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

by Suzy K Quinn

  ‘Cruising?’ said Nana. ‘Isn’t that something you do on a ship?’

  ‘It’s when children hold onto furniture,’ I said. ‘But it’s not the same as walking. I wish she’d take a few steps.’

  ‘She’s probably just lazy,’ Nana reassured me. ‘Your mum was the same. She only bothered walking if there was cake to be had. The rest of the time she’d sit and whack your Uncle Danny with her rattle.’

  Nana asked if I’d seen Nick recently.

  ‘I saw him on New Year’s Eve,’ I told her. ‘He asked for a second chance.’

  ‘Steer well clear,’ said Nana. ‘He’s a good-looking waster, that one. Has he paid you any money for Daisy yet?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Not a penny.’

  ‘Better sort that out,’ said Nana Joan. ‘He’ll have another baby soon, won’t he?’

  ‘It’s not that simple,’ I said. ‘As far as Nick’s concerned, Daisy and I are staying with Mum and Dad, so he doesn’t need to take care of us.’

  ‘Don’t the government just take money from absent fathers these days?’ Nana asked.

  ‘Not in our case,’ I said. ‘Most of Nick’s earnings are undeclared. And he gets pocket money from his mother – there’s no tax bracket for that. If he doesn’t pay up, we’ll have to go to court.’

  Nana asked about the New Year’s Eve Ball. ‘I hope you wore something that showed off your figure,’ she said. ‘I used to have a natural cleavage like yours. These days, I need yards of sticky tape.’

  Nana is what you call a ‘glamorous granny’. Even in her eighties, she wears leopard print, Lurex and Wonderbras.

  Told Nana that Alex Dalton and I ‘got close’ at the New Year’s Eve ball.

  I don’t really know how else to describe things with Alex.

  I mean, I suppose we were already ‘close’. Alex trained me for the Winter Marathon last year. And we had a few romantic moments while that was going on. But now … it feels like we’re sort of, possibly, seeing each other.

  ‘About time,’ said Nana. ‘Look at you. All your own curly hair and a lovely bosom. It’s no wonder you’ve been snapped up.’

  ‘Our lives are different, though,’ I admitted. ‘Alex is a Dalton. His family own half of London.’

  ‘Opposites attract,’ said Nana. ‘Your grandad liked wholemeal bread. Whereas I stick to white sliced.’

  But the truth is, I have baggage with a capital B.

  Actually, a capital N.

  Nick.

  Thursday, 5th January

  Nick phoned at midday, sounding terrified.

  Sadie is in labour.

  Nick and I aren’t exactly on friendly terms, but I sensed he was desperate for support, so I let him rattle on.

  ‘How long does it last?’ Nick asked. ‘Sadie’s going mental, and we’re only an hour in.’

  ‘Don’t you remember my labour?’ I said. ‘It was over twelve hours.’

  ‘Twelve hours?’ Nick screeched. ‘Daisy didn’t take that long to come out, did she? That’s all day.’

  I couldn’t help adding, ‘You know my friend, Althea? Her labour took five days.’

  To be fair, I think Althea strung her labour out a bit.

  She had a big hippy love-in with candles and hummus and cushions, and shouted down any midwife who talked about ‘speeding things along’.

  Also, a yogi came to bend Althea’s womanly figure into ‘baby friendly’ positions, and weave her thick, curly black hair into ‘love braids’.

  Baby Wolfgang was ‘breathed’ into the world, with the occasional bellow of ‘Om Shanti’.

  ‘They won’t let Sadie into the hospital yet,’ Nick sobbed. ‘I can’t handle this shit, Jules. You know how sensitive I am.’

  ‘Funny to hear you describe yourself as sensitive,’ I said. ‘Immature and self-absorbed are the words I’d use.’

  In the background, I heard Sadie screech, ‘Put on my Ellie Goulding album, you useless twat.’

  Felt a bit sorry for Nick then, but not that sorry.

  When Nick got Sadie pregnant, my world fell apart. But like Althea said, ‘Karma will get him. Wait and see.’

  She was right.

  Friday, 6th January

  Nick and Sadie have had their baby.

  A little boy.

  Actually, really little – only 5lbs 10oz.

  Daisy was 8lbs, and the midwives said things like, ‘big strapping legs’ and ‘a great pair of lungs’.

  Daisy has a half-brother. Such a weird thought.

  I wonder if the baby looks like Nick, with dark, flirtatious eyebrows and blue eyes. Or like Sadie, with a big moon face and porcelain skin.

  Nick and Sadie’s baby was born last night by C-section.

  Nick phoned in the early hours of the morning to tell Daisy about her new brother. He was glowing with new fatherhood, telling me about little baby Horatio and his massive balls.

  ‘You’ve called him Horatio?’ I said. ‘Like Penelope Dearheart’s dog?’

  Nick went quiet for a moment. ‘Well we can’t change the name now,’ he said. ‘Mum’s ordered an engraved silver tankard.’

  Sadie’s doing well apparently (not that I asked) but has got a bit possessive – hissing at anyone who comes near ‘little Horry’.

  Nick sounded slurred, so I’m guessing he’d managed to sneak some whisky into the labour ward.

  No surprises there.

  At Daisy’s birth, Nick won the prize for worst birthing companion ever, drunkenly screaming, ‘What the fuck is that?’ at all the wrong moments.

  Even the midwife asked if I’d prefer he waited outside.

  Saturday, 7th January

  Nick phoned at 3 am, asking if I could put his ‘little girl’ on the phone.

  ‘I’m not going to wake Daisy,’ I told him. ‘It’s the middle of the night. Why didn’t you ring in the daytime?’

  ‘Come on, Jules,’ said Nick. ‘The baby wants to say hello. He’s Daisy’s brother.’

  Wow.

  Brother.

  ‘Did you get my text message about maintenance payments?’ I asked.

  Nick didn’t answer, which I took to mean yes.

  ‘Sort it out,’ I said. ‘Or I’ll take you to court.’

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