by Suzy K Quinn
I really am looking pretty thin, too. I mean, I don’t think my stomach will ever go back to how it was. But I’m looking fit and healthy.
When we got to the cash register, I freaked out.
I told Althea I couldn’t pay with Nick’s card. ‘And anyway,’ I added, ‘Helen’s the one who pays it off. She didn’t make the bet with me.’
‘She was the one who raised an irresponsible shitbag of a son,’ Althea pointed out.
I twisted the credit card in my hands, really not sure if I could go through with it after all.
‘If you can’t do it,’ said Althea, ‘give me the credit card and I will.’
The sales assistant asked, ‘Is everything okay?’
Althea explained that my ex-fiancé cheated on me with my bridesmaid. And that we would be using his credit card.
The sales assistant narrowed her eyes, snatched the card and said, ‘Paying by card? Lovely!’
I ended up buying a whole new wardrobe. And we also bought Daisy a pink cashmere twinset, baby pearls made of rubber, and tights with little pretend high heels onto the feet.
Then Althea forced me into a swanky hairdresser’s, and I got a beautiful new haircut. Layers that made my curls really bouncy, and some really lovely, subtle blonde highlights.
After that, we went to Fortnum and Mason for a Christmas afternoon tea – three silver tiers of turkey and cranberry sandwiches, star shortbread biscuits and filo pastry mince pies.
I told Althea that Nick would shit himself when the bill came through. And Helen would be furious.
‘When will that be?’ Althea asked.
‘In January,’ I told her.
‘Yes,’ said Althea. ‘Serves them right.’
Then we started giggling and couldn’t stop – until Daisy tried to blind herself with a silver fork.
Monday, December 5th
Christmas songs on the radio.
It’s the most wonderful TIME of the YEAR!
Even when shitty things are happening, you’ve got to love Christmas.
Nick rang this morning and asked to meet me in London tomorrow.
For a moment, I thought he’d somehow found out about the credit card. Silly me. As if Nick would ever check the statements ahead of time.
Actually, he wanted to talk ‘about us’.
I’m going to meet up with him.
He’s still Daisy’s dad.
And if I’m totally honest, I’m enjoying him chasing after me. I feel I should be allowed to milk it for a little bit.
Especially since Alex hasn’t called or messaged.
Tuesday, December 6th
Just been to the Christmas cake sale at Callum’s school.
Nothing cost more than 20p, so I bought a chocolate sponge, six mince pies and a jar of iced shortbread biscuits all for £2. Result!
Callum won a prize for his ‘technical bake’ – a pile of biscuits and squirty cream made to look like a snowman.
Wednesday, December 7th
Callum’s nativity play at the school.
Brandi is very proud because Callum got the part of God.
Seeing him perform, it’s fair to say he can project his voice. Some of the old ladies were wincing and covering their ears when he shouted down from heaven.
Luckily Daisy slept soundly in the stroller, even when Callum beat the drum so hard it had to be taken off him by the teacher.
Thursday, December 8th
Whoa.
What a day.
Met Nick at ‘Vodka!’ this afternoon – a swanky bar full of men with neckerchiefs and women with shiny leather boots and tasselled handbags.
It was like the bar that Christmas forgot. There were no decorations, and everyone looked serious and miserable.
They didn’t do Diet Coke, so I had to have some perfumed lemon drink that tasted like bath water.
Nick was late of course.
So I spend half an hour trying to stop Daisy smashing the glass coasters.
While we were waiting, this drunk guy from Manchester started talking to me. He was so drunk, he could only manage one word in three.
‘You … lovely-looking girl … on Saturday? Nice … lager tops … and then the policeman said … not my broken glass, mate …’
When Nick finally showed up, he had that wet-eyed smiley look that told me he’d already had a few drinks.
He did a double take when he saw me and said, ‘Wow. You look amazing.’
I was wearing a silk dress, cashmere coat and suede knee-high boots. And I did look nice, even if I do say so myself.
