Confessions of a Demented Housewife

by Niamh Greene

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘Tell you what, you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. Deal?’ She winked in a very unattractive way and wobbled off in her cheap stilettos.

  PS Feel as if I have just sold my soul to the devil. And it’s not Prada she’s wearing.

  1 May

  The Lone Father interview was aired today. Had to watch it on the office TV surrounded by everyone else, all jostling to get a good view of his piercing blue eyes and dark curly hair.

  ‘So, how did the relationship between this housewife and you develop?’ Dee asked, leaning forward so the camera could get a good shot of her surgically enhanced breasts.

  ‘The chemistry between us was electric,’ Lone Father said, gazing at her with hooded eyes. ‘We couldn’t help ourselves.’

  ‘Oh, God, he’s a fine thing,’ I heard someone say beside me.

  ‘So, it got physical quickly, then?’ Dee said.

  ‘Oh, yes. It was a very sexual relationship,’ he said, looking directly into the camera. ‘We couldn’t keep our hands off each other.’

  I felt a blush creep up my neck.

  ‘And would you say this type of behaviour is typical of mothers who go to mother-and-toddler groups?’ Dee enquired.

  ‘I would say many mothers are frustrated and lonely, yes. That was certainly my experience.’ He leaned closer to her and stretched his arm across the back of the studio sofa.

  ‘Will you ever reveal her identity?’ Fran was practically drooling over him.

  ‘Never, Fran.’ He smiled seductively. ‘I’m a man of honour. And she is still married, of course. Although I can’t believe they’re happy. Not after what we shared.’

  Then the camera panned to lover/muse Marita, who was looking murderous in the front row.

  2 May

  Am at my wit’s end. Today, following the TV interview, the Gazette published a huge article about Lone Father and his mysterious lover on the front of their entertainment section. The headline read, ‘Adultery In The Twenty-first Century – Sex Antics Rock Mum-and-Toddler Group’. There was a very large picture of Lone Father looking smug and gripping a copy of his book. I almost fainted with fright when I saw it. Spent rest of the day cursing immoral hacks and their habit of sexing up stories to sell more newspapers. Composed stiff letter of complaint to the editor, then realized that this tactic might draw even more attention to me so scrapped it. Fortunately Joe is now baking round the clock so he didn’t notice my state of despair.

  PS Just woke up from horrible nightmare. Was back at mother-and-toddler group, playing Ring a Rosie with Lone Father, when dozens of paparazzi burst through the door and took candid snaps of us. Woke in a sweat – Joe reciting the best method for making the perfect meringue beside me.

  3 May

  Mrs H called round. ‘Have you seen where that poor Angelica Law has ended up?’ she asked, plonking the Sunday supplement under my nose. ‘It’s tragic.’ She pointed to a grainy photograph of a woman in dark sunglasses and hat coming out of a rundown B-and-B on the front page. It was hard to tell if it really was Angelica or not, although it did look exactly like her pert bum in real Rock and Republic jeans. ‘Imagine the poor girl is reduced to staying in a B-and-B.’ Mrs H tutted, shaking her head. ‘Her life is destroyed.’

  ‘Well, it’s not exactly destroyed,’ I said, feeling sick. Things were going from bad to worse. There was no way Angelica would cross the threshold of a grotty guest-house unless she was really desperate.

  ‘Oh, yes it is,’ Mrs H replied knowingly. ‘That trainer fella has sold his story – he has pictures of them at it and everything apparently, the dirty gurrier. Mind you, I wouldn’t throw him out of bed for eating crisps – I can see why she was tempted.’ Then she winked lasciviously at me while I gripped the paper and tried not to cry.

  4 May

  Elaine is blackmailing me. This morning she asked if I’d get her a coffee. Might have been imagining it, but thought ‘or else’ hung in the air.

  This afternoon she wanted some croissants. Traipsed all the way to the canteen and back again but when I gave them to her she said she’d meant the chocolate ones, not plain. Then she arched an eyebrow at me. Found myself traipsing all the way back. Despise myself but have to keep her on my side at all costs.

