Bad Mother's Diary: a feel good romantic comedy with a heart-warming happily ever after

by Suzy K Quinn

  Clarissa, still with half an eye on Alex, told me about all the things she’d been up to. The sailing club socials and how her husband had just reached ‘the next level’ in his banking job.

  She asked me where Nick was, and I told her we’d split up.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. But it was three syllables long. ‘Oh-hh-hh.’ Then she added, ‘You weren’t married then? Before you had Daisy …’

  I said that we’d nearly got married. But we’d fallen at the last hurdle, i.e. saying ‘I do’ in the church.

  ‘Oh wait.’ Clarissa put a hand to her face. ‘My God. It wasn’t you… who was stood up at the village church?’

  ‘I wasn’t stood up,’ I said. ‘I was the one who left.’

  Clarissa gave me a pitying smile. ‘Oh dear. Very sad. Especially for Daisy. That you couldn’t make a go of it …’

  I felt myself nodding. Then, out of nowhere, I started crying.

  Alex’s black eyes went all serious. He snapped at Clarissa, ‘Do you make a habit of upsetting people?’

  Clarissa said I was obviously having ‘an emotional day’. She rummaged in her Burberry bag and thrust a business card at Alex, saying, ‘Jonathan and I have been meaning to catch up since the Granger thing. Do give us a call.’

  Alex didn’t take the card. He marched me away from Clarissa and asked me how I was getting home.

  I said my car had broken down so I’d probably end up catching the bus.

  Alex frowned at my stroller, laden down with water wings and soggy swimming towels.

  ‘You’re not taking the bus,’ he said. ‘I’ll drive you back.’

  I told him that Daisy needed a car seat.

  ‘We can take the car seat from your broken-down car,’ he said. ‘Obviously. Unless you drove her here without one.’

  And then the stupid tears came again, and I couldn’t talk anymore.

  When we got to Alex’s Rolls Royce, he had a bit of trouble folding up the stroller. He kept kicking at the folding mechanism like he was trying to start a motorbike. But he managed it eventually.

  Then he took Daisy from me and put her in the child seat, testing all the straps to make sure they were secure.

  He even winked at Daisy and made her smile.

  ‘You’re just like Jemima,’ he said. ‘When she was a baby. Very alert.’

  The car seat looked a bit weird in Alex’s fancy car. If the Rolls Royce could have talked, it would have said, ‘This indignity must never be spoken of.’

  Alex told me to get in the front seat.

  I was such a mess that Alex had to reach over and do my seatbelt for me.

  ‘I really don’t mind getting the bus,’ I sniffed.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Alex. ‘You have a baby with you.’

  ‘They do let babies on buses,’ I replied.

  ‘Still,’ said Alex. ‘A bus with children …’

  ‘Some people have to take the bus,’ I said. ‘Not everyone is handed a hotel chain.’

  ‘I wasn’t handed a penny,’ Alex snapped. ‘The Dalton hotel chain wasn’t given to me – I had to fight for it. I was never given any money by my family. Everything I own, I earned myself.’

  I said, ‘Including this flashy car?’ Trying to make a joke, sort of.

  ‘It isn’t flashy,’ said Alex. ‘It’s elegant.’

  ‘But a Rolls Royce sends a message though, doesn’t it?’ I insisted. ‘You know – that you’ve done well in life.’

  ‘I don’t drive a Rolls Royce to show off how much money I have,’ he said. ‘I drive it, so people know I’m Alex Dalton. Not Harold Dalton. My father hates this car.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked.

  ‘Because Mr Dalton Senior owns car manufacturing plants in China, India … all over the world,’ said Alex. ‘He could have given me any number of brand new cars for free. Yet I bought British. And just to rub it in, bespoke British.’

  As we got nearer the village, Alex said, ‘Just so you know, I think Nicholas Spencer is an idiot.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked.

  ‘Because he let you get to the church without marrying you,’ he said. ‘Zach told me about the wedding.’

  ‘Don’t you have more interesting topics of conversation?’ I asked. ‘Like the New York stock market or the best marble for your hotel floors?’

  ‘He thought I’d want to know,’ Alex replied.

