Confessions of a Demented Housewife

by Niamh Greene

  ‘That’s probably because she’s on a losing streak at bingo,’ he said, shovelling Chinese takeout into his mouth. ‘Her arch enemy Mrs Murphy’s won practically every game for the last three weeks. The competition’s getting to her.’

  Mulled this over while watching Jack try to scoop some chicken fried rice into his mouth and fail spectacularly. Not sure I’m convinced by Joe’s evaluation. Bingo could be the trigger, but I suspect darker issues are at play. After all, she did dabble with alcohol addiction last year. Maybe she’s having a proper crisis and will go off the rails any day now. Or else she’s stopped the HRT. It’s unusual for her to show any sign of weakness.

  22 January

  Louise called round again this morning on her way to the park to do her daily five-kilometre run. Almost pretended I wasn’t in. If I’d had to listen to one more story about how ankle weights were super for toning calf muscles I might have attacked her with her energy drink. I think she’s become a bit unhinged – she’s come up with some hare-brained idea to design and market maternity clothes for businesswomen.

  ‘It’s brilliant – and so simple!’ she enthused, as she did her warm-up lunges. ‘I found it really hard to get sharp, polished maternity suits when I was pregnant with Dargan. The market’s there – it’s just waiting to be tapped.’

  Told her it was a brilliant idea, sure to succeed, etc., etc., but I wasn’t really listening. Watching the phone and checking to make sure Jack hadn’t unplugged it again was taking up most of my time.

  23 January

  Possible reasons why TV producer’s PA has not called to set up interview:

  she has inexplicably lost my number;

  she has collapsed due to some seriously debilitating disease and is in a coma;

  the show has been put on hold due to unforeseen circumstances – such as Dee and Fran killing each other in a bitter feud;

  a computer virus has attacked TV7’s telephone and computer systems.

  I haven’t heard anything about these possibles on the news but they’re probably keeping it from the public in case there’s widespread panic that new episodes of EastEnders will go missing in the mayhem.

  PS Just thought – could make my fortune by calling the Gazette and informing them that TV7 is falling apart at the seams. Wonder how much they pay for revealing exclusives, these days. Would probably have to throw in a bit of kinky sex and a sordid love triangle to make any real cash.

  24 January

  I’m going to meet top-producer Mike tomorrow! His PA Elaine called this morning and informed me the meeting was set up for ten a.m.

  ‘Um, ten – that’s a bit early,’ I stuttered, freaking out that I was getting such short notice. I couldn’t possibly lose a stone overnight.

  ‘Take it or leave it,’ she snapped. ‘It’s all he has available.’

  The threat hung unmistakably in the air.

  ‘I’ll take it,’ I said decisively. ‘I’ll be there.’

  ‘Great,’ she sneered. ‘We can’t wait.’ Then she hung up. Can’t be sure, but I think there was a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

  Spent the rest of the day trying to decide what to wear to the meeting. Am terrified they’ll do a few test shots – I know from my experience of appearing on Doyle Tonight last year, when I was dragged from the studio audience, that you can look twice your actual weight on camera and that’s not just something TV stars say to disguise their flabby bottoms. I even attempted a brown/grey combination as per Mrs H’s specific instructions to dress like an autumn person but tossed it to one side when I decided I looked like a rotting leaf.

  ‘Just go as yourself,’ Joe advised, when I asked him what look I should try.

  Little does he know it, but going as myself will be completely useless. I must sex up my image at all costs.

  Called Louise to inform her that the interview was going ahead and that I may not be available for ad hoc coffee mornings much longer.

  ‘That’s OK,’ she said, sounding unconcerned. ‘Some of the women from the breastfeeding support group are taking up boxercise. Apparently the instructor’s absolutely divine. With that and my new business idea, I’ll be busy every morning from now on. Anyway, good luck tomorrow!’

  PS Have decided to wear fail-safe black bootlegs and polo-neck combo, with a bold red scarf draped about my neck to indicate I’m serious, but willing to take risks. Think it works well.

  PPS Joe says I look like a Spanish bullfighter. Am reconsidering the outfit.

