by Gil McNeil
I ring Mack on his direct line at work, and he answers the phone with a very curt, ‘What?’
‘What a lovely way to start a conversation. You must tell me where you learned your phone technique.’
‘Oh hello, sweetheart.’
He sounds very pleased to hear from me, which is always nice. I wonder if he’ll be quite so pleased when I tell him he may have nits.
‘Look, I’m just ringing to let you know that Charlie has managed to get nits, so you might be well advised to have a session with a comb fairly sharpish.’
There’s a long silence.
‘Oh dear, you aren’t terribly pleased about this, are you, I can tell. Come on, say something.’
‘Yes, yes, sorry. I was just thinking how delightful life with small children can be.’
‘Tell me about it. I’m sure I can arrange for Charlie to draw you some pictures if you’d like. He’s absolutely thrilled.’
‘Please don’t go to any trouble on my account. You know, come to think of it, I think the kids got them last year. Laura tried nettle oil or something, but then she gave up and we had to import some special Agent Orange stuff from the States because they got urban-guerrilla ones that nothing else would shift. Still, I’m sure Charlie’s got a much better class of rural types – bit of sheep dip and you’ll be fine.’
‘Oh stop it, it’s horrible. Oh, that reminds me, there’s something else I should tell you.’
‘Don’t tell me, let me guess. Ringworm?’
‘No, but I think I may have to have a new haircut, a bit like Demi Moore in that GI film. Would you mind terribly if I was bald next time you saw me?’
‘I think I might slightly, yes. Unless you were planning on doing lots of press-ups wearing one of those tiny little vests. That might be OK.’
‘Oh very funny. At least you’ve got short hair. I had a dreadful time in Boots buying nit cream, and loads of condoms.’
‘Got plans for the weekend, have you?’
‘Well, I hope so. But he might change his mind once he knows about the nits.’
‘Oh I doubt it. I shouldn’t think a few little headlice will put him off.’
‘You couldn’t be more specific, could you? I need cheering up.’
‘Well, I would love to, darling, but actually I’m in a kind of board meeting at the moment so if you don’t mind I’ll call you back on that one.’
‘Oh fucking hell, Mack, why didn’t you say?’
‘I really must go now, sweetheart, but I’ll call you tonight.’
And he puts the phone down. This is all going very well; even nits do not appear to faze him.
Charlie is very excited about the weekend in London with Mack, and wants to know if I think we’ll get anywhere near Hamleys. I have long discussions with Mack about how helpful it will be if the first time Charlie meets Alfie and Daisy he gives them nits, but we decide that as we have used the toxic shampoo repeatedly it should be alright. I drive up on Saturday morning, with Charlie playing a long complicated game which turns the car into a spaceship. He is the captain, naturally, and keeps giving me instructions to fire lasers at the traffic, and go into warp drive on the motorway. I end up wishing the car did have lasers as it would be a brilliant way to deal with lorries.
We arrive just as Mack gets back from picking up the kids, and we decide to head off for lunch at Pizza Express. Alfie and Charlie instantly take to each other, and launch into endless chat about Star Wars and Pokémon. Alfie is like a mini Mack, which endears him to me instantly. Daisy is very quiet and watchful, and insists on sitting next to Mack, pushing Alfie out of the way so he falls on the floor. But otherwise lunch goes without incident, and on the way home I sit in the back of the car with the boys, and get a tiny smile of approval from Daisy. Apart from that she does her best to pretend I’m simply not there at all, which is perfectly understandable but I think this weekend will feel like at least a fortnight.
Mack has a beautiful house in Notting Hill, all stripped floors and state-of-the-art televisions. I count five separate remote controls. But it’s not exactly child-friendly, and vital bits of Lego fall down the cracks between the floorboards, which amplify the sound of running children into something resembling a herd of buffalo stampeding down a canyon. The kitchen is very minimalist, and the fridge turns out to be full of Coke and beer. Decide to go shopping for supper and take the boys out with me so Daisy can have Mack to herself for a while. I get another tiny smile.
