by Suzy K Quinn
I said, ‘But do you think that means he loves her?’
Althea said, ‘Nick doesn’t love anyone but himself.’
I said, ‘What about Daisy?’
Althea said, ‘He loves her, but only because she’s half of him.’
Friday July 10th
Keep thinking that Daisy doesn’t have a family anymore. And bursting into tears.
Saturday July 11th
Helen came round today.
Mum shouted, ‘Get off my doorstep you posh tart.’
I told Mum it was alright. I wanted to hear what Helen had to say.
Dad tactfully asked Mum and Brandi to help in the pub, and said if Callum was a very good boy he could play ‘ice cream van’ with the beer pumps.
So Helen and I had the house to ourselves.
While I was making us a cup of tea, Brandi came up looking for Callum’s sunglasses.
She said, ‘Is that tea for her ladyship?’
I said yes.
Brandi spat in the cup.
It’s the first time I’ve laughed since the wedding.
Then Helen appeared.
I had to give Helen the cup of tea then – it would have looked suspicious if I’d got rid of it.
Brandi said, ‘Do enjoy your lovely cup of tea.’
Helen yattered on about the pub garden and how it was lovely for families. Or something.
Mum’s got all these wind chimes, gnomes and wishing wells out there. Not exactly the slate flowerbeds and lollypop hedges in Helen’s garden. But nice for children.
It was very weird – Helen trying to be nice. A bit unsettling.
Luckily it didn’t last long.
Helen said she wanted to arrange ‘visitation’ for Nick. And that she was happy to act as a ‘go-between’.
I asked why Nick couldn’t sort things out himself.
Helen talked about how sensitive Nick was and what a failure he felt.
She said, ‘You know how men are – when they feel low they often look to the baser comforts.’
Then she put her nasty, bony hand over mine and said, ‘Nicholas is like his father. A lover of women. A charmer.’
I said, ‘Didn’t you divorce Nick’s dad?’
She said, ‘Yes, but I shouldn’t have done. Men cheat. I should have forgiven him.’ Then she told me that Henry cheated on her with one of his factory workers – a woman who presses the toilet roll dispensers.
I asked her if Henry had ever slept with her bridesmaid.
She went quiet then. And asked if I’d seen Sadie.
I told her I never wanted to see Sadie or Nick ever again.
She said, ‘Perhaps if you saw Sadie you might be more sympathetic. She’s … vulnerable right now.’
I asked her what she was talking about. Sadie is about as vulnerable as an armoured tank.
Helen said, ‘Given her … condition.’
I said, ‘Condition? What condition? The condition of being a complete backstabbing bitch?’
Then Helen said, ‘The condition of being pregnant.’ In this low, calm voice.
OMG, OMG, OMG.
I just freaked out, shouting and swearing. Sobbing.
I kept saying over and over, ‘How could they do this to Daisy? How could they do this?’
Then Helen left.
I was really glad Brandi had spat in her tea.
Sunday July 12th
I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.
Sadie’s pregnant.
PREGNANT.
No wonder she looked so sick in the wedding car.
I thought I couldn’t be any more humiliated than I already am.
What next? Will I find dog poo on the bottom of my wedding shoes?
Is Sadie keeping the baby?
Actually, that’s a stupid thing to wonder. Of course she will. She’s an actress. A baby is nine months of drama.
I wonder what Nick said when he found out?
I’ll never forget the night I told him I was pregnant.
I did the pregnancy test while he was watching Game of Thrones.
I shouted, ‘Nick. NICK! I think I might be pregnant.’
He said, ‘Even if she is, I think she dies in this episode.’
I said, ‘No. I’M pregnant.’
He said, ‘Christ, as if I haven’t got enough to worry about.’
What did he say when Sadie told him?
God, I feel so sick.
Monday July 13th
I am totally fat, horrible, unlovable. No reason to lose weight anymore. Who cares?
