by Niamh Greene
Bribing harassed mothers with expensive coffee and muffins to get them to talk on camera is against company policy. (If I have to bribe people, I must use supermarket-brand crisps and fizzy pop and stay within budget.)
Also, if I do bribe people, make sure they’re attractive and not complete mingers who need their roots done (unless I’m interviewing for a makeover show, then the worst mingers are to be rounded up like cattle and told to act as downtrodden and unattractive as possible).
Dressing in a corporate navy suit is completely unsuitable. If I am ever to appear on TV again (a distinct improbability) I must try to look dowdy so as not to intimidate the viewers.
PS Fear I am losing touch with the children. Katie tripped on her Shark Tale DVD tonight and wanted Danni to put a Bratz plaster on the cut – not me. How could I have been replaced so quickly? Apparently, endless years of sleepless nights, handholding and household drudgery can be replaced in an instant by an olive-skinned slip of a girl who smells of coconut oil nearly all the time. Am bereft.
21 February
Word has leaked out to Elaine that I may never be put in front of the camera again. She seems inordinately thrilled by this news.
‘You screwed up big-time,’ she jeered across the dividing partition this morning. ‘You’ll be answering viewer letters for the rest of your life. You’re not Little Miss Perfect now, even if you are friends with that slag Angelica Law.’
Then she laughed, her enormous buck teeth glinting dangerously under the fluorescent lights.
I tried not to mind, but I have a sinking feeling she’s right. I was really convinced when Mike arrived at my desk with another sackful of mail and told me it needed answering as soon as possible.
Louise says I should tough it out and slowly but surely work my way to the top. ‘Corporate life is dog eat dog, Susie,’ she said, when I called to moan. ‘If you want to make it to the top you have to put in the work.’
Didn’t want to admit to her that putting in the work really wasn’t in my grand plan and that I was hoping to be catapulted to the top with little or no effort on my part.
PS Came home to find that Joe had bought dozens of recipe books at half-price from the bargain bin in the bookshop. Am trying to tolerate his new-found passion for cookery but it’s starting to grate a little – especially when most of his concoctions end up in the bin. Wonder if Jamie went through this phase or if Jools ever felt annoyed when he used all the milk on making some experimental recipe and there wasn’t any left for a cup of tea. May write and ask her.
PPS Found myself shouting at Tyra Banks tonight, I was so tired and grumpy. But, really, as if America’s Next Top Model is going to be a cross-eyed no-hoper who can’t even strut properly.
22 February
Met Dee and Fran in the corridor and they blatantly ignored me. Mind you, they blatantly ignore everybody (including each other) when the cameras aren’t rolling so I decided not to take it personally. Instead I’ll keep my head down and come up with some excellent award-winning ideas to impress them. Am sure it won’t take long.
Spent the morning devising clever segment ideas for possible pitch:
fly-on-the-wall documentary about a put-upon stay-at-home mother (huge pool of talent waiting to be unearthed at playschool);
fly-on-the-wall documentary of celebrity mom struggling with everyday tasks such as grocery shopping, etc. Discuss with Angelica;
exposé of ridiculously overpriced organic foods on supermarket shelves;
documentary on real lives of children’s entertainers – fairies, clowns, magicians, etc. (NB Consult Yellow Pages for unsuspecting participants);
exposé of underworld of children’s dance schools, and stage mothers. (NB If proceed with this, a recording device secreted about my person will be absolutely necessary. It will also be crucial to wear an elaborate disguise in case any stage mothers set about me with their makeup cases.)
Am very pleased with my ingenuity. At least no one can accuse me of being out of touch with current events.
PS Came home to find Joe carefully scooping pastry into a plastic bag to sweat it. Am getting quite worried about him.
23 February
Received my first pay cheque. Was so appalled by the paltry sum that I spent it all at lunchtime on inappropriate things I cannot afford (although I definitely deserved the too-expensive hand moisturizer. I still can’t find my Jo Malone stuff and I don’t want to develop veiny claw-hands like some celebs on the cover of Heat).
