Chapter 28
“Mummy, this is Una,” said an ecstatic looking Adam as he shoved a decrepit looking horse into my face.
“That’s a lovely looking horse, sweety, but can you get it out of my face please?” I asked.
“It’s not a horse, it’s a unicorn – look at her horn!”
The flaccid looking horn looked more depressed than majestic, and the smell of the damned thing reminded me of a port-a-loo on the second day of a music festival.
“She’s staying with us tonight and we get to do lots of fun things with her and take pictures and send them to my teacher and then do a talk about our adventures with her tomorrow. Isn’t that great?” he beamed.
For the love of all that is holy, why does his teacher hate me?
“That’s just fantastic news, love.”
“I thought we could bring her to the beach, then the funfair and the cinema, I think she would like all that.”
Not half a demanding cow is she? Sorry, unicorn.
“Eh, I don't think we'll be able to fit that all in. How about the park and some ice cream after?”
He weighed up the compromise and decided that sugar would suffice.
“Una isn’t allowed ice cream.”
“Oh, I know she’s just a teddy.”
“No, she’s real – it’s just Mrs Carroll said she was lactose intolerant.”
But of course.
Before we even got out of the car at the park I had already turned into the horrible cross-sounding mummy, because my children were wailing in the backseat over who Una would sit beside. I explained that unicorns only liked the front seat and both of them had been sobbing since.
Tears were wiped away when I threatened to ‘turn the car around and go straight back home’ – I had gone full Irish mammy at this stage of their tantrums.
Una was dispatched with her two protectors while I spotted a coffee cart with an enthusiastic woman serving customers. I felt like I was cheating on Joseph, so I opted for water and sat down on the bench beside the slides to watch the children ‘show' Una the joys of the park.
Their version of showing Una a good time was throwing her down slides and up in the air (and never catching her).
No wonder the poor girl was looking so rough.
I took my phone out of my handbag to check in with my huge circle of friends – or rather, just the one – there was nothing waiting for me.
Elle had fallen off the radar again since she left us home from Mike’s, a week ago. I had phoned and texted several times each day since then. I was trying not to take the radio silence to heart but my anxiety over the situation was increasing by the day.
I just wanted to know she was ok, or if she was avoiding me because she had let Keith move back home.
That pang of disappointment at the blank screen reminded me of teenage years waiting for my crush to text me.
It never happened, of course. I never had the nerve to even talk to him in school so why on earth did I think that an awkward teenage boy – who didn’t know I existed – would take it upon himself to get my number and text me out of the blue?
Teenagers have it easy now. They get to find out all this juicy information about their prospective partners without even having to resort to following them around the school like a lovesick puppy-dog.
Amy: Hey quiet, are you all set for the launch night? Looking forward to seeing you in your finery. Gimme a call later x
I started to feel panicked that I was too late and maybe she’d given up on our friendship as quickly as she cemented herself into my life. Now that Ben and I were in a happier place, I worried that she would feel like I didn’t need her anymore.
If that was the case, she couldn’t have been more wrong. I depended on her because she understood me, she didn’t judge, she didn’t care that I was a little bit damaged – if anything, we were both as damaged as each other.
I could feel a lump in my throat along with the panic in my chest. I knew at this age it was common that you lose touch with people when kids come along.
I made that transition a lot easier by having a breakdown and cutting off anyone I had a sliver of a connection with – apart from my family.
It wasn’t hard, people had their own lives and to be honest, I wasn't that bothered. There was no one I missed. But clearly, I hadn't experienced a friendship like this before. We had very little in common on the surface of things – in terms of actual interests – but we worked and I was damned if I was going to lose it now.
I took my phone out and there was no reply to my message. I wondered if I should call, again, but I can’t stand talking to people on the phone.
No, keep it safe. Text messages all the way.
Amy: I’m sure you’re busy but I’ve missed talking to you lately, so if you’re not too busy and Keith has the kids, why don’t you come stay at mine tonight? Ben is away and the kids will be sleeping early. Wine and trashy tv? Let me know x
I hoped that would entice her out of her shell and I would love the company. I hated when Ben had to travel for work. The novelty of having the house to myself wore off after the first hundred times he’d been away.
As much as I liked to complain and kick him in his sleep when he snored too loudly, I could never fall into a deep sleep until I could feel him in the bed next to me.
Even when things were bad, or we were going to bed after an argument, we would always sleep in the same bed. Both of us seething at each other from our respective sides of the mattress, but I wouldn’t want him debunking to anywhere else in the house.
After feeling the first drops of rain, I scrambled to round up the troops. I tried to talk them out of the ice cream due to the monsoon-type rain we found ourselves caught in but they couldn’t be swayed. I stopped at the shop for the sugar in a cone and let them devour it on the drive home. I knew there was no chance I was going to win the dinner negotiations tonight.
“Did you take lots of pictures, Mummy?” asked Adam.
Crap.
“My phone was dead sweety,” I lied.
“No, it wasn’t! I saw you typing on it,” piped up an unhelpfully accurate Arthur.
