Bad Mother's Diary: a feel good romantic comedy with a heart-warming happily ever after

by Suzy K Quinn

  SOOO tired.

  Thursday, February 18th

  Alex called round to train, but I told him I really couldn't run this marathon.

  Daisy woke up four times last night. The last time she just cried and WOULD NOT stop.

  In the end, I got three hours sleep. It’s not enough.

  I can’t train for a race. I just can’t. I need to plan a wedding and move house and care for a sleepless baby.

  I let Alex up to the apartment, expecting a big, angry lecture. But he just looked disappointed – which felt even worse.

  He gave me a stoic hug, kissed me on the head and told me to take care. Then he asked if there was anyone around to look after me this evening. I assured him Nick would be home soon.

  In the end, Nick didn’t make it back until midnight. He was out ‘comfort drinking’ because he’s realised the movie he’s just signed up to, Dead Stars on Mars, ‘lacks artistic integrity’.

  I mean, for goodness sake! He read the script. How much integrity did he expect in a love triangle between Marilyn Monroe, Elvis and an alien?

  Friday, February 19th

  Wow – the wedding is REALLY soon now. Barely even a month away.

  Nick seems to be getting grumpier the nearer we get to it. I think it’s a money thing because I’m forcing him to budget.

  He likes wasting money on super-duper toys for Daisy, Thai takeaways, beer and Star Wars gadgets. But we can’t do that now we have a wedding and a house deposit to pay for. Plus, Daisy really doesn’t need any more animatronic teddy bears.

  Saturday, February 20th

  Me and Nick’s anniversary today.

  We’ve been together five years.

  I know Nick forgot, because when I said, ‘happy anniversary’ he went white and rushed off to the supermarket to ‘buy milk’.

  When he got back, he gave me an old lady card and a bottle of red wine.

  Sunday, February 21st

  Lovely day!

  Tea and scones with Laura and Brandi at the Bond Street Dalton.

  Laura arranged it – I think because she thought Zach might be there, which he was.

  She looked all glossy and lovely in black jeans, knee-high boots and a blouse.

  Brandi wore a sexy secretary outfit – tight black pencil skirt, tight white blouse and lots of gold jewellery and red lipstick.

  I tried to smarten up my saggy leggings with a Chanel jacket that Helen was throwing out and a big necklace.

  The jacket was a snug fit. And the arms were too long. But you know … it’s Chanel.

  I asked Laura if she’d seen much of Zach, and she went all red and mumbled that it was early days.

  Then I moaned about looking fat in my leggings.

  ‘You’re not even overweight,’ Laura insisted. ‘Just a tiny bit curvy in all the right places.’

  I told her that Nick didn’t think so. And then I started to cry.

  Laura and Brandi both put their arms around me and said I was beautiful.

  Then Brandi said I should call off the wedding.

  She really hates Nick.

  Sometimes, in my lowest moments, I think about what life would be like on my own. Some parts would be better. I could move back to Great Oakley and live in a house where Nick’s mother doesn’t come over every night.

  I wouldn’t have to deal with Nick’s depression or grumpiness, or recycling bins full of beer bottles. In some ways, I’d have one less child to look after.

  But we have a baby together. I owe it to Daisy to make it work.

  I went to clean myself up in the loo, but it had one of those toilet attendants.

  I always panic when there’s an attendant because I never know what to do.

  Do you tip depending on what you’ve done in the toilet?

  I’d only been for a wee, but I got all flustered and ended up dropping a five-pound note on her plate. So she must have definitely thought I’d been for a poo.

  When I came back through the lobby, there was Alex Dalton. All dark hair and long limbs, striding across the thick carpet.

  He stopped dead when he saw me and said, ‘Juliette. What are you doing here?’

  I told him I was having afternoon tea with my sisters.

  ‘You should have mentioned it,’ he said. ‘I could have got you the private sitting room.’

  Then he said, ‘Hang on. Laura’s in there, is she? I wondered where Zachary disappeared to. Tell him to get a move on.’

