Chasing Men by Edwina Currie

Mother?’ she asked urgently.
    ‘Heavens, no. What a barmy suggestion.’ Her mother’s laugh tinkled out.
    ‘Why? What’s so barmy about it? He seems quite besotted.’
    ‘So he should be. But for one thing, he’s only a half-colonel. Your father was two ranks up. And if I remarried, I’d lose my pension. We’d have to manage on his alone.’
    ‘Oh! That matters, does it?’
    Her mother shrugged. ‘Don’t be snotty, dear. Believe me, a lot of pensioners live tally. In unholy unwedlock. Creature comforts matter more when you get older. Anyhow, this way he keeps his teeth in in bed.’
    I am learning, Hetty reflected grimly, a great deal about my mother I could not have imagined. Am I like that? Am I to become like that?
    There was no time to ponder further. Hetty introduced her widowed mother to her widowed neighbour and left them chatting merrily to each other. She suspected that she herself might be one of the topics of conversation, and moved away.
    ‘Mum!’ It was Sally. She had hardly touched her wine and had a gloomy expression. ‘Who are these people?’
    ‘People,’ said Hetty vaguely, waved a hand and drank another half-glass. The wine was super; it had been a wonderful choice. ‘C’mon, Sally, loosen up. You should be enjoying yourself.’
    ‘ You obviously are,’ said Sally, but she did not smile. ‘What are you up to? I thought you were down in the dumps, what with the divorce and that. Beginning to appreciate what you’d given up. But here you are, giving a frantic party and surrounded by half a dozen chaps young enough to be your sons. What’s going on?’
    ‘Nothing,’ Hetty answered, testily. ‘They’re just acquaintances. I’m not about to start an affair with any of them. Why should you assume I have my eyes on anybody? Don’t you trust me? Anyway, some of them are gay.’
    Sally stared hard out of the kitchen at the gathering. The lights had been turned down further and several guests had started to dance. ‘Oh, I get it. You’re going to be a fag-hag,Mother. A fine life that’ll be.’
    ‘What’s a fag-hag?’
    Sally grunted. ‘Why don’t you ask one of them? Look, I have to go – I have an early call tomorrow morning. Don’t get yourself arrested.’
    Hetty turned her back, suddenly furious. It was plain that she had not brought Sally up to have impeccable manners; and now it was too late.
    Rosa was back, her arm entwined round Markus’s.
    ‘Darling! You didn’t tell me you knew Markus Krushnikoff! Heavens. He tells me he lives nearby.’
    Markus had evidently been economical with the truth. Hetty decided not to betray him. ‘That’s right. We bump into each other out on the street, don’t we, Markus?’
    ‘But have you seen his plays? The Antony and Cleopatra ? The Britannicus ? He’s marvellous. Hetty, you’re so lucky – what circles you move in!’
    Markus blushed and rubbed his hand over his non-existent hair. He murmured modest dissent, soon detached himself and returned to watch over Christian, who was in deep debate with Stuart – or was it Ted?
    ‘I haven’t managed to get to the theatre much, recently,’ Hetty said to Rosa. ‘I used to go with my hus – ex -husband. Not sure who I could go with now.’
    ‘Why? What would you like to see?’
    ‘The new Pinter. I’ve been given tickets for the first night. Christian’s in it.’
    ‘Oo-oo-ooh! Those tickets are like gold dust. You seriously looking for a taker?’
    ‘Er – yes, I am.’
    ‘Can I come?’
    ‘If you’d like to. But are you sure you want to come with me?’
    Rosa gave her arm a squeeze. ‘You bet. And is there a boozy knees-up afterwards? Are we invited to that, too?’
    Hetty nodded, dazed. ‘At the Savoy, apparently.’
    ‘Yippeee! Then we’ll get dressed in our glad-rags, and we’ll whoop it up. Cinderella, you shall go to the ball.’
    It was after ten. Several of the guests had bade farewell and slipped away. The McDonalds had vanished discreetly, Sally had