She waved him off and he ran straight after Sam and Ruby.
‘Sorry,’ Mrs Roshni said. ‘Is that too nosy?’
Emma shook her head. ‘I don’t mind. ‘They’re concerned because Sam doesn’t talk. Apparently he meows.’
‘Wow,’ the other woman said. ‘That’s pretty cool.’
Emma sighed. ‘I’m telling myself it’s the sign of a brilliant imagination.’
‘Well it is,’ the other woman said. ‘And as long as he doesn’t start licking his own genitals, I’m sure it’s fine.’
Emma let out a bark of surprised laughter.
‘I’m Hanan,’ Mrs Roshni said.
Emma smiled at her. ‘Emma. My two are Sam and Ruby. What were you in for?’
‘Yahya apparently walked through a puddle while everyone else walked round it.’
‘That’s not what she just called you in about,’ Emma said, shocked. She looked over at Hanan’s son, who was riding a fallen tree branch like a horse, while Sam howled with laughter.
Hanan nodded. ‘Yup. I assume she thinks it shows a rebellious streak and she wants to nip it in the bud. She said I should ask him why he walked through the puddle.’
‘Because walking through puddles is fun?’ Emma suggested.
‘That’s exactly what he said. I mean, I know it’s easier for them if all the kids conform, but …’ She shrugged. ‘That’s not something I’m going to worry about. I think it’s pretty cool that he walked through even though everyone else walked round.’
‘I was just thinking that,’ Emma said. ‘I assume that means Sam walked round. I’m a bit disappointed.’
‘Ah, but at least he was meowing as he did it,’ Hanan said.
Emma laughed. ‘True.’
They chatted while the older children played and Hanan’s younger son dozed in his buggy. Eventually Yahya, Ruby and Sam ran back over.
‘Can we get an ice cream?’ Ruby asked.
‘Or a lolly?’ Sam added.
‘We’ve got lollies at home,’ Emma said, as she always did.
‘Can we go home then?’ Sam asked. ‘Can Yahya come?’
‘Are you busy?’ Emma asked Hanan. ‘Do you want to come back to mine for a coffee? Or a lolly?’
Hanan laughed. ‘I’d love that.’
Chapter Eight
‘So where are you from?’ Emma asked Hanan, as she filled the kettle with water and reached up into the cupboard for mugs.
‘Wakefield,’ Hanan said, from the French doors, where she was watching Ruby, Sam and Yahya in the garden. ‘Oh hang on. Did you mean—’
‘Oh god!’ Emma said, turning round. ‘No! I meant cos of your accent!’
Hanan laughed. ‘I know. Sorry. I was just winding you up.’
‘Jesus,’ Emma said, crossing the kitchen to get the milk out of the fridge. ‘Don’t.’
Hanan grinned. ‘My parents are from Pakistan. No, I don’t get back as often as I’d like. Yes, I’ve been to Hajj. Once. And … I think that’s all the questions I’m usually asked about “my culture”.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Emma said. ‘I was just going to ask if you take milk and sugar.’
A loud laugh burst out of Hanan, then she knocked on the window and wagged her finger.
‘Yahya,’ she told Emma. ‘Picking up a stick. He’s bloody obsessed with sticks. Looks like bonfire night in our front garden all year round. Milk, no sugar. Ta.’
Once Emma had made the tea, emptied a packet of biscuits onto a plate, and poured three glasses of juice for the kids, she and Hanan both sat down at the dining table.
‘Do people really ask you that stuff?’ Emma said, wondering if she should go and tell the children about the juice or just let them come in when they were ready.
‘Yeah,’ Hanan said, reaching for a biscuit. ‘I don’t mind really. It just gets a bit repetitive. Occasionally someone’ll ask about this too.’ She pointed at her headscarf. ‘But that’s about it.’
Emma chewed on her bottom lip.
‘You want to ask me about it now, don’t you,’ Hanan said.
Emma laughed. ‘I do! I’m sorry!’
‘It’s fine. I can take it off actually.’
Hanan reached back and tugged, the hijab came off and her hair fell around her face. She shook her head and grinned.
‘Your husband’s not due home yet, right?’
‘Paul?’ Emma glanced up at the clock above the cooker. ‘No, not for a while yet.’
