by Tracy Bloom
‘Do you want me to help you pick out a ring or maybe plan how you ask her?’ Katy said to Braindead. ‘I mean, I’d be very happy to give you the female perspective if you’re worried about messing it up or not doing it how Abby would want. I know you’ll want to make sure it all goes to plan, and I guess that’s what I do for a living so I’d be happy to give you advice and help. In fact I’d be honoured.’
Katy felt close to tears. This was a big moment. Braindead was Ben’s friend, his best friend. They’d grown up together and shared a truckload of happy memories that they loved to regale her with. It had been a key moment in their relationship when Braindead had offered his approval of Katy after the Gloria-the-Puffin-stealing incident. The fact that he now wanted her to help him plan one of the most important moments in his life, well, that was endorsement of the highest order.
‘Actually,’ said Ben, who was now looking as awkward as Braindead. ‘He was going to ask you if you would ask Daniel if he would help.’
‘Daniel!’ exclaimed Katy, twisting her head round to glare at Braindead. ‘You want Daniel to help you plan your engagement?’ She couldn’t believe it. Daniel was her friend, not his. Braindead and Daniel had met a few times of course, usually on occasions when Katy and Ben were going through a rough patch and mates were dragged into the crossfire. But she never had them down as that close.
‘Well, er, you know, Katy, he’s good at that sort of stuff, isn’t he?’ said Braindead.
‘What stuff?’
‘You know, girly stuff.’
‘I’m actually a girl, you know. Daniel is a boy, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
‘I know. But I think he would understand more what Abby would like than you.’
Katy leaned back in her chair, winded by the thought that Daniel had usurped her. But then she thought about Abby, and she could see what Braindead was getting at. Abby could be quite a drama queen and liked to be the centre of attention, and those attributes reminded her of someone. Oh yes – Daniel.
‘I think what he means,’ said Ben, ‘is that Daniel is more likely to imagine what Abby would want than you.’
She couldn’t argue. Abby was blunt and in-your-face and a bit of a princess. In fact, she and Braindead were an unlikely match, but somehow it worked. Braindead seemed to rise above the drama and the tantrums, bringing her back down to earth with his sideways view on life and the ability to make her laugh, the greatest aphrodisiac of all. He took none of her nonsense, and she respected him for that, and in turn her vitality and zest pushed him to embrace life in a way he never had before. Since they’d got together he had succumbed to the joys of cocktails when he’d only ever enjoyed real ale. He’d even been known to admit the quality of the odd modern pop song, when previously he’d refused to listen to anything that wasn’t conceived before he was born.
‘Will you ring and ask him?’ said Braindead. ‘Tell him what I want.’
‘You could write the brief,’ declared Ben. ‘That’s what you could do. That’s what you do at work, isn’t it?’ he asked when Katy returned him a frown.
‘I think that Daniel would prefer to work with the client direct in this instance,’ said Katy. ‘I’ll send you his number and you can call him. Ask him if he has time.’
‘Will you call him for me? Call him now?’ asked Braindead.
‘No,’ said Katy firmly. She got up and walked over to the counter where she’d left her bag. She got out her phone. ‘There, I’ve sent you his number,’ she said. ‘Call him in the morning, not now. He’s always in a better mood in the mornings.’ The last thing Daniel would be expecting was a call for help after the conversation they’d had that afternoon. She wouldn’t be surprised if he refused to talk to her for the rest of the week. She hoped he didn’t take it out on Braindead.
‘Thanks, Katy,’ said Braindead after she had sat back down. ‘You’re a mate. If she says yes, will you act as mother of the bridegroom?’
‘What?’
‘Well, my mum isn’t going to make it, is she? Not from six feet under so I thought you might, you know, look after me on the day. Like she would have done.’
Tears again, tinged with horror that Braindead considered her to be old enough to take on such a role.
‘I’d be very honoured,’ she said, leaning over and squeezing his hand. And she meant it.
‘She’s not said yes yet,’ warned Ben.
‘I think she will,’ replied Braindead, ‘especially with Daniel in charge of proceedings. Can’t fail, can I? Then come the summer we’re going to have one hell of a wedding.’