I didn’t tell Nick that he’d paid for my outfit.
Nick ordered a double Monkey Shoulder on the rocks, then slurred at me about how fantastic the other night had been.
I told him off for being late. Daisy was getting near shitty hour and would soon be crying inconsolably.
She’d already started grizzling like a fire alarm running out of batteries.
Nick gave me his dazzling Nick smile – the kind of smile he used in the old days. When we first got together. He said, ‘Look, listen. Are we really going to do all this legal stuff? Solicitors and all of that? I want you back, Julesy. I want my family back. I’ve been such an idiot.’
He told me that after Daisy, he thought he’d had some kind of mid-life crisis, not feeling like he’d made it as an actor, not knowing how ‘babies work’.
‘I thought I’d settled down too soon,’ he said. ‘That I needed more passion. Excitement. Sadie gave me all that. But it’s meaningless. Empty. Because it’s all about her.’
He took my hand and said, ‘Look, I know all this shit has been horrible for you. But when you think about it, it’s kind of worked out for the best. Because being with Sadie has shown me what I had all along. I needed to see that. Otherwise, I would have been bar hopping for the next twenty years. I’m ready now, Julesy. I’m ready to be a proper father. And husband. If you’ll have me.’
Everything I wanted to hear. Six months ago. But thank God, I’m stronger now.
Nick grinned at Daisy and said, ‘What do you think, Daisy boo? You think that’s a good idea? Mummy and Daddy together again for Christmas? Good idea? Yes?’
He held my hand to his chest and said, ‘Didn’t you love me once?’
I admitted that yes, I had loved him once. But I said I’d moved on now. I was making a new life for myself.
‘But what about our family?’ he said. ‘Don’t you want the best for Daisy? Don’t you want a family?’
Daisy’s little hand reached out and grabbed my finger.
She gave me the sweetest, loveliest little smile.
And I thought I’m what’s best for Daisy. I’m her family. Nick is just a side dish. As long as Daisy has me, she’ll be just fine. Families come in all shapes and sizes.
I told Nick I didn’t think it was best for Daisy, us being together.
Then he got cross and said if things went to court, he’d be financially ‘well out of pocket’.
‘How about we put all that legal shit on hold?’ said Nick. ‘Then we can figure out when you’re going to move back in. Maybe you should be the one to break the news to Sadie. She gets pretty violent with me …’
I realised then that Nick is just totally deluded. Always has been.
So I told him that it was a mistake, me coming to meet him. And that from now on, if he wanted to speak to me, he needed to do it through my solicitor.
Nick didn’t answer. Just scowled at his drink.
I walked out with my head held high. Would have been a perfect strong woman moment. Except on the way out, Daisy grabbed some woman’s beige cashmere coat and rubbed her nose back and forth on the lining.
When I got outside, it was snowing. Really heavily. Big, fat snowflakes tumbled from the sky by the bucketload, and the pavements were already covered.
The privet hedges and black railings around Soho Square had turned white, snow twirled in the sky under bright yellow Christmas lights, and London looked
like a magical scene from Harry Potter.
For a moment, my head was full of poetic words about the majestic soft, swirling flakes.
Then I tried to push the stroller through the layer of snow and started swearing.
‘Stupid, fucking … these wheels … come on! Stupid pushchair!’
It took me a full ten minutes to get to the top of the street.
Then I saw Sadie.
She must have been on her way to see Nick.
It was one of those horrible moments where we both saw each other at exactly the same time, so neither of us could do anything other than keep walking forward.
Except I wasn’t really walking. I was doing a sort of ‘shove, lift, shove, lift’ thing with the stroller in the snow.
Sadie looked awful. Pasty skin, spotty and pudgy looking. She definitely didn’t have the pregnancy glow anymore.
The smock maternity coat she wore was all bobbled around the stomach. Her hair was limp and thin. And she was lumbering along in Ugg boots, knees turned out. I’ve never seen her in flat shoes before. She’s got quite short legs really.
