A good woman

The fidelity of independence

“Do you want to come in then?”

“Yes please. But no commitments.”

That was the first time mum and Steve spent the night together. Me and my mum are close, we’ve always talked about these things, and I asked her how she felt about him responding like that. Half of her died but the other half relaxed because she’d already accepted there was no chance of a relationship—and at least he was honest.

Mum and Steve had known each other for two years prior to that night. During their first ever meeting, he told her he was “looking for a good woman.” They shared many walks over the years, many drinks, movies, kisses and got to know each other pretty well.

There was a lot to like about Steve. He was creative. He travelled to exciting places in a camper van he kitted-out himself. And he was interested and interesting—popular with both the men and women they hung out with. He was financially independent, having sold his business and retiring early. Most importantly, he lived in his own place and was outspoken about the fact he’d want to continue doing so even when he was in a relationship.

Mum was thrilled about that. “All the benefits of a relationship without the drawbacks of living with a man!” she’d say to her friends. “Oh my god, yes, that sounds perfect!” they’d say. In many ways, Steve was exactly what mum wanted. The other men of his age that she’d dated only wanted glorified mothers who’d cook and clean for them. Steve was different. Refreshingly self-sufficient.

However, his mixed signals became more and more disappointing. When she told him he looked nice, he’d say it was all for her, but never with complete sincerity. When they went out with friends, he'd come up to her when he first arrived, smile and buy her a drink. But then he’d spend the night chatting to others.

There were also things he seemed oddly tight-lipped about. Once, when they were up at his new place—a place he’d moved to suddenly, after inexplicably leaving his beautiful apartment in a leafy neighbourhood—mum asked him why he'd moved and he just said, "People."

Recently, mum and Steve were walking along the edge of the reservoir near her flat. They were talking about people who’d had a major influence on their early lives and mum said, “Mine was a woman called Lorraine Bernard…”

Steve stopped and crinkled his face, “No! Lorraine Bernard?!”

Lorraine was a senior civil servant and Member of the European Parliament. She was the woman who’d interviewed mum for her first job in 1976 when mum, just twenty-one at the time, was a single mother to my four-year-old sister. Mum was sitting on the edge of a plastic chair facing Lorraine's thick, mahogany desk, wondering whether she was out of her depth.

"I noticed on your application that you're a single mother?" Lorraine probed.

"Yes, I am."

"Right. And why do you want to work?"

The question caught mum off-guard. For something that felt so natural, she was surprised it was so difficult to articulate. She thought about her being the eldest of six, how she’d helped to raise her sisters and brothers in a household with only grandad’s income. She remembered the shame of being the only ones in school who had to wear uniforms made by grandma because they couldn’t afford to buy them. She pictured the life she could create for herself and my sister if she had a stable job with genuine prospects. Swallowing a breath, mum gave the most direct answer she could, "Because I don't want to exist on waitressing and state benefits."

Lorraine’s brow softened. She said that she, too, was a single mother.

Mum started the job a week later and spent the next four years working under Lorraine as a Clerical Officer in the Training Opportunities department where she helped people improve their own job prospects. Mum also created a new information gathering section of the department, then studied systems analysis and programming, which led to her setting up an IT business with my dad and eventually going it alone as a freelance consultant. At the age of thirty-five, now a mother to me too, mum gained a Master of Science degree with distinction in Information Systems and Management—and she is still benefiting today from the skills, confidence and earning power that Lorraine’s opportunity gave her.

I’ve heard this story a dozen times in my life. It’s practically a part of my own origin story. So, how on earth could Steve possibly know Lorraine? What are the chances that these two significant people mum met forty years apart would know each other?

Mum waited, “So? How do you know Lorraine?”

He delivered it like a moral verdict, “She’s the reason I moved house. She led the residents committee in charge of the block and she told me I wasn’t looking after my garden properly.”

“Oh.” Mum’s gaze drifted past Steve, settling on the still water in the reservoir as she found herself in thought, a decision made in the quiet.

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Thank you Lavinia at

Lavinia’s Substack

, Briana at Hungry Delicious, my partner Corina and my mum for helping me write this.