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

by Suzy K Quinn

  What on earth was I thinking, letting him sleep in the bed with me? What on earth was I thinking?

  I just pray that Alex never finds out.

  Thursday, October 20th

  WHY hasn’t Alex called?

  CALL ME, CALL ME!

  Friday, October 21st

  Once again, today started well and ended terribly.

  I worked up the courage to Facebook Alex and thank him for the other night.

  He replied, ‘You’re welcome.’

  And then, even more courageously, I said, ‘So are we going running tonight then?’

  I didn’t want to go into all the Nick stuff via Facebook message, but I was pretty sure face-to-face I could explain everything better.

  He wrote, ‘Juliette, I don’t want to get in the way of your family. Nicholas Spencer is Daisy’s father.’

  I wrote back a long reply saying I honestly wasn’t interested in Nick. And that I’d moved on. That Daisy and I were better off without him, and please could we talk in person?

  Alex wrote, ‘I think you need time. And space.’

  I wrote that I’d had plenty of time and space. And that I really needed his help with running. That I ran so much better when he was with me. And that the marathon was REALLY soon.

  ‘I’ll pick you up at eight,’ Alex replied.

  But it felt all sort of stern and formal. I knew I had some explaining to do.

  Alex showed up at eight on the dot, just like always.

  While I was doing my calf stretches in the garden, I tried to explain that Nick had come round totally uninvited last night.

  I said, ‘About Nick coming over last night –’

  But Alex cut me off with his hand and said, ‘That’s none of my business.’

  Very unluckily, Brandi picked that moment to come clattering down in skeleton leggings and Ugg boots, bleached blonde hair in a big messy bun.

  ‘Jules didn’t do anything with Nick,’ she said. ‘You can sleep in a bed with someone without anything happening.’

  Thanks, Sis.

  Alex’s face went really stern.

  I think Brandi knew she’d said the wrong thing, because she added, ‘I’ve slept in LOADS of guys’ beds and not done anything. Sometimes you just need somewhere to crash.’

  And Alex’s jaw started twitching. He looked at me – a mixture of anger and disappointment. I felt about a foot tall.

  Brandi gave me a hapless shrug as if to say, ‘Well there’s no pleasing some people.’ Then she tottered off to her pink Mini and gave us a friendly toot as she left.

  ‘I think you’ve done enough stretching,’ said Alex. All cold and formal.

  So we went running.

  We ran for miles, Alex always a little bit ahead.

  Sometimes he’d turn around and bark, ‘Keep up.’

  Towards the end, he pulled right away from me.

  He’s never done that before.

  I shouted at him to slow down, and he told me that I needed to work on my self-discipline. That I needed to push myself through the pain barrier.

  ‘Can I try that tomorrow?’ I said.

  ‘No,’ he barked.

  ‘Why are you pushing me?’ I asked. ‘Is it because Nick –’

  ‘I’ve heard enough of that man’s name today,’ he barked back.

  And then we ran on in silence.

  When we got back to the pub, I said, ‘Are we running tomorrow?’

  ‘I’ve trained you as much as I can,’ said Alex, hands on hips, not meeting my eye. ‘The rest is up to you.’

  Then he left.

  Saturday, October 22nd

  Still no word from Alex.

  Sunday, October 23rd

  Nick keeps calling me.

  But now I want Alex to call.

  Monday, October 24th

  I’ve been Facebook stalking Alex, but there’s really nothing to see. He never puts up pictures or status updates or anything.

  Althea is pleased as anything that Nick wants me back. She thinks it’s a good opportunity to torture him.

  ‘Karma,’ she said. ‘I told you it would come around.’

  ‘Doesn’t karma mean that I shouldn’t torture him,’ I said, ‘because the universe will do it for me?’

  ‘No,’ said Althea, ‘sometimes you have to step in.’

  Then Althea told me she’d heard a rumour about Sadie.

  Apparently, she’s getting fat now.

  So maybe karma really does exist.

  Tuesday, October 25th

  Marathon not far off now. Just a few weeks away.

  I should be thinking about running and timings and carbs. Plus the weather – there are rumours it might snow. (Is there such a thing as running gloves? Must google it.)

  But all I can think about is Alex.

  Wednesday, October 26th

  Maybe I’ll see him at the marathon? Maybe he’ll call and want to meet at the starting line? Maybe, maybe, maybe.

  Thursday, October 27th

  Checked Facebook about fifty times today, but Alex hasn’t messaged.

  Althea thinks I’m having rebound syndrome and don’t really fancy Alex at all.

  She could be right I suppose.

  Friday, October 28th

  Laura called off her studying to come running with me tonight.

  I dragged myself ten horrible, awful miles. By mile nine, Laura was so sick of me moaning that she banned me from talking at all.

  It was different with Alex. Maybe I was too embarrassed to moan. Or maybe it was just so exciting being with him. I don’t know. But the miles used to fly by.

  I have no idea how I’m going to do those twenty-six miles.

  Wait – twenty-seven miles.

  Saturday, October 29th

  Mum, Dad, Brandi and I watched Chariots of Fire this evening.

  I had tears in my eyes at the end of the movie.