  Alex was right. Zach was in the dining room, leaning on the back of Laura’s chair.

  Laura and Zach were looking at each other like I look at Daisy.

  Brandi was tapping at her phone with long, sparkly fingernails, looking bored.

  I told Zach I’d just seen his brother.

  ‘Christ – I should go,’ said Zach. ‘He tears my ears off if I’m late.’

  Just as Zach was leaving, a bottle of champagne arrived at the table, ‘compliments of Mr Dalton’.

  We all gushed and smiled and thanked Zach.

  But Zach said, ‘Not from me. It must be from Alex.’

  I looked out at the lobby, and Alex was there, arms crossed.

  I asked Zach why Alex would send us champagne.

  ‘Why wouldn’t he?’ said Zach. ‘Three beautiful ladies from our village. Whose parents run a fabulous pub. Christ – I really should go. He hates me being late.’

  After the afternoon tea, I wanted to thank Alex for the champagne. But he was nowhere around. So I wrote him a thank you letter on the hotel headed paper.

  Behind me, Alex said, ‘If that’s a complaint letter I can give it straight to the manager.’

  I said it was a thank you. For the champagne and for taking me out training all those times.

  ‘A gesture worth five kisses it would seem,’ he said, eyebrow raised.

  Then Brandi came running up saying our cab was here.

  Alex said, ‘Goodbye Juliette.’

  When we left, Alex’s Rolls Royce was parked outside the hotel. I felt myself smiling at it.

  I didn’t tell Nick about Alex buying us champagne.

  It would only have caused an argument.

  Monday, February 22nd

  Wedding flower shopping today.

  Helen is furious that Nick hasn’t done it already.

  She was even more furious when I said I wanted to go all natural and pick daisies from a field.

  ‘No son of mine is getting married in a church full of grubby daisies,’ she said. ‘Look – I’ll pay for it, alright?’

  I said it had nothing to do with money. I just like wild flowers.

  Helen put on her horrible false smile and said, ‘Would you please let me help you with this, Juliette? The church looks grubby enough as it is.’

  ‘It’s my wedding, Helen,’ I shouted. ‘If I want it to look grubby, that’s up to me.’

  In the end, I decided to be kind and let Helen drive me to Perfect Petals in her big black Land Rover.

  The flower shop lady was one of Helen’s old school friends – another heavily-perfumed Helen clone.

  Helen asked me which flowers I liked. Then she told me why I was wrong to like them.

  I tried to pick flowers that looked natural and beautiful, but the flower-shop lady said they were funeral flowers.

  Eventually, I chose giant white daisies that Helen hated. But it was sort of a compromise because at least they were paid for and not picked from a field.

  Tuesday, February 23rd

  Disgusting fact of the day – my poo weighs two ounces. I know this because I weighed myself before and after. My weight is getting a bit obsessive now. But I really would like to be slimmer for the wedding.

  Mum and Dad had very different analogies about two ounces.

  Dad said it was the same as a Swiss Army knife, two AA batteries or a large letter for posting.

  Mum said it was roughly one bag of peanut M&Ms or a share size bag of Doritos.

  Wednesday, February 24th

  Daisy on
ly woke up once last night.

  Not too bad. And she went straight back to sleep after I fed her. Why can’t she do that every night? Once is totally bearable.

  The trouble was, I couldn’t get back to sleep.

  I kept thinking about the wedding.

  It’s not as though I think Nick will back out. But it took him so long to propose …

  Of course, it doesn’t help that Nick is so miserable about the wedding. I wish he could at least pretend to be happy. I know this is all girly stuff. But it’s supposed to mean something to him.

  Thursday, February 25th

  HAEMORRHOIDS!!!

  And with the wedding only a month or so away!

  Just as I’d made my peace with my boobs dropping an inch, wee coming out for no reason, and a disaster downstairs area, now my backside as well. And don’t even get me started on the weird spots on my arms …

  I’ve learned something important.

