by Alice Ross
‘So do I,’ agreed Kate. But for completely different reasons.
Unlike that paragon of domesticity, otherwise known as Cecilia’s mummy, Kate didn’t brush her hair or don a pretty dress before the cookery club meeting that evening. And not just because she didn’t have time. Her wardrobe, once jammed with classic trouser suits and silk shirts, now consisted of a jumble of elasticated leggings, baggy T-shirts and shapeless cardigans – the majority stained with things she’d rather not think about. Occasionally in the pickle, there’d be a sighting of one of her old jackets or a pair of suit trousers, but she never bothered rescuing the item. First, because she’d never find the other half, and second, because nothing would fit her now courtesy of the extra stone she lugged about. Her sartorial preparations were therefore brief, consisting of a quick hose down in the shower while the twins were zonked out in front of CBeebies, Jemima under strict instructions to call her the moment they woke.
At a holler of ‘Mummyyyyyyyy’, Kate flung herself out of the bathroom, hair still slick with conditioner, grabbed a clean-ish pair of leggings and a T-shirt, and hurtled down the stairs dripping wet and starkers.
To find Mia doing a headstand in her potty.
Milo stuffing a green felt-tip up his nose.
And Jemima standing in the doorway looking terrified.
‘Mummy’s boobies,’ roared Milo.
At which point Jemima burst into tears.
Mia toppled over onto the rocking horse.
And Kate emitted a very long, despairing sigh.
‘Wow. Something smells good,’ Connie exclaimed, being the first to arrive that evening.
‘Thanks. I managed to grab a shower,’ Kate replied.
Her guest giggled. ‘I meant the food. It smells delicious. And…’ She bent her head to her host and inhaled deeply. ‘…You smell rather nice too.’
Kate laughed. ‘Sorry. Blimey, it comes to something when you count a wash among your list of daily achievements. In fact, come to think of it, that’s probably been my only achievement today. I’ve been so knackered, I didn’t have the energy to take poor Jemima to nursery.’
‘There are worse things,’ said Connie. ‘I think it’s a major achievement just getting through a day with everything you have on your plate: three tots and still managing the veterinary clinic.’
‘Keep talking like that for the next seventy-two hours and I might feel marginally less of a failure than I currently do.’
Connie tutted. ‘You’re far from a failure. It’s just too much for one person to cope with on their own…’
She broke off as Mia waddled into the room – a bandage around her head, which she’d insisted on following the toppling-out-of-the-potty incident. Having been subjected to heaven only knew what since its application, it had slipped down and now covered one of her huge blue eyes. She swiped up a toy fire engine from the floor, then toddled off again.
‘So cute,’ chuckled Connie.
‘Bloody nightmare,’ countered Kate.
‘It’ll be better when Domenique’s back. It’s such a shame her holiday coincided with Andrew’s course.’
Kate puckered her forehead. Did she detect a hint of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on in her friend’s tone? Or was tiredness causing her to hallucinate?
‘They’re both back at the weekend. Thank God,’ she added. And not just for the reasons the visitor would likely suppose.
The doorbell rang.
‘You stay there,’ instructed Connie. ‘I’ll go.’
The other two members of the cookery club – Melody and Trish – arrived together. Melody, resplendent in blue with her perfect little pregnancy bump; and Trish, resplendent with the flush that accompanied a new relationship.
‘Wow. Something smells good,’ Melody gushed upon entering the kitchen.
Kate looked at Connie and burst out laughing, thanking whoever might be up there, for bringing the Cotswolds Cookery Club to her this evening.
Although no surprise to Kate, the group not only met its lofty culinary standards again that evening, but was as supportive as ever regarding her manic life. Having revealed the fabulous, rustic, golden French loaf she’d baked to accompany Kate’s pot-au-feu, Melody subsequently tottered off to play with the children, thereby allowing the cooking to proceed unhindered in the kitchen. Assuming control of the main dish, Connie added succulent free-range chicken and browned pork and leek sausages to the pot, then turned down the heat to allow it to simmer for thirty minutes. She then moved on to preparing the starter: market salad with walnuts and goat’s cheese croutons. Trish, meanwhile, ploughed on with the dessert of pumpkin tart. The pastry having been prepared beforehand, she threw together the filling – pumpkin, milk, sugar and a vanilla pod – and stirred it in a saucepan on the hob.
