by Jade West
She let out a groan, threw herself on the bed, arms flailing. “Who cares about matching?!”
The entire snooty populous of the local village. Your teachers. My peers. Your peers. Cynthia Blackthorne and her pigtail-wearing twins. Georgie Graham and her child prodigy mathematics genius pre-schooler. I could give her the whole bloody directory.
Her cute little freckled face pouted up at me, and I almost let sock-gate slide in her favour. Almost.
Until she said the words. The words.
“Dad would let me wear them! Dad wouldn’t make me wear disgusting boring socks!”
Oh yeah. She just shit right out of luck with that line.
I put on my serious-Mum voice. “Get dressed, Ruby. Black socks. Final answer.” My definitely-need-to-leave-the-house phone alarm started up in my pocket. I pulled out my mobile to shut it up. “And now we’re late. Again. Thanks very much.”
The muffled voice of her elder sibling fog-horned from downstairs. “We’re late! Mum! I’ll miss the bus!”
Tell me something I don’t already know. I stuck my head out onto the landing. “I know, Mia, dearest child of mine! Your sister is just putting her black socks on!”
I stared at Ruby until she sighed. “Fine! I’ll wear boring-smoring socks to school!”
Praise the fucking Lord.
Monday morning is my morning. You wouldn’t think it, not pre-nine a.m. while chaos reigns all around me. Not with two girls to get ready for school, suddenly remembering the homework they swore blind they didn’t have over the weekend, and the sports shorts that they really, really need that afternoon but forgot to put in the laundry basket. You wouldn’t think it was my morning as the cat tries to trip me up while I’m juggling breakfast plates, and Nanna is reminding me for the hundredth time to pick up her pills from the chemist, like I’ve done every single Monday in the past seven years we’ve been living with her.
You wouldn’t think Monday morning belonged to me at all.
But it does.
It’s my one single weekday morning without both work and kids, and I make the most of it. Or I try.
Ladies who lunch.
Only it’s ladies who grab coffee down the local coffee shop. We are always well done by lunch.
I really needed it today. A couple of hours of just being me. Not Mum-Jodie, or Jodie-from-the-cafe, or Granddaughter-cum-Carer-Jodie, or Trent’s-ex-Jodie. Just Jodie.
I could’ve air punched when I saw a cluster of kids still standing at the bus stop. I leaned across to kiss Mia as she gathered up her school bag, but she didn’t smile. A few weeks into high school and it was still a tough routine to get accustomed to, I guess. She’d hardly say a peep about it without prompting.
“You sure you’re alright? Got everything?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.”
“Ok, good. Have fun, poppet, see you later.”
I waved her off, beeped the horn and I finally got a lacklustre smile.
“I never want to go to high school,” Ruby announced from the backseat. “High school stinks.”
“How do you know?” I met her eyes in the rearview before I pulled away. “You might love high school.”
“Mia doesn’t.”
My hackles prickled, mother-senses on high alert. “Mia does.”
She shook her head. “Mia hates high school. She said so.”
“She did?”
Ruby nodded emphatically. Then she pointed back through the window. “That kid with the glasses, Tyler Dean, he’s mean to her.”
“Mean to her?”
“Yeah, calls her Mia-stink-a-lot. Get it? Me A Stink A Lot.” She sighed. “Other names, too. Names I’m not allowed to say.”
“She told you this?”
Ruby pulled a face. “No! She never tells me anything! She told Daisy on Skype. I heard.”
I drove down the hill and indicated into Pontrilas Primary School, pulling onto the verge since there were no spaces left. “How about you have a little think about what else you know, hey? You can tell me later.”
“And be a snitch?”
I opened her car door, grabbed her sports kit. “And be someone who answers her mum when she’s asked a question. That’s not snitching, Ruby.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, ok.”