Pigged out on oven chips, smiley faces, Chicago Town pizzas, sour cream dip and crisps – all the usual stuff round Mum and Dad’s.
I ate so much even Mum was worried. Well – she told me to slow down anyway. I think because there were no Pringles left and she likes to eat a tube while she’s watching The Apprentice.
No one seemed surprised that Sadie was pregnant. I even wondered if everyone knew already, but I think Brandi at least would have told me. She’s rubbish at keeping secrets.
Mum said she hoped Sadie would have triplets with huge heads.
I keep having niggling thoughts about Sadie.
I mean – yes, I hate her. She’s ruined my life and Daisy’s chance of a happy family. But if she’s pregnant and alone … I mean, that’s pretty awful.
Tuesday July 14th
Grilled Althea about the pregnancy.
But she had nothing more to report. Her gay make-up artist friend is playing Captain Pork Chop on a cruise ship and had no phone reception.
Wednesday July 15th
ARG!!!
Got a letter today from the Jolly-Piggott family solicitors. They’re asking for a DNA test for Daisy.
The BASTARDS!!!
I rang Nick twenty times, but he didn’t (wouldn’t) answer.
So I drove round to Helen’s house and thumped on the door until the stained glass rattled.
When Helen answered, she looked down her long bird nose at my Ugg boots and pyjamas and said, ‘You’d better come inside before anyone sees you.’
The Jolly-Piggotts were having their kitchen redone. There were tile samples everywhere with Helen’s manic biro scrawl on the back,
Dreadful.
Ghastly.
Christ – looks like a Manchester council estate.
I raged about the letter and the DNA test.
Helen put on her serious glasses and pretended to look at the letter. I could tell she knew exactly what it said, because after a two-second glance she said, ‘Just standard legal procedure. Nothing personal. Our solicitor thought it best.’
I told her it didn’t get more personal than questioning my virtue. Not sure why I used that word. Think I’ve been watching too much Downton Abbey …
‘You have to understand,’ Helen said. ‘Nicholas could have two children to support soon. We need to make sure things are clear.’
I asked whether Sadie would do a DNA test when the baby came.
Helen said she was ‘fully on board’. Which I suppose means yes.
Sadie won’t care about her honesty being questioned. Only how much money she can make.
I roared at Helen that Nick would have to pay for his daughter.
She said, ‘As long as Daisy is his daughter.’
I think I swore quite a lot then, because I remember Helen wincing and saying something about Anglo-Saxon language.
I made it all the way to the car before I burst into tears.
I cuddled Daisy. She chewed on a tile sample.
Then I phoned Laura. She was in the uni coffee shop with Zach.
In the background, I could hear Zach saying, ‘Excuse me, I’m terribly sorry but is this fairtrade tea? Don’t want to shit all over the farmers. Thank you.’
It’s sweet that those two are getting along, but also bad timing.
Why couldn’t Laura get a wonderful boyfriend years ago when I was happy with Nick?
Thursday July 16th
&nbs
p; Had five voicemail messages today. Thought they’d all be from Nick. But they were all blank ones from Althea. She’s never figured out how to hang up if someone doesn’t answer.
Friday July 17th
SO sick of checking my phone for Nick to call or text. I’ve decided to block his number. That way I won’t drive myself mad running to my phone whenever it bleeps.
Saturday July 18th
Laura’s birthday today. I feel terrible – I forgot all about it.
Brandi forgot too, but she forgets everyone’s birthday. As the youngest in the family, she gets away with everything.
Phoned Laura to beg forgiveness. She didn’t mind. She said the health and happiness of her family and friends was the only gift she wanted.
Zach is taking her out to some posh restaurant tonight.
Laura’s panicking that she won’t understand the menu.
She’s been swotting up on posh food words. Apparently lardon is just another word for bacon.
Sunday July 19th
Still no news about Nick and Sadie.
