Playgroups and Prosecco

by Jo Middleton

  God damn it.

  Monday 27 May

  Hi Cassie, apologies for my untimely response to your messages. I’ve had something I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how to say it. I’m sorry, but I cannot take on the role of treasurer. I long for an excuse to be close to you but it wouldn’t be fair on you or your husband. You see, Cassie, I have developed feelings for you, and I can deny them no longer. I think it started when I saw you in that fur coat back in January. I haven’t been able to get the image out of my head. I feel it best that I resign from the committee for fear of falling deeper in love with you than I already am. Kind regards.

  What is the matter with me? Why can’t I just tell her I don’t want to do it? I’m pathetic.

  Messaged WIB instead for moral support.

  ‘Perhaps you’ll just have to do it?’ said Lou. ‘Be the treasurer?’ God, that woman is so unhelpful sometimes.

  ‘Bollocks to that,’ said Sierra, ‘you just need a bit of Dutch courage, that’s all. Have a couple of glasses of wine and then message her. Just be straightforward about it, tell her you don’t have the time to do it properly and you wanted to let her know now, before you wasted her time with a handover. It won’t be as bad as you think.’

  Seemed like a pretty good idea to me, so I opened a bottle of Pinot and waited for the courage to build.

  Tuesday 29 May

  Woke up this morning to a message from Cassie.

  ‘I have to admit I was shocked to receive your message last night,’ she wrote, ‘but I agree that perhaps in light of your feelings it would be better for you not to be part of the committee.’

  Hooray!

  ‘It worked!’ I wrote to WIB. ‘You are talking to the ex-treasurer of Busy Beavers!’

  ‘Fantastic!’ replied Sierra, ‘I knew you could do it!’

  ‘What did you tell her?’ asked Lou.

  I looked back at what I’d written. Shit. I’d sent the declaration of love message. Still, better than being on the playgroup committee.

  Wednesday 30 May

  I had a second message from Cam tonight.

  After the shock of seeing him outside that bar I felt better prepared this time. Although I’d deleted his number so it didn’t say ‘Cam’ I could see that the message began ‘Hey, Franny’, and no one else ever calls me that. I poured a glass of wine (and by poured a glass I mean ‘necked some straight from the bottle standing at the fridge’) and took some calming breaths before I read it.

  ‘Hey, Franny,’ it said. ‘I was disappointed that you didn’t reply to my last message, but not surprised – I totally deserve to be blanked. I’ve been thinking a lot about you over the last month and don’t blame you at all for not wanting to speak to me. I came down to Barnmouth a couple of weeks ago so that if you did get in touch I’d be here for you. I’m staying in a cheap Airbnb and am basically holed up there, just working and thinking about you and Flo – it’s a bit of a lonely life! I’m doing some travel writing work, which I can do anywhere, so I’m going to hang around a bit longer just in case. I’ve missed you, Franny. X’

  I read it twice and wasn’t in a heap on the floor, so excellent progress. I think it helped that he went a little bit too far in the ‘woe is me stakes’. He hadn’t looked massively lonely when I’d seen him outside the pub and I wasn’t entirely convinced he was staying here just for me – it didn’t sound like him.

  I messaged WIB.

  ‘I’ve had a second Cam contact,’ I told them. ‘I think I’m going to reply this time.’

  ‘Noooo!’ said Sierra. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ asked Lou. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Don’t worry, guys,’ I wrote. ‘I’ve been thinking about it a lot over the last few weeks and I think maybe I need to do something. If I keep ignoring him he’s always going to be hanging over me. I think I need to see him and put it to bed.’

  ‘As long as he doesn’t end up putting you to bed,’ said Sierra.

  ‘We’re here if you need us,’ said Lou, ‘or if you want us to come with you?’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘but let’s see how I get on. I need to think, too, about what I say to Flo. He is her father, after all, in blood at least; she probably has the right to know if he’s around.’

  ‘I guess so,’ said Sierra, ‘although it’s tempting just not to tell her, isn’t it?’

