Right Now

16. If we could only turn back time

"So what do you think Harry meant when he said he screwed up?" said my mum. "Do you think he shagged that TV reporter?"

"I really don't know," I sighed. I'd been able to think of nothing else on the train. What else could Harry have done that was stupid?

I'd spent the car trip home from the train station and now the last hour filling my mother in on everything that had happened in Sheffield. We were curled up on the sofa, each of us nursing a cup of hot cocoa as I ran through everything. When I told her about the non-disclosure agreement she wanted to see it, and after quickly skim-reading it, agreed it was pretty standard, and that signing it hadn't been a stupid thing to do.

I didn't go into huge detail about kissing Harry in his dressing room, but I did explain how he'd managed to rip my top. When I mentioned how he walked off and left me in my hotel room on Saturday night, her response was, "I'd have gone after him and kneed him in the bollocks."

My mother was so predictable.

She'd seemed impressed when I told her how he was doing his best to educate himself about all sorts of subjects and she even did a mini fist pump when I described him running out of the arena to kiss me goodbye.

But then when I explained about his surprising admission that he owed me an apology for doing something stupid, she looked concerned.

"Oh, Emma, he must have shagged that journalist. What else could that mean?"

"I don't know. That's the problem."

"Oh, love. I am truly sorry. Are you OK?"

I shrugged. I didn't know what I was feeling, to be honest.

"It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you - you know that, don't you? It's not your fault. He's a bloke, he can't help thinking with the lump of flesh dangling between his legs."

"Ewww, Mum..."

"It's true," said Mum. "For men it's all about sex. Janelle was there, she was obviously keen, they had a bit of a history... and perhaps he didn't quite know where he stood with you, so he decided to go for it with her - she was a safe bet. And the next day he regretted it, by the sound of it."

My stomach churned at her words. I couldn't believe Harry was really so heartless - and so horny - that he would get me to Sheffield for the weekend only to go off and have sex with someone else when the opportunity presented itself.

"The trouble is Mum, I don't think he is the sort of person who would do something like that. He's just too nice."

"Like I said love, it's a bloke thing. You think they're nice, that you're enough for them and that you can trust them but they just can't help it - if they get the chance, they'll stick it in anyone. Even an Australian."

"Mum, Harry is not Dad."

"I hope not for your sake, love. Look at how your father lost the plot over The Dingo. I don't what it is about Aussie women, they must go like bloody rockets. But the thing is, for men it's all about getting shagged. They're all the same."

There was no point in trying to reason with her. It had been nearly nine years since my dad took off with the Australian woman he'd been having an affair with, and my mum was still as bitter and twisted about it now as she had been the day he threw a bunch of his clothes and his Manchester United Champion of Champions DVD collection into a bag and left her alone with four children, including a 10-month-old baby. To say it had tainted her views of men was a massive understatement.

"So what are you going to do now?" she asked.

"The only thing I can do - wait for Harry to phone me, like he promised, and explain what he did."