Mrs Coco quickly stuffed the special choc drops back into her bag. But Dr Thomas had other ideas. He held his hand out, like a teacher confiscating a packet of chewing gum.
‘Thank you. And if you have anything similar in your handbag, Mrs Ted, you can hand it over to me now.’
‘It’s Mrs Chandler,’ Liz reminded him.
‘Mrs Chandler, of course. How could I forget?’ He shook his head in amusement and gave Liz a smile she might have enjoyed in any other context. ‘Pringles and cake mix.’
Chapter Fourteen
After Waggy Weight Loss, Liz knew she needed to take Ted for a walk. A proper walk. The day had started off quite nicely, weather-wise, but it had turned distinctly grey while they’d been at Dr Thomas’s surgery, and Liz still had a banging hangover thanks to her big night out. Corinne had texted with regard to that.
‘Did I leave my knickers at your house?’
To which Liz could only respond ‘!!!!!!’ Corinne hadn’t even come back to her house. Corinne’s wild approach to dating made Liz feel quite queasy. One of the night out’s big topics of conversation was whether or not Liz should bite the bullet and put herself on Tinder. Liz’s conclusion? No chance. She maintained that it was much nicer and safer to meet people in an organic way. Through work. Or on a dog walk.
‘I’ll take you out after lunch,’ she promised Ted.
What was lunch going to be? For Ted, it was half a bowl of dry biscuits. For Liz. Pretty much the same. She needed to go shopping. She would have done a shop on Friday afternoon but since Saskia wasn’t going to be at home that weekend, Liz thought a better investment of her time would be to get her hair done for her girls’ night out instead.
Oh Saskia. The only communication Liz had had from her daughter since attempting to kiss her goodbye on Friday morning was a single word text: ‘Yes’ in response to Liz’s: ‘Are you at your dad’s yet? Are you having a nice day? Please be sure to remind him that I’ve got a weekend training course in Plymouth at the beginning of December so we’ll need to coordinate our diaries.’
‘Yes.’
That was all.
Relations between mother and daughter had been frostier than ever since the chicken curry affair. Liz felt like an utter failure when she saw the contempt in her daughter’s eyes. Which was often. She was so disappointed. It didn’t matter how many times Liz heard or read that mother–daughter relationships often hit a bumpy patch during the teenage years, Liz had been so sure she and Saskia wouldn’t end up like that.
When Saskia was little, she thought Liz was a goddess. She couldn’t get enough of her. She lisped ‘I love Mummy’ almost as soon as she could speak. The first drawing she brought home from playgroup was a picture of Liz with long yellow hair, entitled (in the childminder’s handwriting): ‘To the best mum in the world.’
Little Saskia wanted to do whatever Liz did. She wanted to put on Liz’s make-up and try on her shoes. She wanted to do the dusting and follow her round when she was hoovering. Ian even got hold of a model of a dentist’s chair – he had connections with a company that made surgery furniture – so that Saskia could pretend to be a dental hygienist.
‘Just like mummy,’ she said.
Now? Not so much. Ten years later, Saskia pronounced Liz’s job ‘gross’. ‘What do you want to be smelling people’s bad breath all day long for?’
‘To pay for your iPhone?’ was Liz’s reply.
Saskia certainly didn’t want to try on her mother’s shoes or clothes any more.
‘Could your wardrobe be any more frumpy?’ Saskia muttered when Liz told her she could borrow a Fair Isle jumper for something they were doing at the NEWTS.
Liz tried to see that moment as an opportunity to learn and grow. A chance to bring Saskia a little closer. Crikey, it was hard.
‘Maybe you could take me round the shops,’ she said. ‘And pick out some things you think might suit me better?’
Saskia didn’t even answer. At least not verbally. She just raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes.
Where once Liz had been the centre of Saskia’s universe, now Ian was most definitely the parent with the upper hand. Even though he was the one who’d walked out, Liz was pretty sure Ian didn’t get a fraction of the grief she had to endure. It was easy for him. Most of the time, he didn’t even have to live with the bundle of hormones that was their daughter. He got her for two nights at a time. Three max. It wasn’t hard to grit your teeth and get through a weekend with stony-faced Saskia if you knew you didn’t have to do Monday morning as well.