‘This summer?’ asked Katy.
‘Oh yes. We’re going for it if she’s up for it. This summer, come rain or shine, with the pair of you by my side.’ He grinned. ‘Happy days.’
‘Roll on the summer,’ said Ben, raising his drink to propose a toast. ‘To finally seeing my best mate in a suit. Wouldn’t miss that for the world. And maybe we might have some good news by then too, eh, Katy?’ He leaned over and put his arm round her.
‘Yeah. Roll on the summer,’ muttered Katy, raising her glass half-heartedly. She wondered what he would say if he thought there was a possibility that he might be on the other side of the world, not at his best mate’s wedding and without the prospect of becoming a dad again. Maybe she wouldn’t talk to him tonight. He was too excited about Braindead’s future. Tomorrow – she’d talk to him tomorrow.
Chapter Fifteen
‘Go and play now, Millie,’ said Ben as he took off her tiny gloves and then unwound her scarf in the hallway outside her preschool. ‘I’ve got to go and get ready for our first rehearsal.’
‘Can I be Mary, Daddy?’ she asked, staring up at him with a look in her eyes already developed to guarantee she got anything she wanted. He looked away. He must focus; he must be impartial.
‘Let’s see now, shall we,’ he said, unbuttoning her coat.
‘But you will let me be the Virgin Mary, won’t you, Daddy?’
‘I said we’ll have to see, Millie.’
‘What’s a virgin, Daddy?’
Ben stopped unbuttoning her coat. He looked around him. Fortunately there only seemed to be one other parent within earshot. A woman he didn’t recognise was preoccupied with removing gloves from her little boy and girl. Mrs Allcock had mentioned there were some new starters coming; it must be them.
‘It’s a woman who’s never had…’ Ben paused to let the woman past him. ‘A baby before,’ he concluded.
‘Oh,’ said Millie. ‘Like Miss Baintree.’
Miss Baintree was the other teaching assistant who helped out in preschool. She was in her mid-twenties and a bit of a looker, though Ben tried hard not to notice. He very much doubted that she was a virgin.
‘Noooo,’ he said slowly. ‘Not really like Miss Baintree.’
‘But she hasn’t had a baby before. She told me.’
‘I know, but it’s a very special name for someone who has never even tried to have a baby.’
‘So Miss Baintree has tried to have a baby?’
‘Probably.’
‘So she’s not a virgin.’
‘No.’
‘But how do you know if someone has tried or not?’
‘You don’t.’
‘So how do you know if you can call them a virgin?’
‘You don’t. So you must never, ever call someone a virgin. Do you hear? Or else they might get upset.’
‘Apart from Mary.’
‘Yes, apart from Mary. Now go away and find your mates. I need to go and sit in a darkened room.’
‘OK, Master Elf,’ she said, holding her hand up for a high five. He slapped her hand and pointed her in the direction of her classroom. He’d told her that from now on he was Master Elf at preschool so that the other kids weren’t constantly reminded that he was Millie’s dad as they prepared for the Nativity. He didn’t want accusations of favouritism or Millie thinking she could twist him around her little finger.
He went off to
the staff room to find some industrial-strength coffee before he was given charge of twenty-seven children and the Christmas story. Being around a bunch of three-year-olds was so much more fun than trying to herd a bunch of uninterested teenagers around a football pitch, as he used to do in his previous job. He was considering going back to college to take a course to qualify him as a primary-school teacher. They were crying out for male teachers at that level. And it would fit in well with having children. No wonder plenty of women ended up in teaching as soon as they started having kids. Where else can you work where you get the same amount of holidays as they do? He must talk to Katy about it. He hummed to himself as he waited for the kettle to boil then suddenly burst out into spontaneous laughter as the image of Braindead wrapped up like a Christmas tree crossed his mind yet again. He really hoped that if and when he got married it wouldn’t mark the end of such escapades. He doubted it. Braindead thrived on the ridiculous, and he couldn’t see him losing that. And if he ever became a dad, then his sense of humour would go down a storm with his kids. Ben was even harbouring thoughts that if Braindead and Abby got on with things, and if Katy got pregnant soon, then they would both have children of a similar age. How cool would that be? To watch their kids grow up together?