‘What does he do?’
‘He works for a sports agency. He’s been working in the London office, but they wanted someone in Liverpool and he’s been keen to move back – he grew up here – so …’
‘Ah,’ Hanan said. ‘And is he happy there?’
‘I think so? He hasn’t really said. I know he’s been busy cos we’ve hardly seen him.’
Emma had found that the hardest thing about moving to West Kirby. While Paul went off to work each day and had colleagues, if not yet friends, to talk to, Emma was stuck at home with Sam, Ruby and Buddy, trying to keep themselves entertained and sort the house out. She’d known it would be hard. It was just a little harder than she’d expected.
‘So is it a particular sport he deals with or … I don’t know how it works.’
‘Mostly football. So obviously this is the place to be.’
Hanan smiled. ‘Someone’s introduced you to Jools Jackson, I assume?’
Emma shook her head. ‘She sort of introduced herself when my dog ran away, straight into her car. And then peed on it.’
‘I bet that went down well.’
‘Oh and apparently I parked in her parking space.’ Emma had noticed that the space was indeed always left for Jools, who more often than not, arrived at school just before first whistle. It was ridiculous.
Hanan rolled her eyes. ‘She used to get to school early each morning and afternoon to get that space. Someone parked in it once and she told them it was her space and since then people have just … respected it. I don’t understand it myself.’
‘That is nuts,’ Emma said. She thought back to London, to how she and Paul had lived close enough to walk to Ruby’s school, but how the actual road was a free for all, with people double and triple parked. But it worked somehow. And no one had ever demanded their own parking space.
Hanan laughed. ‘People really suck up to them cos they’re our best local celebrities. But don’t call her a WAG unless you want to be ostracised for ever.’
‘Really?’ Emma had been assuming Jools would have totally leaned in to the WAG thing.
Hanan shrugged. ‘Yeah. She hates it. But obviously she still uses it when it suits her. It’s all too much like school for me, though. Having a queen bee, you know? So I steer clear of her. And her friends.’
‘Sounds smart,’ Emma said.
Hanan stirred her tea and then blew over the top of it. ‘So what about you? What do you do?’
‘Hmm?’ Emma glanced out into the garden. Yahya was standing on top of the slide, holding a stick in the air like a sword. ‘Is he …?’
Hanan glanced over and rolled her eyes. ‘He’s fine. You just told me about your husband and your kids, but not you. Do you work? Did you want to move here? Is it better for you? Where are you from originally?’
Emma sighed and then laughed. ‘God. That’s … a lot.’
‘Sorry,’ Hanan said. ‘I’m so nosy. Just tell me to shut up. Have a biscuit.’
‘No, it’s fine. I can tell you where I grew up: Richmond, outside London. Only child. My dad died a month after Sam was born, Mum remarried last year and I don’t see her much any more.’
‘That must be hard.’
‘I was close to my dad,’ Emma said. ‘Not my mum so much. She turns up every few months with presents for the kids and tells me everything I’m doing wrong. It’s great. She was all for us moving here actually. She thought it would mean I’d have to finally become what she thinks of as a proper housewife. Home with the kids, dinner on the table, no life
of my own, you know? Like her when I was a kid.’
Hanan nodded.
‘But that’s not what I want. I—’ Emma was mortified to find her eyes filling with tears. She’s swiped at them with the backs of her hands. ‘Fuck. This is embarrassing. Sorry.’
Hanan smiled gently at her. ‘It’s fine. Crying’s good. Get it all out, I say.’
Emma stood up and crossed the kitchen, yanking a few sheets of kitchen towel off the roll. She wiped her face, then ran her hands under the cold tap and held her palms over her eyes.
‘Sorry,’ she said, her back still to Hanan.
‘Stop apologising. You’re fine.’
Emma turned, leaning back against the cabinets. ‘You know what the awful thing is? Until you asked me that, I hadn’t even thought about it. How is that possible? I knew Paul wanted it. I knew it would be good for the kids. I’d thought about stuff like running on the beach and being close to Liverpool if I wanted to go shopping or to see a show or something, but it literally never crossed my mind to ask myself if this was something I wanted.’
Hanan dunked a biscuit in her tea. ‘It’s normal, you know? Thinking about everyone else and forgetting yourself. That’s why I asked.’