  Never, EVER google the word ‘haemorrhoids’ and look at the image page.

  Went back to the village to see Doctor Slaughter because getting a doctor in London is impossible.

  Doctor Slaughter gave me a prescription for suppositories. He also gave me phone numbers of three other women in the village that had them and suggested we meet up. Doctor Slaughter doesn’t believe in patient confidentiality.

  The village chemist was closed ‘due to a problem with our tills’. (Meaning the owner is having an all-day lie-in).

  None of the London chemists could read Doctor Slaughter’s handwriting, so couldn’t get proper medical suppositories.

  Googled home-remedy pile treatments. Smashed up a garlic clove and applied it to the area.

  Have never known pain like it.

  Screamed. Did a weird, grunty dance around the breakfast bar.

  Helen came round and asked me if I’d been making guacamole.

  Friday, February 26th

  Started a new diet today – the 5:2 diet. It’s basically starving yourself for two days a week.

  After no breakfast or lunch, I felt all sick and faint and light-headed. Decided that with a baby, it wasn’t responsible to starve myself.

  So had a big bowl of pasta and pesto.

  Maybe I’ll try the diet again tomorrow.

  Saturday, February 27th

  Nick is working in Leeds for the rest of the week, so Daisy and I are back at Mum and Dads.

  Great Oakley is only a half-hour train ride from London, but it’s like a different planet.

  Flowers.

  Trees.

  People who don’t hate children.

  Such a relief to be away from Helen’s now nightly visits. She’s getting crazier the nearer we get to the wedding.

  Yesterday, she came round with Vogue Wedding and showed me a rail-thin, pouty model bride wearing a lion’s mane.

  ‘So stylish, don’t you think?’ she said, stroking the glossy page. ‘Viv West at her best.’

  I told her it looked absolutely fucking ridiculous.

  She got all huffy and started polishing the stainless-steel kitchen cupboards.

  (One of the many problems with living in a fancy executive pied-a-terre is that shiny stuff shows up everything. I fried an egg once. Never again.)

  While she was frantically polishing, Helen asked me what Mum would wear to the wedding.

  I said probably something ten years too young for her.

  Helen blinked her manic eyes and said, ‘Please persuade her to wear something tasteful. Maybe with a shawl? For the pictures …’

  I had a good laugh about that. My mother! In a shawl! I suppose Helen can dream.

  The idea of anyone persuading Mum to wear something that isn’t skin-tight is hilarious.

  Mum face-timed me a few weeks back to show off her ’70s Mamma Mia outfit. It would have made Christina Aguilera blush.

  Sunday, February 28th

  Went to the play park with Daisy.

  Alex and Zach’s little sister, Jemima, was there.

  As usual, she was the best-dressed seven-year-old in the park, with a jaunty orange scarf tied perfectly under her pretty face.

  Thought the Dalton brothers might be there too, but Jemima was with her nanny.

  Jemima and I had a nice play together. She’s so polite and didn’t even laugh when my bottom got stuck on the slide.

  She was also really good with Daisy and helped me push her on the bucket swings.

  I think Jemima’s nanny was pleased. She was sitting at the far end of the park, drinking a takeaway coffee and watching YouTube on her phone.

  Jemima asked if I’d play with her again some time.

  I said of course I would.

  Then Jemima said, ‘I wish I had friends my own age to play with.’

  Poor little thing.

  It makes me realise how lucky I am to have sisters.

  I mean, Brandi and I used to fight a fair bit, but we still had loads of fun.

  I asked Jemima if she was still staying on the Dalton Estate on the weekends. She said she was. With her big brothers and Nanny Charlotte.

  She told me how fun Alex was and how he always played with her. She said he let her toot the horn in his Rolls Royce.

  Then she whispered, ‘My nanny isn’t a real nanny, you know. Mummy only hired her because she’s the daughter of her old school friend.’

  I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I said, ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘It’s not nice,’ said Jemima. ‘I don’t like her.’

