by Rachel Marks
‘Do you regret it at all? Settling down so young?’ Mimi’s question cuts into my thoughts and I must take longer than expected to respond because she adds, ‘I don’t mean do you regret having your kids or anything, just that you were so young when you did it. You don’t hear of it much these days, do you?’
‘No, I don’t regret it.’
I regret fucking it up.
Mimi nods, her eyes looking into mine and, for a moment, it feels like she’s looking into my soul, seeing all the bits I try my best to keep hidden. Then she seems to shake it off, putting her hands on her hips as if she’s ready to make an announcement.
‘Do you know what I think you really need?’
‘No, but I’m sure you’re going to enlighten me.’
‘I think you need a friend.’
‘Because I don’t have any already?’
Mimi shrugs. ‘You spend a lot of time drinking alone.’
Although I try not to show it, her comment stings. Because she’s right. I don’t have many friends – not real ones. After Kate and I split, all our couple friends seemed to side with her. And the blokes at work don’t really count. There’s no way I could have a proper conversation with them.
‘I’ve got plenty of friends, thank you,’ I lie.
‘OK then. Well, maybe you just need a friend like me.’
I raise my eyebrows. ‘I’ve never really had a female friend before. They always struggle to keep their hands off me.’
Mimi laughs. ‘I think I’ll manage.’ She takes my empty glass and puts it behind the bar. ‘In fact, I’m not working on Saturday, if you fancy a coffee? Unless you’ve got the boys?’
My initial reaction is to turn the offer down. But actually chatting to Mimi is quite often the highlight of my day.
‘It’s Kate’s weekend. Coffee sounds good.’
‘You can always sneak in a hip flask if you can’t cope that long without alcohol.’
‘Actually, you’ll notice I’m only having the one drink tonight.’ I take my coat off the back of the bar stool and start to put it on.
‘Not going to hit on someone else now I’ve turned you down?’
‘No. Thank you. I’m going home to my book and a cup of cocoa.’
Mimi smiles. ‘So, should we exchange numbers then, friend?’
‘I suppose so. As long as you can resist calling me every second.’ I hold my hand out and Mimi gives me her phone. I type in my number and click ‘add contact’, labelling it ‘Naughty Noah’ before handing it back.
She looks at the screen and laughs. ‘You’re a dick.’
I put some money on the bar. ‘I know. See you Saturday.’
*
There are times when I’d like to give the school curriculum to the wise, distant authority figure who devised it and ask them to teach it to a group of children as yet unable to wipe their own backsides. Today’s wondrous RE circle-time talking point is: what fascinates you about the natural world? I’ve prompted them with a slide show about amazing animals, given my own excellent example (driving to work noticing how birds all fly together). Even Mrs Watson contributed something valuable for a change (about tides being pulled in and out by the moon) so we should be good to go. I get the Talking Tiger (he doesn’t talk – it’s a soft toy I pass round with the instruction that only the child holding the tiger is allowed to speak – basically a more humane version of a gag) and give it to the child nearest me.
‘The way the birds fly together,’ Jasmine says, then passes the tiger on.
‘Great, yep, you think that’s fascinating too.’
‘At the seaside when the sea comes up.’ Tommy this time.
I can see a pattern forming. At least they must’ve been listening.
The tiger continues around the circle to Darcy. ‘Let me guess, the birds or the sea?’
Darcy stares at me as if I’ve suddenly morphed into a zombie.
‘Anything you find fascinating about the world around us, Darcy?’
Darcy’s eyes seem to look straight through me, as she sits in silence.
‘The sea, perhaps? Do you like the waves at the seaside, Darcy? Or the animals? Which one’s your favourite?’ I point to the pictures on the board and Darcy nods, almost imperceptibly, but I take it as a response to one of my questions, remove the tiger from her hands and pass it on to Harley.
‘Mummy got me a Transformer and it’s a Bumblebee one …’
Now Harley has the opposite problem. Once he’s given the floor, there’s really no shutting him up.
