I nod and smile at the guard, who gives me the stink eye and walks off towards the bathroom section with a swagger his position doesn’t really justify.
Lolly and I take our babies (the right ones this time) across the shop floor to the restaurant at the back.
We sit and chat for about an hour. It turns out that while Lolly’s grasp on the English language is a tad fragmented, she also has a degree in biochemistry from one of China’s leading universities and only came to England after falling in love with Brian while he was over there on a fact finding mission for GlaxoSmithKline.
There was me thinking she was some kind of mail order bride, when in actual fact she’s better paid and far more educated than I’ll ever be.
I end up promising that Laura and I will have dinner with her and Brian at the nearest opportunity and finally leave Debenhams just as the heavens open, soaking me to the skin as I run back to the car park.
I didn’t try to find another up lighter. The bastards can have vouchers.
Just as I think the worst of this stupid trip into town is over, Poppy wakes up and starts screaming the house down.
For many reasons, this will be the last time Jamie and Poppy go out together on their own, until she’s fifteen and can carry the fucking up lighter for me.
Laura’s Diary
Friday, July 25th
Dear Mum,
It’s no good, I’m going to have to say something to Jamie about his mother.
It’s been well over a month since I caught her in flagrante delicto with the Lycra-clad penis and she still hasn’t had the guts to say anything to her husband or children.
I haven’t seen Jane to speak to her about this – and frankly I don’t really want to. Her cowardice annoys the crap out of me and I don’t intend to hold my counsel any longer.
My poor husband is convinced I’m up to something, of that I’m sure.
I’ve tried to hide my dirty little secret from him, and by and large I’ve been successful.
Whenever he mentions his mother though, it’s a different story.
I am terrible at keeping secrets as you know, and being forced to do so makes me awkward, embarrassed and angry – emotions I am not well equipped to deal with. Therefore I end up being mad at Jane for putting me in this position, and inexplicably mad at Jamie for talking about her. I then stay mad at him for the rest of the day. It’s horrible and wrong but I can’t help myself.
To make matters worse, every time we try to get down to some naughty business when Poppy is asleep, visions of Jane’s naked arse being hammered by Nigel and his big waggly penis spring into my head, ruining my mood completely.
So now Jamie thinks I don’t want to have sex with him either. The poor guy is walking round in a daze.
Jamie doesn’t react well when something’s amiss. He tends to make silly mistakes when he’s distracted. Take for instance the other day, when I was visiting Dan and Tim. I’d asked him to get some baby food out of the freezer for Poppy’s lunch, reheat it and give it to her. He ended up thawing out two Chicago Town pepperoni pizzas and liquidising them.
I came home to a wailing daughter with chronic heartburn. Her nappies were even more horrific than usual the next day.
Then there was the business with Jamie stealing Lolly’s baby in Debenhams last month. Okay, it eventually led to a very pleasant meal and a new found friendship, but I’d rather avoid Jamie doing anything else that might wind up with him only being able to see his wife and daughter during prison visiting hours.
This problem with Jane is starting to affect my marriage, so it’s time to come clean and end it once and for all!
Not tonight though.
Tonight Jamie and I are going out on our first date since Poppy’s birth, and I don’t intend to let my dirty little secret ruin it.
The date was Jamie’s idea. He very romantically suggested a meal in the newly refurbished Barley Corn pub, scene of our first ever date, which sounded lovely. I agreed straight away.
Melina (bless her) has volunteered to take Poppy for the evening. This will be the first time both Jamie and I will have been away from the baby for any length of time.
The whole thing makes me bottom wobblingly nervous, but I’m going along with it as Jamie and I need some time alone together – and I need some alcohol in me, dammit. I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to have a good time with a glass of Pinot Grigio.
Also, it’s nice to get dressed up for a change, especially because I can just about fit back into my little black dress, thanks to the treadmill Jamie bought me for Christmas. I’ve walked three hundred miles on the bloody thing and my reward is being able to slip into my favourite evening wear.
Okay, there’s a bit of a bulge in the stomach region that wasn’t there before, and I won’t be eating a big meal, but I’m in the bloody thing – and that’s what counts.
Mel has my phone number on speed dial, and a list of emergency numbers. She had all these anyway being a mother herself, but thankfully resists the urge to punch me in the face as I go through the list with her for the fourth time.
‘It’s all fine hun,’ she tells me in a soothing voice. ‘Poppy will be okay with me for a few hours. You two go and have a nice time.’
‘Okay, but any problems…’
‘Yes. I know. I’ll call you straight away. Don’t worry!’
I am worried though.
I know Poppy’s illness at birth has probably made me overprotective, but I can’t help it.
As I sit here writing this, I can feel a gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach that won’t go away no matter how much I tell it to.
I’m not going to change our plans though. Mel is a great mother and Poppy will be fine, I’m sure. Jamie and I are going to have a lovely dinner together and I’m going to forget all about his cheating mother for the evening.
I may even give him a blow job later, just to make up for the grief I’ve put him through recently.
***
Oh boy, it’s four hours later and I’m pleased to report that Pinot Grigio has once again become my bestest friend in the whole wide world.
