by Aimee Horton
“Tough few days?” he asks, and I nod, gesturing towards the stairs.
“You want me to chuck them in the bath and bed?” He smiles, ruffling my hair.
I nod again, closing my eyes and leaning back against the cushions.
“I’ll be up in a minute,” I whisper as they leave the room. George is asleep in his bouncy chair next to me; I listen to the water running and the squeals from two children who now seem perfectly well.
God, I’m glad he’s back.
“Do we have any pyjamas?” Henry yells down the stairs.
Well, that was short-lived.
I take a deep breath and force my aching limbs off the sofa. Except when I get to the laundry room, there are no clothes in the dryer. Just a wet load in the washing machine. That’s when I remember I’d been distracted by Arthur and Mabel. They’d cried for me, and I’d come running, only to discover they’d just wanted the blanket tucked around them tighter.
Little buggers.
I rummage through a basket of dirty clothes and manage to find some pyjamas in semi-decent shape. They’ll have to do.
I can hear it’s getting a bit stressed upstairs; Henry must have come down to collect George at some point because I can hear him screaming, and Mabel and Arthur both sound on edge.
Stalling just a little longer, I make the bedtime cups and bottles. The baby monitor is sitting on the counter, and I can’t stop myself from turning it on for a quick listen. After all, I’ve not had a chance with Arthur and Mabel home sick, and even worse, I missed my second shot at joining the coffee morning across the road.
Izzy’s monitor is off, which is unlike her, so I wander into the hall and peer out the window. Her car isn’t in the drive and that’s when I remember she’s visiting relatives.
Earlier I’d dropped off a few clothes I thought would suit her, and a couple of handbags and a briefcase. She’d seemed touched, and I swear she had a tear in her eye.
I hope wherever she is tonight, she’s getting some compliments.
Glancing out of the window again, I see that even though it’s not yet dark, there are a smattering of lights on in Tina’s house. Flicking the monitor to Channel B, I listen. She’s talking to somebody, and it doesn’t take long to realise she’s on the phone.
“Anyway, as I was saying, tomorrow is Izzy’s last day before she goes back to work.” Her voice rises and falls, and I assume she’s pacing in and out of the room. “I thought we’d have a little party. I’ll pick up a cake on the way home from work, and we’ll see if Dottie wants to come too. We’ll give Izzy a little send-off.”
That’s nice.
Perhaps I’ve misjudged Tina, not only because she’s inviting me, but also because she’s making a fuss of Izzy. Maybe she just doesn’t think before she speaks sometimes.
I know the feeling.
As she starts speaking again, Henry calls down for the milk and for goodnight kisses. I turn the monitor off, grab the milk and pyjamas, and head upstairs. Everyone is in our bedroom, snuggled under the duvet on our bed. They look a bit snotty and tearstained, but are giggling like crazy. They throw back the duvet to reveal themselves in a mishmash of pyjama tops and jogging bottoms.
Wow.
“You didn’t bring the jimjams in time so we improvised,” Henry says, grinning. I roll my eyes then dress the older two in the slightly dirty PJs. In theory, it’s probably cleaner to have them in the other stuff, but I can’t have them not match. I just can’t. “Right, Mummy, kisses and cuddles, then I’ve run you a bath,” says Henry with a smile.
I kiss all three children, and head to the bathroom to find a hot bath waiting for me.
He wants something.
I step back into the hallway. “What do you want?” I ask as Henry comes out of Arthur’s room. He puts his fingers to his lips and closes the door quietly behind him.
“Nothing… it’s just, er… Mum wants us to visit,” he whispers, not looking at me.
I knew it.
I roll my eyes and return to the bathroom. I strip my clothes off and ease myself into the hot bubbly water. Closing my eyes, I try not to tense up at the thought of visiting the ogre. As annoying as my parents are, Henry’s mum is…
No, Dottie. Remember, if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say it at all.
She lives half an hour away, yet can’t bring herself to make the trek to visit us. Even when we only lived fifteen minutes away, she wasn’t interested. Especially since she’s married her new toy-boy. To give you an idea, think Patsy from Ab Fab, and you’re nearly there.
