by Amanda Egan
Their usually stunning minimalist flat was an absolute tip with nappies, wipes and clothes strewn everywhere and Stripe the dog seemed delighted to have a bit of company. I could almost detect him looking around for Dog and Dot to play with. He settled next to Ned instead with his head on his lap.
I took Baby Mikhail and had a go at stopping his incessant crying. He really was quite cross and had made himself very hot and sweaty.
“Libster, he just never stops,” Rick said wearily. “The doc says it’s probably just colic but we’ve tried everything. What if he doesn’t like us?”
Ned and I did our best to assure them both that every parent thought like that when their newborn wouldn’t stop howling. “It’s got something to do with the sleep deprivation,” Ned told them. “You can’t think straight anymore. And he’s got quite a set of lungs on him. I’m surprised you can even hear yourselves think.”
I managed to eat my takeaway with a (finally) sleeping baby across my shoulder and Ned had a doting Stripe’s head on his knee.
Just as I got to my last mouthful I heard my mobile and, when I saw ‘Fenella’ on the screen, I had a bit of a ‘Lou Moment’ and instantly thought something was wrong with Max.
“Hi, Sweedie, don’t panic! Max is fine and fast asleep. It’s Dot, I’m afraid. She just won’t settle. Poor thing keeps pacing the house and going to the front door. I think she’s missing you.”
As I told Ned, we looked over to Nic and Rick both almost nodding off.
Ned voiced my thoughts before I had a chance to.
“Well, as we’ve got to call it a night and go and collect our homesick dog, why don’t we take Stripe and your little screamer for a sleepover and give you two a night off?”
Nic and Rick tried to say no but we could tell they really needed a helping hand so we insisted, as I gathered stuff for the nappy bag and Ned rigged up the car seat.
I reckon the knackered new parents were probably in bed before we’d turned out of the driveway.
As my hubbie drove slowly to Fenella’s, I realised that I had one-in-a-million and I put my hand on his knee.
Probably the most affectionate gesture I’ve made to him in months.
And, on what was to be our first night alone in years, we found ourselves responsible for a newish born baby and another dog.
Sunday 30th November
Where did yesterday go?
Fenella delivered Max back to us at about 11 in the morning to find Ned and me in our dressing gowns, knocking back our third coffees.
Dog, Dot and Stripe were happily sleeping under the table. Stripe was delighted to be back with his mum and sister - and Dot was just relieved to be back home where she belonged.
“Oh my, look at you two.” Fenella sat at the breakfast bar and helped herself to some cereal. “I assume it wasn’t an easy night then?”
Neither Ned or I felt capable of stringing a sentence together. Finally Mikhail had decided to quieten down and he was sleeping happily in our old travel cot in the corner.
Fenella drank the last of the milk from her cereal bowl and crossed the kitchen to take a peek at him.
“Oh! He’s got a very … erm … different look about him, hasn’t he?”
And, even though I was feeling like a ‘Bear of Little Brain’, I realised that my suspicions had been confirmed.
Something wasn’t right.
PM
Once Fenella left, I managed to get myself dressed very quickly before Mikhail woke because I wanted to have a chat with Ned.
I told him that I didn’t think Mikhail’s crying and ‘slightly odd’ look was just down to being a young baby. I couldn’t come up with anything more conclusive, but I just had a feeling.
Ned agreed that he’d had a few niggling thoughts himself, but he’d just put it down to not remembering what it was like to have a baby around.
“What do we do, Lib?” he asked me, rubbing his very tired eyes. “Should we say something?”
Told him that I thought that would be the worst possible move and that we should just keep it to ourselves for now. If there is a problem, hopefully the health visitors will pick up on it fairly quickly.
“I don’t think it’s something that should come from us,” I added. “But I do think we have another problem to deal with.”
Ned looked slightly panicked, as if I was about to bring up the state of our marriage - like I had the energy!
I carried on before he managed to get himself too worked up. “Ned, I don’t think they’re coping well with a new baby and Stripe. He’s a young dog who needs love and exercise. You saw the way he made a bee-line to you for some love. I think we need to be careful how we word it, but he might need to come back and live with Dog and Dot.”
Ned agreed and made another pot of coffee. Then he looked at the clock and realised it was gone one and opened a bottle of Pinot.
“Shit, Lib! When did our life get so complicated? We were happier when we had no money.”
As I drank the wine I really didn’t need, I couldn’t help but agree with him.
Monday 1st December
Thankfully, all went well with Nic and Rick when they came to collect Mikhail. They looked much more refreshed and agreed to stay for lunch.
Of course ‘Wonder Lungs’ started howling furiously more or less as soon as we sat down to eat and we took it in turns to try to quieten him down. Even Max took a shift and shook various interesting objects at him whilst making funny faces.
