The Accidental Housemate by Sal Thomas

Author:Sal Thomas [Thomas, Sal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780008609382
Publisher: One More Chapter

Chapter Twenty-Six

‘Hello, is that Science Mom?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘This is Yam Yammy Mammy, but call me Denise. Yam alright bab?’

If the name wasn’t enough of a giveaway, the accent swings it. Yam Yams is what we call people from the Black Country on account of their using the term yam instead of are you or you are. It’s one of many verbal quirks. It can’t be Yam Yammy Mammy though, because it makes no sense that she’d be calling me. Yam Yammy Mammy is a celebrity in the Midlands (and possibly beyond), having built up quite a business empire, all from sharing her thoughts on shopping, motherhood and life in general on social platforms. I’m not a direct follower myself, but I know plenty of people who are, Sindy included.

‘Is this a wind-up?’

‘Not at all. Hope you don’t mind me calling out of the blue, I was wondering if you wanted to be featured on my channels?’

‘Sindy, I don’t know whose phone you’re using, but you can stop now.’

‘It’s really me. Shall I video call you to prove it?

‘Yeah, do that.’

I hang up. Hah. Bet she wasn’t expecting me to call her bluff. I raise my middle finger in front of my face and wait for Sindy to call me back, only when she does, she really is Yam Yammy Mammy.

‘That’s no way to greet people, is it?’ Denise says, good-naturedly.

‘Oh.’

‘Yam always so mistrustful?

‘I’m so sorry. I thought you were my mate.’

‘Yam Science Mom, right?’

‘I guess. Not that that’s how I’d introduce myself at a dinner party, not that I go to dinner parties, or any parties for that matter.’ My brain tells my mouth to shut up, but my mouth has its fingers in its ears and keeps on going ‘blah blah blah’ except in words that are conveying I have three children, I’m a widow and I don’t get out much. When I finish, Denise is looking at me with an air of detached bemusement.

‘Call me Cath,’ I say.

‘Well, it’s nice to meet you.’

She looks immaculate, exactly as she does when I’ve seen her on TV. Her long dark wavy hair is perfectly styled in large barrel curls and she has a full face of makeup, including magenta lipstick. Even though she’s staring down into the camera, she still only has one chin. It’s disconcerting, because she looks like minor royalty but sounds like nails down a blackboard.

‘I’ve not got long; I’ve gotta decorate twenty bleeding cupcakes in the next hour; some new copycat Bake Off they want promoting. I called to ask if you’d do a Q&A with me? Only a few questions about yourself, how and why you got started, that kind of thing. I think my followers would be dead interested in hearing more about what you’ve been up to.’

She’s walking as she’s talking and I catch glimpses of her equally groomed house.

‘I’m so sorry, you’ve caught me a bit on the hop,’ I tell her. ‘Why would they be interested in me? The most fascinating thing I’ve ever done is find a crisp that looked like Kermit the Frog.

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