  PS Joe left a message on my mobile phone to say he wants to talk to me. Felt fear grip my heart when I heard his serious voice – the one he hasn’t used since he found himself and started this cookery lark.

  5 May

  Joe has found the household bills hidden behind the bread bin. ‘What are these, Susie?’ he asked, waving them (neatly bound together now with an elastic band) at me before I’d even had a chance to get my coat off.

  ‘Thank-you letters?’ I answered, playing for time and wondering why on earth he’d been rummaging there.

  ‘Susie, it’s not funny!’ he shouted. ‘By the look of all these overdue notices, we’re in serious trouble. The electricity board is about to cut us off. I knew I should never have trusted you with this stuff.’

  ‘I was getting round to it,’ I stammered, unable to meet his eye. ‘Administration’s never been my strong point, you know that.’

  ‘Then why did you volunteer to deal with it?’ Joe said, his voice now icy and strange.

  ‘Because you said I wouldn’t be able to manage it,’ I spat back, thinking on my feet. (Obviously couldn’t say I’d only promised to do it so I could hide the evidence of our financial difficulties from him.) ‘Turns out you were right. What do you want? A medal?’

  Then Joe said the worst thing possible. ‘I’m very disappointed in you, Susie. You’ve landed us in the most awful mess and now I’ll have to sort it out when I’m supposed to be studying how a four-oven Aga works.’ He turned on his heel and left, still clutching the bills.

  Am living in dread. Cannot imagine how disappointed he’ll be when he discovers I also lied about my salary and that I earn approximately one zillionth of what I told him I did.

  PS Joe wants to see our joint account statements. Told him I’d call the bank and get them posted to us. Am considering leaving the country.

  6 May

  Joe has uncovered my trail of deceit and lies in a surprisingly short time. He didn’t wait to see the bank statements. Instead he went on-line to uncover the truth about our debt.

  ‘That was a complete invasion of my privacy!’ I yelled, when I discovered he had gone through the account electronically. ‘And it was probably illegal. I could report you for identity fraud.’

  ‘Illegal? What the hell are you on about?’ he said. ‘It’s a joint account, Susie, either of us can check it at any time. Looks like I should have been checking it a lot sooner. You’ve lied to me for weeks. You don’t earn a quarter of what you said you did – I’ll have to give up my dream and go back to my old job.’

  And then he put his head in his hands and sobbed, with real live man-tears. Am racked with guilt, although I do feel that Joe is playing down his role in the tragedy just a bit. He should have put away at least two years’ salary before he chucked in his job for a pipe-dream that has no hope of ever becoming reality. That’s what all the financial gurus advise.

  7 May

  Elaine is being suspiciously nice to me. She offered to help answer the mail today. She actually stopped filing her nails to suggest it. Am so riddled with anxiety I accepted.

  PS Joe found another of my pay slips this evening. He immediately went to lie down in the spare room.

  PPS Mrs H dropped by. She definitely senses something’s wrong but is too involved with organizing the Gay Pride bingo night to do anything about it.

  8 May

  Am toying with being officially sick for at least two weeks, maybe more. Cannot possibly deal with other people when I’m under so much pressure. Am sure the doctor will sign me off when I explain I had palpitations this morning so am probably on the verge of a massive coronary any second – and I’m nauseous nearly all the time. Also feel I need
to spend some quality time with Katie and Jack. They have mounted a campaign to attend a ridiculously overpriced art summer camp, which tells me they definitely suspect something is awry.

  Katie almost knocked me to the ground when I came home from work, brandishing the camp brochure hopefully. I am racked with guilt that she will probably be denied the joy of hours spent messing about with finger paints for twenty-five euro a morning because I’ve screwed up so badly.

  Tried to explain to Danni why there is such tension in the house (and why Joe is stamping about looking mournful). ‘We’re having some small financial troubles, Danni,’ I said, ‘but don’t worry, you will be paid as usual.’ (Wasn’t sure this was true, but had to throw it in in case she was tempted to pack her bags.)