“No, that’s when I was just checking it. It was definitely dead.”
I could see my eldest son’s eyes filled with tears and I felt like the worst parent on the planet, right now.
“It’s ok, petal,” I soothed. “We are going to get home and charge up my phone and take some really clever photos that will make it look like they were taken in the park. Besides, Una knows she was there and she’ll definitely be able to tell Mrs Carroll.”
He seemed satisfied with this and the crisis was averted – for now.
When we got home I ran up the stairs to ‘charge my phone’ and check to see if Elle had replied. There was still nothing from her; resulting in another pang of rejection.
I came down the stairs to try to be a halfway decent mother at least.
We positioned Una on the grass in the back garden with a little cocktail umbrella I found in the drinks cupboard.
“Now, it looks like it was such a sunny day she was protecting herself from the sun – like all sensible unicorns do,” I explained.
“But she’s not on the swings or the slides,” wailed Adam.
“Yes, but you can tell the class that she was. You didn’t get a picture because she was going so super quick on everything.”
Work with me here, kid!
The photo shoot continued like this, eventually, I managed to get enough ‘park' pictures that even kept Adam happy. I also had her help me make the dinner and we gave her a bubble bath in the sink and a spin in the tumble drier (which didn't hurt her because unicorns can't feel pain).
Just to make sure she was safe the two boys sat cross-legged in front of the machine waiting for the cycle to finish. This meant I got to clear up and do the dishes completely uninterrupted. I began to wish Una would stay on a more permanent basis.
By the time bedtime came, Una was dr
y and the boys were happy with the selection of photographs I showed them.
“You have to send them to Mrs Carroll tonight,” said Adam for the hundredth time since dinner.
“Yes, I know. I have the email address downstairs and Una’s adventure will be sent as soon as you’re asleep.”
“Is Daddy coming home tonight?” asked Arthur.
“Not tonight, but he’ll be back tomorrow.”
“You can have Una in your bed if you like? That way you don’t have to stay by yourself,” offered Adam.
My heart swelled at my thoughtful little boy. Before I could tell him it was ‘ok’ and I didn’t need her, he was already pushing her towards me.
“I’ll get her back off you in the morning.”
He smiled and turned over to go to sleep. I held Una up to my chest and felt very privileged to be given her for the evening. This must have been exactly how Adam felt when Mrs Carroll gave Una to him this afternoon.
I sat outside their bedroom for a while, listening to them both snore. Admittedly, I spent a lot of my day wishing the kids were quiet, or there wasn’t mess around the house, or I had a minute to myself but I really couldn’t imagine my life without them.
This last year had been a mess, but they were my one constant. I wanted, so much, to be better for them. I didn’t want them to find me broken and afraid of living my life.
“I love you both,” I whispered, at the doorway.
Arthur began to wake up, so I turned and ran down the stairs as quickly as I could in case either of them properly woke up and I would have to parent again.
“Well, there’s that nice moment ruined. Una? What do you fancy doing now?”
We both collapsed the sofa for the evening; there was still no word from Elle. I decided this was the final proof that I was definitely in the bad books.
Self-sabotage Amy would be hitting the bottle of wine in the fridge, phoning Elle and crying about how much she meant to me. Instead, I opted for some orange juice and television.
I really am a responsible adult these days.
Things with Ben were getting better, kids were happy and healthy and I had reached a point where I didn’t need alcohol to enjoy myself.
I’ve got this adulting stuff covered.
I propped Una up on the pillow beside me to watch some awful soap opera. It made perfect sense to me that I needed to explain who the characters on the screen were to a stuffed unicorn. I knew it made less sense to have a full conversation about the show with her. It didn’t stop me though.
“That’s a good question, Una,” I said. “Tristan was kissing Abigail in the last scene and now he’s trying to get into Caroline’s pants. I don’t know what the dating scene is like for unicorns but this type of man is what we humans refer to as a ‘complete shit’.”
She seemed to appreciate my keen insight into the male psyche. When that particular trash was over I decided I’d better get my laptop out. I dutifully wrote my email to Mrs Carroll with all the pictures and a bit of an over-zealous narrative for each one; I’m not sure she cared that Una ‘slipped into a Zen-like state in her bubble bath in order to reflect on the day and her lost youth’ but I sent it anyway.
With that done I decided to do some old-school networking. That was my polite way of saying I was looking up all my old boyfriends on the Internet and pouring through their pictures in order to see if they’re:
Miserable, having dumped me decades ago or
Fat, bald and miserable.
I had successfully hunted them all down. In truth, there was only two that I was ever interested in checking in with: Ciaran and Declan.
I found that neither of them looked particularly sad without me.
How dare they get on with their lives fifteen years after we parted ways? Calm down, they’re hardly going to put up a miserable picture in their profile, are they?
I made a good point and decided to dig further.
I was engrossed in my snooping for ninety minutes and thought it was time to step away from the computer.
I had found out what they graduated university with, their first few jobs after and managed to get a fairly deep insight into a few of their ex-girlfriends lives too.