‘That’s great, Harley, but we were talking about what fascinates us about the world.’
‘Transformers are fascinating how you change them because first they’re a car and then a robot.’
‘Yes, well, I suppose they are, but we were thinking more about the natural world, like trees, animals, that sort of thing. Never mind, though. Can you pass the Talking Tiger on now, please?’
‘And she got me another Transformer. It’s Optimus Prime. He is so cool. You can do battles with him and flips and …’
‘Time to pass the Talking Tiger on now, Harley.’
‘… he turns into this awesome truck and you can smash it into other cars. It always …’
The only solution, as unprofessional as it may be, is to have a tug of war with Harley, wrenching the Talking Tiger out of his hands and passing it on to the next person.
‘I think rainbows are fascinating because they’re lots of different colours but it’s always in the same order.’
I nearly drop my whiteboard pen on the child sitting next to me.
‘Exactly, James. That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Rainbows are fascinating.’
I feel like doing a little dance around the room, but then Charlie grabs the tiger. ‘My mummy went to hospital and she pushed my baby brother out of her belly button.’
‘Great example, Charlie. Moving swiftly on then …’
Rescued from the brink of awkward conversations 101, I’m happy when the suggestions return to the tried and tested birds, tide and newly approved rainbows, and the introduction of that good old nature’s miracle: the remote-control car.
*
Harley has been kept in yet again, this time for gouging a chunk of flesh out of another boy’s face, so lucky old me gets to enjoy my coffee and KitKat with Harley for company, despite the fact I’ve got a load of observations to input on to the computer that were due at least a week ago. We sit in the classroom and he rocks back and forth on his chair.
‘So how’s Mummy at the moment?’
‘She’s not poorly now so we went to the toyshop and got the Transformers like I said.’
‘That’s good.’
‘Well, I think she might be poorly again today because she didn’t wake up for breakfast.’
I hold Harley’s chair still, the repetitive noise of it hitting the floor like a constant punch in the temple. ‘Did you have any breakfast?’
He shakes his head.
‘Do you want some?’
‘Yes, please.’ He says it in such a way, as if I’m offering him a brand-new Xbox, that I feel immediately guilty for despairing of him ninety-five per cent of the time.
Once I’ve poured some of the cereal that I keep in the cupboard into a bowl and added some milk from one of the school cartons, I hand it to Harley and he tucks straight in. When I was with Kate, she’d always cook me a proper breakfast, adamant that I needed the energy for a day in the classroom. But now I rarely even bother to put myself a piece of toast on, instead keeping a box of cereal in the cupboard at school for when I’m absolutely ravenous by break time.
‘Did Mummy bring you to school?’
‘Yes, I tapped her and tapped her because the clock said nine and I know that means we’re late for school, but she wouldn’t get up, but then she did in the end.’
‘Good.’
Watching Harley shoving the cereal into his mouth like a starving orphan takes me back. Ben and I soon learnt how
to make our own breakfast. Some days Mum would be there with croissants or pancakes, anything we asked for, but other times she couldn’t even face getting out of bed. By about age eight, when Dad being home of an evening became a lot more sporadic and Mum’s ability to manage a full day reduced, Ben could even make a simple evening meal. Depending on what was in the freezer, the three options were always pizza, fish fingers or chicken nuggets, but we were happy with that. Sometimes, there was a tub of ice cream in the freezer and we’d help ourselves to huge bowls and eat it until we felt sick. Occasionally, the freezer was empty so we’d have to search the cupboards. We attempted baked beans on toast once, but we couldn’t get the tin of beans open so we ended up with crisps on toast. It was a reasonable alternative. Looking at it as an adult, I can see it wasn’t ideal, but those memories are still strangely surrounded with a fuzzy warm glow. It was like being in Home Alone, except I had a partner in crime to enjoy the freedom with and no burglars trying to break into the house.