And of course he was spoiling her in a desperate attempt to make up for having torn the family apart. When the three of them lived together, Ian was actually pretty good at laying down the law. Now that he was living in Exeter with the Busty Bloggette, it was all very different. Every time Ian dropped Saskia off at the former family home in Newbay, Saskia was carrying a bag from a fancy boutique that contained the sort of clothes he never would have let her wear before. The sort of clothes that Liz associated with Brittney. Stevie-Nicks-meets-a-stripper gear. Saskia’s style, like her eating habits, was definitely coming under Brittney’s influence.
Indeed, that Saturday, Brittney had posted a blog update entitled ‘Retail therapy!’
‘Can anything bring two women closer together more quickly than a shopping trip?’ she asked.
‘Yeah,’ Liz snarled. ‘You could bang their heads together.’
Liz read the blog and self-medicated with a single wrapped biscuit – pinched from a dental conference buffet – that she’d found in the bottom of her handbag. A biscuit for lunch. Brittney was probably spiralising a gherkin.
It was so difficult not to get disheartened. Liz knew that Saskia was harder on her than she was on her father because Liz was the one who was always around. Always there for her. And we all lash out at the ones we love, right? Eventually, Saskia would find her balance again and their relationship would improve. All the same, Liz wanted to be the one who was taking Saskia on shopping trips and sharing giggles over the kale power shakes. Well, maybe not the kale power shakes.
‘Come on, Ted,’ said Liz at about two o’clock. ‘Let’s go for that walk.’
It was almost the end of September. The summer crowds had all but disappeared and the beaches had been reclaimed by the locals. From May until the middle of September, the main beach at Newbay, the one which sported the newly renovated Victorian pier, was strictly off limits to animals, even if they were wearing a lead. Liz preferred the town’s smaller beach, Duckpool Bay, anyway. That’s where she was headed on Saturday afternoon. Dogs were always allowed on Duckpool.
By three o’clock, Liz’s hangover headache was just a dull throb. With every step she took closer to the coast, she was sure she could feel even that remnant of the previous night’s bad behaviour fading away. A walk really was a cure for so many things. Her back ached less the more she moved. It brought colour to her cheeks. She thought she could even feel her thighs shrinking. OK, that was wishful thinking. By the time she got to the coast road down to Duckpool Bay, Liz was feeling altogether better. She even chuckled to herself as she remembered that morning’s Waggy Weigh-In. Mrs Coco’s face was a picture when Dr Thomas caught her dishing out treats to her fat little pooch.
Liz was quietly determined that over the next six weeks she was going to confound Dr Thomas’s expectations. This walk was just the start of it. She would make sure Ted did at least three miles a day. She would stick to the diet. She would prove to Dr Thomas that she loved her little dog. And it would be good for her too. She’d get more exercise. Meanwhile, the cookery class would help her to sort out her own eating habits. If she took the time to cook from scratch even once a week, she might be less inclined to stuff herself when the food was finally on the table.
Yes, she was going to make some changes for the better. How long does it take to form a habit? Hadn’t she recently read about it somewhere? Ah. Now she remembered. It was on Brittney’s Blog. Never mind. It definite
ly wasn’t an original thought. The Dalai Lama had almost certainly said, ‘It takes six weeks to make or break a habit’ in one of his addresses to the faithful. Liz was going to prove him right.
As she bent down to unclip Ted’s lead so that he could run across the sand, Liz was really quite positive about what she could achieve before the end of that year. A fitter dog. A fitter self. A better mother–daughter relationship. Maybe even an Instagram-worthy cake?
Saskia would be turning sixteen at the beginning of November. Sixteen birthdays and Liz had almost never baked her a birthday cake from scratch. At least not since Saskia’s first birthday when Liz and Ian hosted a special party at their home. Liz had so wanted to impress her in-laws (and her own family) with the perfect Victoria sponge. It came out like a Frisbee.
Liz heard her mother-in-law telling her sister-in-law with regard to what Ian saw in Liz, ‘I understand she makes him laugh.’
