Bad Mother's Detox - a Romantic Comedy: Funny Romance (Bad Mother's Romance Book 2)

by Suzy K Quinn

  ‘Forget it,’ I said. ‘Your focus should be on Daisy and your new family.’

  ‘It is,’ he insisted. ‘But paying money is so final, isn’t it?’

  Then Nick tried to cuddle Daisy in her big snowsuit. She looked like an alarmed starfish.

  ‘Look, Nick,’ I said, taking Daisy before she cried. ‘I’m being more than reasonable. I just want you to start paying up as of now. That’s it. No back payments or anything.’

  Nick got all actor-teary then, and said, ‘You’re right. I’m no good at being an adult. I fucked up …’

  Blah blah blah.

  Asked if he still had my bank details, and he said, ‘Yeah, yeah. I’ll sort it, okay?’

  Wednesday 18th January

  Alex took me to the cinema last night in Leicester Square.

  He was very gentlemanly, sending a driver to pick me up and helping me out of the car when I reached the busy city.

  As we walked through the crowds, Alex held me tight and glared at anyone who jostled me.

  ‘Did you wear your seatbelt in the car?’ Alex asked, as we headed into the cinema.

  ‘Of course I did,’ I laughed. ‘What is this obsession with seatbelts?’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Alex. ‘It’s to do with my mother. She never wears one. It used to worry me to death as a child.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘Now I know my mother is a law unto herself. So I just have you to worry about. And Daisy.’

  As we took our seats, Alex grilled me about meeting Nick. He wanted to know every detail – if Nick had arrived on time, what was said, if Nick had done anything ‘inappropriate’.

  I told Alex that Nick was his usual sidestepping, feckless self.

  Alex said, ‘I don’t like you seeing him.’

  We were silent for a bit after that.

  Then my phone rang.

  It was Mum.

  I’d asked her only to call in an emergency, but our ideas about emergencies are different.

  She rang three times during the film to ask:

  Where I’d last seen Daisy’s sleep blanket.

  If I could sing Daisy a bedtime song down the phone.

  If I wanted to do Facetime, and see Daisy ‘sleeping like an angel’.

  The other cinemagoers got a bit fed up with me – especially when I sang a whispery lullaby.

  There were a few exaggerated huffs and sighs, and someone whispered, ‘For goodness sakes!’

  I felt I couldn’t go to the toilet after causing so much disruption, even though I really needed to.

  It got quite uncomfortable by the end, because the film was nearly three hours long and had lots of underwater scenes. Plus, the man next to me had a particularly large slurpy drink.

  Thursday 19th January

  Fucking bloody bollocking NICK!

  OH MY GOD, I was so blind with fury this morning that I put my dress on backwards.

  Have just received a signed-for letter from Nick’s solicitor, saying he is applying for RESIDENCY of Daisy.

  This is absolutely outrageous.

  After being absent for the best part of a year, not paying maintenance and getting my bridesmaid pregnant, Nick now thinks Daisy should live with him.

  Why? WHY? What is he playing at?

  He must know there is no fucking way ON EARTH he’ll get residency.

  The letter said that, prior to any court hearing, Nick and I must attend a Mediation Information and Advice Meeting (or MIAM).

  MIAM looks a lot like ‘maim’, as in, to hurt or cause harm.

  Couldn’t those mediators have thought of a better acronym?

  After mediation, Nick will apply for a Child Arrangement Order.

  I’m so FURIOUS.

  How DARE he?

  Friday 20th January

  Rang Nick twenty times, but he didn’t answer – the cowardly little shit.

  I marched around to Helen and Henry’s house with Daisy in tow.

  Normally, I’d rather lick rats than visit my ex-mother-in-law, but I needed someone to shout at and decided she’d have to do.

  Helen was on her way out, pulling red-leather driving gloves onto her sinewy hands. Her manic blue eyes looked startled when she saw me, and she tipped her head back to look down her long, bird-beak nose.

  ‘I was just going into town,’ she said. ‘Whatever it is, can’t it wait?’

  I told her that no, it bloody well couldn’t wait. And how dare Nick apply for residency when he’s been an absent father and not paid a penny in maintenance.

