Confessions of a Demented Housewife

by Niamh Greene

  With not a glimmer of irony, she

  denied all allegations of infidelity on her part;

  told Dee and Fran that I had been her rock and constant source of strength throughout the whole horrible ordeal;

  poured scorn on the idea that Lone Father and I were ever anything more than passing friends;

  suggested that Lone Father’s book may have been ghostwritten and that her legal team was keen to sue over allegations of threesomes in the press.

  ‘Books have been pulled off the shelves for less,’ she said ominously, smiling at Fran and crossing her long legs. ‘And people need to get their facts straight before they go talking to the papers and spreading malicious rumours.’ Then she laughed throatily, flashing a smile directly at Camera One and baring her Rembrandt-white teeth to the audience. ‘Luckily,’ she went on, ‘Susie has a very supportive husband, Joe, so none of this gossip is having any effect on her whatsoever. By the way, his new cookery venture is soooo hot. It’s going to be huge – you heard it here first!’

  She crossed her legs again and winked at Dee, who immediately agreed to post details of Joe’s new business on the website for anyone who wanted more information.

  22 May

  Overnight, my world has changed. Angelica has flown to LA to consider some of the offers flooding in, the Gazette is launching a top-level inquiry into the veracity of Lone Father’s sordid claims about three-in-the-bed romps, Joe’s mobile hasn’t stopped ringing with requests for catering, and Magnum and the paps have upped and left.

  ‘We’re off to Lone Father’s house,’ Magnum said, when I popped my head out to see if he’d like a cup of tea. ‘We’ll give him a hard time for you, don’t worry, Susie.’

  Was just starting to feel that things were finally improving and starting to go my way when top-producer Mike called. ‘Can you come in tomorrow, Susie?’ he said, sounding very serious. ‘We need to have a chat.’

  He obviously wants to fire me for immoral conduct or missing so much work. Am bracing myself for the worst.

  23 May

  Top-producer Mike doesn’t want to fire me. Instead he wants to give me a massive promotion and pay rise.

  At a top-secret emergency meeting, which Dee and Fran attended, he told me they want me to be a proper housewife correspondent on the show and quadruple my current salary.

  ‘But I thought I wasn’t ready for camera work?’ I ventured. Why had they suddenly developed an interest in me when for so long they had ignored my very existence?

  ‘Things have changed.’ Mike smiled.

  ‘Yeah, she could work,’ Dee said to Fran, eyeing me as if I was a piece of meat.

  ‘Hmm, I’m not sure about the dishevelled look, though,’ Fran said, talking over my head as if I wasn’t in the room.

  Felt quite panicky when she said that. It had taken me approximately two hours to get groomed and polished that morning. If she thought this look was dishevelled, what would she think of my usual trackie-and-crusty-T-shirt combo?

  ‘Yes, but that look is very street,’ Dee replied. ‘It could be exactly what we need.’

  Then Mike went on to explain that, even though they were hugely successful, Dee and Fran felt they needed an extra dimension to the show.

  ‘We want to attract all the jelly-bellies stuck at home, eating biscuits,’ Dee said. ‘That’s where you come in. Now that you have a media profile, you might be just the ticket.’

  ‘Well, I could try,’ I said, wondering if it was politically incorrect to call housewives jelly-bellies. Decided now was not the time to bring that up.

  ‘Yes, all those saddos are our bread and butter,’ Fran said. ‘Well, until we get a prime-time slot on Friday nights. Then we can stop pretending we care whether or not they stick their heads in the oven with their home-baked bread.’

  They roared with laughter while Mike looked on, twitching nervously. ‘I think what the girls mean,’ he coughed, ‘is that you’ll fit right in.’

  ‘So, what do you see me doing?’ I asked, irritated that they’d been so derogatory about their core audience.

  ‘Oh, you know, housewifey stuff,’ Fran said airily. ‘It’ll be great.’

  ‘Yes, just be your dowdy self.’ Dee patted my arm. ‘That’ll be perfect.’