We trudged to the playground, and my curly-haired bundle of backchat was off like a shot to find her friends. I had to practically chase her to hand over her sports bag. I took my regular position at the leafy tree, with a big-arsed smile plastered on my face and sweet little waves for the other village mums. At least I’d successfully transitioned from PJs in time for the school run today, and you could hardly even see the butter smear on my top from breakfast. Adulting win.
I sometimes wondered if motherhood was like this for everyone. Constantly feeling like a hot mess, I mean. They say you can’t judge what you see of other people and their parenthood goals statuses on Facebook. They say you’re seeing everyone else’s show reel while you’re living through the uncut edition, but seeing some of the mothers in the playground around me, I wonder. They always seem to have this shit totally nailed, and still have time for Pinterest-worthy baking projects.
Jesus, I hate baking.
I soaked in the September morning sun, my mind already zooming ahead to a hot mug of cappuccino and the latest gossip. I’d been ingratiated into the ladies’ club by my best friend, Tonya, whose friendship had been forged in steel back when we were kids, staying strong into adulthood through countless break-ups and job crises. She’d been my confidante and cheerleader through my two pregnancies and the epic break-up with Daddy Trent, too. That made us virtually blood sisters. Closer than blood sisters, since my real life one drove me insane through at least half the time I spent in her company.
The other ladies in our little coffee club were alright, not quite so close to my heart, but nice enough. Mandy, Steph, and Debbie. All local. All born and bred here.
Weren’t we all.
The bell rang to signal the end of my parental responsibilities for the school day, and my heart soared. Thank fuck for that. I was already disappearing back towards my car when a voice rang out from the outdoor sandpit.
“Jodie! Jodie! You-hoo! Jodie! Can I have a quick word?”
I toyed with the opinion of fake-deafness, but Miss Davies, Ruby’s teacher, was at my elbow before I could reach stage-exit.
“Hi,” I said. “Sure, what’s up?”
She did a little sigh, and pulled that face. The face that says your kid’s been up to no good. Oh bollocks.
“I’m glad I caught you,” she said. “It’s just, Ruby…”
My heart dropped.
“…one of the other mums heard something worrying last week…”
“Worrying?”
She nodded, pulled an apologetic face and lowered her voice. “Bad words. She’s been saying bad words.”
I could feel the heat on my cheeks. “Bad words?”
I hoped for maybe a bloody or a crap. Maybe even a sneaky little shit. I mean, bad words have scale, right?
She leaned in. “Very bad words…”
Great. Just great.
I held out my hands. “I’m sorry… Ruby knows not to say bad words… we don’t say bad words in our house…”
It wasn’t really much of a lie, either. Ruby hears me swear, but not at her, not much, not unless I’ve really lost my shit. But you can’t say that to her smiling teacher, can you?
No way, of course none of us swear. Not me. Never bloodied and shitted and fucked in my life. And Ruby does know, both girls know they can’t get away with saying nasty shit, I wouldn’t dream of letting that slip by on my watch.
I said as much to Miss Davies, and she nodded sweetly but she wasn’t really listening.
“The C word,” she said, just like that. “Ruby used the C word.”
Oh the shame. The terrible shame. My parenting goals crawled into a hole and died right there in front of me. And I knew.
Trent.
King of the C word.
Otherwise known as God in Ruby’s eyes — Daddy’s girl doesn’t even come close.
Miss Davies knew it, too. Her face said it all.
She shrugged. “Look, Jodie, for what it’s worth it wasn’t at anyone. She’s not that kind of child. We have to act on it, but Ruby’s a nice girl, she just has some challenges with managing her frustration. She kicked out at the netball hoop after she missed a shot… called it a stupid C and told it where it could shove itself.”
I winced. I actually winced. “I’ll talk to her,” I said. “It won’t happen again.”
She patted my arm in sympathy. “Thanks, Jodie.”
I pulled out my phone as soon as she left me.
King C Word himself could deal with this one.