  25 January

  Day did not start well. In a stupid, misguided attempt to appear groomed and high maintenance, I decided to pluck my overgrown eyebrows to get rid of the Neanderthal unibrow look. This turned out to be unmitigated disaster as

  I could only find a very old pair of tweezers that were quite possibly rusty;

  the bathroom-mirror light wouldn’t switch on and I had to work in almost dark conditions (Joe’s fault for not replacing bulbs as I requested at least two weeks ago);

  my hand was inexplicably shaky, perhaps due to onset of serious and debilitating illness.

  ‘Joe!’ I cried, when I realized I looked permanently surprised on the left side of my face. ‘Do you notice anything peculiar about me?’

  He opened one eye and assessed me from our bed. ‘Not really.’

  I breathed a sigh of relief that I was just being too hard on myself.

  ‘Hang on, do you mean your eyebrows?’ he piped up. ‘Are they supposed to look like that?’

  Was anguished. If Joe had noticed they must have been terrible – he never notices anything. Spent ages attempting to redraw half an eyebrow on the left side of my face with one of Katie’s crayons as I do not possess a real eyebrow pencil – a serious disadvantage of being low maintenance.

  Fortunately, the deformed look did not go against me in the interview. In fact, I don’t think the top producer even noticed, although I caught his PA Elaine sniggering a few times. Tried hard not to be myself but to be confident, sassy and cheeky, just like the presenters on Chat with Dee and Fran. Unfortunately, I didn’t have much hair to flick around with charisma (pesky feather-cut still growing out), but I did manage to pull as many different facial expressions as possible to show them that I was a versatile, fun-loving type who could quite easily present a cooking segment if the need arose.

  ‘Sooo, Susie,’ Mike the producer said, ‘why do you think you’d be an asset to the team?’

  ‘Well,’ I said, trying to sound confident, ‘I appeared on TV recently and was well received – would you like to see the tape?’ I fished it out of my handbag.

  ‘Em, maybe not just now,’ Mike said, as Elaine laughed into her hand. ‘You do understand that the role is more behind the scenes, right? Not that it makes the position any less important, of course – our support team is critical. Without them nothing could run properly, isn’t that right, Elaine?’

  He winked at her and she smiled up at him. ‘That’s right, Mike,’ she simpered, ‘we pride ourselves on the support we provide.’ Then she giggled again.

  ‘So, Elaine will be showing you the ropes and getting you settled in,’ Mike went on. ‘Shall we say you’ll start in a couple of weeks or so?’

  I swallowed. How on earth was I going to organize everything in that amount of time? ‘No problem,’ I stuttered, sensing he didn’t want to hear about childcare issues or other such trivialities.

  Then he swept from the room, clipboard in hand, Elaine panting behind him, taking notes.

  Came home, exhausted after the effort involved in smiling so much, to find Joe making risotto while Katie and Jack watched in disgust. Have horrible sense of foreboding that they will suffer from malnutrition or develop rickets when I start my new job.

  26 January

  I will soon begin my fabulous new career. Am a teeny bit concerned that the role may not be as glamorous as I’d previously thought but I’m sure I’ll work my way to the top of the heap in no time. Absolutely must not admit to anybody that it appea
rs I’ll be working in an administrative capacity initially. Am sure it is only very short-term.

  Joe is delighted by my success but keeps grilling me about irrelevant details, such as contracts, hours, weekend working, salary, etc. Am outraged he can’t understand all that stuff is irrelevant and what’s really important is that I will soon be a household name.

  To placate him, found myself telling a tiny white lie about my salary and how it would be enough to buy a new car and take at least three sun holidays a year.

  He perked up pretty quickly when he heard the fictitious pay packet I came up with on the spur of the moment. In fact, he became positively animated. ‘Oh, my God, Susie, that’s fantastic!’ he screeched. Then he grabbed me by the waist and twirled me round with glee. ‘It’ll take so much pressure off me!’