  Sierra had a point, it was tempting, but is that really my decision to make? Flo will be fifteen soon, and although I know she thinks of Ian as her dad, she deserves the right to make that call for herself. Can you imagine if I didn’t say anything and then she found out? I’d always be the bad guy, then. How would she trust me again?

  I also need to tell Ian, which should be fun.

  ‘Have you spoken to your mum and dad about it?’ asked Lou.

  ‘God, no,’ I said, ‘they would be so worried about Flo. If he sticks around and she wants to see him regularly, then I guess I’ll have to, but until there is something more concrete to tell them then there’s no point; they’d only worry, and there would be nothing they could do.’

  ‘I guess so,’ said Lou, ‘although I’m sure they’d want to support you.’

  ‘I know they would,’ I said, ‘and I will tell them if it comes to it. Just not for now.’

  I drafted a reply to Cam instead.

  ‘Hi. Cam,’ I wrote. ‘It’s been a while, hasn’t it?’ (Talk about stating the bloody obvious – ten years is definitely a while.) ‘I’m glad you got in touch, though – it’s time we talked about what happened and drew a line under the past. Meet up for a coffee this week? Frankie.’

  I deliberately didn’t use Franny as I didn’t want him thinking we had any kind of special relationship left at all. He doesn’t get to have a name for me any more.

  I sent it to WIB for approval.

  ‘Love it,’ said Sierra. ‘It’s straightforward and assertive and you’re totally in charge.’

  ‘It’s perfect,’ agreed Lou. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

  ‘If I can resign from Cassie’s playgroup committee, then I can pretty much do anything, right?’ I said.

  I downed the last of the wine and sent it.

  I watched one grey tick become two. Five minutes. A beep.

  ‘Franny,’ said his reply, ‘I’m so pleased to hear from you! I’d love to meet up – I'm so glad you want to see me! I can be free tomorrow?’

  I would have Jess, obviously, as it was a Thursday, but I didn’t want to put it off any longer than I had to. I quickly formulated a plan.

  ‘Ladies,’ I wrote to WIB, ‘I need your help. Cam has replied and he wants to meet tomorrow. I’ve asked nursery to take Jess for the morning, but would one or both of you be free to “accidentally” happen to be in the same café as us? Just to keep an eye? I’m feeling strong about it, but it would make me feel so much better knowing you guys were nearby.’

  ‘Oh my God, I thought you’d never ask!’ said Sierra. ‘Where are you going to meet him?’

  ‘I was thinking up at the café by the bike hire place,’ I said. ‘It’s a bit out of the way, I know, but I don’t want to run the risk of Cassie coming in and introducing herself or anything awful like that. I’m going to suggest eleven o’clock, so perhaps you could be there about 10.45, get a prime position?’

  ‘Oooh, yes!’ said Lou. ‘Count me in. Shall we wear dark glasses? Do you want us to plant a mic?’

  Now, of course, I’m absolutely shitting myself.

  Thursday 31 May

  Number of times I found myself thinking about glitter slime while Cam was harping on about his ‘writing’ – 9. Slices of chocolate cake paid for – 2, apparently. Sense of closure and new-found strength of character brought about by facing demons – 1. Hooray!

  I arrived at the café at about ten to eleven. I wanted to be there first to settle myself and make sure I was sitting somewhere where I could see Sierra and Lou for moral support, but not so close that Fox, Arthur or
Edward would spot me and run over to say hello. Lou gave me a wink as I walked past and I ordered a flat white and took it over to a table in the corner where I could see the door.

  I opened the internet on my phone and watched a YouTube video of someone making rainbow glitter slime that was there from the last time the girls used it. I can see what Flo likes about the whole slime thing, to be honest – you really get sucked in. In fact, I didn’t notice Cam arrive until he was standing next to the table.

  ‘Hi, Franny,’ he said, smiling.

  He’d caught me off guard. ‘Just catching up on some work,’ I said, muting the chirpy American teenager in the slime video and putting my phone face down on the table with my purse.

  ‘You look amazing,’ he said.