Joe smiled benignly at me when he spotted some of the carrier-bags I lugged in. ‘I hope you haven’t spent too much, Susie,’ he teased. ‘You should put some aside for a rainy day.’
‘Oh, I will,’ I mumbled, wondering if now was a good time to admit that I was earning a fraction of what I’d told him and that the rainy day might be just round the corner.
‘That reminds me,’ he went on, ‘will your salary go straight into the joint account?’
‘Um, yes, I think so,’ I said, remembering that he checked it in a very anal-retentive way every month.
‘Great! That’ll make a big difference.’ He smiled again. ‘What would I do without you?’
Must remember to hide all joint-account details from Joe at all costs.
PS Mrs H called. ‘I need to meet with you, Susie,’ she whispered. ‘I have important information to pass on.’
Agreed to see her in the Tesco café tomorrow after work. Am intrigued, although she probably only wants to tell me that the local priest has a love child.
24 February
Bang in the middle of the Tesco café, Mrs H told me she thinks Joe may be ‘turning’.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, wondering if she meant he was going to abandon his lifelong obsession with Liverpool FC and declare himself a Man United fan.
‘It’s the cooking, Susie.’ She sniffed into her non-fat latte. ‘He was never into cooking before.’
‘So?’ I said, dunking a KitKat finger in my cappuccino and wondering what she was wittering on about. ‘If he ever gets the hang of it, it’ll be great.’
‘But men aren’t supposed to cook,’ she cried. ‘It’s a sign. A G-A-Y sign. Our David always loved cooking too. I think Joe may be gay.’
I almost choked. ‘Mrs H, Joe is not gay,’ I spluttered. ‘He has just found a new hobby and he likes it. We should encourage him.’
But she wasn’t listening. ‘If the bingo crew finds out both my boys are gay I may as well emigrate right now.’ She broke into distressed sobbing.
‘Don’t be silly, Mrs H,’ I said. ‘Joe’s not gay. He’s just discovered a passion for Italian food.’
‘Well, he never had a passion before.’ She gulped. ‘How do you know he’s not turning into a homosexual?’
‘I just do,’ I said.
‘When was the last time you performed… you had… you know…’ She grimaced at me and I realized she was asking when Joe and I last had sex.
‘Mrs H!’ I was outraged. ‘I refuse to answer that.’
‘Mr H and I did it every Friday night, like clockwork.’ She was staring into space. ‘We never missed – except when I was afflicted with my bunion problem. It was then he had his affair with that common tramp.’ She was sobbing again. ‘Haven’t I suffered enough?’ she demanded. ‘Peggy Gorman never does the novenas but her two boys are the biggest Casanovas in town – they’ll do it with anyone. And my David’s been leading a secret double life all these years… Now Joe. I just can’t take it. All I want is for them to be sluts like everyone else.’
I shoved a KitKat finger across the table to comfort her.
PS Have decided to ask Joe to stop cooking. Cannot sit through another sob-fest with Mrs H any time soon. I managed to head off an inquisition on how my ‘straightening of David’ was going, but only because she was in a weakened state. I won’t be so lucky next time.
25 February
Tried to have heart-to-heart with Joe last night. Unfortunately he refused to be parted f
rom Nigella’s Forever Summer long enough for me to talk any sense into him. In fact, I caught him stroking it dreamily on quite a few occasions.
‘Your mother’s worried, Joe,’ I said, nibbling a tiny madeleine he had concocted earlier. ‘She thinks you may be walking a fine line between heterosexuality and the devil.’
‘That reminds me!’ Joe shouted, with a wild look. ‘Devil’s food cake – that’s what I’ll bake next!’
Wonder if there’s a medical term for Joe’s new obsession. Must look it up on-line.
Emailed David to ask his opinion.
Do you think it’s possible that Joe is gay? Your mother seems to think so and I’m starting to have my doubts. Can it be possible for a truly straight man to love whisking so much?
Got an almost instant reply:
A man who thinks washed-out straight-leg chinos are stylish is most definitely not gay. But he could be turning metrosexual. Has he been using your moisturizer recently?