  Am worried I may have overshot my salary by quite a lot. But once I start climbing the ranks at TV7 I’ll be earning close to it in no time. And I’m sure Dee and Fran aren’t two bitchy, overpaid hags, like that exposé in the Gazette said.

  27 January

  ‘Who do you think we should get to look after the children when you’re at work, Susie?’ Joe asked over breakfast, spooning Cheerios into his mouth and pretending innocence.

  ‘Your mum, of course,’ I said, chopping a banana and trying to hide it in Jack’s Coco Pops so he might eat even one of his five-a-day.

  ‘Do you think she’ll want to do it?’ Joe said, his forehead creasing.

  ‘Of course she will,’ I answered, smiling wisely at him.

  Joe has no idea how empty Mrs H’s life is. Am sure she will be delighted to become a second mother figure to her grandchildren. It’s bound to give her a new lease of life. Added bonus is that we won’t have to pay her a cent and she’ll probably do lots of home baking, cook evening meals and do the ironing as well.

  PS Wonder if I could rent a luxury house for a day if TV7 eventually want to do a celebrity photo spread of me. I don’t think the peeling magnolia walls in my musty old kitchen would have quite the same cachet.

  PPS Have not told Katie and Jack about my new career move, childcare arrangements, etc., just yet. Fear they may not take it well. Which is what happens when you devote your life solely to your children. They have trouble readjusting.

  28 January

  Mrs H is refusing to mind Katie and Jack while I carve out an illustrious TV career.

  ‘I’m sorry, dear,’ she said, flicking through her Sacred Heart calendar and shaking her head when I called in to discuss it with her. ‘I’m too busy to be taking on extra commitments.’

  ‘But, Mrs H, who am I going to get to mind the children while I’m at work?’ I asked, put out that she hadn’t grabbed the opportunity to spend more quality time with her grandchildren.

  ‘Maybe you could advertise,’ she said. ‘I believe there are lots of reliable foreigners who’ll mind children, these days. You could even get someone who’d run a Hoover round for you as well.’

  Decided to call Louise to see if she would step in. She’s still on maternity leave, after all.

  But she point-blank refused. ‘You are joking, Susie?’ She laughed.

  ‘Em, not really,’ I said, wondering why on earth she would have a problem with it. ‘Katie and Jack are no trouble, you know that. You probably wouldn’t even notice they were there.’

  There was a choking sound at the end of the phone. ‘No, Susie, I really don’t think it’s a good idea,’ she gabbled, in a funny, high-pitched voice. ‘I’m up to my eyes with my new maternity-wear venture anyway. You should advertise. Put an ad in the newspaper.’

  Am at my wit’s end. This must be how poor Posh feels all the time – may write and extend my sympathy. Being a working mother is no joke. And I haven’t even started yet.

  29 January

  Spent the morning composing advertisements for a reliable childcare worker/substitute mother. Decided on following wording. Think it hits the perfect tone.

  Successful career woman seeks nurturing person to care for her two young children while she does TV work. References absolutely essential. Please call Susie on the number below.

  Rang the Gazette and dictated it to the small-ads department. Was quite surprised when the dopey girl at the other end did not ask any searching details about my television work. Would have expected her to be impressed by talking to a real live TV personality. But she did sound excessively stupid. I had to spell ‘nurturing’ for her at least three times.

  Mrs H popped round in the afternoon. ‘Have you found a nanny yet, Susie?’ she asked, arching an eyebrow at me.

  ‘No,’ I admitted, not wanting to say I’d been hoping she’d change her mind.

  ‘Well, you’d want to be careful,’ she advised. ‘There are some real weirdos out there, people who pretend to be nannies and are really raving lunatics, that kind of thing.’ She looked dead excited at the thought of meeting some bona-fide loonies.

  ‘Well, I’ll be asking for references, Mrs H,’ I said feeling a bit sick. ‘Everyone has to provide those nowadays.’

  ‘Ah, yes, but how do you know the references will be real?’ she asked. ‘I read a story where a pretend nanny had written them herself, saying how amazing she was. Turns out she was out on bail for assault and had never changed a nappy in her life.’