  Told Joe that I had been offered a proper hosting spot on the show.

  ‘That’s great, Susie,’ he said, hugging me. ‘Isn’t that what you wanted?’

  ‘Well, I’m not sure,’ I admitted. ‘I don’t know if I could handle the media intrusion.’

  ‘I see what you mean,’ Joe said. ‘Why don’t you have a think about things for a while? You’ve been through a lot. Maybe you need time to mull it over.’

  I didn’t want to admit that mulling it over might not be an option. The large salary is tempting, and we could do with the money if Joe is to pursue his cooking dream. Especially as there’s still no sign of the cheque from the tell-all interview. Am very confused. If this is what I’ve always wanted, why do I feel so empty inside?

  24 May

  Have made a comprehensive list of pros and cons to try to decide whether I should become a national household name or remain an anonymous civilian.

  Pros of being bona fide TV celebrity

  Getting invites to swanky showbiz events

  Being stared at in the street

  Being asked for autographs

  Getting good tables in restaurants

  Getting lots of free stuff

  Cons of being bona fide TV celebrity

  Having to look best at all times when in public (and also when at home in case of long-lens photographers)

  Having to learn how to get out of a limo without accidentally flashing women’s bits

  Having to resist drink and drugs binges

  Having to see less of Katie and Jack

  It’s strange – I think I could cope with remembering to wear underwear all the time or saying no to cocaine, but I’m not sure about spending less time with the children. How am I supposed to decide? Louise says I should listen to my inner voice, but I can’t hear it saying anything – except maybe, ‘Polish off that packet of HobNobs, oats are good for you.’ Really wish something would happen that would take the decision out of my hands.

  25 May

  Very faint and weak today – probably the stress of the last few weeks catching up with me. Called the doctor to schedule appointment and, once I had explained my elaborate range of symptoms to the power-crazy receptionist, I was actually put straight through. The doctor advised me to come in for blood tests immediately. I was distraught – he obviously suspected something was seriously wrong.

  ‘What will you be looking for?’ I asked, feeling sicker by the minute.

  ‘Oh, you know, the usual things,’ he said, in an overly casual way to hide his concern. ‘Cholesterol, kidney and liver function, absorption of B12 minerals, that sort of thing.’

  ‘So you think there may be something seriously wrong with me?’ I asked, wondering who I should give my precious collection of Hello! magazines to.

  ‘Well, it’s hard to say until we take a look,’ he said, not ruling out the possibility that I was at death’s door. ‘Just pop in and let the nurse do the bloods. We’ll take it from there.’ Drove at speed to the surgery.

  Blood sampling was excruciatingly painful, especially as they only had really old copies of Heat and OK! in the surgery – issues that I had already read a million times.

  ‘Do you think it’s anything serious?’ I asked the nurse, as she drew off another vial to be sent to the lab.

  ‘Let’s just wait and see, shall we?’ she said, with an expression that was impossible to read – although I’m sure I saw sympathy flicker across her face. She was obviously thinking, Those poor children, losing such a devoted mother so young – that sort of thing.

  Limped home. Have not told Joe yet but we probably need to appoint another guardian for Katie and Jack in case I am at death’s door.

  26 May
/>   Doctor left a message to come in and see him straight away. Was terrified. Things were obviously even more serious than I’d thought – everyone knows doctors only call back promptly if your time is limited.

  Asked Joe if he knew what kind of funeral service I wanted when my time came.

  ‘Um, why are you asking me that?’ he said.

  ‘Never mind why,’ I said, as my eyes welled. I was really going to miss his insensitivity. ‘Just tell me, do you know?’

  ‘Eh… a private one?’ he suggested.

  Which proved he never listens. If he didn’t know by now that I want an over-the-top display of his love for me then he never would. Must write down detailed instructions ASAP.

  Was also very worried how to tell Danni that soon we would no longer be able to afford her services as I was dying and Joe had no income to speak of. Was really anxious that her Sicilian blood meant she would attack me with a kitchen knife out of rage. (Although that could be a good way to put me out of my misery if I was to endure a long, painful death.)