  I said what a big mess everything was. Daisy not living with her dad.

  ‘From what I heard, she never had much of a dad anyway,’ said Alex. ‘You can do much better than Nick Spencer.’

  I said that I didn’t want to do better. I wanted Daisy to have two parents.

  ‘Would you take him back?’ Alex asked.

  I said it was seriously unlikely. The door had pretty much closed – what with him getting Sadie pregnant and everything. But I couldn’t say I never would. Not yet. Not with him being Daisy’s dad. But if we ever did get back together, things would have to be very different.

  ‘The man’s a train wreck,’ said Alex. ‘Don’t throw your life away.’

  I asked Alex what made him an expert on relationships with us simple folk.

  ‘Simple?’ said Alex. ‘You think that’s a word I’d use?’

  I said yes.

  ‘Just because I drive an expensive car doesn’t mean I look down on people,’ he replied.

  ‘You do though. Don’t you?’ I insisted.

  ‘Only men like Nick Spencer,’ said Alex. ‘And that’s because of who he is. Not where he comes from.’

  ‘What about people who take the bus?’ I said.

  ‘I don’t look down on them,’ he replied. ‘You have me wrong there. Are you still training for the marathon?’

  I told him I’d quit for a while. But I was back in training now.

  He smiled and said, ‘Good. I’m glad about that.’

  We were a few roads from the Oakley Arms, and I said, ‘Just here will be fine. We can walk from here.’ Like I was talking to a taxi driver.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Alex. ‘I’ll drop you outside your mum and dad’s pub. You’re staying there, aren’t you?’

  I asked him how he knew that.

  He shrugged and said, ‘I noticed.’

  When we pulled up outside my parent’s pub, I caught myself wondering what Alex must think of the place.

  To most people, our house is quite big. Fancy, really. Well – big and flashy. Lots of bedrooms. Tudor beams. Great big garage and garden.

  But to Alex, it must look a bit tasteless. What with the big neon sign that says ‘Bob and Shirl’s Place’. And all the gnomes in the garden.

  Alex helped me with the stroller and baby swimming stuff.

  Then he took Daisy out of the car while I got the stroller ready.

  I thought Daisy would cry when he took her, but she didn’t.

  Alex held her against his chest and stroked her downy little head.

  Daisy gave him an unexpected gummy half-tooth smile – something she hardly ever does for strangers.

  I was a bit worried that Mum might come running out in her see-through dressing gown and offer to help unload. But luckily she didn’t.

  Alex lowered Daisy into the stroller and strapped her in.

  He stood for a moment, watching her. Then he said, ‘She’s a beautiful baby. Goodbye Juliette. Take care.’

  And then he was gone.

  Thursday, 23rd June

  Gorgeous blue sky today.

  Lovely big yellow sun.

  I love my mum and dad. But they’re so LOUD.

  ‘Bob. BOB! I’m going into town. One or TWO PACKETS OF SAUSAGE ROLLS?’

  ‘SHIRLEY! WILL YOU KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN!’

  Mum only has to walk past my bedroom, and Daisy wakes up.

  Dad tries a bit harder to be quiet. But in a way, he’s louder when he’s trying to be quiet. He does all this exaggerated, ‘SHHHUUUSSH! DAISY’S SLEEPING!’

  Of course, Daisy isn’t the easiest sleepe
r.

  It takes half an hour of shushing and rocking and patting to get her dozing off. Then I gently lay her down in the cot. Take a few careful steps back like she’s a bomb that could go off. Careful … careful … don’t creak the floorboards …

  And Mum’s voice will come bellowing up the stairs, ‘I’ve got TWO FROZEN PIZZAS! Bob? Shall I cook both of them?’

  Still. It’s nice being home.

  It’s especially nice not having Helen walk in at any moment.

  But I do need a place of my own.

  I just don’t want to live alone. Daisy doesn’t really count as other people. I mean, she’s lovely. But she can’t tell the difference between carpet fluff and food. It’s not like we have long conversations.

  She does make me laugh though.

  Friday, June 24th

  Went running today and did four miles!

  Amazing!

  Even though I haven’t trained for ages.

  I can’t believe it.