‘Yeah, with a cake like that he needs a good sense of humour,’ said Ian’s big sister Michelle.
The following year, Liz delegated cake duties to M&S and had done the same every year since.
The memory of Saskia’s first birthday cake made Liz smile a little sadly. This year would be different. Since Saskia turned fifteen, Liz had been plotting how she might make her sixteenth birthday an especially big event. She’d been squirelling away a fiver a week in a special account to make sure Saskia got a really good present. Would she want a party? Liz wasn’t sure. She probably wouldn’t want a party with the adults around. Liz decided instead that she would suggest they had a weekend away somewhere nice. Maybe at a spa. Saskia used to love it when Liz took her to the nail salon to get her nails done when she was little. They’d recreate one of those lovely moments in a fancy country hotel health spa place. Liz would take the birthday cake along.
She could see it now. Alex’s course would help her achieve her goal. The perfect chocolate cake with thick glossy icing. #birthday #chocolate #mumforthebirthdaycakewin. She was going to ace it. Maybe she’d even do a cake with three tiers? Three tiers in different flavours? Handmade sugar flowers as decorations? Her imagination had no limits even if her cookery skills did.
Unhooked from his lead, Ted suddenly set off like a rocket.
‘Ted!’
Liz looked up, expecting to see that Ted had decided to take his chances with a seagull, even though he never managed to reach them before they flew away. But, no.
Ted was not chasing a seagull. He was heading for three figures at the other end of the sand.
Chapter Fifteen
It was Ian. And Saskia. And Brittney.
What on earth were they doing in Duckpool Bay?
Brittney and Saskia were throwing some strange poses and Liz realised as she got closer that they were doing some sort of photo shoot. Ian was taking the pictures with the enormous camera he’d bought just before he left Liz. She didn’t like to think of the private shoots he and Brittney must have done over the past year.
Saskia was dressed in an outfit that Liz didn’t recognise. While Liz was wearing traditional dog-walking chic – her oldest jeans, her wellies and a puffa jacket that had definitely lost its puff – Saskia and Brittney were like something straight out of a Seasalt catalogue. Saskia was wearing a bright pink mac and yellow boots. She never wore bright colours. Never.
What were they doing there? Ian and Brittney lived in Exeter. There were beaches far closer to that city than Duckpool.
Liz wanted to turn and get out of there right away but of course Ted had already broken her cover. There was no pretending she wasn’t on the beach now. Unless she pretended that Ted had escaped and gone to the beach on his own? No. That would still mean she’d have to face Ian at some point. He would bring Ted back to the house and then she would get a lecture about making sure he couldn’t get out of the garden. What if he’d been run over? Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
Better to put on her big girl pants and get on with it. She had to be civil to the woman who’d ruined her life.
‘Hello, sweetheart,’ Liz said to Saskia, who grunted something in response. She did not seem best pleased to have been caught in the heinous act of enjoying herself around adults. ‘Ian. Brittney.’
‘What are you doing here?’ Ian asked as though Liz was the one thirty miles from where she was supposed to be that afternoon.
‘I’m walking the dog. What are you doing here? Aren’t there any beaches closer to Exeter?’
‘There are …’ Ian began.
‘But this one is the prettiest in Devon,’ said Saskia.
‘We’re doing a photo shoot,’ Brittney explained. ‘For the blog?’
How Liz hated the way people like Brittney made every statement a question.
‘That’s why we’re wearing these clothes,’ said Saskia. ‘Brittney gets sent all sorts of stuff by retailers who want her endorsement for their products.’
‘Yes, I know,’ said Liz. ‘Like home tooth-whitening kits.’
Brittney at least had the grace to look embarrassed. She tucked her long brown hair behind her multi-pierced ears in a nervous sort of gesture. She seemed even younger than she was, standing there all shy and knock-kneed. Liz had always thought the knock-kneed thing was just something bloggers did for their pictures.
‘So,’ Liz addressed Ian. ‘Saskia’s photograph is going to be online, is it?’
She didn’t need to remind him of the arguments they’d had over whether or not it was a good idea to put family photographs on Facebook. Since the split, Liz had wondered whether Ian was less concerned about protecting his daughter’s privacy than keeping up the pretence that he was an available man. She had come to doubt that Brittney was the first woman to entice him away from the marriage bed.
