It’s possible I’ll be back to tell you what it’s like to be the menopausal mother of terrible twins. The sleepless nights, the hair-greying worry, the impending good school postcode lottery. Maybe you’ll want to hear how difficult it is at fifty to function on two hours sleep a night and still work in the city. Doubtless you’ll be interested in my dodgy pelvic floor and my lactating breasts. Perhaps you’ll be fascinated by my Twitter updates about windy smiles, first teeth and temper tantrums. We also haven’t found out who the strange man is who’s been hanging around outside Mother’s house in Durham or who’s sending the strange emails. Maybe they’re connected. I intend to do some research when I’m less tied up with two tiny humans.
What I wouldn’t give for fourteen hours of uninterrupted sleep, a gin and tonic and a bath alone. Mick must have read my thoughts. He’s run a bubble bath for me and hands me a magazine.
‘Go and have a soak, I’ll see to the monkeys.’
I’m lying in the bubbles, reflecting on my life. One minute, I’m working in the city, dating disastrous men and waiting for the change of life, the next, my life has changed beyond recognition. Who’d have thought I’d be approaching fifty, sitting amid cuddly toys, knee-deep in nappies and enjoying it? I step out of the bubbles and pat myself dry. No time to apply body lotion – strange noises are emanating from the sitting room.
It transpires Michael Junior shat on the sofa, and Alice is screaming for a feed. Mick’s face has panic strewn across it. He looks like he’s wading through petrol, and someone has struck a match. Bum wipes in one hand and our screaming daughter in the other, he flaps like a menopausal mother hen. I find it cute and endearing. A couple of months down the line and I imagine it will make me want to remove his favourite body parts with a potato peeler.
What advice can I offer you? What pearls of wisdom should I leave you with? An inspirational quote? A time-honored tenet? A meaningful message or word of warning?
#Don’t shag a stranger in a hotel room in Harrogate unless you want sick in your Jimmy Choos.
There’s a knock at the door. Mick opens it to a man who looks vaguely familiar. ‘I’m looking for Roberta Gallbreath,’ he says.
‘That’s me,’ I say.
‘I don’t know whether you’ve been getting my emails. I think I’m your brother.’
Acknowledgments
All mistakes I’m blaming on the menopause. That and the gin imbibed before breakfast. I’d like to thank my three lovely parents, Pat, Tom and Mary because without them I wouldn’t exist. I’ve been surrounded by love all of my life and for that I’m eternally grateful. My fabulous dad took us to the library every week and instilled a love of reading and writing, so I owe my writing career to him. We’re one step closer to the bungalow and a stride further away from The Little Sisters of the Poor! I’ve been inspired by my siblings (Stephen, Phillip, Andrew and Catriona,) particularly my eldest brother, Stephen who wrote stories filled with energy and humour when I was a child. ‘Spot the Dirigible’ stays with me.
I’d like to thank my friends for putting up with me. They’re legends. I can’t name them all because I’m a very popular girl but a special mention to my besties Cat (my sister and friend) Soo and Charlie, Cheryl, Phil, Judy and Peter, Lynne, Katy, Juicy, Moist, Rachel and Vicky. Thanks to my wonderful fellow Femme Fatale of the North East, K A (Kerry) Richardson, Sheila Quigley and Danielle Ramsay who ply me with coffee (or gin) and force me to write. And thanks to Kerry for being my appropriate adult! To Jacky Collins, a wonderful human being.
To the wonderful in laws who’ve told many stories, given much inspiration and ensured my glass is always full: Pat, John, Paula, Clare, Kathleen, Keith, and Little John.
Shout out to all the people I’ve met on courses and at conferences who’ve encouraged me to keep going.
A huge thank you to all the people who have read versions of the book and given me invaluable feedback. Particular thanks to Shelagh Corker and my editor, Lesley Jones who made the book much better than it was. To the TBC members who read and commented, you were all vital. Special thanks to Helen Boyce who organised the Beta readers so wonderfully.
Huge thanks to my amazing publishers, Bombshell for believing in me and allowing me to retain some of the smut. Especially to Betsy, Sumaira and Sarah.
To my Godparents, Sheilagh and Bob Walker. Thanks Auntie Sheilagh for the love and laughter, cake and Champagne. To all my friends and family from all over the world. Thank you for being you.
To my kids who inspire me everyday. I love you to the moon and back infinity times, Roxanne, Leonni, Levi, Kaii, Eskiah, Callum and Jessica.
Last but not least to my gorgeous fiancé, Stephen Russ who lights up my every day. Our relationship is sponsored by Tenna lady. He’s an internet sensation who makes me laugh until I pee my pants and he’s my rock in difficult times. I love you with all my heart.
The M Word Page 19