Playgroups and Prosecco

by Jo Middleton

  ‘Oh, that’s easy,’ he replied, ‘Coco Pops and double bacon cheeseburgers. How about you?’

  A man of sophisticated taste, clearly, but I was eating Aldi’s own-brand onion rings and drinking wine out of a Cadbury Mini Eggs mug so I was hardly in a position to judge. Obviously, I didn’t want to let on about the wine mug though at this delicate stage.

  ‘I’m a bit of a sucker for a roast dinner,’ I replied, implying down-to-earth and hearty, ‘but I do like a good fish curry.’ The fish curry was to hint at an experimental nature. Like I might spontaneously have a group of friends over for dinner and cook a big curry and serve fancy beer in bottles with wedges of lime. (Note: I have never done that, although I like the idea of it. If the house was tidier and I wasn’t perpetually exhausted. Oh, and if I had a big group of friends.)

  ‘Fish curry, eh?’ said Danny, clearly impressed by my cosmopolitan tendencies. ‘That’s a very left-field choice!’

  ‘I’m a very left-field woman,’ I said, taking a swig of mug wine. This was my attempt at sounding seductive. Not sure how it came across.

  We chatted for a bit and he seemed pretty normal, so you never know.

  I have moved all fundraising emails to a folder marked ‘fundraising’, so excellent progress.

  Wednesday 7 March

  Bottles of prosecco set up at Chapter One ready for tomorrow – 8. Glasses of prosecco I wish I could drink to calm nerves – also 8.

  I went around to Grape and Grain after work to pick up the prosecco. The woman there said she was going to come along in the afternoon too as she was really interested in finding out more about using social media to promote her business.

  I took the prosecco over to the bookshop and Dylan helped me carry it upstairs and offered me a cup of tea. He looked as if he could do with someone to talk to, so I said yes. We sat in the two old armchairs he keeps in the A–L fiction section and he told me about his wife, Caitlin, and his daughters, Ellie, Sophie and Bonnie. Caitlin died a year ago and, although his parents moved down to Barnmouth to help with the practical side of things, he told me that he’s found it hard to know what to do with the grief.

  ‘My mum and dad have been amazing,’ he said. ‘They only retired a couple of years ago, but they’ve given up everything to move here and help with the girls. The trouble is that they think everything can be solved with a cup of tea, a casserole and a bit of hard work. They’re a different generation, I guess, made of tougher stuff than me. My dad especially. I feel like I’m failing because I can’t just oil the lawnmower or give the car a service and get over it.’

  ‘You’re definitely not failing,’ I said. ‘You’ve done an amazing job holding together a family and running your own business. I expect it’s just that they don’t know what to say. Maybe they even feel that they’ve failed you for not being able to make it all OK. Generally, that’s how parents feel, isn’t it?’

  He looked thoughtful.

  ‘I’d not thought about it like that,’ he admitted, ‘but you could be right. I know, if it was me and something like this happened to one of the girls, I’d just want to be able to take the pain away. But I don’t suppose you can. Perhaps making a casserole is the next best thing?’

  We sat for a bit and drank our tea and I stole glances around the bookshop. It is a mess, but it’s quite a beautiful mess, full of promising-looking nooks and crannies. The floor is wooden boards and the bookcases are wooden too, stretching from floor to ceiling. There’s a comforting smell – old books and warm dust. I noticed that, despite the chaos, I felt relaxed. My shoulders seem to drop a fraction each time I visit.

  ‘You know, you could turn this place into something really special,’ I said. ‘I’m not one for “vibes” generally, but there is a lovely feeling in here. It’s very welcoming.’

  Dylan smiled. ‘Caitlin always used to say that,’ he said. ‘Her mum and dad owned the shop from when she was really small – we inherited it – and she used to say she felt as though the books were alive, as if they were filling the shop with an energy. She’d tell people that if you could be still and quiet enough you wouldn’t even need to worry about choosing a book, that a book would choose you. It sounds stupid, I know.’