Glancing at his watch, he splashed boiling water into his mug and made his way to the preschool room, where the kids were involving themselves in quiet carnage before Mrs Allcock took the register. He needed to grab a word with her first to tell her he wanted to change the layout of the room before he started to talk to them about the Nativity. Push all the chairs and tables to the side and have them sit on the floor. He found her in a corner of the room talking to the woman he had spotted earlier. Two nervous-looking children were grasping hold of her hands.
‘Mr Chapman,’ said Mrs Allcock, beckoning him over. ‘Could you come here a minute.’
‘Master Elf, please,’ he said, striding over and giving the two children a big grin and a wink.
‘This is Ms Rubis, and George and Rebecca,’ announced Mrs Allcock.
Ben shook Ms Rubis’s hand while he felt a tiny alarm bell go off in the back of his head.
‘Please call me Lena, Master Elf,’ she said, followed by a very slight giggle.
Ben laughed. ‘I’ve brought my hat,’ he said, reaching round to pull a green pointy hat with a red pompom on the end out of his back pocket. He pulled it over his head and crouched down on his haunches in order to address the two children. The boy hid his face in Lena’s skirt.
‘He’s very shy with strangers,’ Lena told Ben.
‘How do you do, my friends?’ he said, holding his hand out. ‘Welcome to the best playroom in the whole wide world, full of lots of naughty little elves for you to play with.’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘Millie, come over here and show this pair where to find the secret toys.’
‘Secret toys?’ asked Rebecca, her eyes wide, dropping Lena’s hand.
‘Have you hidden some secret Santas?’ cried Millie, dashing over to the group.
‘Of course,’ said Ben. ‘Bet you won’t find them though.’
George’s head peeped out and he eyed Ben suspiciously
‘Bet we will,’ said Millie.
‘Where do we look?’ asked Rebecca.
‘The toilets,’ said Ben, looking straight at George. ‘Master Elf often puts them in the toilets. I seem to remember I definitely put a secret Santa in the boys’ toilet. Shame the girls can’t go in there, and I don’t think any of the other boys have thought to look there yet.’
‘George,’ shrieked Rebecca, ‘you need to go and find the secret Santa now before anyone else does.’
‘Come on, I’ll show you,’ said Millie, tugging at his arm.
George eyed Ben again then allowed Millie to drag him off to the boys’ toilet without even a backwards glance.
Mission accomplished, thought Ben. He could have been attached to that skirt all morning. He pulled himself up, basking in the approving look of Mrs Allcock.
‘Nice work, Master Elf,’ she said.
‘I do my best,’ he said, grinning at Lena.
‘Your best looks good,’ agreed Lena.
‘Master Elf is very popular with the children – and the ladies,’ said Mrs Allcock with a wry smile.
‘Och, get away with you,’ said Ben, laughing. ‘I only have eyes for one woman and you know that.’ He turned to Lena. ‘I keep asking Mrs Allcock here out, but she keeps turning me down. Breaks my heart, she does.’ He gave her a wink. ‘I go home alone every night, crying into my pillow.’
Mrs Allcock gave a hearty laugh. ‘See what I have to put up with,’ she said to Lena.
‘A lot of fun by the sounds of it,’ she replied, beaming at Ben.
Ben detected a slight twang of an accent in her voice that he couldn’t quite place. She was slim and dark and mysterious-looking, in total contrast to her children, who were blonde and bonny. Perhaps her husband was Swedish, he thought. With very strong genes. Something was nagging at him, but he wasn’t quite sure what. He watched as the new trio came dashing back into the room, having had a productive trip to the loos, and headed over to the book corner to see if there were more Santas loitering there.
‘Amazing,’ said Lena. ‘It looks like they settled already. George is normally so shy in strange surroundings.’
‘Bit of healthy competition works wonders for boys forgetting where they are,’ said Ben.