I’m not shit-faced or anything… I have a baby to look after and there’s no way I’d be able to write all this down if I was.
This is a good thing, as I want to get the events of the evening down on the page before heading off to bed.
Jamie is already snoring his head off upstairs, thanks to the epic sloppy blow job I’ve just administered.
Poppy is likewise fast asleep in the cot next to him thanks to a warm bottle of milk.
The combination of wine and the espresso coffee I had at the end of the meal means I’ve got a real buzz going on at the moment and won’t be sleeping for a while yet.
Here’s the highlights of this evening then – one that started with me full of nervous anxiety, and ended with me extremely surprised at my husband.
‘You look lovely,’ Jamie says from the doorway as I pose in my little black dress.
I’ve really gone to town on the make-up tonight. Given the fact I haven’t been dressed up for months, I’ve probably gone overboard and gone way past town into the nearby council estate, but Jamie thinks I look good, so I’m well happy.
‘You look very smart,’ I reply. And he does. Jamie is wearing his best suit. The one that only gets trotted out for weddings and job interviews.
He’s even ironed his shirt and combed his hair. I’m once again reminded what a very attractive man my husband is when he puts in a bit of effort.
Jamie comes up to me and delivers a lingering kiss that makes my knees a bit shaky. ‘Shall we go?’ he asks.
‘Yeah, let’s go eat!’ I reply happily.
…what I’m really looking forward to is that lovely tall glass of Pinot, though.
We get to the car. Jamie jumps in and I’m opening the passenger door when I catch sight of one of Poppy’s dummies in her car seat behind me.
‘Er… I’m just going to ring Mel and che
ck I gave her a dummy for Pops.’
Jamie sighs and nods. He knows better than to argue.
Mel does indeed have a dummy, so I put the phone away and we drive to the Barley Corn.
Halfway there I spot a sign by the road advertising fresh vegetables for sale. This reminds me about Poppy’s carrot and leek baby food, so I ring Mel again to check I’ve given her some to feed Poppy with during the evening.
Mel says yes – in a voice betraying only a little of her understandable exasperation – and I put the phone away as we park outside the pub.
Once inside we’re shown to a secluded table at the back of the refurbished restaurant section. It’s very nicely decked out, with some pretty paintings on the wall of what looks like the surrounding countryside. There’s one particularly good painting of a field full of gambolling lambs that catches my eye.
Ten seconds later I’m on the phone to ask Mel if I packed Poppy’s bib. The one with the fluffy sheep on it. This time Mel doesn’t bother to keep the exasperation out of her voice and assures me that she does indeed have the bib in question.
I put the phone away as the waiter walks up to take our order.
I have the lasagne and Jamie orders a big, fat juicy steak.
Then, nirvana approaches in the shape of another waiter with my large glass of Pinot. How lovely it sparkles in the soft light of the restaurant.
I snatch the glass off the waiter’s tray and take a long, wonderful gulp.
…yes I know you’re supposed to savour wine, but I’m a new mother who hasn’t fed her Pinot addiction for months so gulping was the only option at this point.
It tastes marvellous. A symphony of flavour on my tongue.
The fantasies I’d enjoyed earlier in the day about this glass have been well and truly realised.
Then it dawns on me that the wine has made me temporarily forget about Poppy. It’s only been a few seconds, but I already feel like the most neglectful parent on the planet.
There she is, without her mother in a strange place, and here I am feeding my alcoholic tendencies, with not a thought for her dire situation.
It’s a wonder they don’t call social services.
I figure a call to Mel can’t hurt just to check up. This time she cuts through the chit-chat and just tells me to fuck off. Quite understandable in the circumstances.
It takes all of Jamie’s strength to wrestle the mobile phone from my grip, but he eventually succeeds and pops it away in his jacket pocket. ‘Poppy’s fine, Laura. Mel knows what she’s bloody doing.’
‘Does she Jamie? Does she? For all we know she’s left Poppy in the kitchen with the dog while she watches soap operas in the living room!’
‘Don’t be so bloody stupid. Mel is your best friend, for Christ’s sakes. Just relax. The kid couldn’t have a better babysitter.’
Jamie is right of course, I’m being ridiculous. If anything Mel is probably a better mother than me, after all she’s being doing it for longer.
So why won’t that nagging fear that Poppy is being neglected leave me?
Why do I want to smash the wine bottle over Jamie’s head and grab the phone from his jacket while he bleeds out on the floor?
Get a grip, girl.
How? How do I get a bloody grip?
The wine. The wine is the answer and our salvation.
My brain is, as ever, one step ahead of me and is absolutely right.
I take another gulp of the lovely liquid.
…then another.
…then I refill my glass.
Right to the top.
…and take another gulp.
By the time our meals arrive I’ve already got quite a buzz on and feeling much more relaxed about the whole Poppy situation. Even if Mel has left her in the kitchen, she can tie a pork chop round her neck so the dog will play with her.
I giggle.
‘What’s funny?’ Jamie says from over his enormous steak.
‘Nothing husband of mine. Eat your big old bit of meat.’ Slosh. Giggle.