  Sped to surgery and asked the doctor if I was dying. ‘Just tell me straight,’ I pleaded. ‘There are arrangements that need to be made.’

  ‘Well, we’re all dying, Mrs Hunt,’ he said, which I thought was most unhelpful, ‘but you’re not on the way out just yet. However, you are pregnant. Congratulations.’

  Then the room went fuzzy and I blacked out.

  27 May

  I am pregnant with my third child, which probably explains the nausea, forgetfulness and weight gain.

  Joe was over the moon when I told him I was having one of those hidden pregnancies – the kind you read about in trashy magazines and never believe are true.

  ‘That’s fantastic, Susie!’ he whooped, sweeping me into his arms and swinging me round the kitchen – until I told him I’d puke if he didn’t put me down. Then he stopped dead in his tracks. ‘But how do you feel about it? Are you happy?’

  I paused while I tried to work that bit out. I’d just been offered a prime TV slot with excellent prospects and now I was expecting a baby that hadn’t been planned – the timing couldn’t have been worse. Surely I was meant to be devastated. I searched around deep inside to find out how I felt. Finally I knew.

  ‘I’m not happy, Joe,’ I said, and his face fell. ‘I’m ecstatic!’ And I really was. Yes, I wanted a career, but not this one. Being a prisoner in my own home while the paps had been camped outside had made me realize that celebrity had its disadvantages. Disadvantages that not even glamorous bits like red-carpet appearances or luxury goody-bags could compensate for. Suddenly I knew that I didn’t want fame or an at-home spread with OK!, I just wanted the work-life balance the lifestyle gurus were always harping on about. I needed a Plan B. Now all I had to do was figure that part out.

  28 May

  Called top-producer Mike to inform him that the new housewife correspondent position was not going to fulfil me in any meaningful way, even if it had a dedicated parking space and subsidized lunches in the canteen. Also told him that I wouldn’t be back to answer mail either.

  ‘But, Susie,’ he begged, ‘Dee and Fran have decided they want you on board. How am I going to break it to them that you’ve turned them down? No one ever does that.’

  ‘Just bite the bullet,’ I advised, feeling powerful and free. ‘What can they do?’

  ‘Um, fire me?’ he said, sounding like he was crying.

  ‘Well, maybe it’s time for you to stand up for yourself, then,’ I suggested. ‘Living a lie isn’t really living, is it?’ I hung up, feeling really happy for the first time in ages. All I have to do now is come up with a way to combine motherhood with another, more satisfying, career. How hard can that be?

  29 May

  Joe cornered me at breakfast. ‘Susie, you know I’ve been having some really good feedback ever since Angelica mentioned me on Chat with Dee and Fran?’ he said, spooning some organic flapjacks on to my plate and smothering them with honey.

  ‘Yesh,’ I mumbled, spitting flapjack everywhere.

  ‘Well, I’m getting enquiries about catering and classes from all over the country. I feel the time is right to branch out and go for it. The thing is, I really need new premises as a base. So, I was wondering… how would you feel about moving to the country house and setting up there?’

  ‘For the summer?’ I said, imagining myself lying about, pregnant and blissful, while Joe fed me grapes. ‘That sounds like a great idea.’

  ‘No, Susie, not for the summer.’ He was staring at me in a very intense way. ‘For good. If we sell the Dublin house we’ll have enough to tide us over until I start turning a profit, which will be very soon if all these contacts follow through.’

  Was gob-smacked. Moving to the country had never been on my agenda. Although it would mean I’d have a legitimate excuse to get a Range Rover Sport.

  Immediately called Louise to tell her that Joe had come up with an outlandish plan to escape the city rat-race. Surprisingly, she was enthusiastic about it. ‘That’s a fab idea, Susie,’ she said. ‘Relocating is huge.’

  ‘But don’t you think it’s a bit unrealistic to leave everything behind and start afresh on a whim, Lou?’ I was wondering how I’d manage in the middle of nowhere without Sky Digital for company.