After lunch, I suggested that Ned, Rick and Max took Mikhail out for a walk in our old pram to see if the fresh air and motion settled him - told them they could also give the three dogs a run while they were at it. This meant I’d have my old friend Nic to myself for a bit to have a chat.
As I poured us both a top-up and thought through my opening lines, Nic broke down into tears and everything came out at once.
“Libster, there’s something wrong with him isn’t there? We just know it. We don’t care what it is, as long as he’s going to be OK, but we just know there’s something. Oh Lib, we love him so much already - he has to be OK. And what if they decide to take him away from us? - it would kill us. And poor Stripe feels so neglected, we never have time for long walks or playing ball. We’re shit parents and we’ve just totally fucked up. What are we going to do?” He sobbed dramatically, blowing his nose into a sheaf of kitchen roll.
Once I’d managed to calm him down I told him that they were being the best possible parents they could be. “You’re showering him with love and affection and he knows that. He’s your baby boy and anyone can see that you’re both totally devoted to him. Stop beating yourselves up.”
Nic snivelled a bit more and nodded at me so I decided it was a safe time to continue. “If you think there may be a problem, take him to your GP. It’s what they’re there for. Tell them all your concerns. You shouldn’t ever have to feel alone in this - any new mum would do the same thing. And … if you really feel Stripe is suffering, then the logical conclusion is that he comes back and lives with us. It’s not a problem and Dog and Dot would be more than happy.”
This set off a whole new bout of tears, but ones of the slightly more relieved variety.
The upshot is, Nic and Rick left with a reasonably placated Mikhail and we are now the proud owners of three dogs.
And Stripe didn’t turn a hair when they left. He slept happily with his mum and sister with a slowly wagging tail.
Tuesday 2nd December
CCL
Max is absolutely delighted that we now have Stripe living with us - it’s like Christmas has come early.
“It’s so cool, Mummy. Last year we had no dogs, ‘cept a stupid stuffed one, and now we got three. D’you think when Fenella has her baby, she’ll ask us to take Splodge and Brown back?”
Told him I sincerely hoped not - our cottage is barely big enough for three. Five would be testing the limits.
Set off to school with our raggedy bunch and met Fenella with Splodge and Brow
n.
Gestapo appeared at the gates with her revolting little ‘rat-dog’ in her handbag and looked down her nose at our assembled canine charges.
“Good grief, it gets worse! Are you moonlighting for the RSPCA or something? How many more scruffy mutts do you intend to add to your little menagerie?”
As usual Fenella opened her mouth to answer but Stripe had it sorted in an instant.
It was too late to stop him. He’d cocked his leg at the ideal angle and was peeing on Gestapo’s immaculate suede trousers.
PM
Back from CCL meeting, which for once went reasonably smoothly, partly due to the fact that Shergar and Barbie didn’t turn up and Dress-up Mummy was only there in body! Amazing how much you can get through when you don’t have the ‘mouth-pieces’ present.
Hinge & Bracket were delighted with the amount we’d managed to raise at the fair - it’s looking in the region of about fifteen grand and we’ve far exceeded the record we set last year.
Dan presented both Fenella and me with bouquets on behalf of the school and gave us both a peck on the cheek.
Wonder what aftershave he wears? Might try to get some for Ned for Christmas.
Wednesday 3rd December
Spent the day on the web, ordering Christmas presents and generally trying to get organised. Have decided to have drinks party on the 19th to coincide with Ned’s birthday - will start preparing and freezing delicious little Nigella nibbles and aim to be the perfect wife.
Popped into Mrs S for a coffee and found her busy on eBay doing her own Christmas shopping.
Not so sure Gestapo will appreciate a pair of fluffy bed socks but it’s the thought that counts and, as Mrs S put it so eloquently, “Why be wasting good money on ‘Her Royal Stink’. One pounds and fifty pence is more than enough.”
Clever Mrs S had also managed to find some lovely stone incense burners for Skunk and Silver which are just perfect for them.
“I have also been ordering a few more lovely Mills & Boon books. I am feeling the need for a little romance in my life. Sometimes a canary is just not enough, Libbybeta. You are so lucky to be having such a fine husband in Ned. Never forget that. Although it would be much nicer for me if you were with my Pritesh, of course!”
Ah, Mrs S … there’s just no stopping her.
PM
Mrs S had got me thinking. I really have been a prize bitch and I need to get my bum into gear and get a bit of action going on in the boudoir.
If I don’t get a move on Ned will be at it with one of the secretaries at work and I’ll never forgive myself.
So I made sure I got Max to bed nice and early, prepared a lovely meal, lit some candles and got myself tarted up a bit.
At seven thirty I got the call to say that something had come up at work and not to wait up.
Again.