  I mean, fair enough, it took nearly an hour to run those four miles. But I didn’t stop or anything. I just kept running and running.

  Saturday, June 25th

  Took little Callum out for a walk today.

  How does anyone cope with two kids?

  The second we got to the woodland path, Callum hurtled off towards the lake.

  I ran after him, stroller bumping over sticks and mud, shouting, ‘Callum! Callum! You’ll ruin your flashing trainers!’

  Before I knew it, he’d jumped in the lake.

  He splashed around shouting, ‘Aye, Aye Captain Birdseye!’

  I shouted at him to get out.

  Then I offered him a biscuit.

  He said, ‘I want a Magnum Chocolate Infinity.’

  (How has he even HEARD about those? I blame Mum.)

  Thank God, an old man with a fishing rod shouted, ‘Come on out now sonny, and I’ll show you my fishing line and maggots.’

  Callum loves anything disgusting.

  The man showed Callum a patch of daisies too and picked one for him to take home.

  Callum seemed quite interested in the daisy. But as we walked back through the woods he said, ‘That flower tasted horrible, Aunty Julesy.’

  How am I going to cope when Daisy can run around?

  Monday, June 27th

  Took Daisy to baby group today.

  She did a Mega Poo while we were singing head, shoulders, knees and toes.

  It was so massive that it went right through her stripy tights and ra-ra skirt.

  I put on her spare outfit, but then she did a second Mega Poo and ruined that too.

  Luckily the other mums lent me stuff. Women are so nice.

  Tuesday, June 28th

  Lunch with Laura and Brandi in London today.

  Laura suggested some healthy vegan place.

  Brandi wanted to go to Burger King.

  We compromised on Subway, although Brandi moaned because there was lettuce in her sandwich.

  When I told them my running was going well, Brandi said, ‘I can’t believe you’re doing the fucking Winter Marathon. That’s mental. I mean, even top athletes struggle in those conditions. Don’t you remember that Danish runner who slipped on ice at Tower Bridge and broke her coccyx?’

  Laura offered to go running with me when she can, although her studying is getting more intense.

  Brandi pulled her skinny jeans around her tiny waist and said, ‘Maybe I’ll run it too. I could do with losing weight. How many miles is it?’

  I said, ‘Twenty-six.’

  ‘No, it’s twenty-seven,’ said Laura.

  Brandi said, ‘Fuck that.’

  Wednesday, June 29th

  Still feel guilty about not breastfeeding.

  It’s hard being a mum. I’d wanted Daisy to have the very best of everything, but the milk just didn’t happen.

  It was like my boobs were broken.

  In the hospital, they strapped me to this 1970s pump the size of a Ford Fiesta, but no milk came out.

  Mum said, ‘Oh sod it, Jules, give her a bottle. You and your sisters had bottles and turned out just fine.’

  Althea said I had a lucky escape.

  She said, ‘Breastfeeding makes you fucking thirsty all the time. You wake up in the middle of the night with weird Indian takeaway BO. Your sheets smell of sour milk. And you’re like a sodding human dummy. It’s bullshit.’

  When I asked her why she was still doing it, she said she hates washing up.

  Friday, July 1st

  Sadie turned up at Mum and Dad’s today.

  Brandi opened the door and screamed at her to ‘FUCK OFF AND DIE’.

  But I said she could come in.

  Sadie was SO nervous. Shaking, actually.

  Mum took Brandi, Callum and Daisy out into the garden.

  The pub was pretty empty, so Sadie and I grabbed a corner booth.

  Sadie started gabbling and crying, ‘I’m so, so sorry. I know I’ve fucked up. I’ve ruined everything. I love you more than anything in the world. You’re the only one who ever accepted me. My only true friend. And I did this to you. I know I’m a massive selfish bitch. But all that’s going to change. I promise you. I’m having a baby. A baby!’ Her eyes were all crazy. ‘I need you in my life, Jules. I can’t do this alone.’

  ‘You’re living with Nick aren’t you?’ I said. ‘Won’t he be in your life?’

  ‘But I need adult support,’ she said.

  Things aren’t going well with Nick apparently because he didn’t pay any bills or flush the toilet.