Sadie pretended to see something across the street and made a little waddling detour.
She really is a terrible actress. Very unbelievable. No wonder she only gets parts by sleeping with directors.
By the time I got to the train station, the snow was a blizzard.
I was covered. So was the stroller.
I was so worried about Daisy getting cold.
And then I discovered all the trains were cancelled.
Double shit.
Rang Althea, wondering if she had any bright ideas.
Althea is like an encyclopaedia of London transport. She always knows which train station you can detour from, or whether a bus would be better.
She told me London transport was ‘fucked up’, including trains, buses and taxis.
Apparently, the roads around Great Oakley were blocked too.
I phoned Laura, and she said to stay put, and she’d come meet me. But in the meantime, I should try and book myself a hotel.
After dragging the stroller to every hotel around the station and finding them full (I even tried the King’s Cross Dalton and humiliatingly name-dropped Alex and Zachary), I sat on a bench in King’s Cross with a howling Daisy in my arms, wondering what I was going to do.
More and more people bundled into the station, covered in thick snow. It really was coming down. And it was freezing cold. Daisy’s cheeks were a sort of bluish colour. She had a snuffly nose and kept doing little fairy sneezes.
A band of church carol singers started singing at the coffee kiosk, I think in a bid to cheer us all up. But actually, the low tones of ‘Silent Night’ had an eerie Armageddon quality.
To be honest, I was feeling a bit scared. People were getting angry, shouting about the end of days. And some teenagers smashed WHSmith’s window.
I tried to call Laura again, but the signal was down. The whole network was jammed. I texted to say I was still at King’s Cross but got no reply.
Daisy and I sat and waited – me eyeballing the train timetables like a crazy woman. But the same message kept flashing up over and over:
‘Happy Christmas! All Services Cancelled.’
I cuddled Daisy inside my coat, but I was still worried about the cold.
I knew things were bad when the Red Cross turned up with blankets – threadbare ones that looked distinctly Victorian orphanage.
I always thought I’d be dignified and polite in an emergency. But as soon as I saw the Red Cross man, I started yelling, ‘Over here! OVER HERE! HEY! I HAVE A BLOODY BABY; I NEED A BLANKET MORE THAN HE DOES!’
Then a deep voice behind me said, ‘Juliette. Here. I have a blanket for you.’
I turned around.
It was Alex, in a black wool coat and leather gloves, black hair dusted with snow. He was holding a fluffy beige blanket that looked a lot warmer than the Red Cross ones.
‘What are you doing here?’ I said.
He wrapped the blanket around Daisy and me. ‘Your sister told Zachary you were stuck,’ he told me. ‘And he knew I was in the area. I’m taking you to the King’s Cross Dalton.’
‘But it’s full,’ I said.
Alex said, ‘Not for me it’s not.’
The hotel was like being in a Christmas movie – huge roaring log fire and big, thick carpets.
Lots of people were pretending to read newspapers. I got the feeling they weren’t actually staying in the hotel but had snuck in to hide from the storm.
Daisy fell asleep as soon as she felt the warmth of the fire.
Alex took us to the Royal Suite on the top floor.
It was four times the size of the apartment I’d lived in with Nick.
I kept saying thank you, but Alex got annoyed and said, ‘I heard you the first time. And the fourth.’
Then he asked about Daisy – whether she’d be okay sleeping in a strange place.
I told him she’d be fine. In fact, once I saw the suite, I decided she probably wouldn’t want to go home.
One bedroom (yes – there was more than one) was made up with a cot and a load of fancy baby things. Organic cotton wool, brushed cotton baby gros, herbal baby shampoo …
Daisy woke up and looked a bit scared. I could tell she was getting ready to howl, so I started bending my knees and shushing her.
‘Here,’ said Alex, taking her. ‘Let me. You must be exhausted.’
‘Don’t be offended if she cries,’ I said. ‘She doesn’t like new people when she’s tired.’
