#Toots

by Linh Le James

  ‘Hmm. Maybe she was just saying which one she prefers. The eagle wins over the skull. Hands down.’

  ‘Jess, I love Mia’s dress! Hey, you look great too.’ Carla compliments me as she comes over, holding Mia’s hand.

  ‘It’s as good as it gets. I contoured the shit out of my face, I’m wearing Spanx and the Ultimate Wonderbra. I can’t breathe for the life of me in this dress, so I better look good. Where’s toyboy?’

  ‘Freddie? I didn’t invite him. I already see too much of him. I have the worst carpet burns. And my back needs a break. Punishment for breaking the sex ban. Besides, I don’t want him to think we’re serious or anything.’ Carla frees the straw from its plastic wrapper and sticks it in the juice carton before handing it to Mia.

  ‘Jess, you haven’t met Freddie yet. Carla and him are so cute together. I totally ship them.’ Emily gushes, hands clasped over her heart.

  ‘No, you do not ship us. We are not cute. There is no “we”. It’s just a fling. He’s only twenty-one – only just old enough to order his own drinks in America,’ Carla corrects her.

  ‘Cown, Mummy! Cown!’ Mia whinges.

  ‘Did you book a clown or something? Mia keeps asking for it.’ Carla wipes Mia’s mouth with her pashmina.

  ‘No, she wants her tiara. Crown. Can you please get it? It’s in my big Sofia bag under the presents table. Are you getting drinks from the bar at the same time?’ I hold up a tenner but she waves it away.

  ‘We can. Come on, Mia. Let’s go get the cown and some vino for Mummy.’

  As I watch them skip away, a familiar face makes my heart miss a beat. A slender figure in a dark navy dress which contrasts with her flowing copper mane is standing next to Scott, laughing up at him. She has one arm linked in his, as if he were her property.

  I feel like I have just been punched in the guts. I hold on to Emily for support.

  What is Rosie the Ginger Dinner doing here? Does Scott have no decency left at all? Did he really have to invite her? To his own daughter’s christening, of all places? Were they hoping for an opportunity to get it on? No wonder there are so many people from his office here. He wants her to blend in and look inconspicuous.

  The devious wretched swine.

  He has some nerve; I have to give it to him.

  ‘It’s her. The red-haired slut. Next to Scott. Don’t look.’

  ‘Where?’ Emily shades the sun from her eyes with one hand and scrutinizes them. ‘Oh yeah, the girl from Facebook. But you still don’t have any proof there’s anything going on. What are you going to do?’

  ‘Sort it.’

  ‘Scott! A word, please,’ I request frostily, avoiding eye contact with Rosie the Ginger Dinner and the two other colleagues Scott is chatting with.

  Scott cautiously follows me behind the storage shed.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Who’s that trollop?’

  ‘Whoa. Hello, language. That’s Rosie from work. Her surname is Turnbridge. Not Trollop.’

  ‘The least you could do, in light of the situation, is to tone down the sarcasm. I know what’s going on between you and Trollop. How you spend all your time salivating over her photos on Facebook and having little chats on WhatsApp.’

  ‘Excuse me? OK. First, I’m not doing anything with anybody. And I’m not sure whether to be offended or flattered.’ Scott crosses his arms defensively. ‘Offended that you think I’d cheat on you. Flattered that you’d think Rosie would have anything to do with me.’

  ‘There! Right there! You just admitted you would if she would!’

  ‘No, I didn’t say that. Where has this come from?’

  ‘From all of this!’ I throw my arms up in the air. ‘Everything! You’re always working late. We never spend quality time together. You’re here but you’re never actually with me. Your phone has become an extension of your arm! You’re more distant than you’ve ever been.’

  ‘Have I? I noticed you never want to watch TV with me in the evenings anymore.’

  I have been indeed avoiding the living room in the hope the Desktop Calculator would record incriminating conversations in my absence.

  ‘What about your wedding ring? You stopped wearing it!’

  ‘Right. The ring.’ Scott rubs between his eyebrows with two fingers as if a headache is building up. ‘I admit it. I find wearing a ring annoying. I’m not a jewellery person. I used to take it off before exercising, then I’d have to stress myself out trying to remember where I put it. I find it easier just to leave it. Why didn’t you just tell me if it bothers you that much?’