Kate remained at the table under strict instructions not to lift a finger other than those required to raise her wine glass to her lips. After a swift quashing of her feeble protests, she found herself enjoying the break – from the children and from doing stuff – relishing the easy chatter that flowed between her friends.
‘So, what’s going on with you two?’ she asked. ‘Both still loved-up?’
‘I’m not,’ batted back Connie.
‘Liar,’ countered Trish. ‘Don’t forget I saw you and Max in town last weekend and you couldn’t keep your hands off each other.’
Connie blushed as she shook a jam jar containing the ingredients for the salad dressing. ‘Only because Max was just back from ten days away.’
‘Ah. The joys of dating a pilot, eh? Ten whole days apart. No wonder you were stuck together like velcro.’
‘Er, you need talk. As I recall, there was someone attached to your hand when we saw you.’
‘Steve?’ enquired Kate.
‘Of course. Who had eyes for no one other than Trish.’
Trish gave a dismissive tut as she transferred the tart filling from the pan to the blender. ‘I wish. I have to admit, though, for a woman of forty-two, I’ve never felt more like a sixteen-year-old since I was sixteen. Although I think I probably felt about twenty-two then.’
Connie giggled. ‘You and Amber could be sisters. You could share her paper round.’
‘Nice thought. But no thank you. Talking of my daughter’s paper round, though, I can’t believe she’s stuck it all this time. I honestly thought, as soon as she went back to school, she wouldn’t last a week.’
‘Oh ye of little faith,’ said Connie. ‘She’s actually turned out to be one of the most reliable members of the team. Miguel being the other. And the two of them seem completely besotted with one another.’
‘They are. Which is slightly worrying given they have their GCSEs next year. Steve and I are already stressing about it.’
‘Goodness. That sounds very couple-ish.’
‘It’s very parent-ish,’ countered Trish, playfully swiping at her friend with a tea towel.
Melody staggered into the room, her long brown hair decidedly more dishevelled than when she’d left.
‘Oh no. What have they done to you?’ gasped Kate.
‘They wanted to play hide and seek. Which involved an impressive attempt at stuffing me into a suitcase.’
Kate grimaced. ‘Ugh. I’m so sorry. Please feel free to press charges. I promise not to object.’
Melody laughed as she pulled out a chair at the table and lowered herself onto it. ‘I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself. They’re so funny.’
‘That’s one word for them. I hardly dare ask what they’re doing now.’
‘They’re in bed.’
Kate’s weary eyes grew wide. ‘Already? And with no screaming?’
‘No screaming at all. I did use a bit of bribery and corruption, though. I told them, if they went quietly, the next time I came, we’d play pirates and I’d walk the plank.’
‘Ha! There’s a top tip. Although if I offered to walk the plank, they’d have one jutt
ing out of the bedroom window in a flash.’
‘If they do, let me know and I’ll film it for YouTube,’ snorted Connie.
Kate shook her head. ‘No chance. I’d be far too embarrassed. Not only because of my unruly children, but because of the state of the windows. And talking of clean windows – or rather lack thereof – reminds me of a conversation I had with Jemima this afternoon. She seems to be developing an obsession for her friend Cecilia’s mother, who not only has the most sparkling windows in the Cotswolds, but is everything I’m not. Making me feel like the world’s worst wife and mother.’
Stirring the pot-au-feu at the hob, Connie tutted. ‘Kate Ellis, you are one of the cleverest women I know. You’re a vet for heaven’s sake. You save animals’ lives. And you’re just feeling low because you’re worn out. Which is hardly surprising.’
Kate managed a weak smile. ‘Thanks, but there’s slightly more to it than that.’ She broke off, wondering if she dared voice the matter that had been weighing heavily on her mind for the last couple of weeks. ‘The thing is…’ All three members of the club stared at her. ‘…I think Andrew’s having an affair with the au pair.’
