The Trouble with Weasels by Penny Luker When you’re a mother, you spend years trying to protect your children from all outside dangers and hardships, but when your children grow up, you have to let them make their own mistakes. It’s so hard not to give them your much more experienced opinion, but I try my best to be quietly supportive. My daughter, Cassie, is one of the kindest and warmest human beings you could meet. She always sees the best in people, which is a wonderful virtue, but I worry about how easily she could get hurt. Watching her start dating is something I’d have liked to ban, but she’d hate me and of course, I have no right. At first, Edward Weasel seemed to be a charming young man. My daughter fell for him, as only the young can, with total commitment, which would have been admirable, if only it had been for another cause, like saving the planet. Who has a name like Weasel anyway? Edward said he was twenty eight and he certainly looked that age until you looked more closely. His reddish brown hair was just a little too even, as though it was dyed, and although he gave an appearance of height, I noticed that his shoes had a subtle heel to compensate for short legs. Now don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against short, older men, but I am quite averse to men who pretend to be something they’re not. If his appearance didn’t come up to scratch, that was the least of my worries. ‘Don’t you think he’s wonderful, mum?’ my daughter asked.
‘As long as he makes you happy, I’m happy,’ I lied, but I wasn’t at all happy. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was I didn’t like about him until about a month later. My brother was throwing a party for the rich and famous. He’s a successful film director. He always invited us to
his parties and we never go. When folk are wearing top notch clothes and jewellery that makes your eyes water, it makes you feel like you’re a country bumpkin, when you turn up in your best Marks and Spencer frock. Okay, I admit it, I’m an inverted snob, but my brother really isn’t. He’s smart and direct and he always sees things very clearly. We received and politely declined the latest party invitation. A few days later Cassie cornered me. ‘Mum, do you think we could un-decline that party invitation to Uncle Derek’s? Edward would really like to go.’ My first instinct was to say no, but when Cassie has set her heart on something, I find it hard not to give in. The night of the party arrived and I have to say Cassie looked exceptional. She’d found a beautiful, knee length, silk dress in a charity shop. It oozed style and class, but when Edward turned up, he was obviously disappointed in how she looked. ‘I assumed you’d dress up a bit more; you know a long dress,’ he muttered, thinking I couldn’t hear. ‘I think she looks absolutely gorgeous,’ I said. ‘Now don’t be a jerk. Off you both go’. I know I shouldn’t have said anything, but how could he criticise her? Edward did have the grace to go red, but I’m not sure if he was ashamed of himself or angry that I’d called him out on his rudeness. - 70 -