  ‘Well, Joe and I will check out everything,’ I said, feeling even sicker but trying not to let it show.

  ‘Yes, but what if she has an accomplice?’ Mrs H continued, obviously having thought through all the scariest possibilities. ‘She could put a fake telephone number on the reference and her partner in crime could pretend to be her former employer. These gangsters can be very cunning, you know.’ She munched a biscuit reflectively.

  Really think Joe was wrong to give his mother the box-set of Law and Order: SVU. It’s simply playing on her already overactive imagination.

  30 January

  Bought the Gazette on the way home from the school run. It read:

  Successful career woman seeks nurturing person to care for her two young children while she does transvestite work. References absolutely essential. Please call Susie on the number below.

  Immediately called the dopey girl in the ad department and demanded an explanation as to why she would possibly think I’m a transvestite.

  ‘You said TV,’ she whined. ‘I wrote it down.’

  ‘I meant television.’ I wanted to wring her neck.

  ‘Oh, sorry. I’m new and the fact sheet the manager gave me says “TV” stands for “transvestite” so I thought I’d better put it in.’

  ‘How could you think I was going to work as a transvestite?’ I shouted. ‘I live in the suburbs, for God’s sake. I want to speak to your manager.’

  ‘Oh, please don’t tell her.’ She started to sob. ‘I’m in enough trouble as it is.’

  ‘Why? What did you do?’ I asked, suddenly intrigued.

  ‘We get all sorts of weirdos ringing up,’ she said. ‘I had an American guy last week who put in an ad for ladies shoes in size thirteen. I asked him if he was mental and he went mad. I’m on my last warning.’

  Proceeded to have long conversation with ad girl about the Yank and his secret love of dressing up in his wife’s underwear. ‘Tell me where he lives,’ I begged. ‘I might know him.’

  ‘Sorry, I’m not allowed,’ she said. ‘It’s more than my job’s worth. But give me a ring at the end of the week and if anything else funny happens I’ll fill you in.’

  Hung up feeling mollified. At least I’ll get some excellent scandal out of the mix-up. And I’m sure no one will notice the mistake – hardly anyone reads that rag anyway.

  PS Maybe I should ask Angelica for her advice – if anyone should know about childcare she should. Rumour has it that they’ve had three nannies already this year.

  PPS Have received five lewd messages on my mobile phone, none about providing satisfactory childcare. Am shocked at the goings-on of ordinary-sounding people in the suburbs. Who knows what old Mrs
Kenny next door is up to?

  31 January

  Spent the afternoon registering with an au-pair agency on-line. According to the website, I will have, in no time at all, a young girl with lots of energy to care for Katie and Jack, do some light housework, cook meals, and will pay her next to nothing. The bonus is she can teach the children her native language over supper – everyone knows kids can be trilingual if they’re taught at an early age. Can’t remember why I didn’t think of it sooner. On-line questionnaire was ridiculously detailed, though, so decided to fabricate a little to stand out from the crowd – everybody does that so it’s perfectly acceptable. And there’s no possible way an au pair can seriously expect a mansion with a separate wing for staff, especially not in suburban Dublin.

  1 February

  Have received five responses to my on-line application. All sound delightful – don’t know how I’ll be able to choose between them. Spent ages sifting through, then cut down to three possible candidates. The other two were eliminated for having odd hobbies.

  Pole dancing may be all the rage with celebs but not sure I need my au pair to be performing it in my home at all hours of day and night. Plus, am sure installing a pole would be financially prohibitive – not to talk of damaging the polished floorboards.

  Morris dancing is just plain weird.

  Called Louise to tell her the good news.

  ‘Just be careful,’ she cautioned. ‘A lot of those girls have never looked after children before – they lie on their forms all the time, which is such a disgusting thing to do.’

  ‘You’re right,’ I agreed solemnly. ‘It should be illegal to lie on an official form. But how am I going to choose one? They all sound lovely.’

  Louise laughed. ‘Just make sure whoever you get isn’t too lovely, Susie. Remember, you’ll have to look at her a lot… and so will Joe.’