  ‘What’s keeping you in the city?’ she asked. ‘You don’t want the TV job and Joe’s catering business can be based anywhere. The children are young enough for you to go now. If I could, I’d move in a heartbeat – all the best people are doing it.’

  ‘They are?’ I said, feeling the first stirrings of interest. If Louise thought the idea had some merit maybe it wasn’t as stupid as it had first sounded. She always knew what was ‘in’ and out.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘Of course, I’d have to be able to get my non-fat grande lattes round the clock, but I definitely would otherwise. By the way, if you do take the plunge, do you think we could do the photo shoot for the new catalogue there? It’s so hard to find somewhere that conveys the right atmosphere. We’ll pay you, of course. Now the maternity range is going to be stocked in Harvey Nicks, I’ll be back in the money.’

  Have decided that maybe it’s not such an outlandish idea, after all – Louise might have a point. Also, moving to the country would mean I could forget about Lone Father and the book that seems to mock me from every bookshop window in the city.

  30 May

  Have just had a brilliant brainwave. If Louise is willing to pay to get a country setting for a photo shoot for her catalogue, others might too. It might, in fact, be a viable business idea. (And I would be able to hang out with artistic types, such as photographers and stylists, all the time.) In fact, the more I think about it, charging city slickers to be photographed in an overgrown garden for extortionate amounts of money could be the perfect way to combine a career with parenting. This was my Plan B. And I would have an excuse to buy a ride-on lawnmower. Called Mum and Dad to find out what they thought.

  ‘It’s a wonderful idea, darling,’ Mum said. ‘City life can be so spiritually draining. I’m sure the country would suit you so much better.’

  ‘Yes, and we can have their Dublin house,’ Dad chimed in, on the other phone. ‘It’s ripe for development.’

  Not sure what he meant exactly – probably that he would rearrange the sitting room.

  31 May

  The Gazette has printed a full retraction of its allegations that Angelica, Lone Father and I enjoyed three-in-the-bed romps on a regular basis.

  ‘What did you do?’ I asked Mrs H, when she admitted she had been responsible for this latest turn of events.

  ‘Well, dear,’ she replied as she patted some pressed powder on her nose, then straightened her Gay Pride T-shirt, ‘I simply called the journalist responsible and asked him nicely to take it back that you were a two-timing whore with no moral compass.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, I know he didn’t actually say that,’ she smiled, ‘but the implication was there.’

/>   ‘And how did you manage to persuade him?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, that’s my little secret,’ she said, ‘but let’s just say I have my ways and means.’ She snapped her compact shut and put it into her bag. ‘Now I’m off to the march – maybe you’ll join us on the next one. Homosexuality needs all the support it can get.’

  Feel I’m becoming much closer to Mrs H. Was almost tempted to confide in her about my surprise pregnancy. Just managed to stop myself in the nick of time.

  1 June

  Made trip to Tesco to load up on fruit and vegetables. Have decided to start buying organically now that I am eating for two. (However, will also indulge cravings for Lion Bars if necessary.)

  Felt so light-hearted as I pushed the trolley up the aisles that I almost mowed down Eco-mother again. She was skulking about and looking shifty.

  ‘We must stop meeting like this,’ I joked, as she disentangled herself from my trolley.

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked grumpily.

  ‘We always seem to meet in Tesco,’ I reminded her, wondering why she looked so sweaty and uncomfortable. ‘Anyway, you’ll be glad to know I’m changing my ways. I’m going to be eating healthily from now on.’

  ‘Bully for you.’ She shuffled away.

  Cannot understand her reaction – thought she would have been overjoyed that I am finally converted to her outlandish green ideals.

  2 June

  Had wonderful dream that we were living in the country and I was hoeing my vegetable patch as the children, barefoot and happy, played at my feet. Woke feeling euphoric and shook Joe to tell him that maybe moving lock, stock and barrel to the country wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. But only if