How was our lonely daughter coping? She was meeting Mr Big I Am, behind everybody’s back.
We felt sorry for Laura. We invited her out to join our table for four and make it five. A meal at a pub on a Saturday night.
Yes, she was up for that.
Husband and I arrived at her house to collect Laura. She was not there. Her car was not parked in its slot.
We rang her: she’d be ten minutes. We waited.
Laura zoomed into the car park, and hit the brakes. She jumped into my car. I lectured her on careful driving; Husband lectured on tardiness.
Laura tattled on about a friend she had visited, the reason for being late. This friend was having relationship problems. ‘Well, you’d know all about that,’ I sneered. Laura’s speech was slow, not slurred. The reason for that she expressed as being tired.
We joined our dinner mates in the snug warmth of the pub, ordered a meal and ordered some wine.
After gulping one glass of wine, our daughter was drunk. Said, this was because she had not eaten, the alcohol went straight to her head. Up and down she went to the toilet and back.
She amused us all with her humour and tales. That unique way of hers of viewing life.
I know today, what I did not know then.
I know today why she was late.