Chapter Three
At the voicing of her husband’s suspected infidelity – to which she’d expected a collective horrified gasp – Kate was amazed to witness a flurry of knowing looks bounce around the trio in her kitchen.
‘Oh. My. God!’ she exclaimed, as the reason why slapped her in the face. ‘You already know.’
‘Of course we don’t know,’ countered Melody. ‘We just… might have seen them together. Occasionally.’
‘How occasionally?’
‘Just… now and then.’
‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ said Connie. ‘When we have seen them, all they’ve been doing is talking.’
‘We thought she might be teaching him French,’ piped up Trish.
Kate rolled her eyes. ‘Hardly. Ugh. I feel like such an idiot.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t,’ insisted Connie. ‘Unless you’ve witnessed something you’re not telling us.’
Kate shook her head and puffed out a breath. ‘Nothing incriminating. I just… have a feeling.’
‘Based on what?’
‘Well, this is the second time in a few months that they’ve been away at the same time. And Andrew’s so grumpy these days. And Domenique’s always receiving text messages. And—’
‘But you haven’t actually seen them together together?’
‘No.’
‘Well, there you go then,’ said Melody. ‘You’re most likely blowing the whole thing out of proportion because you’re exhausted. What you need is a nice meal and a good night’s sleep.’
‘I never have a good night’s sleep.’
‘Hmm. Not much we can do about that, I’m afraid. But you can have a nice meal. Beginning right now.’
At the dinner table, having the sensation of being shrouded in a heavy fog, too tired to dwell on the Andrew/Domenique thing, Kate drifted in and out of the conversation, which skimmed topics such as baby names, teenage daughters and nervy greyhounds. And despite the food looking and smelling mouthwatering, she barely tasted it.
‘Right,’ announced Trish, what seemed to Kate eons after she’d raised the issue of her husband and the hired help. ‘It’s nearly ten o’clock. I think we should call it a night. Poor Kate is yawning her head off.’
‘I’m fine, honestly,’ Kate protested. Despite being anything but.
‘You’re not. You need to sleep. But we’re not leaving you with this lot.’ Trish indicated the mountain of dirty dishes scattered around. Some from the cookery club, others that Kate had missed in her cursory attempt to clear up earlier.
‘The dishwasher’s not working,’ she informed them with some embarrassment.
‘In that case, point us to the rubber gloves,’ instructed Melody. ‘Before we banish you to the living room.’
‘But—’
‘No arguments. Living room. Now!’
Too weak to argue, Kate dragged herself through to the lounge, chucked a muddy welly off the sofa and sank down on the grubby cushions. Where, within three seconds, she fell into a deep, much-needed sleep.
Rather than a tribe of squealing, squawking small people hurling their pyjama-clad bodies on top of her and jolting her awake, Kate eased herself into the next day at a leisurely pace, still on the sofa, but with a pillow at her head and a duvet covering her body. Revelling in such undisturbed and unaccustomed luxury, she jack-knifed upright at the sound of laughter upstairs. Noting the time of seven o’clock, horror ricocheted through her. The kids! They couldn’t possibly have slept this long. They could be wreaking all kinds of havoc while she’d temporarily relocated to the Land of Nod, dribbling into her pillow, oblivious to it all. As she scrabbled off the sofa and sprinted to the stairs, all kinds of horrific scenarios cantered through her head – swiftly culminating in her being jailed for child neglect and the children being whipped away by social services.
Rather than the anticipated scene of carnage, however, she found all three offspring under the duvet in the spare room, listening to a story from the fourth occupant of the bed: Melody.
‘I hope you don’t mind, but I stayed over,’ her surprise guest explained. ‘You were so exhausted, we didn’t want to wake you when we left. My other half’s away on business, so Connie picked up my dog and took her to her house, while I stayed here on kid-watch so you could have an undisturbed night’s sleep.’
Kate shook her woozy head in disbelief. ‘I don’t know what to say. That’s so incredibly kind.’
‘It’s been a pleasure. I can’t tell you the last time I’ve had so much fun at five in the morning. We’ve done all sorts, haven’t we, guys?’