  ‘It doesn’t sound stupid at all,’ I said. ‘It’s lovely. And I think she was right. It’s like the books are excited, just waiting for the right person to pick them up and read them.’ We sat for a bit longer. ‘How did she die?’ I said quietly. ‘If you don’t mind me asking?’

  ‘She was in a car accident,’ he said, looking at his hands. ‘A drunk driver ploughed into her when she was driving back from visiting a friend in hospital and she died before they could get her back there. The irony is not lost on me,’ he added.

  ‘Oh God, Dylan,’ I said, ‘I’m so sorry. That’s awful.’

  He stood up then. ‘I’d better get home and make sure the girls are OK,’ he said. ‘My mum’s there, with a casserole obviously, but I don’t like not being around in the evenings.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Get back to your family. I’ll see you bright and early for a day of female empowerment. And don’t be so hard on yourself,’ I added. ‘You’re doing your best. It’s all we can do.’

  Message from Danny when I got home asking, ‘What are the three best animals?’

  Not my favourite animals, the three actual best. OK, so he’s a bit weird, but I quite like that. I said cats, seals and penguins, which he agreed were solid choices.

  Thursday 8 March – International Women’s Day

  It’s 10 p.m., the girls are in bed and I’m drinking a glass of leftover prosecco. I know it was a bit of a last-minute thing, and I was never expecting hundreds of people or anything, but I’m so chuffed with how everything went today.

  The blacksmith from Busy Beavers had to pull out at the last minute because her daughter was throwing up and her husband was away on a business trip, but everyone else who had promised to be there was.

  The ex-Olympic sailor was incredible. She spoke about balancing a sporting career with having a family and about how her husband had gone freelance so as to be able to take the lead with the children. She was so inspiring – it made me feel a bit ashamed about all the excuses I make for driving to Tesco Express when it’s only a fifteen-minute walk away.

  I embarrassed myself by volunteering to be a case study for the pension advisor, Ruth, and having to confess that in every job up until now I’d either not had the choice or had opted out of paying into a pension. I said I’d always thought it was something for old people, which was a nice springboard for Ruth to launch into a lecture about cumulative interest.

  The social media talk went down really well. The woman doing the talk, Sam, was delighted because the owner of Grape and Grain now wants to employ her to manage their Instagram channel. I overheard Sam tell her that, ideally, she needed a professional photographer to take a bank of images for them, and perhaps have someone create some cocktail recipes, so I casually piped up that they should have a look at the photos we had on display as they were by a local professional. I’m sure Lou wouldn’t mind me calling her that – I know she never would herself but her photos are amazing.

  The cheese went down a storm, too. Who doesn’t love a bit of free cheese?

  My very favourite bit of the day, though, was when we were packing up. Everyone had left, Dylan was downstairs in the shop, and Jess was ‘organising’ leftover business cards in and out of my purse. Flo and I had one end each of a trestle table and she looked at me along the table’s length.

  ‘I’m really proud of you, Mum,’ she said. ‘You do a really good job of things, you know.’

  I was so touched that I went to put my hands over my mouth, forgetting I was holding the end of the table, and dropped it on my feet.

  (Note: corner Ruth at Busy Beavers and ask for some pension advice. Don’t want to end up one of those old woman who can’t afford to have the heating on and keeps empty food packets in the cupboard to fool visitors into
thinking she can afford to eat.)

  Friday 9 March

  Emergency Jaffa Cakes eaten from office drawer when no one was looking – 3. Envelopes overestimated – 17. Number of times questioned self about talking to a man who would make me guess the number of envelopes in a tray – best not to think about it.

  I was forced to take stock of the fundraising situation ahead of Monday’s meeting. Angela had told me that we have five big funding applications ‘in progress’, which I had naively taken to mean that we were waiting on a decision or perhaps just needed to add in a few key bits of information before sending off.

  Oh, how wrong I was!

  It turns out that ‘in progress’ basically means that Angela had downloaded application forms from various websites, filled in name and address details, saved them in a folder marked ‘in progress’ and added them to the spreadsheet. She might as well have just emailed me a gif of Beyoncé tossing her head back and laughing at me.

