘Everybody’s doing it these days. Look at Cher...’ I limped to a halt.
    Mum wasn’t daft. ‘You don’t approve, do you?’
    Well, since she came to mention it....
    ‘Of course I do,’ I lied. ‘The important thing is that you love each other, isn’t it? I don’t know how I’ll manage at the wedding, mind you. How’m I going to give you away and take the photos?’
     
    Kay looked up from her Sunday Crossword as I put the phone down.
    I was in shock I think.
    ‘Mum’s new bloke’s younger than I am,’ I said. ‘And she’s going to marry him.’ I collapsed in a heap on the sofa and took a huge gulp of the lukewarm cola in an attempt to regain my equilibrium. It didn’t help – just clogged up the back of my throat with a kind of syrupy silt that left me as thirsty as ever. ‘What the hell does somebody younger than me see in my mum?’ I asked, bewildered.
    Kay grinned. ‘Your mum’s a very attractive lady Gill – hadn’t you noticed?’
    ‘Of course I haven’t noticed. She’s my mother.’
    ‘Well, Ros fancies the pants off her.’
    ‘ WHAT?!’ I was outraged. ‘How come Ros has even met my mother?’... Of course, mum spent half her life hanging out in gay bars with her theatrical cronies and sundry other hangers on. She probably spent more time out on the scene than I did.
    Kay avoided my eye. She knew she’d put her foot in it again. ‘We bumped into her down at the tea-dance,’ she edged. ‘Anyway, don’t be such a prude Gill. You should be pleased. It means you’ll probably wear well too. It’s probably in your genes.’
    ‘Huh! In the bloody HRT more like!’ I glared at Kay, feeling irritated and snappy for no good reason. ‘Anyway, I thought he was that distinguished grey haired guy in the adverts... You know, the one who’s dispensing sage advice to his newly divorced son over cups of instant coffee....’
    Kay grinned and I realised my mistake without her needing to explain.
    ‘Okay... I get it....’ I said bitterly. ‘He’s the bloody son, isn’t he?... I’m going to lie down. I think the whole world’s gone mad.’
    Then I got another cola out of the fridge and gave up on trying to stay upright for the day.
     

 
The Garden
     
    On Tuesday evening, Kay tried to talk to me again. I was outside, watering the garden amidst a cloud of midges. They were taking rather too close an interest in me and I could have done with one of those wide-brimmed Crocodile Dundee hats