‘I think Saskia’s old enough to choose for herself now,’ Ian said.
‘I suppose she is,’ said Liz. Now she turned to Brittney. ‘Are you getting paid for this endorsement?’
‘Mum!’ Saskia piped up in her ‘you’re so embarrassing’ voice.
‘I’m not,’ said Brittney. ‘I’m doing an honest review in return for free samples.’ She trotted out the line she used at the end of some of her blog posts. ‘But Saskia can keep the clothes.’
‘I really like them,’ Saskia pointed out.
Of course she did. Under the pink coat the electric blue skirt she wore was little more than a pelmet, as Liz’s grandmother might have described it.
‘Fine,’ said Liz. ‘It’s up to you. I’ll just remind you that online is for ever. You need to consider how your online footprint is going to look in ten years’ time.’
Saskia exhaled so that the puff of air lifted her fringe. That subtly defiant gesture might ordinarily have been enough to earn a ticking off from Liz or Ian but the beach was no place to get into a row. Particularly since Brittney was already drawing a small crowd. A couple of young women in running gear were asking if she really was Brittney from Brittney’s Bites and telling her how much they loved her recipe for split-pea hummus.
‘Ted and I had better get on with our walk,’ Liz concluded.
‘Dad?’ Saskia interrupted. ‘Can we take Ted, Dad? Please? Please? He’d be great in the photos.’
‘He would,’ Brittney agreed. ‘Good thinking, Sassy.’
Sassy?
‘People love to see dogs in a picture.’
‘Is that OK?’ Ian asked Liz.
‘I suppose.’ What else could she say? She already knew that she was losing in the cool adult of the day stakes by a long way. To refuse to let Saskia have custody of her own dog would have looked mean and petty. Liz handed Ian the dog lead and the poo bags. ‘Just bring him back when you drop Saskia off. And don’t forget he’s on a diet. He mustn’t have any treats.’
She lingered until Ian said, ‘We’d better get on with these photos. Before we lose the light.’
Liz took the hint. She turned to retrace her steps, walking as quickly as she could on the deep, damp sand. Tears pricked at her eyes.
She was desperate to get out of sight before the dam burst. But just as she was climbing the steps to the car park and the road, she heard Ian shouting.
‘Liz! Liz! Wait!’
She hesitated on the top step without turning round.
If her life had been a movie, then this would be the moment when Ian, having seen his wife acting with such dignity in the face of unexpectedly meeting his stupid girlfriend, realised that she was by far the better woman and decided he’d been a bloody fool. He wanted her back and he was prepared to make a scene of it. Pushing her hair from her face, Liz turned towards him slowly.
‘Yes?’ she said.
‘Liz, thanks for stopping. Look, you’d better take Ted home with you after all. Brittney’s place isn’t really set up for animals. She’s got cream carpets.’
‘Of course.’
Ian handed Liz the lead with Ted on the end of it.
‘Oh, and Saskia says can you make sure her PE kit is ready for Monday. Thanks.’
By the time Liz got back home, having stopped in a café for another consoling hot chocolate (Ted had one of the marshmallows), Brittney had already posted the first images from her photo session on Instagram.
‘Great beach shoot today with my homies! This is my favourite image. #windscaleclothing #happydays #borderterrier #dogsofinstagram.’
Yep. The dog was in the picture, guaranteeing Brittney lots of precious ‘likes’. Brittney and Saskia were jumping in the air and Ted was doing his best to keep up with them. Poor Ted, posing his heart out, only to be dismissed moments later. Discarded. Just as Liz had been. Brittney’s fans didn’t know about that. She wished she could go round and pee on Brittney’s carpets herself.
Chapter Sixteen
After that awful weekend, Liz was only too glad to start the new working week. It went quickly. One minute it was Monday morning, the next it was Thursday afternoon and Liz, Corinne and Vince were going over the patients they had seen thus far at their regular team meeting.
‘Got to leave on the dot of half five,’ Liz told them. ‘Cooking class starts at six.’
The Worst Case Scenario Cookery Club Page 8