By the time I’d shaken off Miss Davies, sent a text to Darren C-word Trent about our co-parenting issues, grabbed Nanna’s prescription from the chemist and made the house look basically habitable, I was the last lady to arrive at the Velvet Bean coffee shop. Yes, that’s actually its name, and I work there when I’m not on the customer side of the counter. That means, in real life terms, that from the very first day I stepped foot behind it and donned my Velvet Bean apron, I’ve been known as Jodie-from-the-cafe and my business is officially everyone else’s business, and theirs is mine.
That’s how it works around here.
I got a wave from Tonya as I stepped through the door, but the others were too deep in conversation to give me a second glance. They were a huddle of whispers and giggles, eyebrows raised as Mandy recounted some village happening or another. I grabbed a cappuccino from my boss Lorraine and made my way to the table, letting out a sigh of relief as I slipped into my seat, hoping beyond hope for a funny tale or two to take my mind off my own crap.
I’m sure I caught the end of a ‘hung like a horse’ comment, but then the gossip stopped. Entirely.
Not for an interlude of hellos and smiles, or to give me a chance to catch up with the flow of conversation. Nothing so innocuous as that. It just stopped. Dead.
Nobody said a word.
“What?” I said. “Have I got shit on my face or something?” I patted my cheeks, but couldn’t feel anything out of the ordinary. I didn’t even have any makeup to smudge.
Silence.
“So what’s the news?” I settled into my chair, kept my smile bright.
Tonya cleared her throat. “Mandy was just, ergh… She was just saying how she had a…”
“It was nothing,” Mandy interrupted.
“Nothing?” I asked. “It didn’t sound like nothing…”
She shrugged. “Just a date. Nothing too much of note.”
I’d have believed her if the whole lot of them weren’t staring straight into their coffee cups and not at me.
“A date?” I prompted.
She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “A date, yeah. A kind of date.”
“Booty call,” Steph said.
I smiled. “Someone got lucky, then. Tell me all, I’m desperate for a good giggle. Morning from hell.” I sipped my drink and waited. Kept waiting.
Debbie started talking to Steph about her new blonde highlights, and they all jumped in, jabbering on about some boring hair crap that nobody really gave a shit about.
“Come on!” I laughed. “Don’t hold out on me. What’s going on?”
“It wasn’t anything,” Mandy said. “Just a… I had a…”
“An orgy,” Debbie blurted. “Mandy had a gang bang last night. Three men to herself!” The others looked horrified, but Debbie shrugged. “It’s all over Facebook, it’s hardly a secret…”
I nearly spat out my coffee as I giggled, but they weren’t joining in. I looked around the faces. “Seriously? For real? Three men at once?”
Mandy shrugged. “It was a… fantasy… of mine…”
Isn’t it everyone’s? Three hot guys at once. Ripped and well hung and well aware of what to do with it…
I stared at her, willing her to tell me everything. This kind of shit was like balm for my frazzled, chore-shackled soul. I could practically feel the restraints of Mum-Jodie slipping away at the thought of some decent sex-gossip.
I leaned in, elbows on the table. “So? Was it… good?”
Mandy nodded, and her face lit up like an arcade after dark. “It was absolutely. Fucking. Amazing.”
Tonya coughed, shook her head at Mandy and my stomach did a weird little flip. “What?” I said. “Why the weirdness? What’s going on?”
Debbie smiled straight at me. “So, how was your morning?”
I laughed. “My morning sucked, same as every other school morning. Only this morning I found the washing machine had decided to go all kamikaze overnight and take a load of school uniform down with it, Ruby had a tantrum over black socks, I found out Mia hates high school and then found out Ruby’s been taking anger-management classes from her father.” I sighed. “But none of this is even remotely as interesting as taking three guys at once, and you all know it, so what’s the big deal?”
I waited, again. They said nothing — again.
And then Steph checked her phone. “Ooh, is that the time?” She downed her coffee and gathered her bag, and the others followed suit, except Tonya who stayed put.
“What?” I said, and then I saw it. The empty cake plates. The almost empty mugs. They’d been here before me, much before our regular time slot. I felt ridiculously hurt.