Emma laughed. ‘What are you, like the bored housewife whisperer or something?’
Hanan laughed. ‘Let’s say I identify.’
‘Yeah? What does your husband do?’
‘Hashim? He’s got his own furniture company. Well, him and his brothers. His brothers are still in Leeds. We moved over here so he could open a Liverpool store. I worked there too before I had these two.’ She gestured at her smaller boy, who was fast asleep in his buggy. ‘I still do a bit of bookkeeping for them sometimes.’
‘I was a graphic designer. In London. Before kids. I planned to freelance but there just isn’t the work. Everyone’s doing everything in-house. And I haven’t got time anyway.’ She shook her head. ‘I keep telling people that, but I spend most days watching shitty daytime TV or napping. It just goes by really fast.’
Hanan smiled. ‘I miss Homes Under the Hammer so much. It’s all CBeebies all the time in our house now.’ She pointed at her toddler again.
There was a scream from outside and they both looked up to see Ruby, wide-eyed at the window. Emma and Hanan both jumped up and ran to the French doors.
‘Look what they did!’ Ruby shrieked.
Emma yanked the door open and found Sam and Yahya standing on the patio, soaking wet. Water dripped from Sam’s hair, his nose, and the garden hose he held in his left hand.
‘It was a accident!’ he said, his lower lip already wobbling.
Emma opened her mouth and closed it again. ‘Give me the hose, Sam.’
Sam handed over the hose and Emma held it away from her body so the water didn’t trickle on her shoes.
‘You boys look like you’re having fun,’ Hanan said. ‘You didn’t want to join in?’ she asked Ruby.
Emma turned to look at her and Hanan raised one eyebrow.
Ruby was frowning, but her eyes were bright. So Emma turned the hose on her.
All the children had ended up drenched and Yahya and baby Mo, who’d been woken by everyone’s screaming and laughter, had gone home in borrowed clothes. Emma had cobbled together what Ruby and Sam called a ‘monkey grab’ – random bits of food eaten in front of the TV – before putting them in the bath, and they were now cuddled up together in Emma and Paul’s bed.
‘Today was a good day,’ Ruby said, rubbing her forehead against Emma’s arm, the way she’d done since she was a baby.
‘Yahya is nice!’ Sam said. ‘And the baby is so cute!’
‘You were naughty to turn the hose on though,’ Ruby said, for possibly the fiftieth time since she’d snitched in the first place.
‘I know!’ Sam shouted, as Emma said, ‘We’ve been over this, Roo.’
‘Sorry,’ Ruby said, quietly. She was exhausted, Emma could tell.
‘Was Yahya’s mum nice too?’ Sam asked Emma.
‘She’s lovely,’ Emma said.
If Hanan hadn’t been there, Emma suspected she’d have shouted at Sam, who’d then have burst into tears. Ruby would have gloated about telling on him and knowing that they weren’t allowed to use the hose. Emma would no doubt have lost her temper with Ruby too (sometimes her smugness could be a little wearing) and then they’d have eaten dinner in silence, been subjected to a short angry bath and then once they were in bed, Emma would’ve cracked open a bottle of wine and wondered where the fuck Paul had got to.
Instead they’d all laughed until their stomachs hurt and Sam had almost peed himself, and Emma felt like she’d made a real friend.
‘It’s only clothes,’ Hanan had said, as they’d undressed the boys in the downstairs loo. ‘They’ll dry.’
And she was right; it was only clothes. The garden was a swamp now, but Emma couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun.
‘Can we have two chapters?’ Sam asked, his voice muffled by the blankie-wrapped thumb in his mouth.
‘Just one,’ Emma said. ‘You two are exhausted.’
‘I’m not even tired!’ Sam said.
Emma glanced down at him. His eyes were already closed.
She opened the book and started to read.
Before Emma had even finished one chapter, Ruby was asleep too. Emma had left her in her and Paul’s bed, but carried Sam to his own bed, his little hand reaching up to pat her cheek as they’d crossed the landing. Paul could take Ruby back to her own bed when he got home. Back downstairs, Emma swiped a crust of toast through a puddle of ketchup on Sam’s plastic Paw Patrol plate and folded it into her mouth. She should text Paul and ask for his ETA.