  I will do this! I will finish! Even if it snows on marathon day.

  I will make Daisy proud.

  Sunday, October 30th

  Marathon TWO WEEKS AWAY!!

  Why am I so nervous? It’s not like I’m running in the Olympics or anything. But I really am shitting myself.

  Mainly because I might see Alex.

  Monday, October 31st

  Halloween

  Brandi and I took Callum ‘trick-or-treating’ tonight.

  It was pretty embarrassing.

  Callum pounded on doors, stuck out his bucket and said, ‘Give me sweets or I’ll silly string you.’

  Luckily, most people thought it was funny. Except for one old lady who Callum threatened with shaving foam.

  Mum decorated the pub with spray cobwebs and dangling rubber spiders. Then she moaned because no one was drinking her ‘Witches Brew’ – a mixture of all the pub spirits that haven’t been selling.

  I’m not surprised no one was buying it – it smelt like boozy toothpaste.

  In the end, Mum and Brandi drank most of the ‘Witches Brew’. Then they got up on the bar and danced to the Monster Mash.

  Tuesday, November 1st

  I think training is getting harder – probably because of the cold.

  This was a fucking stupid thing to sign up for. But I’m happy about all the running. It’s been really good for me.

  Wednesday, November 2nd

  Mum is ALREADY putting up our Christmas decorations.

  We have two Christmas trees every year – one in the house, one in the pub.

  Mum makes sure both trees are so covered with tinsel, flashing fairy lights, and various tacky ornaments you can’t see the branches.

  Her favourite ornaments are all from our summer holidays – a mini bottle of Ouzo (Greece 2000), a pink plastic couple having sex (Spain 1991), and a hanging wooden penis (Cyprus 1995).

  Mum was annoyed because the village supermarket won’t sell real trees for a few more weeks. The pub one is plastic, so she’s put it up already, but she’ll have to wait to do the house one.

 
Thursday, November 3rd

  The village supermarket still isn’t stocking Christmas trees, so Mum demanded that Dad go into the woods and cut down a real one.

  Dad was happy to do it, saying it was ‘a very frugal move’ and ‘an excellent way to mind the pennies’.

  He went into the woods with his handsaw this morning and didn’t come back until after dark.

  When we saw the tree, we understood why it had taken so long – the trunk was like a telegraph pole.

  All the branches were covered in cobwebs and dead leaves, but Dad said it only needed ‘a little wash and brush up’.

  The tree wouldn’t fit in the family room without the top bending against the ceiling, so we’ve put the Christmas fairy back in her box.

  Had a nice time hanging the Christmas decorations.

  While we weren’t looking, Callum ate one of the playdough decorations he made at nursery last year – sequins and all.

  He won’t do it again though. It was salt dough, and he drank three pints of water, then wet the bed. That’ll teach him.

  Saturday, November 5th

  Fireworks Night

  Funny feeling in my stomach this afternoon.

  Maybe it’s all the fireworks going off and the smell of bonfires. But it just feels like something is about to happen.

  We let off a few fireworks in the garden (why don’t Catherine wheels ever spin round?), and Callum burned himself on a sparkler.

  I don’t really want to go for a run tonight.

  I’m absolutely stuffed.

  Mum made her usual bonfire tea of hot dogs, jacket potatoes, piles of grated cheese, butter, coleslaw, mayonnaise, chocolate cake and a big bowl of Haribo sweets.

  Still, have to go running. REALLY don’t fancy it, but I’ve got to get in all the practise I can.

  Sunday, November 6th

  God!

  Nick turned up at eleven o’clock last night and threw stones at my bedroom window.

  He was totally drunk, slurring about, ‘Do you remember me doing this when we first got together?’

  I shouted that I did. And that’s why my bedroom window now has a new pane of glass in it.

  Monday, November 7th

  Things are starting to get Christmassy.

  A few teenagers were on ladders around the village today, putting up Christmas decorations – the usual flashing tinsel bells and stars.

  They strung fairy lights around the church tower and were decorating a huge, wobbly tree in the graveyard.

  Even with my train wreck of a life right now, I still love Christmas.

  Good things always happen at Christmas.

  Tuesday, November 8th

  More freezing cold marathon training.

  Ugh.

  Lungs burning. Fingers freezing, even in gloves.

  I fucking hate running.

  Wednesday, November 9th

  Took Daisy for a late night walk along the waterfront tonight.

  On the waterfront, people were drinking cups of mulled wine and calling out ‘Merry Christmas!’ as we walked past.

  Christmas gets earlier every year, but who cares? I’d be happy if Christmas started in September.

  I put Daisy in a little snowsuit with reindeer ears, so all the old ladies went, ‘Awww’ and tried to give her mince pies.

  I politely declined, though. Everyone knows Iris Skinner’s mince pies are two parts booze to one-part raisin.

  Thursday, November 10th

  God, I hate running right now! Can’t wait for this marathon to be over.

  Blisters as big as 50p coins.

  Friday, November 11th

  Blisters as big as sherbet flying saucers.

  Ow, ow, ow!

  Saturday, November 12th

  Big night tonight – turning on the village Christmas lights.