  Monday, February 29th

  Babies grow so quickly!

  It feels like yesterday that I bought Daisy 0-3-month clothes. And she’s already too big for them.

  The 3-6 month ones are too big, so it’s either squashed toes or great big long legs.

  Keep meaning to adjust the stroller straps too. They’re getting a bit tight, but they are so FIDDLY! I can’t work them out. And what the fuck are those extra squashy black bits for? An eternal mystery. I know as soon as I throw them out, I’ll realise they’re essential.

  I can’t work out the bottle warmer or the car seat either.

  I used to be GOOD at practical stuff. What happened? Are all baby devices just stupidly complicated? Or have I lost a lot of brain cells?

  Tuesday, March 1st

  Went wedding dress shopping today and found THE DRESS!

  Nick told Helen where I was going, so she turned up uninvited with a load of fabric samples and magazines.

  She criticised every dress I tried on and, while I was changing, criticised the shop carpet and the fitting-room curtains (you’d never see TASSELS in a London bridal boutique …)

  ‘DIAMONTE Juliette? For the love of God, no. Classy. Think classy. You’re not marrying a footballer.’

  Fortunately, three free glasses of prosecco softened the edges, and I resisted the urge to swear.

  Brandi was whispering, ‘That old witch. She thinks it’s her wedding.’

  When the girls tried on bridesmaids’ dresses, Althea shouted, ‘Don’t say a fucking word Helen, or you’ll be wearing this prosecco.’

  After that, Helen was full of compliments.

  Then Nick turned up.

  I shouted at him that it was bad luck to see the dress. He rolled his eyes about ‘all that traditional bollocks’ and told me we’d be fine because we had true love.

  I actually got a little fluttery at the thought of marrying him then – for the first time since he proposed.

  Nick laid on the charm, telling us ‘ladies’ how beautiful we all looked. Except for Sadie, who he said looked like a dinner plate on a stick.

  Sadie picked a different dress from everyone else. It was a bit white, but that’s Sadie. She always has to break with tradition.

  My wedding dress was low-key in the end. This long, silky thing. Pretty. Kind of plain, but as Nick says, you shouldn’t be over-the-top when you’ve just had a baby.

  Wednesday, March 2nd

  Keep trying on the wedding dress.

/>   It is a bit tent-like.

  But I think if I lose weight it will become the flowing, ethereal princess gown it’s supposed to be.

  Thursday, March 3rd

  Very hungry.

  Friday, March 4th

  Lost a pound since the weekend!

  Not bad.

  Saturday, March 5th

  Did the wedding dress rehearsal today. In the church.

  Mum was very good. She only said, ‘Oh be quiet, Helen’ once.

  Since Nick pretty much chose my wedding dress, I thought I might as well rehearse in it. The more I practise wearing it, the less chance I have of falling over.

  All my bridesmaids were there, except Sadie. She met some theatre director last night and ended up on a yacht in Richmond.

  Brandi was hung over, but she held it together pretty well. She picked the wrong underwear for her bridesmaid dress, though – it really showed through.

  When Helen saw that Brandi had rolled up her dress into a mini-skirt, her nostrils flared.

  I thanked Helen for helping with the wedding flowers.

  She snorted, ‘Lucky I helped. Or this church could have looked like your sister’s underwear.’

  Brandi twiddled her neon-pink bra strap and said, ‘What’s wrong with a bit of colour?’

  Then Helen got distracted because one of the pew cushions had ‘an unidentifiable brown stain’.

  Sunday, March 6th

  Mothering Sunday

  Laura did a lovely thing – she booked me a facial in Kensington as a Mother’s Day treat.

  I think she guessed Nick would forget. He’s not great with dates. He often forgets his own birthday, so I don’t take it personally.

  Nick got all panicky when he realised he’d be looking after Daisy alone.

  Phoned Mum to ask how long she left us for as babies.

  ‘As long as I could bloody well get away with,’ she bellowed.

  Decided a few hours would probably be okay.