The boys trot along quite happily on the promise of an ice-cream on the way home. I spend ages wandering about and buying huge quantities of food, and then we get home to find Mack and Daisy watching videos. The boys decide the film is for girls, and demand it’s replaced with something with guns. I leave Mack to sort this out while I try to fit the food into the fridge. Then we have a whispered conversation in the kitchen about the plans for tomorrow. Mack is holding out for Hamleys, while I, wanting to aim for something slightly more cerebral, am advocating the Science Museum. We end up pressed up against the kitchen door so as not to shock the small people next door.
‘I’m really enjoying this.’
‘Me too.’
‘No, I mean having you and Charlie here.’
‘Oh, yes, well, so am I. Though I’m not sure Daisy’s too keen.’
‘No, I hadn’t realised quite how possessive she’d be. Rather sweet really.’
‘Yes, but let’s not push it. We can go off a bit early tomorrow, so you get some time on your own with them.’
‘OK, but only after Hamleys. I’ve promised Charlie we’ll have a look at laser guns.’
‘Christ, Miss Pike won’t stand a chance.’
There’s a deafening crash from the living room. Alfie has managed to knock a coffee cup and a glass off the table and on to the floor in the middle of a sword fight with Charlie. There is smashed china and broken glass everywhere. Both boys look very crestfallen, and Daisy looks nervous. Mack does a bit of yelling, and then suddenly Charlie bursts into tears and says he doesn’t like being shouted at, and it’s not his fault, and he wants to go home, and Alfie bursts into tears and says he didn’t mean it, and Daisy goes very pale and looks tearful.
Mack says, ‘Oh Christ,’ and doesn’t seem sure what to do next, so I put my arms round Charlie for a cuddle and motion for Mack to do the same with his two. He finally gets the message and sits down on the sofa, whereupon they both sidle up to him for a hug. Peace is restored and we have a talk about how important it is to be careful with cups and glasses. Charlie offers to pay for the broken things with his pocket money, which is very sweet except he doesn’t actually get pocket money, because last time we tried it there were endless arguments about why he couldn’t borrow next week’s money. I suggest we start making supper with Charlie and Alfie being my special helpers. They love this and begin chopping up vegetables into very odd shapes with blunt knifes I have found in the cutlery drawer: the kitchen knives are all terrifying steel things, which look like they would slice off small fingers in a second.
Supper is a success, and even Daisy says the food is all right, and then we begin baths and bedtime which goes on for hours. In the end I give up and lie down on the bed with Charlie, stroking his back until he falls asleep. I know I should be firm and simply leave him to it, but the bed in the spare room is huge and he looks tiny in it. Go back downstairs to discover Daisy is still up and Mack is looking desperate. Determined not to get drawn in, I offer to make coffee, and hear Mack insisting she goes up and tries to get to sleep. She relents and we have a peaceful half-hour drinking coffee. I decide I’ll sleep with Charlie in the spare room because, apart from anything else, Alfie has managed to move into Mack’s bed while nobody was looking, and is now fast asleep and will almost certainly be joined by Daisy at any moment. She’s now asleep in the top bunk bed in the small bedroom which Mack has kitted out for weekends with the kids, but Mack thinks it is highly unlikely that she’ll stay there.
‘This is not quite what I had i
n mind when I asked you up here for the weekend.’
‘No, but as long as they’re happy I think we should go with it.’
‘Yes, I suppose so, but I kind of hoped we might get some time to ourselves. I’m sorry I yelled at them earlier on. I’m not terribly good at crisis management with small children.’
‘I know, I noticed.’
‘My mum and dad didn’t really go in for hugging much; they preferred a good slap, to be honest. I mean, don’t get me wrong, they loved us, and they were no different to all the other parents round where we lived. But I’m not too sure how to handle things when it all goes pear-shaped. Laura usually took over.’
He looks anxious, which I find very endearing.
‘It’s fine, Mack. You’re allowed to shout, it’s just I think everyone was a bit nervous, you know. It was fine. They adore you, so you must be doing something right.’
Mack looks relieved, and we end up behaving disgracefully on the sofa and then we stagger off to our separate beds, full of sleeping children. I’m very pleased the weekend has not descended into hysterical tantrums yet, but can’t help feeling a tiny bit overwhelmed by it all. Don’t really think I’m cut out for a stepgirlfriend role, and certainly not stepmother. I’m lying in bed trying to decide exactly what I am cut out for when Charlie wakes up and bursts into tears because he’s had a horrible dream where he got lost and couldn’t find me. I cuddle him back to sleep and try not to read too much into his dream, as he’s had similar ones in the past without the faintest hint of there being a man lurking anywhere in my life. But I’m glad I was there when he woke up.