  Helen gave a patronising smile, and patted the ends of her wiry black bob. ‘He wants you back, Juliette. And a chance to father his daughter. How long are you going to humiliate him like this?’

  ‘Humiliate him?’ I exclaimed.

  ‘Neither of you is perfect. You’re both still learning to be parents.’

  ‘Fuck off, Helen,’ I said. ‘I’m with my little girl EVERY DAY. Every single day. What does your son do?’

  ‘Nicholas hasn’t had chance to be a father,’ said Helen. ‘You’ve kept his daughter from him.’

  ‘What a load of bollocks,’ I said. ‘Nick didn’t ring me for months after the wedding. And he hasn’t paid a penny towards Daisy.’

  ‘I’m not going to talk about finances,’ Helen snapped.

  ‘He’s just doing this to dodge the maintenance issue, isn’t he?’ I shouted. ‘He lives in London for Christ’s sake. What court would give an absent father residency and move a child from their location?’

  Helen raised an eyebrow. ‘As a matter of fact, Nicholas is moving closer to home. We’re investing in a proper family home for him. Somewhere near Henry and I.’

  I said a lot of bad words then.

  Henry lumbered into the hall in his tweed jacket, buttons straining over his large belly, gingery-grey hair in strands over his bald head. ‘What’s all this?’

  I said a cheery hello to Henry, then barked at Helen: ‘You should be ashamed of yourself. AND your son.’

  ‘I don’t have time for this, Juliette,’ said Helen, pushing on unnecessary sunglasses and strolling towards her silver Land Rover.

  ‘Tell Nick he’ll never get residency of Daisy,’ I shouted after her. ‘NEVER.’

  Helen turned, gave me another patronising smile and said, ‘Perhaps if you want to rethink your behaviour – these maintenance threats – then Nicholas will rethink his position too.’

  Saturday 21st January

  Finally got through to Nick.

  Asked him what the hell he was playing at.

  ‘Desperate men do desperate things, Juliette,’ he said.

  ‘No one’s stopping you seeing your little girl,’ I shouted. ‘But how on earth can you think this could be in Daisy’s best interests? Putting us through a custody battle?’

  ‘I want my family back,’ he said.

  ‘This isn’t about what you want,’ I said. ‘Think of Daisy, for goodness sake. What’s best for her?’

  ‘When Daisy grows up, she’ll thank me,’ Nick insisted. ‘She’ll say, “Clever Daddy! Mummy was being silly, but you made me live with you and then Mummy came back.” You’ll see.’

  Ugh!

  ‘You’re a spoiled child, Nick,’ I said. ‘WE’RE NOT GETTING BACK TOGETHER!’

  Sunday 22nd January

  Alex called.

  He was in the First Class lounge at Heathrow airport, about to jet off to Dubai, and wanted to tell me how much he was going to miss me.

  Aw.

  Told him about Nick wanting residency, and he was suitably disgusted.

  ‘The man can’t even dress his age,’ said Alex. ‘Why is he trying to play the father all of a sudden? He can’t look after himself, let alone a child.’

  ‘Another child,’ I said. ‘Sadie’s had her baby.’

  ‘Did the hospital check it for horns and claws?’ Alex asked.

  Which I thought was pretty funny.

  ‘Why would Spencer want residency?’ said Alex, in a pondering vo
ice like a murder-mystery detective.

  ‘He says he wants his family back,’ I said.

  Alex was silent for a long time. Then he said, ‘I suspected as much.’

  ‘Nick’s a lot of hot air,’ I said. ‘You can never trust what comes out of his mouth.’

  ‘You shouldn’t see that man anymore,’ said Alex, his voice low. ‘He’s not to be trusted.’

  ‘What?’ I said. ‘I have to see him. He’s Daisy’s father.’

  Silence.

  Then Alex said, ‘I hate that he’s in your life.’

  More silence.

  ‘Alex?’

  ‘I have to go. It’s getting busy here.’

  It did sound a little noisy at his end. Someone was kicking off about the buffet lobster tails being ‘F-ing tiny’ and the caviar trough running dry.

  Monday 23rd January

  Nick asked if he could come to the pub today to see Daisy.