Lena nodded. ‘I can see that. And I pick up at eleven forty-five, yes?’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ said Mrs Allcock. ‘I’m sure they’ll be fine. Master Elf is starting the preparations for the Nativity with them today so it’s excellent timing. Get them straight in to it.’
‘Nativity,’ said Lena, raising her eyebrows slightly. She looked at Ben nervously. ‘Their mother is very keen on the Nativity,’ she said. ‘Very keen that they do not miss out because they are twins.’
So she wasn’t the mother, thought Ben. That made sense now. This must be the nanny. Interesting. They had a few children with nannies at the preschool but they tended to be younger than this one. Greener. You could see the look of relief in their eyes when they handed the kids over and they could escape to a coffee shop to gossip to their fellow nannies about the state of their employers’ marriages. But not this one, she didn’t look like a gossip. She was older, more mature. The parents who had recruited her were either very lucky or had searched very hard for someone of her calibre.
Ben looked at Lena thoughtfully.
‘Maybe we could rewrite the Nativity so the baby Jesus had an evil twin that no-one knew about? And maybe the twin becomes the devil and so our obsession with good and evil was born. How about that, Lena? Would that make their mother happy? Stars of the show, Jesus and the Devil.’ He said all this with a broad grin on his face so that Lena could not help but smile back. She got that he was taking the mickey. She was smart too.
‘I think that’s quite enough of that, Master Elf,’ said Mrs Allcock, patting his arm. ‘Master Elf does have a tendency to take things too far, Ms Rubis. You can tell George and Rebecca’s mother that as we discussed when she visited, they will be treated just the same as everyone else. As individuals.’
‘But will they be Joseph and Mary?’ asked Lena, still looking a little concerned.
‘Well, that is up to Mr King, of course, but they will have exactly the same chance as everyone,’ replied Mrs Allcock.
Ben saw that Lena knew this message might not placate her clearly quite overbearing employer.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘I will make both George and Rebecca shine, I promise. Tell their mother that. Believe me, I know that mothers of twins can be very overprotective of their separate identities. I used to know a mother of twins and…’ He stopped mid-sentence. He felt a cold shiver down the back of his neck as he looked over towards where George was counting secret Santas with Millie. He’d not seen Alison or Matthew for nearly three years, when the twins were still just babies. Not since
he’d secretly turned to Alison in desperation for parenting advice when he found himself unable to cope and too embarrassed to ask Katy. Of course it hadn’t gone down well when Katy found out, but they’d got past it. After all, he hadn’t slept with Alison – not like Katy had with Matthew. He’d thought that Alison, Matthew, George and Rebecca had been placed firmly in their past, everyone hoping their paths need never cross again as disaster always struck when it did. Apart, they were two normal couples. Mix them together and they somehow turned out like some freak show on Jeremy Kyle.
Ben’s heart sank to his shoes when he realised it was very unlikely there would be two sets of twins at exactly the right age in the area, both called George and Rebecca. Added to that, the insistence of the mother that they both have star parts sounded like only something Alison could contemplate demanding on their first day at a new preschool.
‘You were saying, Master Elf?’ asked Mrs Allcock when he failed to finish his sentence.
He turned and tried to smile back at his boss. This had doom written all over it. ‘I was saying that George and Rebecca are unique children, and I will treat them accordingly.’
‘Good – marvellous,’ responded Mrs Allcock, shooing Lena away from Ben. ‘They are going to be fine,’ he heard her say. ‘Their mother is going to be very proud of them.’
Chapter Sixteen
‘They’re running late,’ Ian announced to Matthew as he dashed into the conference room, his excuses already prepared for why he was five minutes overdue for the meeting. He sat down, breathing heavily, having taken the stairs rather than wait for the lift. Christ, he was out of shape. You’d think with three kids to run after that his rapidly aging body would not need any additional physical activity. Perhaps he should think about taking up squash again. Would Alison cope with him being out of the house for a further couple of hours a week if it was for his own physical well-being? He’d tried that tack with four hours of golf every Saturday, but the suggestion was met with disdain and a scoffing remark that no-one ever broke a sweat playing golf.