  Danny sent me a picture of a wire tray full of envelopes at lunchtime and asked me to guess how many there were. I was tempted to zoom in and try to actually count, because I do like to be right about things like this, but then I realised that would make me as odd as he clearly is, so I just guessed 127. There were apparently 110, which he told me made me the best guess all day.

  How many other people is he making guess the number of envelopes in a tray? Also, secretly very pleased to have the best guess. We have agreed to meet in person – based on more chat, not just the envelope quiz.

  Messaged WIB details of upcoming date. They were very excited, until I mentioned the envelope thing and the two dinners.

  ‘He sounds like a nutter,’ said Sierra.

  ‘Also, Coco Pops are really high in sugar,’ added Lou. ‘He doesn’t scream “mature man of the world” to me.’

  I sent them a picture of my wine mug and the onion rings.

  ‘But that’s OK,’ said Lou, ‘because that’s in secret on your own. You wouldn’t say it to someone to seduce them, would you? If the Coco Pops are the thing you felt you could say out loud, then you have to wonder what he does in secret that he chooses not to mention.’

  She may have a point, but also he is the only person to reply, so I need to start somewhere.

  Monday 12 March

  Minutes spent sweating poolside – big fat 0. Swimming cookies eaten after Jess had gone to bed – 2 (not bad).

  Fundraising meeting didn’t go too badly, all things considered. Basically, I completely passed the buck, explaining how I was misled into thinking that things were much further ahead than they actually were, and that I was going to need quite a bit more time for the research stage. The Chair was very understanding, which annoyed Steve no end. Just have to hope not to ever bump into Angela again.

  I staged a personal intervention at swimming today. I told Jess that I wasn’t going to be watching because the teacher had said that she needed to concentrate on her swimming, not on waving at me.

  ‘But I really want you to watch,’ she said, looking a bit sad.

  ‘I really wish I could watch too, baby,’ I said, lying, ‘but I’m going to have to sit in the café instead. I will be there to meet you when you come out and the good thing is that I’ll be able to buy you a snack!’

  She thought it over.

  ‘Can I have a cookie with chocolate in?’ she asked.

  ‘Definitely,’ I said.

  She looked pleased with this arrangement and scampered off towards the teacher. I turned to leave. ‘Are you not watching?’ asked one of the other mums.

  ‘No, I’m going to the café,’ I said. ‘I’d really love to carry on watching every week but honestly, I just hate it.’

  The absolute genius of the whole thing is that I’d seen her eyeing the giant, overpriced cookies last week – £1.29 each – so I’d bought a packet of five similar ones from Aldi for 89p and I had one in my bag ready. Not only had I saved 40p but I also had four cookies at home.

  Every penny counts, especially with the cost of the swimming lessons.

  Tuesday 13 March

  I think I might quit toddler gymnastics. I enjoy hanging out with Sierra and Lou, but it seems a bit pointless paying £2.50 to do that when I could just invite them to my house and spend the £2.50 on a job lot of chocolate digestives. Also slightly jealous that Jess has a more active social life than I do.

  I don’t think Jess has learned anything at all – she’s too busy chatting and jumping up and down and running over to check I’m watching. If anything, her basic coordination skills have got worse – last week she fell off the sofa and she hadn’t even been moving, she’d just been sitting there watching the Octonauts. She told me she was busy with Captain Barnacle and ‘forgot to stay sitting up’.

  I FaceTimed Mum and Dad to tell them about International Women’s Day. I hadn’t spoken to them in a while, but talking to Dylan about Caitlin had made me think a bit. I’ve always just assumed they will always be there, but they aren’t young any more. One day they won’t be there, and I’m not sure how I will cope with that.

  Mum told me about the new walking group they’ve joined. It’s all expats living in the same area and they go out once a week with their dogs. Where they live in France has quite a strong English contingent. I sometimes wonder why they bothered moving all that way, really. Dad seemed distracted. I could see him nudging Mum and whispering behind his hand.