  ‘Financial troubles?’ she echoed, looking confused. ‘But you very rich now, Susie. You have big job – Joe told me so.’

  ‘Well, not exactly,’ I murmured. ‘There may have been a little misunderstanding… You see, I’m not earning that much as it turns out.’

  ‘You mean you lie about your pay, Susie?’ she said.

  ‘Not lie exactly.’ I was a bit annoyed that she would challenge me, what with her being staff and all.

  She gave me a searing look that cleaved my soul in half (although that may have been indigestion from the six-pack of smoky bacon crisps I had inexplicably felt compelled to devour earlier). ‘I must feed the bambini,’ she said, and then turned on her heel and left.

  I was eating my third bag of Maltesers, watching Dragon’s Den and wondering how I was going to get out of this sorry mess, when the doorbell rang.

  Angelica stood on the step, wearing massive designer sunglasses and carrying a large holdall. ‘Quick, Susie, let me in,’ she hissed. ‘I think I’m being followed.’

  9 May

  Angelica has begged me to let her stay with us until the press stop hounding her. She has also confessed that

  she had drunken sex with top-producer Mike in a broom cupboard at a TV awards party and that was why he gave me the job; and

  she has been using our country house to conduct a passionate affair with her personal trainer.

  ‘Please, Susie,’ she cried, ‘I need somewhere safe to stay. James is furious with me – we had another terrible argument this morning and he won’t let me in the house. You’ve always been a friend to me, won’t you help me now? I’ll kill myself if I have to go back to Wales.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, wondering if she was a fully fledged sex addict and needed to get to the Priory ASAP. ‘You weren’t very truthful with me in the past.’ Then I spotted her holdall and wondered if there was anything in it that she might want to pass on to me if she stayed – like a Juicy Couture tracksuit or anything from last season’s Gucci collection.

  ‘I’m sorry, honestly I am, Susie,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to have sex with Mike – it was a one-off. It only happened because James was flirting with everyone at the awards show and I drank too much wine.’

  ‘And what about the personal trainer?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, he’s different,’ she admitted. ‘He has an eight-pack.’

  I gasped. I’d thought eight-packs were an urban myth.

  ‘Please help me,’ she wept, ‘everyone makes mistakes, don’t they?’

  I found myself thinking of how I’d lied to Joe about the TV7 job.

  ‘I just felt so trapped. Everyone thinks I’m perfect – the perfect wife, the perfect mother… The pressure was too much. It was starting to crack me up. Besides, James has a few secrets of his own. He’s always sleeping with extras and he’s not averse to dressing in women’s clothes. I turn a blind eye to it all. Why shouldn’t I have a little fun?’

  ‘That’s as may be,’ I said, a sudden image of James Law in size-thirteen stilettos flashing into my mind’s eye. ‘But you shouldn’t have used my country house to have your fun in. And you roped me in to take Brandon when you were having your flings. That was really low.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She had the good grace to look ashamed. ‘I’ll make it up to you, I promise. But I did help you get that job – even though you had no experience.’ She eyeballed me and I decided to forgive her – at least this drama was taking my mind off my own worries. Even better, her presence would distract Joe and maybe make him put down his calculator. Suddenly I was confiding in Angelica that I was in a bit of a pickle myself, what with Lone Father, Joe and the financial mess.

  ‘That’s terrible, Susie.’ She patted my hand. ‘We’ll find a way out of it. There must be something I can do.’

  ‘Not really,’ I said, wondering if she would just whip out her cheque book and put everything right. ‘My career’s in tatters, my marriage is on the rocks and my finances are in shreds.’

  Felt despondent when I said it aloud like that. Celebs have ended up in rehab for less.

  Told Joe that Angelica had to stay for a day or two – just until the furore blew over.

  He was very understanding about it. ‘That’s OK,’ he said. ‘Those paps are scum of the earth – they only ever print rubbish anyway.’

  Didn’t tell him that the press had got it right for once. Felt he wouldn’t take too kindly to this information.