I turn my attention back to Harley, scraping the last of the cornflakes from around the side of the bowl. ‘Shall we have a special signal for days when you haven’t had any breakfast? How about if you put your thumb down, I’ll know and you can help yourself to some of my cornflakes?’
Harley holds out his hand and points his thumb to the floor. ‘Like this?’
‘Exactly. Now come on, we better go and get the others from the playground. You can be my helper, OK? Check they’re all in a straight line and being quiet.’
‘OK, cool.’
I put my coffee cup and Harley’s bowl into the sink and head out to get the rest of the class, whilst Harley skips beside me, taking hold of my hand.
*
After school, I’m just about to take Harley down to the office when I spot Emma heading towards the classroom, her eyes barely leaving the ground.
‘Come on, Harls,’ she calls.
I put my hand on Harley’s head to stop him running off and try to buy myself some time to talk to Emma on her own. ‘Harley, just go and find that picture you did earlier. The one of the pirate ship so we can show Mummy.’
‘OK.’ Harley skips off, pride lighting up his face, and it makes me feel immediately guilty for not praising him more often.
I turn to Emma. ‘Look, I hope you didn’t mind me calling Mimi in the other week. We couldn’t manage to get hold of you and Harley was in a bit of a state.’
She doesn’t look up at me. ‘I didn’t have my phone on me.’
‘It’s fine. I just hope Mimi told you that my door’s always open if you need anything. If you’re struggling with Harley at home, we could put things in place together that might help.’
‘I’m not struggling with him.’
‘Right, OK, well …’
Harley comes running out with his picture. ‘Look, Mummy, do you like it?’ Emma gives it a very quick glance and then nods. ‘It’s great. Come on now, we need to get home.’
‘Can I take it with me to put on my wall?’ Harley asks me.
‘Sure.’
‘Thanks.’ He gives me a big smile and Emma puts her hand on the back of his head and guides him out the playground, and I head back into the classroom, a niggling feeling in my stomach that’s hard to shake, like I’m not doing enough. Sometimes when I look at Harley, it’s like looking at four-year-old me and I, for one, know how long-lasting the effects of a home environment like that can be. But maybe I’m just projecting. It’s easy to jump to false conclusions in this job, and besides, Mimi seemed to think Emma was doing fine.
I go to my desk and start to upload photos of the class to the parent communication system, but soon lose the will to live, shut my computer down and head home, wishing my boys were there so I could give them a big hug and tell them how much I love them.
CHAPTER NINE
The café Mimi’s chosen is annoyingly busy so we’re queuing out the door and people keep bumping into me to get past, even though I can’t imagine where they’re going as I’m standing in the queue, in front of them. It’s one of those slightly too cool places that I tend to avoid now I’ve got kids, knowing they’d only show me up, shouting and fighting over what cake they wanted, holding up the queue of people who are yet to have any awareness of what being a parent is really like.
‘Do you want to share a cake?’
It’s only a casual suggestion – I’m being friendly – but Mimi glares at me as if I’ve just proposed killing a small furry animal in front of her whilst we wait.
‘OK. I’m guessing you really like cake?’
‘It’s my one vice.’
‘Really? Cake is your only vice? Come off it. There must be something worse than that?’
‘Like your sex and alcohol addiction?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Seriously, I really don’t have one. Just cake.’
Mimi’s a funny one – on the one hand, she’s super-chatty and open, no holds barred, and yet, when the spotlight’s on her, she seems to shut up shop and I can’t help wondering if she’s hiding something behind that happy-go-lucky exterior.
We finally reach the counter and, under strict instruction from Mimi, I order two cappuccinos and two slices of cake. Once our coffees are finally made, I carry the tray and we search the café for somewhere to sit down. After a few more bumps on the arm, causing me to spill some of the drinks (am I invisible today?), we spot a young couple leaving and swoop in on their table in the corner.
‘So, tell me more about the singing stuff. Do you write your own songs?’ I ask, settling into my chair and wincing as I burn my tongue on my drink.
‘Steady on, Noah. Are you actually trying to get to know me?’