Think David may be on to something. My Beauty Flash Balm has been disappearing at a very rapid rate recently.
26 February
Went round to Louise’s to discuss the likelihood that both Mrs H’s sons are now homosexual. ‘I’m going to ask him to pack in cooking,’ I told her, as she half watched the Oscars countdown.
‘Are you?’
‘Yes. It’s really started to take over his life. He hasn’t paid me or the kids a blind bit of attention in weeks.’ Suddenly I felt very sorry for myself. ‘Maybe Mrs H is right. Maybe he is gay.’
‘That’s ridiculous!’ Louise laughed. ‘Sure you two are probably at it morning, noon and night. I don’t think you’ve anything to worry about. Not like me. I’m practically a virgin again, it’s been so long since I had any nookie.’ She sighed sadly.
I said nothing. There was no point in telling her that Joe and I had no real sex life to speak of – especially now that he seems to prefer his new Krups mixer to me.
PS Am sick of Oscar build-up everywhere. All the gossip mags are full of useless tips about achieving red-carpet glamour in ten easy steps. May write to editor of OK! and inform her that trying to get a starlet look is the least of my worries. I need advice on looking groomed, professional and efficient. Mind you, this week’s mag has excellent coverage of celebs looking dowdy – and if A-listers can’t manage to rock the red carpet after being styled from head to toe, I know there’s still hope for me.
27 February
Joe has refused to stop cooking. In fact, in a shocking turn of events, he has announced that he’s considering leaving his job to find himself. He thinks he might do this by becoming a Master Chef.
‘Have you lost your mind?’ I shrieked, when he said that he’d thought long and hard about the direction his life was taking and he wasn’t happy. ‘How are we going to live?’
‘Well, you could be the breadwinner for a while,’ he said silkily, whipping up another Tupperware bowlful of batter. ‘Lots of modern couples do it.’
‘Do what?’ I spluttered, fear gripping my heart.
‘Swap roles for a while.’ He paused. ‘Just because I’m a man it doesn’t mean I can’t explore my creative side, Susie. You’ve wanted a satisfying career for years and now you have one. Luckily for us, it’s well paid. So what’s the problem? I could step back for a while and take another direction. People do it all the time. Anyway, before you know it I’ll be running my own cookery school and making millions. Not that it’s about money, of course.’
I was dumbfounded. Didn’t Joe realize that it’s all about money, especially when you don’t have much? Decided to say nothing yet, though. He’s obviously going through some sort of psychological meltdown. It’s bound to pass soon, although I’m worried at this strange role-reversal development. Really feel Joe should stick to what he knows best instead of taking an unpredictable route. Even if his happiness is at stake.
PS Have decided to stop buying the Gazette. Joe is getting all sorts of weird ideas reading about alternative lifestyles in the weekend supplement. It may be trendy for men to give up work and go back to nature but that doesn’t mean he should do it.
PPS Have discovered that most of the sherry has disappeared. Suspect there may be some connection between that and Joe’s personality disorder. Or else he has been using too much alcohol in his Italian trifles.
28 February
Louise says I have made my own bed and now I must lie in it. ‘You wanted a career, Susie,’ she said matter-of-factly, when I called to confide in her, ‘and there are consequences. All working mothers have to juggle and deal with issues. It’s never plain sailing.’
I felt like strangling her with her prototype breastfeeding bra.
‘Surely the consequences shouldn’t be quite so dramatic, though?’ I whispered so that Elaine wouldn’t hear me. ‘I’m not ready to provide for my entire family. I’ve only been back at work for a couple of weeks or so.’
‘Well, you’d better concentrate on making a good impression, then,’ she said, ‘because it sounds as if Joe’s made up his mind.’
Meanwhile, Danni thinks Joe’s outlandish plan to chuck in a perfectly good career on a silly whim is a great idea. ‘But Joe has gift, Susie,’ she said, when I told her we must stop complimenting his baking or he’d lose the run of himself. ‘We must celebrate, yes? He could cook like Italian if he had more training.’