Urgh.
I lie back and remember the last time I’d been in the bath. I’d heard the mysterious couple having sex. I still can’t work out who it is.
Stop thinking. Relax. This is your time to relax.
I submerge myself to nearly my nose, feeling the bubbles tickle my chin and hearing them crackle in my ears.
I wonder if Henry will bring me my book.
I sit up and open my eyes to call to Henry, but come face-to-face with Arthur, who is sitting on the toilet. His pyjama bottoms are around his ankles, and he’s methodically pulling the loo roll out, then rolling it back in again.
“Hello, Mummy,” he says, grinning at me. “What you doing? I’m just doing a poo.” As if on cue, he grunts and screws up his face.
Of course you are. But why are you doing it in my bathroom?
“Lovely. Does Daddy know?” I say, dying a little bit inside. I can’t believe my bath time has been infiltrated by poo. No amount of scented candles can smother the smell of what comes out of Arthur’s bottom; he’s as bad as his dad.
“Yeah, he told me to hurry up and get back to bed.” We’re silent for a moment, and I lie there, looking at the bubbles and avoiding his straining face.
“Mummy…”
“Mmhmmm?” I could murder a gin and tonic.
“Why is your tummy so wobbly?”
Thanks, kid.
“Because I’ve had a baby, darling.” It’s a lie, because I’m pretty sure that the packet of biscuits I have with my breakfast cup of tea isn’t helping. The naked lady in the tiles stares down at me. She knows about my eating habits. She knows about the baby monitor too.
Just then Henry appears at the door and hands me a G&T. Artie finishes up, and Henry ushers him out of the bathroom and back to bed.
“Shall I get some candles?” he asks, and I shake my head. I’ve come up with an idea, so I pull the plug out of the bath and gulp my drink down in two mouthfuls. Then, rather unsteadily, I climb out of the bath.
I pull on my comfiest jogging bottoms, a vest top and a hoodie. Let’s not give Henry any ideas.
I collect my glass from the bathroom, ready for a refill.
~~~~
“Come on, you promised we could get a new bathroom!” I whine at Henry. I’m sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, unsteady on my feet after a few more drinks than normal. We’ve spent most of Henry’s first evening back bickering about the bathroom.
“Look, I’m not saying ‘no.’ I’m just saying we’ll price it up, and a jacuzzi might not fit into the budget.” He’s annoyed.
Normally I’d drop it, but I’m annoyed too. I mean, I sacrificed the car, plus, with his promotion and the travelling, I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to go back to work—whether I want to or not. I’m still undecided.
I follow Henry into the kitchen and hate myself for being so emotional, whiny and drunk. But I can’t help it.
“Look, we’ll talk about it in the morning. Let’s take it one step at a time,” he says in his annoyingly calm voice as he switches out the lights downstairs. “Come on, baby. I came home a night early. I’ve missed you. I don’t want to argue about bathrooms.”
I slouch against the counter in silence, glaring at him as he looks at me in that annoying way that says “you’re being unreasonable.” Eventually, the silence is broken by a whimper from upstairs.
“Did we not have the monitor on?” I grump, ready to fi
nd fault in him.
Anything to change the subject and draw attention away from me being a moaning cow.
“Yeah, I switched it off while you put the glasses in the dishwasher,” he says, and starts to climb the stairs, heading for the nursery. “Come on Mrs., I’ve got tomorrow off. Why don’t I give you a lie in?”
Oh God a lie in would be amazing.
All forgiven, I climb the stairs after him, and we check on the children together. Both a little tiddly, we tiptoe into their rooms, a bit braver than usual, and not as worried about waking them. We stroke their hair and kiss their cheeks, then dash from Mabel’s room, giggling like teenagers as she stirs.
“Shhhhhhh, the devil child will be awake all night!” I snigger at Henry. He laughs, and we tiptoe into the nursery to collect George.