Daisy has another cold. The poor snotty little thing. It’s agonising listening to her gasping for breath. I feel so worried.
Mum said, ‘She’s fine. Look at the size of those nostrils. You three were always coldy as babies. And you turned out just fine …’
I ended up buying this contraption to suck snot out of Daisy’s nose.
It goes on the pile of baby devices that are supposed to make life easier but don’t actually work.
I have a whole box of them now, including:
A nursery thermometer that always says the room is dangerously hot.
A cot-death prevention sensor that goes off every time Daisy falls asleep.
A car bottle warmer that takes half an hour to heat a bottle.
A warmer for wet wipes.
Various teething products – amber teething necklace, teething powder sachets, chunky plastic teething keys.
I wonder how far along Sadie is? Is she sick? I wish I didn’t keep torturing myself with these questions. But it’s sort of impossible not to.
Monday July 20th
Mum said she would ‘take Daisy off my hands’ today so I could have a rest.
I told her about Daisy’s routine.
Mum did her usual, ‘Stop telling me how to do it Jules, I’ve had three bloody kids.’
Yes.
In the seventies.
Mum’s philosophy is, ‘As long as the baby’s not dead, everything’s fine.’
She still doesn’t know how to use disposable nappies. Daisy ALWAYS comes back with her nappy on back-to-front and the sticky bits stuck to her clothing.
Still. It was nice to have an hour to myself. Although Daisy was so upset when she came back that I had to spend a good hour and a half calming her down.
Tuesday July 21st
Althea phoned today.
She asked if I was still planning on running the Christmas Marathon.
I said no way.
I never wanted to do it in the first place.
Althea said Sadie has pulled out.
News of Sadie’s illegitimate baby has got back to the race organisers, and they don’t want her singing ‘We Are the World, We Are the Children’.
Felt pretty happy about that.
Althea said, ‘Look, you’re already signed up. And you’ve raised hundreds for Children’s Aid. Why pull out because of that nasty moon-faced cow?’
I said I’d think about it.
Meaning no.
If being dumped on my wedding day doesn’t give me an excuse not to run a marathon, what does?
Wednesday July 22nd
Everyone always says what a happy baby Daisy is, but I really wish she was a sleepy baby too.
I am so jealous of Althea, who says Wolfgang falls asleep all over the house.
Apparently all she has to do is give him some beef jerky to chew and he drifts off.
Grrr.
Thursday July 23rd
Took Callum to McDonald’s today.
The McDonald’s server just COULD NOT understand that I wanted carrot sticks for Callum’s Happy Meal.
I said, ‘Cheeseburger Happy Meal with carrot sticks please.’
He said, ‘So fries, yeah?’
I said, ‘No. Carrot sticks instead of fries.’
He said, ‘Carrot sticks?’ Like I’d asked for grilled lobster.
Callum said, ‘No Aunty Julesy, I want fries.’
The server said, ‘So fries, yeah?’
I said, ‘NO. Carrot sticks.’
The Happy Meal came with fries.
While we were eating, Callum said, ‘Do you hate Uncle Nick?’
I said, ‘I don’t hate him. I just feel very, very sad when I think about him.’
Callum said, ‘Mummy says Uncle Nick is a right busted.’
I said, ‘Yes Callum. Uncle Nick is a right busted. But he’s still Daisy’s dad.’
Callum said, ‘I never see my dad. And I don’t care. Daisy won’t care either.’
Sometimes Callum is wise beyond his years. Maybe it comes of having a mum who’s still a baby herself.
Friday July 24th
Got a handwritten letter from Nick.
Unusual for him. He prefers computers. His handwriting looked like he’d used a pen made of brambles.
At first I wondered why he hadn’t texted or called. But then I remembered I’d blocked his number.
The letter said,
Juliette,
Baby. I know I’ve fucked up. The DNA test – so not my idea.
I miss my little Daisy boo. Is she saying daddy yet? Does she still look like me?