‘I’m not a new person,’ said Alex. Then he put Daisy on his shoulder and within a minute she’d fallen asleep again.
After Alex had laid Daisy in the cot, he asked if I wanted supper.
‘Is supper like tea?’ I said.
He looked confused. ‘Tea? As in a cup of tea?’
‘No. Tea,’ I said. ‘The meal you have in the evening.’
‘Oh, you mean dinner?’ he replied.
‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘You have dinner at lunch time, don’t you?’
‘That would be lunch,’ said Alex. ‘Dinner you have in the evening.’
‘What’s supper then?’
‘Informal dinner,’ he replied.
I still don’t quite get it …
But anyway, supper turned out to be beef stew with dumplings, a cheese board and a chocolate fondant pudding. Under big silver dome things.
Before the food arrived, Alex poured me a glass of brandy.
‘You should have one too,’ I said.
‘No.’ Alex crossed his arms. ‘I should be going.’
‘Oh go on,’ I said. ‘It’s so nice to see you.’
Which it was. I really have missed him.
He poured himself a brandy. ‘I’ll stay with you while you get used to the place.’
We stood by the window and watched the snow falling.
London was totally still and silent. No cars. No people. Just soft, white flakes falling on tiles and red brick.
I’ve never seen the city so beautiful. All the sharp edges gone and everything soft and white. Snow twirled past the windowpane while Alex and I watched it dancing.
We were standing almost shoulder to shoulder, and I could feel this sort of electricity between us. I so badly wanted him to take my hand. I even nearly put my hand into his. But the sensible part of me knew that wasn’t a good idea.
We stood for a long time.
Then Alex asked why I hadn’t thought to check the weather forecast before coming to London.
I told him I was meeting Nick.
‘Didn’t he think to check the weather?’ said Alex.
I told him he was mistaking Nick for someone considerate.
‘Listen, about Nick –’ I began.
Alex held his hand up and said, ‘Let’s not go there.’
‘Please.’ I said. ‘Just let me explain. You and I were close before -’
‘There’s nothing to explain,�
�� said Alex, sounding all cold and formal. ‘I wish you well. I wish Daisy well. And I hope we can be friends. I still value your friendship. But closeness … is not a good idea.’
Then he said he had to go. The hotel was swamped, and he needed to help out, but he told me to call room service if I needed anything.
Felt really sad when he left. Because I could tell, he’d sort of closed himself off from me. He was all cold and distant. And I realised how much I missed the old Alex. The one I went running with.
Still. I made the best of things.
Ate all the stew, cheeseboard, fondant pudding. Drank quite a bit of brandy. Watched The Real Housewives of Orange County on the great big flat-screen telly. And generally had a nice time, except I couldn’t help wishing Alex had stayed.
Friday, December 9th
Daisy slept in until half past seven this morning!
Must be something to do with the big thick hotel curtains.
Had fresh croissants for breakfast, courtesy of room service. (Daisy made a real mess of hers – it took AGES to pick croissant crumbs out of the thick-enough-to-lose-your-shoes carpet).
Before we left, I asked the receptionist if Mr Dalton was around so we could thank him. But she said he’d left earlier this morning.
Alex had arranged a car to take us back to Great Oakley.
Apparently, he’d been very insistent about putting the baby seat in the back. And having water and food in the car, in case there were any delays on the road.
Then the receptionist went on about how thoughtful Alex was and how she loved working for him. ‘He’s a wonderful employer,’ she said. ‘Always thinking of other people.’
Yes. So thoughtful. Except he thinks that closeness isn’t a good idea.
The car ride back was lovely. But all I could think about was Alex. And at times, what Alex looks like with no clothes on.
Saturday, December 10th
Will NOT text Alex or anything stupid like that.
I’ve tried to explain about Nick. He doesn’t want to hear it. And as Althea says, that should tell me everything I need to know.
‘If a man doesn’t trust you, forget it,’ she said. ‘Move on. Find someone better.’