  Although I’m still furious with Nick, I agreed for Daisy’s sake.

  He is already over an hour late.

  Just left an angry message saying that if he can’t turn up on time, he shouldn’t bother.

  Have got the tea mugs ready for when Nick finally shows up. My tea will be in the striped mug. Obviously.

  Evening

  Two hours late! AND Nick brought Helen with him.

  I had to physically restrain Mum when she saw Helen on the doorstep. She wanted to squirt her with Callum’s Super Soaker.

  I screeched at Nick about responsibility and time keeping and HOW DARE HE TAKE ME TO COURT, then slammed the door in his beaten-puppy face.

  Oh god! I was SO FURIOUS!

  Helen tapped softly on the door. ‘Juliette. Be reasonable. Nick wants to see his daughter.’

  ‘You’d never be late for a business meeting, Helen,’ I shouted. ‘What’s your excuse about this one?’

  ‘Good news,’ said Helen brightly. ‘Your joint bank account has been unfrozen and put into your name. So you have access to funds. Can’t you see how reasonable we’re being?’

  I shouted back: ‘That’s my own bloody money Helen – NOT A PENNY OF IT WAS NICK’S. TELL HIM TO PAY ME MAINTENANCE AND DROP THIS BLOODY COURT CASE!’

  Silence.

  Then I heard Helen mutter, ‘She’s obviously not seeing reason. Let’s go and see if the café still has that nice soup on.’

  Tuesday 24th January

  Alex called this evening from a balmy balcony in Dubai.

  ’I miss you,’ he said. ‘I hate being so far away.’

  Told him I missed him too, then filled him in about yesterday.

  ‘Well what did you expect?’ said Alex. ‘Nick Spencer didn’t treat you respectfully before. Why would he start now?’

  ‘Nick’s just Nick,’ I said. ‘He’s a mess – it’s nothing personal.’

  ‘Getting your bridesmaid pregnant isn’t personal?’

  ‘You don’t have to be brutally honest all the time,’ I said.

  ‘Sometimes, the unvarnished truth is a kindness.’

  ‘I’m fully aware I had a baby with the wrong person,’ I said. ‘You don’t need to rub it in.’

  ‘I’m not rubbing anything in. The last thing I want to remember is a woman I … care for deeply … is saddled with Nick Spencer for the rest of her life.’

  Wednesday 25th January

  Met with super solicitor, Jeremy Samuels, today to discuss residency.

  Jeremy is still on Alex’s payroll, which I feel awkward about. But am planning to pay Alex back with interest as soon as I start work, and will get legal aid soon.

  ‘The courts usually favour the mother,’ Jeremy assured me. ‘But they also take into account lifestyle, the child’s physical and moral wellbeing and so on.’

  He asked about my living arrangements, income, lifestyle etc.

  I have to admit, my life doesn’t look good on paper.

  Told Jeremy that I’m still living above the Oakley Arms.

  ‘How many people live at your parent’s residence?’ Jeremy asked.

  ‘Seven,’ I told him. ‘Me, Mum, Dad, Daisy, my little sister Brandi and her son, Callum. And my cousin has come to stay.’

  ‘Mm,’ said Jeremy. ‘Rather crowded.’

  He seems confident that I’ll get sole residency, though.

  ‘This is nothing more than official unpleasantness,’ he said. ‘And at the very least, it’ll firm up visitation for you.’

  So, every cloud, and all of that.

  Thursday 26th January

  Finally got through to the Give a Damn HR department.

  They offered me an interview.

  For my own job.

  Was a bit taken aback.

  ‘I’ve been on maternity leave,’ I said. ‘Why do I have to interview for a job I already have?’

  Julie in HR told me, quite bitterly, that lots of things had changed.

  Some staff have been ‘let go’. And the old coffee machine has gone, replaced with one that doesn’t give the right change.

  ‘I’ve lost five pounds forty so far,’ said Julie. ‘And the vending machine company never answers their phone.’

  The interview for my own job is this Monday, which feels soon, but I suppose that’s not a bad thing.

  Am pretty keen to get back to work.