  ‘Mum, Dad,’ I said, ‘you remember it’s a video? I can see you whispering!’ They laughed.

  ‘I know,’ said Mum, ‘just ignore your dad, he wants me to ask you money questions.’

  ‘What kind of money questions?’

  ‘Nothing sinister,’ said Mum, ‘just to check you’re managing really, and that you don’t need any help.’

  ‘I’m managing fine,’ I reassured them. ‘That’s the benefit of swapping a house in London for one in Dorset, isn’t it? The mortgage is really small – Ian’s maintenance covers that – and he’s in no hurry for us to think about selling while the girls are around.’

  ‘But what about all those bills on your own?’ said Dad. ‘Are you sure we can’t help you out?’

  ‘It’s all good, Dad,’ I said. ‘Ian and I split Jess’s nursery costs that aren’t covered by vouchers and my wages from the museum cover bills and food and stuff. We aren’t going off on cruises every month or anything, but we manage. You mustn’t worry about us.’

  Mum laughed. ‘Easier said than done as a mum!’ she said.

  I knew what she meant.

  Wednesday 14 March

  Chinese buffet dates secured – 1. (Excellent work.)

  Feeling empowered by the success of International Women’s Day, I have decided to take control of my menstrual cycle. I’m sick of having a day every month where I inexplicably want to stab everyone I see in the face with a fork, only to start my period the next day and go ‘Ohhh! That was it, then.’

  It’s ridiculous for a grown-up woman to be taken by surprise every single month, like it hasn’t happened hundreds of times already. On Louise’s recommendation I have downloaded a period-tracking app that tells you every day how you may be feeling, based on your hormone levels. Obviously, I can’t use it properly yet as I can’t remember when my last period started to be able to set it up.

  Message from Danny about our date venue. He suggested the all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet on King Street. It didn’t scream romance to me, but I think we’ve established that he’s not exactly run-of-the-mill.

  ‘Be warned,’ he said, ‘I can eat a lot.’

  Sexy times.

  Saturday 17 March

  Number of meals eaten just before meeting date for dinner – 0. As I am a normal person! Thoughts about dying alone – many.

  Date Day!

  Message from Danny at 9.45 a.m. ‘Good morning,’ he wrote, followed by a pineapple emoji. Brushed over that in my head. ‘Do you still want to go out for food this evening?’

  ‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘I’m e
xcited to see how much you can eat. What time do you want to meet?’

  ‘I finish work at 4.30, so any time after that?’ A pause. ‘Oh, hang on; I checked and the Chinese place doesn’t open until 5.30.’

  Christ, who goes out for dinner at 5.30?

  ‘Are you planning an early start to fit in more spring rolls?’ I asked. ‘I have some things to do during the day, but I’ll be done by about 6.30? How about we meet at the Boat and Anchor for a drink and go from there?’

  ‘OK,’ he replied, ‘I’ll see you at the Boat and Anchor at 6.30.’

  Not exactly what I’d said, but still, it was a lie about having things to do (other than shave my legs, try on everything in my wardrobe etc.), so it didn’t matter too much.

  At 6.25 I was sitting in the car watching the door of the pub.

  At 6.27 a young-looking man in shorts and a backpack arrived and stood outside. That made things a bit awkward for me as I’d assumed he’d go on in and I’d be able to get out of the car and adjust myself away from his gaze. From where he stood he’d be able to see me and know that I’d been sitting there watching. I’d have to get out immediately to make it look like I’d pulled up just before he arrived.

  I pulled down the visor to check my lipstick quickly, grimaced a bit, and flipped it back up.

  Can I say here, for the record, that I think that bit where you and a first date have seen each other, but you’re not close enough to speak, is possibly one of the most awkward dating moments that exists? You’re aware that you’re watching each other, so you have to walk in a sassy yet casual way. Do you wave? Do you smile in acknowledgement? It’s awful.

  Fortunately, it’s over quickly.

  ‘Hello,’ I said, when I was close enough for him to hear me. ‘Have you been here long?’ I asked, just to make the point that I hadn’t been watching.