“We’ll meet up again next week,” Debbie said. “Catch up properly.”
“But it’s not even eleven…” I said.
I watched in silence as they all said their goodbyes, dumbstruck as they air-kissed me and told me to have a great week. I was watching them across the street when Tonya sighed.
“I’ll get us another coffee,” she said.
I grabbed her wrist. “I don’t want another coffee, Tonya, I want to know what’s going on. What time did you get here?”
She held up her hands. “This wasn’t me. I didn’t know you weren’t in on the earlier start time.”
I folded my arms. “I’m hardly a prude, Tonya. Is that what they think? Do they think I’m a prude?” I shrugged. “I’d love to hear about a bloody orgy, same as everyone else around here.”
She stared right at me. “I said they should just tell you, you’re going to find out soon enough anyway. Mandy’s vague Facebook status got over fifty likes last night, PM me comments all over the place.”
I hadn’t checked Facebook the evening before, I’d been too busy watching old films with Nanna. I pulled out my phone, typed in Mandy Taylor.
Best night ever, her status said. Some fantasies are even better in real life! Then a load of hashtags about bucket lists and being a bad girl.
It seemed the whole village knew about this shit already, but not me. Clearly this gossip wasn’t for me.
I asked the obvious question. Spat it out like a rotten egg. “Who was it? Who did she fuck?”
“Buck,” she said, and that made sense. Buck and Mandy had been flirting all summer. I’d seen it as well as heard it.
“And?”
“Little Petey…”
My stomach dropped. Petey was new, Trent’s young apprentice mechanic. Cute and blonde and Polish. A nice guy.
She didn’t need to continue, but she did.
“And Trent.” She groaned. “Mandy fucked Trent last night.”
I shrugged, pretended it didn’t matter. “Trent’s a free agent. He fucks loads of people, so I gather. That’s his prerogative.”
She shook her head. “Not like this, not three on one.”
I thought it through, Trent, Buck, and Petey, with Mandy Taylor. Trent doesn’t even like Mandy Taylor. Mandy’s nice enough, but she isn’t his type, not that I knew.
Maybe I didn’t know.
“She paid them,” Tonya said. “Trent’s running a gigolo service down there. They call themselves the bang gang.”
The thought made me snort-la
ugh. “The bang gang? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Trent’s no bloody gigolo, he struggles with people skills at the best of times.”
“Not with these people skills, he doesn’t. Not according to Mandy.” Tonya looked so sorry. “It was him, Jo. She gave them three hundred, and that was a massive discount apparently.”
“Three hundred quid?! For a fuck?” I still couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t imagine it.
She nodded. “Worth every penny, Mandy said. She’s planning on a repeat performance when her wages come in.” She sighed. “I don’t imagine she’ll be alone, either. Not when she’s finished mouthing off about how brilliant it was.”
I put another sugar in my coffee. “Everyone knows?”
“It’s Mandy Taylor. I imagine it’s reached the valleys by now…”
I looked around the coffee shop, the regular tables of regular people, and they were looking. Looking at me.
Everyone fucking knew.
“The kids,” I said. “What am I going to tell the fucking kids when they start asking if their dad fucks for money?”
Tonya leaned in. “Maybe it’ll go over their heads? Maybe they won’t know anything about any of it? They’re young… It could blow over without them knowing…”
I raised my eyebrows. “Mia is at high school now. She’s fully aware of where babies come from. Somehow I doubt it’s still the fluffy, biologically slanted version of the birds and the bees that I told her.”
She stopped trying to make me feel better. “He probably didn’t know,” she said. “That Mandy would blab like this, I mean. He hardly knows her.”
“I’d say he knows her pretty fucking well from the sounds of it.”
“She’s probably exaggerating… you know what she’s like… you can’t take her side of the story as gospel…”
“No,” I said, and downed my coffee. “I can’t take her word for it. Which is exactly why I’m going to hear it from the stud himself.” I grabbed my bag. “Right now.”
She grabbed hers, too.