Jamie returns to his mastication. I fork some lasagne into my mouth. It tastes quite nice, but nothing can compare right now to the orchestra of flavour the wine is playing on my taste buds.
Oh dear, I might be getting a bit tipsy here. I have to get a grip!
Drink more wine, that’s the ticket.
You’re utterly right brain! More wine it is!
Slosh. Giggle.
By the time our meals are over I’m soaring on the wings of inebriation.
‘You’re pissed,’ Jamie says as I hurl wine over the table cloth. Thankfully I’m not drunk enough to want to suck the liquid out of the cotton just yet.
‘Don’ be so… so bloody silly, Jamie. I am a mother and have responsibililies. Big, fat responsibililies.’ To show how big and fat they are I hold my arms out wide, nearly punching a passing waiter in the genitals.
‘Yeah… maybe I’ll put Poppy down later, eh?’
‘What’s that suppos’ to mean?’ I am indignant! How dare Jamie cast aspersions on my parenting abilities! ‘Are you sayin’ I’m norra a good mother, so called Jamie Newman?’
‘No… I’m just saying it might be wise if I took care of her in your present state.’
‘Presen’ state?! What d’you mean by presen’ state, cackface?’
‘Well, you’re drunk enough to call me cackface, how’s that?’
‘Bollocks. I’m a fantastic mother. Not like yours!’
Oh shit.
I hate you wine, you utter, utter bastard.
‘What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’ Jamie looks angry. I can’t really blame him.
His turn in mood sobers me up a bit. ‘Sorry baby. I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘No, you bloody shouldn’t.’ He leans his elbows on the table. ‘What’s going on Laura? You’ve been acting weird for a few weeks now. I keep trying to ignore it, but something’s up. You’re so busy with Poppy it’s been impossible to bring it up, but I’m sick of it and want some answers.’
I fiddle with the stem of the wine glass. ‘Nothing’s wrong, Jamie.’
‘That’s a load of crap. I know you too well.’ He takes a long swig of his one beer for the evening. ‘Are you having an affair, Laura? You might as well tell me.’
‘Of course I’m not! That’s just stupid.’
‘Is it? You get in moods with me for no reason, you don’t want… you don’t want to have sex. Every time I suggest seeing my family you act like I’m asking you to do something horrendous.’
‘I… I…’
‘What?!’
Oh God, I’m going to have to tell him.
I wanted to wait, but if I don’t say something now, this evening - and possibly my marriage - will be completely ruined.
‘Please don’t be mad at me.’
He takes a deep breath. ‘I won’t be honey, just tell me what the problem is. Please.’
‘Well, last month Poppy was teething really badly and I had no-one to ask for help, so I went round to your mother’s - ’
‘You went to mum? Christ, it must have been bad.’
‘It was.’ I glug my wine. This probably isn’t the wisest decision, but Dutch courage and all that.
‘She didn’t answer the door when I got there,’ I continue, ‘so I went round the back to find her, and… and…’
‘And what?’
Just take the plunge you silly bitch.
‘I saw her being rogered over the sofa by Nigel the gym instructor!’
Hmmm. I could have perhaps used a better turn of phrase to break the news to my husband that his mother is an adulteress. We’ll blame it on the wine.
Jamie’s face goes slack.
Oh my, this is very bad.
This was the last thing I wanted to do tonight, but the evil Pinot has led me astray once again.
Then something quite unexpected happens.
Jamie, who I thought would be distraught, starts to laugh. It’s one of those laughs that begins
as a quiet chuckle, before rapidly ascending into a full blown guffaw.
I knew I’d make him cry when I told him about this, but I didn’t think it would be with tears of laughter.
‘What’s so funny, Jamie?’ I ask. Maybe the terrible news has driven him instantly insane.
‘Ro… rogered over the sofa?’ he repeats and goes off into another gale of laughter.
‘Yes!’
‘By… by a gym instructor?’
‘Yes! Called Nigel.’ I try to think of something else to say. ‘He had a big willy. I saw it when he fell over.’
‘He fell… he fell…’ Jamie can’t get the words out. He’s now holding his sides.
I have to try and salvage this. I have to say something to mitigate the awfulness of my dirty secret.
Sadly, Pinot is still in control of my speech centre and comes out with this fucking zinger: ‘Your mother has a very peachy bottom for a woman of her age.’
For a second Jamie stops as still as a statue. His eyes become saucers as he stares at me, digesting this latest piece of information. Then he lets out the loudest laugh so far and starts banging the table. ‘Oh God, no more… please, no more. I don’t think I can take it.’
‘Why is this so funny Jamie? Your mother is cheating on your father!’
Jamie wipes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. He looks at me. ‘Yes Laura. I know. We all know. She’s been doing it for years. I nearly caught her at it once myself.’
I’m amazed.
No, I’m bloody flabbergasted.
‘Does your dad know?’
‘He’s the one who originally told me, Chris and Sarah about it ten years ago.’
‘And he doesn’t mind?’
‘Mum and dad’s marriage has been a bit of a sham for a long time. I’m pretty sure he’s knocking off one of the women who works at his golf course actually.’
Love... And Sleepless Nights MAY 2012 Page 15