  I told her she and Nick deserved each other.

  Her eyes went all wide, and she said, ‘I’m not that bad, am I?’

  Then she went on about how her boyfriends always fancied me and it had been nice for once that it was the other way around.

  I laughed and said, ‘Your boyfriends fancied me?’

  Because she goes out with football players and male models from toothpaste adverts. When she’s not sleeping with directors.

  She said yes, and that I didn’t notice because I was ‘too nice’.

  Then she said we should go for a drink. Just us two.

  ‘It’ll be like old times,’ she said. ‘Before you had Daisy and everything got messed up.’

  I asked how she could move in with Nick. After ruining my wedding and Daisy’s life.

  She said she thought it was to do with hormones.

  Helen has been very nice to her, apparently.

  ‘It just feels good to have a stable home,’ she said, with seemingly no understanding that she’d wrecked my stable home.

  After an hour of banging on about herself, I realised that Sadie is a lost cause. Selfish to the core.

  I actually felt a lot better for seeing her. Because now I know I haven’t lost a friend after all. Sadie was never my friend to begin with.

  When she left, Brandi said, ‘You need to unwind. We’re hitting some clubs. I’ve got a silver Lycra dress that you can cram yourself into.’

  I pointed out it was only 4 pm.

  ‘So?’ Brandi said. ‘Mum will babysit.’

  Saturday, July 2nd

  What is it with babies? It’s like they KNOW when you’ve stayed out late.

  After weeks of perfect sleep, Daisy woke up every two hours.

  I gave her baby paracetamol, milk, water … everything. But she wasn’t having it. Actually spat everything out.

  Waaaaa! WAAAAAH!

  It broke my heart seeing her crying. But at the same time, I REALLY wanted to sleep.

  Far too tired to write about me and Brandi’s night.

  Sleep now.

  Sunday, July 3rd

  Somehow Brandi and I ended up in the West End the other night. At this fancy nightclub.

  Brandi is a bad influence on me. Mums should NOT go clubbing on a Sunday.

  I swore I’d only stay until nine, but Brandi made the DJ put on ‘Independent Woman’, and we ended up dancing on the tables and shouting WOO!

&
nbsp; Suddenly it was midnight.

  I suppose I did need to let go, really. I’ve been carrying around a lot of stress.

  We got talking to some girls who went to school with the Daltons.

  They said ‘gorgeous’ Zachary is rumoured to have a ‘mystery’ girlfriend.

  It was hysterical when they found out the ‘mystery’ girl was our sister.

  They wanted to see photos of Laura like she was a celebrity or something. And they all said she was ‘rather lovely’.

  I asked if they knew Alex, and they all said how gorgeous he was too.

  When the girls left, Brandi said, ‘You always fancied Alex, didn’t you? Shame you didn’t go for him instead of Nick.’

  I told her I hardly had a choice. Alex runs a major hotel dynasty. I’m not heiress material.

  ‘Well, he’s always staring at you,’ Brandi said.

  ‘What, Alex Dalton?’ I said. ‘I don’t think so.’

  But just for a moment, thinking about the lift home from the sports club and the running training and the champagne at afternoon tea, I thought … wouldn’t that be amazing?

  Monday, July 4th

  American Independence Day

  Mum’s done the pub out in American flags and bunting.

  She’s also made a red, white and blue meringue. It’s so big it fits a sparkler for every US state.

  It put me in a good mood, hearing Mum whistling American Pie.

  I was looking pretty tired after a sleepless night with Daisy, but I washed my face, dabbed some cover-up around my eyes and did a Skype link-up with Uncle Ralph in Los Angeles.

  Uncle Ralph, Aunty Yasmin and little cousin Lolly were in their giant, sunny house waving American flags.

  Uncle Ralph has done well for himself in the US. He’s got a big house on the beach, a blonde lingerie model wife and one of those American fridge freezers that make ice cubes.

  I really thought I was moving forward, re: the whole wedding day horror story.

  But Uncle Ralph, who’s always pretty blunt, asked me if I’d sold the wedding dress yet to try and make some cash back.

  I burst into stupid tears and ran out of the room.