  Aside from the ‘getting my own place’ issue, using my brain again (what’s left of it) will be nice. There are only so many Teletubbies episodes you can watch without thinking you’ve taken LSD.

  Texted Nick again demanding maintenance payments.

  No reply.

  Friday 27th January

  Feel oddly nervous about the interview on Monday. It’s been ages since I’ve been in a professional environment.

  Let’s just hope my body behaves itself.

  Since Daisy, my intestines have never been the same. They make odd ‘wheee!’ noises for no reason at all. Sometimes, going to the toilet is like a machine-gun going off.

  Being around noisy children, you don’t notice your bodily noises. But offices are so still and quiet. The slightest stomach gurgle and heads turn.

  Still no maintenance from Nick.

  Saturday 28th January

  Told Mum that Nick still hasn’t paid maintenance.

  She was outraged.

  ‘His mum earns a fortune,’ she said. ‘A couple of hundred quid a month is nothing for her.’

  ‘But it’s not Helen’s responsibility to pay for Daisy,’ I said.

  ‘She brought up that feckless excuse of a son,’ said Mum. ‘Who else is to blame?’ Then she offered to slash Nick’s tyres.

  Nana Joan, who’d come round to watch Game of Thrones on our big telly, offered to put shit through Nick’s letterbox. Possibly her own – she wasn’t specific.

  Why are the women in our family so prone to anger and violence? I must take after Dad, because the Scottish side of my family is very calm. Perhaps because they live in a village with more sheep than people.

  Sunday 29th January

  Ugh, just bumped into Helen, whilst helping Daisy cruise around the village streets on her VTech walker.

  Helen looked like a velociraptor, wearing a hat reminiscent of a Mr Kipling’s fondant fancy.

  She turned pointedly away from me, and told Henry in a loud voice,

  ‘I’m so pleased for Nicholas. After so many false starts, this little house will be perfect for him. And so close to us too!’

  Pretended not to hear her. If Nick, and presumably Sadie, really are moving nearby, I just want to pretend it isn’t happening.

  Henry smiled apologetically and gave Daisy a little wave.

  I feel sorry for Henry being married to Helen, and inheriting Nick as a stepson. Henry’s all right, really.

  I said to Daisy in an equally loud voice, ‘Mind the dragon, Daisy. It’s over there, wearing that stupid hat.’

  Helen pursed her lips and dragged Henry into the church.

  I hope she spent time reflecting on what a terrible pe
rson she is.

  Monday 30th January

  Got fined £50 on the train for ‘failure to possess a valid ticket.’

  Burst into silly woman tears when the inspector read out the charges.

  ‘I have a baby,’ I sobbed. ‘I honestly meant to buy the right ticket. I didn’t realise my railcard had expired.’

  The inspector crossed his arms and said, ‘I’ve heard all the excuses, love.’ Like I was some sort of criminal.

  I asked where Railway Bob was – the ticket inspector who lets you travel on yesterday’s ticket and prints off blanks for the kids to play with.

  The inspector sneered, ‘Bob’s too soft for the metropolitan route.’

  So all in all, the interview for my own job cost me £90.

  Plus lunch.

  Being in London during rush hour was full on. People had one agenda – to get somewhere quickly. And if that meant stamping on someone’s foot, so be it.

  Give a Damn has changed a lot since I went on maternity leave.

  The old 1970s brown offices have been painted electric blue, and there’s a trendy brushed-metal logo.

  My old boss, Alan Bender, has suffered a nervous breakdown, and been replaced by Hari Khan, a floppy-haired thirty-something who wears loose jeans and Adidas trainers.

  The old marketing department has been ‘revamped’, meaning it’s not there anymore. And there is a ‘Street Collection Team’ – a gang of twenty-somethings who bother shoppers for money.

  Hari took one look at me in my new Whistles suit and said, ‘You look the part. Like a curly-haired Lois Lane.’

  I made sure I didn’t turn around at that point, knowing there was a play dough stain on the back of my skirt.

  ‘How about you be my new head of training?’ Hari continued. ‘You can start this Thursday.’ Then he turned to the office and said, ‘Team. Hasn’t Juliette done well today? Can I get a whoop whoop?’

  A muted ‘Whoop whoop’ rang around the office.