  ‘Because I shouldn’t have to tell you to put it on. You should want to wear your ring. As a reminder of our marriage! Men who don’t wear their wedding rings do so for a very good reason! They want to fool all the women out there into thinking they’re single!’

  ‘Out where?’

  ‘Out there! You want to attract opportunities. When you don’t wear your ring, you send out the message “I’m unattached and available – come on, girls”. It’s called deception.’

  ‘Jess. Do you think I need a piece of metal to remind myself to stay faithful? That’s ridiculous. I know I’m a husband and a father. Please give me some credit.’

  ‘Really? What about your phone? You changed the lock on it, so I can’t keep tabs on you.’ I scrutinize his expression, searching for signs of guilt.

  ‘I started using Android Pay. I changed the lock for better security. The new lock is an inversed T. Do you feel better now?’

  ‘I found a welcome letter from MBNA for a new credit card. What is it for, Scott?’

  ‘Oh, that thing? When I bought the new vacuum cleaner online, it asked me at checkout whether I wanted to pay in instalments at no extra cost. I ticked the box, thinking my normal debit card would get charged several times. Instead the website applied for a new credit card on my behalf and charged the purchase on it. I didn’t do it on purpose. I’m going to pay it off and cancel it. I don’t want to manage more than my debit card.’

  ‘You have an excuse for everything! How come you always like or comment on that woman’s Facebook photos seconds after she posts them? You must be really eager to show her your appreciation!’

  ‘I’m mentoring Rosie in work.’ Scott sighs. ‘We have this new programme in place where each manager is responsible for a few juniors. She does photography as a hobby and wants to become a professional at some point. I’m just trying to encourage her. There’s nothing between us. Or anyone else.’ He pauses. ‘I’ve been tired and distracted by my new job and my workload. I’m sorry if I’ve neglected you.’

  ‘I found a H. Samuel receipt a few months ago. What is it for?’ I quiz, reluctant to hear the answer.

  ‘I almost forgot.’ Scott removes a silver pouch from his waistcoat. He pulls out two necklaces, each with half a heart. ‘For the girls, to remind them they’ll always have each other, no matter what. I thought it would be nice for a christening present.’

  I take the dainty pendants, smooth under my fingers save for a precious stone embedded in each.

  ‘It’s a diamond. I was going to have them engraved with an M but I wanted to check you liked them first. Do you? Otherwise we can exchange them.’

  Scott seems earnest. I feel more confused than relieved. How can I tell where the truth lies?

  Even if I’m right, he would deny it. He has everything to lose – the kids, the house. Unless I have some concrete proof, he will challenge me. He has a good excuse for everything, but it doesn’t mean he’s fully innocent. My instincts could never be that wrong, could they?

  ‘Look. Sven from work, he and his wife did couples therapy. They were arguing a lot, and he said it really helped. We could give it a shot. If you wanted.’ Scott nudges me as I stare into space, my mind in overdrive.

  Before I have time to answer, my mother bustles in, her arms full, making us both jump.

  ‘Scott! Jess! What are you two doing hiding behind the shed? Up to no good, are you? I have a delivery
for you. Sue from work made some cupcakes, as you said you didn’t want another christening cake. Just wait until you see them. They’re all vanilla sponge with a raspberry jam centre. The ones with a sugar flower on top have rose-flavoured icing and the ones with a mini teddy on them have bubble gum flavour. Isn’t it fab? Bubble gum! The children will love them! Sue’s fetching the rest of them now and Daddy has the cupcake tower. Where should we set it? I have confetti to sprinkle and matching ribbon to decorate the sides. Should we just go ahead and put the tower by the cake? Do you want to have a look now or keep it a surprise and see the result after we’re done? Surprise, go on. Where’s Molly?’

  ‘Mum, you never told me about any cupcakes! There’s not enough table room inside for more food!’

  ‘Here’s my special girl!’ Mum coos as Lola brings over Molly, carrying her at arm’s length.

  ‘Jess, Molly’s done a number two. Or three, perhaps. Smells rancid. What the hell do you feed her? My babysitting abilities do not cover incidents involving urine, faeces or vomit. By the way, the dummy’s gone – she must have chucked it. I can’t find it. I’m not sure how long this will shut her up. Here you go,’ Lola declares as she hands over Molly, sucking hungrily on one of the pub’s beer mats.