“I don’t suppose he can stay here…” Henry begins, looking at me and wiggling his eyebrows.
“Not a hope in hell—especially if I have to visit your mother this weekend!” I say, before stripping down to my vest and pants, and collapsing into bed and a long deep sleep.
~~~~
Henry was true to his word. He got the kids up and fed while I dozed and listened happily to the chaos downstairs.
I pretended to be asleep while they argued about getting dressed. I continued, adding the odd fake snore, as all four of them came and gave me a goodbye kiss. Then once I heard the front door close, I threw the covers back and padded downstairs to switch on the coffee machine. I popped some croissants in the oven and took a long, relaxing shower.
Now the sun is shining as I look at my reflection in the mirror. Prodding my belly, I can’t help wondering why, even though my boobs have gone up two bra sizes, they don’t seem to be doing anything to level out the bulge hanging over my pants.
I’ll start dieting on Monday.
Sighing, I try to find something to wear that will cover my flaws. I opt for a pair of flowered leggings, a long loose vest top and sandals. Then, enjoying the silence, I put on my make-up and make the bed, flinging open windows and humming to myself.
So nice not to have to think about anybody but me for a change.
I stick a load of washing in, and the smell of coffee and warm croissants whirls around the kitchen. As I open the conservatory doors and head out to the garden with a basket of damp clothes to hang on the line, I feel content.
Maybe not working won’t be so bad.
I start to peg out the clothes and weigh up the pros and cons of being a stay-at-home mummy.
Pro: Time to do the laundry.
Con: Spending all day with the children.
I pull one of Henry’s shirts out of the basket and hang it upside down.
Pro: I could sunbathe in the summer.
Con: The children would expect me to play in the sand pit.
I hang two of George’s tiny white vests next to Henry’s shirt.
Pro: No dealing with stupid clients who make silly last-minute requests and tantrums.
Con: Having to deal with three children’s tantrums twenty-four/seven.
I continue weighing up the pros and cons until my phone beeps from the kitchen.
“Coffee and cake at mine in an hour to say good luck to Izzy?” It’s a text from an unknown number, which I assume is Tina’s.
When did I give her my number?
“Can’t wait! X” I text back. Just as I pull the croissants out of the oven, the front door opens.
“Helloooooo!” Henry appears in the kitchen door, George tucked under one arm. Both of them look pleased to see me. “How do you do that every morning? I mean, it’s a nice day and all. But by God it’s a minefield of gossip and dragging feet!”
I smile, grateful he sees it’s hard work doing the school run, and take George from him, giving them both a squeeze.
“You dish up the croissants and pour the coffee. We’ll have those, and then I’m nipping across the road for an hour to say goodbye to Izzy. She’s back to work next week.”
“Which one is she again? The one next door with the blonde hair?” Henry asks, carrying a chopping board piled with croissants and jars across the room. He places it precariously on the little table in front of the sofa and heads back to the kitchen for the coffee.
Perhaps I overdid it on the baked goods.
“That’s right, yeah.” I set George down in his bouncy chair and hand him a toy.
“Sounds like you’re starting to settle in.” He returns with the coffee. “What are they all like?” Plonking down on the sofa, he sighs and reaches for a croissant.
“They seem nice…” I say carefully, aware I can’t give too much away. “Tina, the one from opposite, seems quite overbearing.” I smother a croissant with butter and apricot jam and take a huge bite. I drool over the naughtiness of the carb-loaded snack for a few moments, then ask the dreaded question, “So, when are we going to see your mother?”
“I thought we’d drive over for Sunday lunch,” he begins, and seeing my face, hurries on. “Maybe stop at a few bathroom showrooms on the way.”
“Really?” I nearly squeal. I blow him a croissanty kiss, then reach for another and smear it with peanut butter.
“Just to look,” he says, and I nod. We munch in silence. I’m busy envisioning bathrooms, and he no doubt is wondering where we can find a special sale.
“You take the last croissant.” I break the silence, feeling generous. “I better head across the road. See you in an hour-ish? Shall we pick Mabel up and go to the chippy for lunch?”