Three little heads nodded. Noting how adorable they looked with their messy blond curls and huge blue eyes, Kate felt a rush of love. ‘I’ll go and make us all breakfast, shall I?’ she suggested.
‘No need,’ said Melody. ‘We’ve already had ours. We’ve left you some granola. And we’re staying right here until you’ve had a nice relaxing bath. Mummy deserves a bit of Me Time, doesn’t she?’
The little heads nodded again.
At which point, swamped with gratitude, Kate scampered over and enveloped them all in an enormous hug.
Kate couldn’t believe the difference. Not only at her spending more than thirty seconds in the bathroom, but at the entire household, and, indeed, the house. Melody had somehow managed to make breakfast, tidy the kitchen, match up several socks, and dress the children, all with the minimum of fuss. However, as refreshing as it was, her competence had compounded Kate’s feelings of inadequacy. Not that she intended confessing that to her friend.
‘You’re going to make a wonderful mother,’ she told her instead as they sat at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee apiece.
Melody pulled a face. ‘Hmm. I’m not so sure. I keep waking up in the middle of the night panicking that I won’t have a clue what to do with a baby.’
‘Nonsense. You’ll be brilliant. And at least you’re starting at a sensible age. I wish I’d had mine in my twenties rather than my late thirties. I think I’d have coped much better.’
‘But look what you did instead. Had a brilliant career and set up your own practice.’
‘Ah yes. The practice. I used to be so proud of it. And I loved working there. But now it feels like a huge weight around my neck. And with the locum leaving in a few weeks, I honestly haven’t a clue what to do with it.’
‘You could always go back. Put the children into nursery.’
‘I could. And I have considered that. On the brief occasion there’s room in my head to consider anything. But I suspect I’d only be making my life two hundred times more stressful.’
Melody grimaced. ‘It’s not really my place to say, but maybe Andrew should pull his weight a bit more.’
; Kate blew out a sigh. ‘Hmm. Another problem. Just as I have no idea what to do about the practice, I’m absolutely clueless what to do about Andrew. I might be being completely neurotic, but, as I said last night, this isn’t the first time he and Domenique’s trips away have coincided. A couple of months ago Andrew was supposedly in Liverpool. And she was supposedly in York. And, I’ve noticed that whenever there’s a cookery club meeting, he’s home much earlier than usual, possibly because it’s a chance to spend more time with her.’
‘Or because he’s trying to help; thinks he should be there to sort out the kids so you can relax when you’re at the club.’
Kate shook her head. ‘Somehow, I don’t think the notion of me needing to relax ever enters Andrew’s head.’
Waving Melody off a short while later, Mia clamped to one leg, Jemima to the other, and Milo perched on her hip, Kate experienced a pang of sadness. For what, she wasn’t sure. For Melody carrying her first baby and the accompanying hope and excitement? For her friend’s wonderful – and much appreciated – help? For the fact that she’d have to wait another two weeks before the next cookery club meeting? Or because her life was completely pants?
‘Please can I go to Cecilia’s house after nursery?’ asked Jemima, a note of desperation to her tone.
Blimey. Was it really that bad here? Setting down Milo and watching him and Mia thunder down the hall kicking a tennis ball en route and knocking over a scooter, Kate concluded it must be.
‘Of course, sweetheart. If it’s okay with Cecilia’s mummy. We’ll ask her when we drop you at nursery, shall we?’
After the usual pantomime of finding shoes – or, in Milos’s case, Paddington Bear wellies – gathering together enough snacks and juice bottles to sustain the entire village for a fortnight, and selecting a battalion of cuddly toys to accompany them, Kate bundled everybody into the car and headed to Jemima’s nursery in the neighbouring village of Cornfield. Klever Klogz Childcare was housed in a traditional Cotswold house with lots of glass extensions. It boasted computers, a sandpit, a library, several squishy sofas and an army of uber-efficient staff in yellow polo shirts – who were great with the kids, but adopted a Gestapo-like approach when dealing with the parents. Or at least when dealing with Kate.