  ‘I don’t have a spare dummy! Is that a coaster?’ I stick my fingers in Molly’s mouth and try to remove the saliva-sodden bits of cardboard she has chewed off the beer mat. Molly screams in outrage and throws up milk all over my dress.

  ‘Babes, give her to me. I’ll change her, so you can clean yourself up. You sort out the cupcakes with your mother.’ Scott takes Molly, throws her effortlessly in the air a couple of times, making her cries turn into giggles, and marches off to the baby changing room.

  Sue from work appears juggling another load of cupcake boxes. ‘What a wonderful christening, Jess! Ursula, William already had a scoop inside. We can add another small table and I have a disposable tablecloth I can cut to size. William, do watch your step. Don’t you dare drop any of them!’

  ‘Can we please just get on with it, so I can have a drink?’ my father complains.

  A lightning flash momentarily blinds me. ‘What the—?’

  ‘Ah! John, where were you? We needed help to carry all these!’ Sue from work exclaims. ‘Jess, this is John, my husband. He’s your official photographer for today. Right, I’d better get a move on. William, chop chop. See you in there, Ursula.’

  ‘Hello, Jess. We could take some nice outdoor shots to start with, then move inside. What about doing family first, then friends? Anywhere I could charge my batteries, though? I’ll be running out soon.’ John the photographer forages for a battery charger in his bag and drops his thermos on the ground by pulling out an extension lead by mistake.

  ‘I never asked for a photographer!’ I seethe. ‘Mum! Is that your idea?’

  Ursula whispers urgently to me while John fiddles with his tripod. ‘John was laid off last month. He’s trying to build a new career. He’s always done photography as a hobby, but he needs a portfolio to get started. It’s a great freebie. No harm done.’ She then chirrups out loud, ‘Go and enjoy your party! You should socialize! Pop in and have a look at the cupcakes in a mo. With me, Daddy and Sue, it will only take five minutes to set up. See you later!’

  Jess

  Sunday. The Christening. The Hawk and Hare. 3 pm.

  I am on my second large glass of sauvignon blanc. Mia and Molly are being looked after by family members eager to make a fuss over them. Scott, surely full of guilt, is nowhere near Rosie the Ginger Dinner. She is carrying a plate of cupcakes and bantering with male workmates, enjoying being the centre of attention, acting as if she owns the place.

  ‘Jess! Delighted to meet you. I’m Nick. Such a lovely gathering of families.’ Nick takes my hands and shakes them genially.

  ‘Nick insisted we come and tell you how nice the party is,’ Louise clarifies dispassionate.

  ‘Uh huh. Thanks for coming, and thanks for the present,’ I reply distractedly, still glowering at Rosie.

  ‘I didn’t get you anything. I have a Tesco voucher from Mum I haven’t used yet somewhere at mine. I’ll post it to you when I get the chance. What are you looking at?’ Louise squints in the direction I’m staring at.

  ‘It’s her,’ I growl.

  ‘Her? You mean Scott’s Facebook girl? Yeah, I can see her now. Slapper. I’ll go sort her out for you, Jess. No problem.’ Louise gives Rosie daggers.

  ‘No. She’s mine.’

  I plant myself in front Rosie the Ginger Dinner, trying to look dignified despite the baby sick stain on my dress.

  ‘You must be Jess. I’m Rosie. Scott has told me so much about you.’ She extends a hand. I don’t take it.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Of course, he did!’ Rosie the Ginger Dinner replies in her best let’s-be-girlfriends voice, apparently oblivious to my ominous tone. ‘Scott mentors me at work. He’s a great mentor.’

  The fake bitch. I’ll get her now.

  ‘Great mentor, huh? Oh, I love your shoes. I’m sure I saw them in the Primark sale. They look good, but they won’t last, given the price.’

  Touché.

  ‘Cheap and cheerful, that’s me,’ she adds gaily.

  I retort, ‘Your dress is from Primark too? They have nice designs, but the material is just so poor. You must draw the line somewhere. You’re so lucky to be able to wear strapless dresses. I could never get away with it. I just fall out of them. They’re best suited to flat-chested girls.’

  Rosie looks like she just swallowed a bone. ‘Where’s your dress from? It’s fab,’ she gushes falsely, hand on heart.