Can I see my little girl? Pretty please? I know I’ve been an arsehole but I’m still her dad.
Can we talk?
Nick.
He’d put a big flourishy signature under his name, like when he signs his autograph on theatre programmes.
I couldn’t stop crying.
I’ve read and re-read the letter all day.
I still can’t forgive Nick, but ... maybe I’m being too harsh … maybe we really can make a go of things. For Daisy’s sake. We’re supposed to be a family.
Saturday July 25th
Mum and Brandi both took turns in shouting at me today, re: the Nick letter.
Apparently I’m not under any circumstances to consider going back to him. He is a shit bag. Plain and simple.
Simple to them. But not to me.
I thought you were supposed to get married, have kids and live happily ever after.
Where did I go wrong?
Sunday July 26th
Still thinking about Nick’s letter.
I am fed up and tired and depressed today.
Motherhood is SO gruelling. It just doesn’t stop. Feed, change, wash clothes, Daisy sleeps when I don’t want her to, wakes up when I don’t want her to, feed again … and on it goes.
And I don’t want to do it alone. Of course Nick never really helped (in fact, I have more time now I don’t have to do his washing). But I’m still technically a single mum, and everyone knows single mums have it hard.
I wonder what Nick is doing right now.
Monday July 27th
Spoke to Laura and Althea about Nick’s letter.
They both shouted at me too. Even Laura and she never shouts.
Althea said Nick was a horrible, nasty piece of theatrical shit and me and Daisy were better off without him.
She’d got through to Rylan, Sadie’s gay make-up friend, on the cruise ship. Rylan said Sadie had been pregnant since June. And that Nick had known the whole time.
So Nick knew while we were planning the wedding. And while he was waiting at the end of the aisle.
What an idiot I am.
Nick is a shitbag and I’m better off without him.
But he’s still Daisy’s dad. He has to see her eventually.
Tuesday July 28th
Daisy was eating Dad’s massive bible while
I was on the loo, and it opened on a passage about forgiveness.
And I thought – could it be a sign? A sign I should forgive Nick? Maybe even take him back?
Everyone makes mistakes. I can’t throw away Daisy’s family just because I’m feeling angry.
I’m going to the flat today and maybe we can talk.
Wednesday July 29th
Those B*******s!
Sadie’s stuff was all over our apartment.
She’s LIVING with him!
Nick had the decency to look embarrassed. But only for a minute. Then he spun Daisy around and asked if she liked his new beard.
Daisy giggled and cooed and grabbed at his chin. The little traitor.
Nick asked if I wanted to pick up the rest of my things, like my running gear. He’d put it all in a bin bag for me.
I lied and said he should get ready to buy me a new wardrobe when I finished the marathon.
Brave talk I know.
I stalked out with my head held high.
Then I burst into tears in the lobby.
Thursday July 30th
Dark curtains and sobbing again. It didn’t last all day though, because I had a play date with Althea. She hammered on my bedroom door and wouldn’t stop shouting until I got dressed and came out.
We ended up in the Great Oakley pottery café.
It’s one of those places where kids get to paint their own plates.
Daisy and Wolfgang were way too young in my opinion, but Althea insisted they should express themselves.
Wolfgang’s plates were very intense – all angry slashes, deep purples, blacks and reds. He’s either going to be an artist or need therapy.
He only smashed two things. He would have smashed a third, but the pottery lady wrestled it out of his hands.
She didn’t exactly throw us out. But she made it clear we wouldn’t be getting any more cups of tea.
Told Althea about my trip to Nick’s apartment.
She boomed, ‘That SHIT bag.’ Then she offered to slash Nick’s tyres.
Althea is a good friend.
Friday July 31st
Laura and I had a chat about ‘next steps’, re: Nick and Sadie.
She said, ‘Sort out maintenance quickly. Because it looks like she’s getting her claws in. How pregnant did she look?’