This did sound tempting, although of course I couldn’t tell her that if Joe gave up work he wouldn’t be able to afford the ingredients to make even the perfect boiled egg.
PS Found myself hankering for the golden days when I hung around outside the school gate hoping to see Angelica. Things were so much simpler when all I had to worry about was sucking up to a celebrity mom.
1 March
Just back from A and E. Katie fell over in the playground today and cut her bottom lip. Am racked with guilt. If I’d been at home, instead of trying to fulfil myself with my new job, it wouldn’t have happened.
Complete sequence of events was as follows:
11.16 a.m. School principal called to inform me that my daughter had had a terrible and possibly life-changing accident.
Her precise words were ‘Mrs Hunt, Katie has had a little accident’ or thereabouts. She definitely sounded nervous and quite jittery even though she was trying to play it down.
11.17 a.m. Almost collapsed in state of fear at daughter’s plight. Heart palpitated very alarmingly. Think I screeched something like ‘Accident?’ imagining lost fingers or toes. ‘What kind of accident?’
Principal responded, ‘She slipped in the playground and cut her lip. We think it may need stitches.’ She cleared her throat at this point. Feel this may have indicated she was lying.
11.18 a.m. Informed principal I would be there forthwith.
11.19 a.m. Felt so faint had to sit with my head between my knees while Elaine laughed across the partition.
11.20 a.m. Forced myself to be brave and put daughter first. Rushed to the school – possibly ran a few red lights on the way and broke some speed limits. Obviously if I get some sort of legal notice in the post I will be informing the authorities of the mitigating circumstances in case I make the front page of the newspaper for all the wrong reasons.
11.25 a.m. Arrived at school. Gang of infants told me that Katie was inside ‘dying’.
11.30 a.m. Found Katie lying in the staff room, surrounded by anxious teachers. She was crying loudly and looked severely distressed. Teachers seemed to be arguing about what had happened – someone mentioned monkey bars. They went quiet when they saw I was in the room.
12.00 p.m. Arrived at A and E after horrendous journey trying to console a crying Katie who was bleeding all over the back seat and her Bratz schoolbag.
12.01 p.m. Demanded to be seen immediately.
12.02 p.m. Had blazing argument with lowly junior doctor, who suggested Katie’s disfiguring cut may be just a surface wound.
12.03 p.m. Demanded to see attending consultant.
&n
bsp; 12.05 p.m. Attending consultant turned out to be the doctor who removed the potty from Jack’s head and fixed Dad’s ankle when he fell over the Teletubby last year.
12.06 p.m. Demanded to see another consultant.
12.07 p.m. Kind nurse made me a cup of tea and gave Katie a lollipop, which she attempted to eat as blood streamed from her mouth. Kindly nurse informed me that cuts to the lip area often appeared worse than they really were. Asked kindly nurse if Katie might need plastic surgery in years to come. She did not reply, but she definitely looked shifty.
12.10 p.m. Called Danni and told her. Danni started crying and speaking very fast in Italian.
12.12 p.m. Called Mrs H and informed her that her granddaughter was under observation in A and E. She sounded quite excited.
12.15 p.m. Called Joe, who told me to calm down and stop panicking unnecessarily.
12.20 p.m. Returned to car.
12.21 p.m. Discovered car had been ticketed by heartless traffic warden.
1.00 p.m. Had blazing argument with heartless traffic warden about disgraceful discrimination while I was attending to my seriously ill child.
Traffic warden said, ‘There doesn’t seem to be much wrong with her now. You shouldn’t have parked on a double yellow.’ Katie was munching a packet of cheese and onion crisps, which I had been forced to purchase from the hospital shop as she was suddenly ravenous.
1.03 p.m. Wrenched car doors open and bundled Katie inside. Shook fist at traffic warden.
1.05 p.m. Called Elaine to tell her I would be off work for a few days to care for my seriously ill daughter. Elaine snorted violently and hung up.
1.15 p.m. Proceeded home. Jack, furious he’d missed the entire episode, attacked Katie with his Ice Age sippy-cup. Katie retaliated by taunting him with her empty crisps packet (probably not relevant).