  10 May

  Angelica shook me awake at the crack of dawn. ‘Get up, Susie,’ she whispered in my ear. ‘I’ve come up with a brilliant plan to solve all your problems – come on, I need to talk to you.’

  I doubted she could do anything concrete to help, but I dragged myself downstairs anyway.

  ‘You know I’ve been having trouble with rumours of my infidelity?’ she asked.

  I nodded. They weren’t exactly untrue rumours, but that was a technicality.

  ‘Well, I think you should do a top-secret interview with the Gazette to tell my side of the story. “Close friend tells all” – that sort of thing. They’ll pay loads so that should sort your finances out. Then I’ll go on prime-time TV to follow up. It’s brilliant!’

  ‘But I thought you didn’t want any more publicity?’ I asked, confused. ‘I thought you wanted to lie low until the whole thing blew over?’

  ‘Yeah, but that was before my LA agent called me this morning. Going into hiding has been fantastic for my profile – his phone is ringing off the hook with offers. I could be more famous than James soon.’ Her eyes shone.

  ‘So having affairs has actually been good for your image?’

  ‘Exactly!’ She looked triumphant. ‘People are starting to think I’m a bit of a sexpot instead of a do-gooder. Isn’t it brilliant? Publicity’s all mind games – there are probably paps out in the bushes as we speak. My PR firm tipped them off this morning.’

  I dived behind a curtain in case any lurking paparazzo got an unflattering shot of me with greasy hair in my unwashed PJs.

  Angelica spent the afternoon on a call to her hotshot LA agent, trying to organize it. She asked to use our phone and I didn’t like to say anything, what with her mobile probably being tapped and all. Really hope this works – Joe will have a heart-attack when he sees the phone bill.

  PS Spent ages practising my Donald Duck voice – vital I disguise my identity for the top-secret interview. All I have to do is speak to a hard-nosed journalist, tell the truth and be paid for spilling the beans. Then maybe this whole sorry mess will be sorted out.

  11 May

  Angelica says that under no circumstances am I to tell the truth about her alleged affairs.

  ‘But I thought that was the whole point,’ I said, wondering if I was going slowly mad.

  ‘The whole point, Susie,’ she explained, her voice high and tight, ‘is for me to get maximum publicity out of the allegations. You are not to confirm or deny anything – OK? We have to spin it out a bit longer.’

  ‘So what should I actually say, then?’ I stuttered, feeling panicky.

  She paused for a beat. ‘Say that I’m in anguish about the allegations. That I’ve lost lots of weight and am finding it impossible to eat, that sort of thing.’
/>
  I watched as she took a bite out of another of Jack’s Pop Tarts and licked her lips. ‘Why would I say that?’ I asked.

  ‘Because then they may do a diet tie-in in a women’s magazine. I might even get a fitness video out of it.’ She was clearly delighted with herself.

  PS Interview set for tomorrow. Top LA agent negotiating fee. Have not disclosed anything to Joe in case it’s not big enough to cover our current difficulties. Do not want to raise his hopes.

  12 May: Our wedding anniversary

  Have completed newspaper interview. Had to do it at my desk at work so I felt a little self-conscious but think I did OK, even when the journalist kept pressing me for details of Angelica’s sexual antics and saying things like, ‘Were they at it day and night, then?’

  Thankfully, I remembered to keep repeating the mantra that Angelica had practically beaten into me. (I had scribbled it down on the back of a Tesco receipt so I wouldn’t forget and cave in under serious journalistic interrogation.)

  ‘Angelica is devastated by the allegations – she hasn’t eaten in days. We’re really worried about her. She’s lost so much weight she may have to be put on a drip soon.’

  Angelica is thrilled. Her LA agent has promised that great things will come of the scandalous publicity – and I get half of the cheque. Hinted to Joe that I’ll be treating him to a massive wedding anniversary gift very soon. ‘I’d love a set of handmade carving knives,’ he said dreamily. ‘They’re meant to be exquisite.’

  PS Elaine was being extra nice to me this afternoon – am sure she’s up to something but am trying to put it from my mind.