  I did not look amazing. In fact, I had deliberately not made an effort so that if he paid me a compliment I would know he was lying. One point to me. He stood there, clearly waiting for me to get up and kiss him. I stayed sitting down. 2–0.

  He caught the eye of the waitress and, as he sat down, ordered a coffee and two pieces of chocolate orange cake – the one I’d been eyeing up when I got my coffee. Damn it. 2–1.

  I took a minute to look at him, testing myself. He looked mostly the same, but something was missing. When I used to look at him, back when we first met, I swear I could almost see him glowing. He definitely wasn’t glowing today. He was starting to show his age and he needed a shave. His hair was messy, but rather than looking cool with it, he just looked, well, messy. 3–1.

  We talked a bit about work and family. I asked him about his travel writing job, and it turned out he was writing the copy for the website of a friend of a friend.

  ‘What’s the site about?’ I asked. ‘Is it the chance for you to share all those amazing travel experiences?’

  ‘Well, yeah, sort of,’ he said, looking cagey.

  ‘Sort of?’

  ‘It’s more of a camping site,’ he said. ‘Product descriptions for tents and camping stoves. But the guy who runs it has definitely said that he wants to start creating more aspirational content, once the basics are done.’

  ‘Well, that’s great,’ I said, ‘and it’s brilliant that you can work remotely.’

  He is writing descriptions of camping stoves! Ha!

  ‘I hear you got married,’ he said. ‘How long did you stick it out with Mr Nice?’

  I bristled. Ian and I might not have worked as husband and wife but he was nice. More of a man than Cam would ever be – a man who had taken Cam’s daughter on as his own because Cam hadn’t faced up to his own responsibilities.

  I changed the subject.

  ‘What about Florence?’ I asked him. Using her full name somehow kept a distance between them.

  ‘I want to see her, of course,’ he said. Of course. Only he hadn’t mentioned her until I did. ‘How is she?’

  ‘She’s really good,’ I said. ‘School’s going well.’ I couldn’t bring myself to share anything personal. It didn’t feel like he deserved any details.

  ‘Maybe I could meet up with her?’ he asked. ‘No pressure, just somewhere like this. You could come too, if you wanted to.’

  How generous.

  ‘I’m going to need to talk to her,’ I said, ‘then perhaps we can organise something.’

  It was all getting a bit overwhelming, so I made my excuses and went to the bathroom for a quick bathroom-mirror pep talk.

  When I came back, he’d paid the bill. He never used to do that. Perhaps there is a little bit of him that’s changed after all? I guess it would be difficult to get ten years older and not mature even a tiny bit. We said our goodbyes outside the café. He went to put his arms around me but I kept my hands in my pockets and he was forced to abandon the hug and make do with a forced smile from me.

  After I was sure he’d gone, I went back into the café. Sierra and Lou were waiting expectantly.

  ‘Well?’ said Lou. ‘How did it go? How are you feeling?’

  ‘I think I feel OK,’ I said. ‘He was his usual charming self, but somehow it felt different. Less charming … He did pay for everything, though, so perhaps he’s not all bad.’

  Sierra raised her eyebrows.

  ‘You reckon?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

  ‘How much money was in your purse when you came out?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know, exactly,’ I said. ‘A twenty-pound note and some change.’

  ‘Have a look now,’ said Lou.

  I looked. There were no notes.

  ‘He took it out of your purse when you went to the bathroom,’ said Sierra. ‘Sorry. Looks like he really is trying to have his cake and eat it. Or have someone else pay for it, at least.’

  You’d think I would be mad, but honestly? I was pleased. If there had been any doubt at all left in my mind, then that just stamped all over it. I felt like I’d just put on a pair of prescription glasses after years of denial. Everything came into focus and for the first time I felt I was seeing the whole situation clearly.

  ‘I’m such an idiot,’ I said.

  ‘You’re definitely not an idiot,’ said Lou.

  ‘But all this time? All those years I wasted, thinking he was the one who could make me happy, thinking that if I could just be understanding and supportive and forgiving that he could be the person I wanted him to be,’ I said. ‘That’s pretty stupid.’