I was about to flick through Ciaran’s 2003 Ibiza holiday photographs when the computer froze.
My technical know-how was poor at the best of times, but this time I decided just to keep bashing the mouse pad until it finally came back to life.
Thankfully, it did so quickly enough and just in time for me to share Ciaran’s photo album publicly to my profile.
“Holy mother of fuck, what have I done?” I screamed, as I jumped up from the sofa and dropped the laptop.
The screen went black and I threw myself to the floor in order to undo my mistake before he was notified of my snooping. It was the worst ex too. He was such a pretentious ass and really got off on how upset I was by being dumped.
Over the phone.
Two days before Christmas.
Turd.
If he saw this it would completely blow up his, already massive ego and probably make him think I’m still obsessively checking in on him.
Just because I like to check in from time-to-time, doesn’t mean I was still hung up on him. I was just nosey and bored.
God, I know I don’t believe in you, but if you’re up there please let this laptop switch on and let me scrape my dignity back. Please!
I decided the Almighty's intervention was taking too long so I scrambled around the house to find my phone and go on the app in the hope I wasn’t too late.
By the time I found it there was already a message waiting:
Ciaran: Hey doll, looooooong time. Can I ask you to take down that photo album you just shared? It’s of a holiday – one with me and my ex – and honestly, I think it’s a bit weird that you shared it.
Hope you’re keeping ok?
I stood, rooted to the spot, re-reading the message and thinking of a reply that didn’t make me sound completely pathetic. A few minutes later, he sent another one:
Hey, listen, if this is your way to reach out to an old flame, I don't think it's a great idea.
I’m sorry if you’re not happy, but I am. I think it’s best to leave the past where it belongs. You were always a nice girl and I hope you don’t have to wonder about the ‘what if’ scenario any longer because now you know I’m definitely not interested. Like, ever.
Anyway, if you could delete the album that would be great and I hope you find the closure that you need soon.
Kind regards
Ciaran
I sat staring at the screen for a few minutes. My emotions flew from rage to mortification and back to rage again.
I swiftly deleted the album and promptly blocked Ciaran from my profile permanently. He would no doubt, take this as the actions of a lover scorned but really I was saving him from the drunken abuse I knew I would send after a bottle of wine, in the very near future.
I decided to text Elle and tell her all about my evening from hell. Surprisingly, she decided to reply to this message – perhaps the humiliation of my evening made her feel slightly perkier. I was so happy to see her name on the screen but my elation was short lived when I read the message.
Elle: No way. Mortified for you.
Short and sweet.
“At least I have you, Una, you’re here for me – until tomorrow. Never mind, you’re a bitch too.”
Chapter 29
Today, was the day.
It was Joseph’s official launch and if it went well it would cement the cafe into the community as a haven for us undesirable parents. I half expected to find protesters outside, fronted by Mrs Clunting. I was relieved to find none when I arrived to check how the final preparations were going.
She had spent the last few days leaving bogus reviews about the business online and trying to get a petition against us off the ground. It claimed that Elle was dealing drugs under the counter while I was an ‘erratic drunk’. It didn’t attra
ct much attention so I decided it was best to just ignore her desperate attempts to derail us and take the high road, this time. More importantly, it didn’t stop people coming through the door.
Things still weren’t sorted with Elle, I felt like she was avoiding me. She came in and worked on her fairy lights and other little touches at times when I’d be at home with the kids and this morning was no different. When I arrived, the cherry blossom trees at the entrance were already in place. She was right: they were beautiful.
I took out my phone and quickly typed her a message:
Amy: the trees are amazing, you’ve such an eye for this. Do you want to get ready at mine tonight and we can come together? Xx
Elle: Yeah I was pleased with how they turned out. I’ll see you at café later.
I hated her blunt replies. It was so frustrating but I didn’t want to push her in case I caused an explosion and she didn’t show up to celebrate our success. I could hear Joseph and Michael fighting in the back but I heard a female voice as well – one I didn’t recognise.
“Ah, Amy, you’re here,” said Joseph. “Can you please tell my imbecile son-in-law that there is no need to start setting out the canapés now? They will be inedible by the time the first guest takes a bite.”
A smartly dressed woman appeared behind him and introduced herself as Joseph’s daughter, Maria.
“Amy,” she said. “Can you tell my father that he has no need to call my husband an imbecile? He meant that he wanted to start preparing the ingredients for the canapés so there’s no rush later on but my imbecile father shouted at him before he could finish his sentence. Is this what it's always like? Does he bully my husband every day like this or are you just stressed about the party and taking it out on Michael?”
I didn’t know how to answer her without putting my foot in it, so as usual, I stayed quiet and hoped for the problem to go away.
“No!” he replied. “Of course I don’t shout at him, he’s my family. Do you think if I disrespected a man day-after-day he would show up to work for me? Don’t be silly, my darling.”
Amy Cole has lost her mind: The perfect laugh out loud, feel-good comedy (The Amy Cole series Book 1) Page 23