  ‘Karen Millen,’ I reply proudly.

  ‘Outlet?’ She raises her eyebrows.

  It is indeed. Bitch.

  I change the subject. ‘Your blusher is gorgeous. Just the perfect shade of pink. One of the downsides of being a redhead is you always need a pop of colour not to look pasty, right? And some bronzer on. The trick is to really blend the jawline, though. Otherwise your face looks darker than the rest of your body. Don’t worry, it doesn’t look ridiculous at all. Just a bit weird.’

  Her make-up is perfect, but I have managed to panic her. She puts a self-conscious hand on her neck and I’m sure she’s dying to pull out a hand mirror to check her face.

  Ha ha ha ha ha.

  I stick the knife in. ‘Your hair is amazing. So red. I bet you were bullied growing up. All those nasty ginger jokes. Did it knock your confidence? That would explain a lot about the way you are. The insecurity and all that. No offence, but I’ve watched you and you’ve only spoken to men at the party so far.’

  I run out of inspiration. What else can I slag her off about? I cross my arms and watch her square in the eye, waiting for her next move.

  Eventually, she coolly offers, ‘Jess, why don’t we have a little chat, just you and me?’

  She grabs my arm and marches us off a few feet away. As soon as we’re a safe distance away, she throws my arm back and turns to face me.

  As she’s about to speak, John the photographer interrupts us. ‘Would you two like a photo? Oh, here’s your little one. What about the three of you, right there by the tree?’ Mia runs up to me.

  ‘Not now, for crying out loud!’ I explode, waving him aside.

  ‘My flash has stopped working.’ John clicks a button on his camera in vain. ‘There’s no need to pose; let me do a few trial shots.’ He aims the objective at the ground and snaps away.

  ‘Jess, have I done anything wrong?’ Rosie asks, eyes exaggeratingly wide in manner of spring lamb.

  ‘No, of course not. Nobody ever does anything wrong. Scott doesn’t, and you surely don’t. Mother Teresa and bloody Saint Peter, the pair of you, right?’ I spit out.

  She throws her head back, laughing as if I have told her the greatest joke of the century. Her expression changes abruptly from amused to threatening. She leans in towards me. ‘I know exactly what your problem is, Jessica. Scott is just like a
ll the other men in the office. He dribbles every time I speak to him. It’s pathetic and cute at the same time. I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything about it.’

  ‘Stay away from my husband, you horrible slag,’ I assert grimly, poking Rosie’s shoulder.

  ‘Do not poke me,’ Rosie orders, her voice ice cold. ‘Scott – well, he’s just my puppy. You have no idea how much he wants me, Jess. I’ve got him wrapped around my little finger. I can have him any time I want. I see how that would bother you. But don’t worry, woman, we haven’t slept together. He would have loved to, though. I did consider a pity shag, but he’s already put my name forward for a promotion. So now I don’t even need to lower myself to that. But I might do. I sometimes borrow rubbish toys from people I despise, just to annoy them. I play with them, and then give them back.’ She gives a tinkly laugh.

  I’m going to murder the slut.

  ‘Mummeee!’ Mia slams herself into my legs and latches onto my calf. ‘Cake! Cake!’ she shouts, pointing at the cupcakes on Rosie’s plate.

  Rosie hands Mia a cupcake, shooting me a triumphant side glance. ‘Here you go, darling! Don’t go eating too many; you don’t want to end up looking like Mummy.’

  ‘Do. Not. Give. Cake. To. My. Daughter! Mia, no cake now. It’s almost time for dinner.’ I command to Rosie, fists clenched by my side, ‘Leave. Now.’

  ‘But Scott invited me,’ she retaliates, a mocking eyebrow raised.

  ‘Mummeee! Cake! Cake!’ Mia bawls, pulling my hem with all her might.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Mia, let go of me!’ I then snatch the plate of cupcakes from Rosie. ‘Scott and I are married, in case you didn’t know. He can invite you and I can disinvite you as well.’

  ‘Mummeee! Caake! Caaake!’

  ‘Sad, sad little Scott. With his sad, sad little wife. No wonder he always makes jokes about fat, sloppy middle-aged women becoming bitter and crazy,’ Rosie snarls. ‘He means you.’