  ‘It’s not stupid,’ said Lou. ‘You felt those things because you are a good person. You are kind and sympathetic and generous of spirit. There is no shame in wanting to see the best in people. And you know, now, which is the important thing. You were amazing and strong and now he doesn’t have to have that power over you any more.’

  He doesn’t.

  And that’s a pretty nice feeling. But he’s still Flo’s dad.

  Friday 1 June

  Glasses of wine required to block out the image of Steve as Hannibal Lecter – 4. Stress Jaffa Cakes – 8. (Seriously, if I don’t do something about the work situation soon then I am going to be the size of a house.)

  Steve told me today that he has recommended to the board that we increase my hours to cover the extra fundraising responsibilities. I told him I didn’t want extra hours – I wanted the hours I had already to fit in with school and nursery and Ian.

  ‘But I thought you said it was too much work within the time?’ said Steve.

  ‘It is,’ I said, ‘but I don’t want more hours to do it in; I never wanted the fundraising work in the first place.’

  Steve accused me of being ‘deliberately obstructive’. He said he is doing his best to offer solutions and I’m blocking him.

  ‘I’m trying to help you, Frankie,’ he said. ‘Let me help you.’ He leered at me like a serial killer in a really bad horror movie. It would be funny if it wasn’t my life.

  Saturday 2 June

  Slices of toast, butter and Marmite throughout the day to keep mild hangover at bay – 6.

  Since Thursday, I’ve been thinking a lot about Cam and the next steps.

  I need to talk to Ian, and we need to talk to Flo. It’s not going to be fun, but in a strange way I’m almost excited to tell Ian about it. Perhaps excited is the wrong word, but I want to be able to tell him what happened and how sorry I am for not seeing it all before. I want him to know that I know, and to be proud of me. Does that sound a bit pathetic?

  I don’t want Cam to be in charge of me any more, or to always feel like I’m waiting on his next move, so I decided to message him.

  ‘Cam,’ I wrote, ‘thanks for taking the time to meet yesterday. I need to take some time to think about the next steps and to talk to Flo about things. I’ll be in touch when we are ready to move forward.’

  I was tempted to add something about the £20, but I think for now I feel better just having that knowledge to myself. I know what he’s like, anyway: he’d just deny it, say I must have been mistaken about having it in the first place, and then I’d have to say that I had people watching, and
he’d turn that into something, and before I knew it I’d be the one defending myself, even though he’d stolen actual cash from my purse.

  Seriously, how am I only just seeing all this?

  Sunday 3 June

  I invited Ian in for a cup of tea when he dropped the girls off.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m OK,’ he said.

  I gave him a look that said ‘you’re staying for a cup of tea’, and put the kettle on.

  ‘Oh, go on then,’ he said. ‘Maybe a quick one.’

  ‘Do you and Jess want to play some Sims?’ I asked Flo, with a look that said ‘take Jess to play Sims and I’ll make it worth your while.’

  It was like a Derren Brown stage show in that kitchen. My eyebrows were all over the place.

  Flo took Jess upstairs and I took Ian and our tea out into the back garden. We sat down on my peeling old garden chairs and he leaned forward in his, resting his arms on his knees and holding his tea in both hands.

  ‘I need to tell you something,’ I said. I was looking at the arm of my chair and picking at the flaky paint.

  ‘I figured that,’ he said. ‘Is everything OK with the girls?’

  ‘Yes, they’re fine,’ I said. I wasn’t sure how to start so I just went for it. ‘I saw Cam last week.’

  Ian let out a deep breath and sat back in his chair, as though the force of his exhalation had pushed him back against his seat. I looked up briefly. His face was stony. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, although I knew what he was thinking.

  ‘The first thing I want to say is how sorry I am,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry for always bringing my problems to you, and for never appreciating what a dick he was and how supportive you were.’ And then I told him everything that had happened, not stopping to let him speak or even to look at him until it was all done.

  ‘He took money from your purse?’ said Ian finally.