A family event: Nephew had got engaged; he held a party in his flat. We were all invited.
Husband and I collected Bella. We told her to behave. We parked the car near to Nephew’s flat and walked to his door carrying gifts. I walked behind Bella. She was wearing a fur coat, and high heels. It pained my heart to see how skinny her legs had become, with sores on her ankles from wearing too tight ankle straps.
Bella had gone on a date, the night before with a suitable prospect. I asked her how the date went. ‘Okay, but I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again,’ she said.
‘Why? What happened?’
‘Nothing, just not my type.’
We greeted and kissed Nephew, kissed his fiancé too. We accepted drinks, wine for Bella. I shot her the look–one she was familiar with–moderate your alcohol intake.
We sat around the room and chatted, mingled with different guests. My father, with strong opinions on how one should behave, sat opposite Bella. She still had the fur coat on. Her head was bent over her mobile phone, busy texting, and having the odd chuckle to herself. Father shot me a look. He expected me to take the phone off her, as if she were a two-year old.
She told me much later, the texter was the man from the night before. He would not leave her alone, though she responded to each text.
The reason the date did not go well? She was drunk when he collected her, she fell asleep in the pub, and was narky with him when he woke her.
She demanded he take her home.