‘I thought that’s what friends did.’
‘Ah, I was seeing my role more as rescuing you, to be honest. I didn’t foresee you asking questions about me.’
‘Firstly, I don’t need rescuing.’
Mimi holds up her fingers in a pincer position to gesture ‘a little bit’ and I lightly kick her under the table.
‘And secondly, I am interested in the world beyond myself, you know.’
‘Really? OK then, but there’s nothing to tell. Yes, I used to write my own songs, but as I said, no one was listening so I gave up.’
‘So how long were you performing for? Did you have a manager or anything? Maybe you just needed someone to get you better gigs.’
Mimi picks up her coffee and takes a slow slip. ‘I had a manager. It didn’t work out. I’m just not good enough.’
‘I bet you’re great. You should try again.’
Mimi puts her coffee cup down with force, causing it to clunk on the table. ‘Noah, please. Can we just drop it, yeah?’
It’s unlike Mimi to appear riled, so I decide to leave it. ‘OK. Sorry, just asking.’
Mimi sighs. ‘I know. Thank you for asking.’ She tucks into her cake, breaking off large bits and shovelling them into her mouth.
‘Good cake?’ I ask, in an attempt to change the subject and release the tension.
Mimi’s face softens and she nods, her mouth full.
Then I try some of mine. To be fair, it is delicious. ‘You were right. This cake’s not for sharing.’
‘Told you.’ Mimi licks the icing off her fingers. ‘So how’s Harley doing now? I spoke to Emma about what you said and she said things are good at home.’
I nod, conscious that I shouldn’t say too much, but also keen to check up on Harley. ‘He’s doing OK. Could just be teething problems. So are you close then? You and your sister?’
‘Yeah, we see each other a couple of times a week. And I adore Harley. I never realized how much you could love a nephew.’
Although I don’t share quite the same level of fondness for my nieces, it’s a relief to hear that Mimi’s so closely involved. Makes me a little more optimistic that perhaps I’ve been unduly worried about him.
‘He’s a good kid really,’ I say, and I mean it. As much as he exhausts me, there’s something very
likeable about him.
‘He really is. I can imagine him being a bit of a monkey at times but he’s so loving. His heart’s definitely in the right place.’ Mimi scrapes up the last few crumbs of her cake, putting them in her mouth before dropping her fork on her plate with a clunk. ‘Anyway, talking of kids, do you fancy going to the zoo?’
‘The zoo?’
‘Yes, the place where they have all the animals in cages for people to stand and guffaw at.’
‘I know what a zoo is. I just wonder why you want to go there, and with me, of all people?’
‘It’s just around the corner. I like animals. I have no answer for the “ with you ” bit.’
I consider the alternative – going back to the flat, eating junk and watching Game of Thrones repeats. ‘OK. Let’s go to the zoo.’
*
I seem to have a habit of always sitting down to watch an animal enclosure just as said animals start mating. It’s happened to me twice with the kids, cue lots of questions about ‘Why is that animal attacking the other one?’ or ‘Look, he’s clinging on to the other one’s bottom and it’s trying to run away,’ (much to the amusement of unaccompanied adults around me) and it’s happening to me now, sitting in front of the gorilla enclosure with Mimi, trying to enjoy some lunch.
Mimi raises her burger to her mouth but then lowers it again. She gawps at the gorillas, her mouth hanging open. ‘Oh. My. God. He is actually doing what I think he’s doing, isn’t he?’
‘Yes. Yes, I think he is.’
‘Look at her,’ Mimi continues, fascinated. ‘She’s like, “ Get on with it, love. It’s bloody uncomfortable down here.” Ha. Isn’t it brilliant?’
‘Absolutely.’
It was bad enough with the kids, but watching the act of sexual intercourse next to someone you recently slept with is nothing short of excruciating.
Mimi takes her eyes off the gorillas for a second to look at me. ‘You’re actually embarrassed, aren’t you? Cocky sex machine Noah is turning red at the sight of a perfectly natural act?’