  Unfortunately, the teenagers had arranged the lights to spell out ‘Santa isn’t real’ along the High Street. They also arranged a big, flashing penis and a pair of boobs on the church tower.

  It wasn’t obvious until the lights were turned on.

  The old ladies selling mince pies in the churchyard didn’t know where to look.

  Sunday, November 13th

  Remembrance Sunday

  Woke up to find Dad at the kitchen table with Granddad’s medals and photos. He was wearing a poppy in his buttonhole and looking teary.

  I asked if he was missing Granddad.

  ‘More than words,’ he said.

  Then he talked about the photos, which were all of Granddad in the Second World War. Granddad was one of the few soldiers who enjoyed it. He liked the camping and fresh air. And he always was a big fan of tinned meat.

  We had a little cry for Granddad and then we wore our poppies and watched the memorial parade on TV.

  Callum thought it was hilarious (old people dressed up like Medal of Honour on Xbox!).

  Monday, November 14th

  The Christmas carol bus drove around the village today, full of singing children dressed as elves.

  I still get excited by the free lollypops they throw out. Caught my favourite flavour too! Strawberry.

  Daisy managed to get hold of two lollypops and refused let go of either, sucking the plastic wrappers on both of them alternately.

  When I tried to prise one out of her hand, she tried to bite me! Really hope she doesn’t turn out like Callum. I love him, but he’s hard work.

  Mum can never turn down a free lolly either, and Dad likes a carol, so we all watched the bus drive past and joined in singing with the kids.

  Dad’s voice goes operatic when he sings, no matter how silly the songs are.

  Mum sings every song like a rowdy pub sing-along. She kept forgetting herself and singing the rude-word versions.

  Tuesday, November 15th

  To take my mind off the marathon, I helped Althea make her Christmas presents.

  Althea doesn’t believe in ‘buying plastic crap’.

  This year, she’s gotten into welding. I arrived to find her in the garden, showing Wolfgang how to use the welding gun.

  Wolfgang was clapping his hands with delight at the orange sparks. He did have a welding mask on, but it was a little big for him – covering not only his face but most of his torso.

  Althea had already made a load of wrought-iron Christmas wreaths, and had moved on to welding Christmas tree decorations.

  I pointed out that wrought iron is too heavy to hang on Christmas trees, but Althea explained they were ‘concept pieces’ – to show the weighty financial burden Christmas puts on the common man.

  Althea is a good business woman because she’s already sold three of the wreaths to her neighbours. I just hope they have some really strong nails.

  Wednesday, November 16th

  Went shopping in the village today for marathon supplies – Lucozade sport, glucose tablets and gummy bears.

  The church ladies were all on ladders, trying to fix the rude Christmas decorations. They’d managed to make the boobs look like a big Christmas bow, and they’d turned the penis into a fairly convincing Christmas tree.

  Thursday, November 17th

  Marathon two days away.

  Am shitting myself now.

  Friday, November 18th

  Had my last supper – a huge plate of spaghetti bolognaise. Apparently, you’re supposed to load up on the carbs before a marathon.

  Since I was loading, I had sticky toffee pudding too.

  And a large packet of peanut M&Ms.

  Saturday, November 19th

  MARATHON DAY!

  Woke up at 5 am feeling really nervous.

  Annoyed, because then I couldn’t get back to sleep.

  Daisy woke up at 6 am.

  It was cold.

  Frost on the ground.

  I didn’t bother moaning because I knew Dad would start telling me about ‘frost inside the windowpanes’ and ‘proper winters’ when he was a kid.

  When he was little, they had one outside toilet that froze o
ver in winter. Apparently, it was very important not to poo directly on the ice. You had to pee first to defrost it.

  Had an energy drink for breakfast and three strawberry energy bars.

  Ended up completely wired, jiggling on the spot and telling Daisy I was going to win the marathon.

  When I said bye, I got all teary and weirdly hormonal.

  Like I was going away to war or something.

  Mum told me she had a box of cold hot dogs ready for the halfway mark.

  I told her it was a sporting event, not a 1970s wedding.

  She said, ‘Beef jerky then?’

  Dad was all dressed up in his 1980s marathon gear, ready to cheer me on. String vest, royal blue shorts with rainbows around the pockets and his London Marathon medal.

  He ran the London Marathon in 1986 in just under four hours. His time would have been better, but he stopped to take photographs of all the London landmarks.

  I asked him if he’d be cold in just shorts, but he insisted this was ‘all too exciting’ to worry about the temperature.

  At the start line, there was an awesome atmosphere. Just awesome.

  Huge holly wreaths hung over the twisty tinsel start line.

  Loads of people were in costumes – quite a few were Christmas themed.

  A little bit premature maybe, but who doesn’t love Christmas?

  There were at least twenty Father Christmases (which is really going to confuse the kids) and various elves, snowmen etc.

  Everyone was smiling and shivering. And sort of secretly pushing forward and trying to get in the best position.

  You could tell half the runners were hyped up on glucose. One guy dressed as a giant snowman was so twitchy he started accusing people of ‘invading his area’ and bumping them with his big padded stomach.