I’m dieting on Monday so might as well get it out of my system.
9.
I feel like somebody is always looking over my shoulder.
“How was your lie in?” Tina asks as soon as my bum hits the seat in her conservatory.
How did she know?
“I saw your other half take the kids to school this morning so assumed he’d given you a break. Has he been away or something?”
“Henry? Oh yes, he goes away quite a lot with work. But he came home a day early this time, thank God. I was going mad.” I unfold the travel changing mat on the floor next to Lola and gently lay George on it. I notice Tina wince, but I remind myself she’s got a kid. Hopefully the fact that I’ve put George in three nappies will give extra protection. I turn to Izzy. “So, how are you feeling about going back to work? What’s the plan?”
As Izzy launches into her return-to-work plan, I sip my tea and try to get my head around it. She’s doing one week Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and another week Tuesdays and Thursdays to accommodate Joe’s schedule.
It all sounds very complicated.
“What’s Joe going to be doing while you work then?” Tina asks, pushing her slice of cake about on her plate with her fork. She’s not had one bite, and I’m on my second slice.
“He’ll sleep in the morning while Lola goes to crèche, then he’ll pick her up and spend the afternoon with her,” Izzy explains. “Well, most of the time, although it gets complicated so I’m hoping my sister and his mum will help.”
I realise Penny hasn’t said anything. As I glance over at her, I catch her wincing. The other two haven’t noticed; they’re too busy talking about Izzy and Joe’s schedule. I mouth “OK?” at Penny, who nods, before striking up a conversation.
“George is growing lots, isn’t he?” she says, and I nod in agreement. Glancing at my watch, I realise I’ve only been here twenty minutes. I’m a bit bored to be honest.
Come on, Dottie, this is what you wanted.
“When are you planning on renovating the bathroom?” asks Tina, and for a minute, I’m confused. I can’t remember mentioning it to any of them. “I mean, unless you have already? I had a look around before the owners sold and saw what a mess it was,” she continues before I have a chance to answer.
Oh.
“We haven’t decided yet. Soon, I hope,” I reply cautiously, not wanting to jinx showroom shopping on Sunday.
“What’s wrong with the bathroom?” asks Izzy, and I launch
into my story about the naked lady in the tiles, deciding not to tell them I think she’s judging me. I don’t think they’re ready for that.
By the time I’m done, I realise I could do with leaving but am struggling for an excuse. It’s getting to the point where I’m almost willing George to create another nappy explosion. Just as I’m considering wobbling him with my foot to see if he will be sick, Penny pipes up.
“I’m going to go home and have a nap I think,” she says in a tense voice. She looks tired and not particularly well.
This is my chance!
I jump up from my seat, nearly standing on George. “Good idea! George could do with some lunch and then we have to get Mabel soon. I’ll walk out with you. Tina, it’s been wonderful. Good luck next week, Izzy. You’ll be great!” I scoop up George, nearly flinging him over my shoulder, and make sure not to forget my bag this time. I make a break for the door, followed by a slow-moving Penny.
“You OK?” I ask her when the door closes behind us. She looks even worse in the sunlight.
“Yeah, tired, due date next week,” she answers, forcing a smile. Before I have a chance to say anything else, she pats my arm and walks slowly the short distance to her house. As I cross the street, I glance back at Tina’s house, just in time to see a figure move away from the window at the front door.
I hope I haven’t offended her.
Back inside, I discover Henry asleep on the sofa. So, still holding George, I grab the baby monitor from the kitchen counter and sneak into the downstairs loo, locking the door behind me and turning the monitor on.
“That was odd. She is strange, isn’t she?” Tina’s voice is so loud that George begins to whimper.
I turn the monitor down, holding it to my ear while I bounce my chubby baby, hoping he’ll fall asleep.
“She seems really interested in Joe, doesn’t she?” she continues.
No I do not! I barely mentioned him.
“Did she? I guess she asked a little bit about him.” Izzy doesn’t seem particularly bothered.