Thursday 4th December
Had a quick chat with Nic this morning and he said that the doctors had done some routine blood and urine tests on Mikhail which they should have back at the beginning of next week. He said both he and Rick are absolutely shattered and I sympathised - if our one night babysitting was anything to go by, I pity them, I really do.
Told Nic I would keep everything crossed for him and that I’d call next week.
“Now, Libster don’t go keeping everything crossed! Neddy-Boy would never forgive us.”
He might be knackered but he hasn’t lost his filthy sense of humour.
PM
Caught up with Fenella and Patience at the gates this afternoon. Patience was saying that Solomon is really happy at Manor House and that the nasty comments from the kids have stopped.
“Just a pity the mums are still so stuck up. I had another one tell me this morning that the girls toilets needed cleaning and could I get on to it! Can you believe how presumptuous they are?”
Fenella and I nodded and said that, sadly, yes we could. We told her that we’d actually developed an immunity to it now - whatever shit they choose to throw, we’re there to catch it, juggle it, throw it back if possible or at least come up smelling of roses.
Because frankly, the Meemies don’t faze us anymore.
Friday 5th December
OK, scrub that last entry. I’m fazed again. Beyond fazed.
Received an email from Gestapo which forced me to light up a fag (and I’d been so good) and stand staring into the back garden in disbelief.
‘Libby
Just a quickie to let you know that my husband will be released from prison next week - as we all suspected, it was all a huge misunderstanding. Ridiculous City rules and regs!
As it would appear that we shan’t be needing the charitable support of CCL any longer, I thought it only fair to let you know. I would ask that any monies that would have supported my children would go to a family already within the school who have found themselves on hard times and NOT to a newcomer. I believe it’s so important to keep up the standard of the school.
Also, strictly entre-nous, I shall be ending it with the divine Pritesh this weekend. It’s run its course and I think we’ve both had what we wanted from the arrangement.’
Grrrr! I’m so unbelievably angry I can’t even write.
PM
After I’d calmed down, I called Fenella to offload.
“Sweedie. Why are you so surprised? She’s an evil, manipulative bitch and it’s quite simply the only way she knows how to behave. Not guilty? Course he’s bloody guilty, but the jammy bastard’s obviously got away with it - no doubt by calling in some of his equally corrupt cronies. The only thing we can do is find lovely deserving children to support through the school and be there for darling Pritesh when it all goes tits up. How do you think he’ll take it?”
Told her I had no idea but that I did know of one person who would be totally over the moon.
Saturday 6th December
Nipped into Mrs S to see if she needed any shopping and had to knock twice and ring the doorbell three times before she answered.
‘Miracle’ by Bazza was blaring through her windows and I was beginning to get slightly concerned when she eventually came to the door with flushed cheeks and hair askew.
“Libbybeta, come in, come in! What a joyous day it is. Or, as your lovely friend Fenella says, ‘Get the bubbles out, it’s time to dance!’” She actually did a little arthritic shimmy across the hallway as she said this!
It was quite clear she’d heard the news.
“Sit, sit Libbybeta. Have a Babycham, please.” (at eleven in the morning?) “Her Royal-Bad-Smell-Under-Nose has been gracious enough to be doing the right thing and has released my Pritesh from her witchy grasp. It is truly a momentous day in the Sengupta household.”
I just didn’t have the heart to ask her how Pritesh had taken the rejection. She looked so happy (if a little tipsy) and I wanted her to savour her moment.
We clinked our Babycham bottles and listened to Desmond chirping happily along with Bazza.
I could more or less guarantee that there wouldn’t be a household in the world where the same scenario would be playing out.
PM
Got Max to bed early tonight so that I could try to cosy up with Ned again but, once he’d finally stopped calling downstairs or appearing for glasses of water, I’d kind of gone off the idea.
And Ned was snoring in front of ‘Die Hard’ - not exactly conducive to getting our conjugals back on track - and, once more, I felt nothing but relief.
Sunday 7th December
Quiet old day really. Aside from the fact that Mrs S had her music pounding through our walls from sunrise to sunset and I could almost imagine her happy little bootie wiggling around her four walls.
Went for a lovely long walk across the common with the dogs and Ned and I actually held hands.
OK, it’s not ‘9 ½ Weeks’ yet but it’s a step in the right direction.
Monday 8th December
Dropped Max at school and came home to crack on with a bit of cooking and freezing for our dri
nks party.
Was relieved to receive a text from Pritesh - until I got to his final line.
HEY BABE! BEEN DUMPED BUT I’M COOL WITH IT. SHE WAS 2 HI MAINTENANCE. FREE NOW - GOT ANYTHING ON OFFER? LATERS X
Cheeky sod! Oh well, at least he’s not heart-broken. Just hope this doesn’t mean Mrs S starts up with ‘Operation Match-Make’ again. She has to realise I’m a married woman.
Once upon a time I would have written ‘happily’ married, but now I’m not so sure.