She yanked the dishwasher open and pulled out a glass. And then she opened a bottle of wine.
Emma wasn’t sure what time Paul had come home, just that it was late. She’d heard him come in – stubbing his toe on the corner of the bed and muffling a ‘fucksake’, pulling open the squeaky drawer to get a new pair of pants to wear in bed, groaning as he sank into the mattress. She’d listened to it all with her back to him and her eyes closed, breathing steadily so he didn’t suspect she was still awake.
She’d been looking forward to him coming home too. Thought maybe they could have had a glass of wine together and sat at the kitchen table talking about their day, the way they used to in London. Sometimes they’d intended to just have one drink and then move to the lounge to watch TV or up to bed for an early night, but they’d found themselves talking – talking until it was time to head up to bed anyway. She missed it. She missed Paul. He’d been working such long hours since they’d moved north. And she knew he was trying to establish himself, knew it would get better. But she still felt like they were growing apart. Or not even growing apart really. Being stretched apart. Paul was being stretched away from her and she didn’t know when he was going to snap back.
She still needed to think about the lube too. About what it meant. Beyond that he used it for wanking. But when? Emma was always around and he certainly wasn’t using it with her. She’d have to ask him about it, but the thought of that was almost hilarious. How does a person even bring that up in conversation when they haven’t talked about anything other than kids or bills for months?
Emma wondered if he missed her too. If he even thought about her. If he remembered when he’d climb into bed and curl around her like a comma, his thigh slung over her hip, hand flat against her belly, lips pressing into the side of her neck. She’d loved it. Loved how safe it made her feel. And she loved it when she could feel his dick hardening against her bum. She used to wriggle a little, pretending she was just making herself comfortable, waiting for his answering moan before he’d flip her over and they’d both laugh as he’d push her T-shirt up and slide down under the duvet.
When had that last happened? She couldn’t remember. A few weeks ago, he’d come in late after some work function at a hotel in Albert Dock – smelling of beer and cigs and garlic
– and pressed up against her, but she’d rolled away instead of pressing back, and he’d turned over and been snoring within seconds. He probably didn’t even remember it. Or maybe that’s when he’d bought the lube – because he thought Emma wasn’t interested. She needed to make sure he knew that wasn’t true.
She shuffled closer to him, but his breathing was slow and heavy. She could tell he was almost, if not already, asleep. She’d wanted to tell him about Hanan and the kids. Wanted to tell him about school and Sam meowing. Wanted to tell him she’d had a really good day and ask him about his. Maybe at the dining table with a glass of wine. Or in front of the TV with her feet in his lap as he pressed his thumbs into her arches and wiggled his fingers between her toes until she had to yank them away. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d done that either.
Chapter Nine
After dropping the kids at school the following morning, Emma went home for Buddy and then down to the beach again. She sat on the rocks as the Border Terrier ran wildly, teeth bared, ears flying back in the breeze.
Emma thought back to her conversation with Hanan: what did she want from life? Maybe she just needed to work. She’d known exactly who she was when she’d had a job. Work Emma had been more together, more organised, more confident than Housewife Emma. She’d known she was good at her job, but it was always challenging, she was never bored. Well, hardly ever. Now she seemed to be bored most of the time. No one told you how tedious much of parenting was. Not just the constant washing and tidying and wiping faces and bums, but also listening to Sam talk about Minecraft. Or Lego. Or to Ruby reading. She was a great reader, but the books the school sent home were dull as fuck. And Emma still hadn’t managed to read anything herself. Ruby had asked if they could go and join the library, but they hadn’t got round to that either. Just the day to day stuff seemed to suck up all of Emma’s time.
And what made it worse was that Emma knew she was meant to find the stuff rewarding. Quality time with the children. Walking on the beach or in the park. Playing in the garden. Even bath time. But she always caught herself thinking about all the things she could be doing instead. And not even valuable, useful things like cleaning or the laundry or organising all the paperwork she’d meant to do before the move, but had instead shoved into a big blue Ikea bag and brought with them – no, she fantasised about sitting at the table with a coffee. Or watching an episode of Bake Off without the kids interrupting or Emma herself falling asleep.
The Bad Mothers’ Book Club Page 5