The Science Museum is a huge hit, though personally I think it would be a much better place if you could rent energetic teenagers to charge around the exhibits with the kids, and then you wouldn’t have to pretend to be interested in how engines work. We eat lunch in the café, which costs a fortune, and then race off to Hamleys where Mack spends a staggering amount of money on toys for himself and the children. We get a cab back to the house and after a quick cup of tea we leave. Charlie and Alfie part as new best friends, Daisy looks relieved, and Mack says he will ring later. It’s very nice to be back with just Charlie and me, and he spends the journey home telling me that Hamleys really is the best shop in the world, and that Alfie can come to his party but not Daisy because she is stupid. When Mack rings he says he thinks the weekend was a huge success because Alfie said I cooked good spaghetti and Charlie was great, and Daisy said the spaghetti was OK. I feel ridiculously pleased. Just hope no one turns out to have caught nits.
The next morning Edna arrives early and I manage to get to the studio for the dog-food job at what feels like the crack of dawn. The dog handler turns up with four dalmatian puppies, all of whom are adorable but wildly over-excited. Then various owners start arriving with their puppies, and they’re all very demanding and cannot control their dogs who run round jumping and barking. One bites the electrician who is very stoical and says, ‘It’s only a nip, and they don’t mean no harm.’ This is going to be a very long day. We now have twenty puppies, four stroppy owners and a desperate dog handler who begins to erect a puppy cage so we can try to keep all the animals in one place for more than two seconds. The cage turns out to be enormous, and it takes three of the crew an entire hour to help him get the bloody thing to stop wobbling and looking like it will decapitate any animal put inside it. When it’s finished there’s enough room for all the dogs and the dog handler, so he sits inside on a blanket and begins trying to calm the puppies down by singing to them. The entire crew are spellbound by this, and it does seem to be working as the puppies all lie down and stare at him in amazement. Barney arrives and says, ‘What the fuck is he doing?’ which doesn’t really help but luckily the man doesn’t hear. The set is finished, and we get ready for the first shot. The idea is a woman comes into her kitchen, puts new dried puppy food into a bowl for her dalmatian puppy and then, lo and behold, hordes of the little buggers stream in through the dog flap. Simple really, and the voiceover will say, ‘Puppies love it. You’ll love it. So will the neighbours. You’d better buy the big bag next time.’
Barney and John, the lighting cameraman, have a frank exchange of views, because John thinks if the camera moves too quickly following black and white puppies running over black and white tiles then the whole thing will strobe, and Barney thinks this is crap. They end up deciding to do it Barney’s way, but also do a slower version in case John is right. ‘But if it doesn’t strobe in rushes then you’re in serious trouble, John.’ John starts to backtrack and says he didn’t say it would, only it might. While all this is going on two of the owners have got into an argument about whose puppy is most likely to win Best in Show at a forthcoming competition. This results in one of them deciding to walk out in a huff, because apparently she has never been so insulted in her life. I spot her grabbing three puppies and storming off, and try to persuade her to stay but she’s adamant. When I inform Barney we now have only seventeen puppies, he says, ‘Christ, why didn’t you stop her?’
The puppies are quite keen on the bowls of food for a while, but then they all get full up and start lying down for little sleeps. Except for one little stalwart, who we christen Porky, who keeps shooting through the dog flap and bolting down food like crazy. We decide he’s our best bet, and start to get some shots of him jumping up at his pretend owner and wagging his tail. The other puppies then wake up and join in the fun. Barney says, ‘Where the fuck is Cruella de Ville when you need her?’ and another owner gets the hump and threatens to leave.
We finally manage to get what we need, but it takes hours longer than we thought and we go into overtime, which cheers the crew up no end but makes Barney furious. The agency people have behaved themselves perfectly, and Paul has even managed to divert a couple of runaway puppies just before they belted out of the studio doors. The client makes a brief appearance but leaves when the puppies begin nipping people’s ankles. Barney goes off muttering about bloody dogs. There’s another script in for the same stuff, but this time the version is designed for bigger dogs involving a St Bernard breaking down a door to get into the kitchen and eat a bowl of food. The voiceover will say, ‘Leave the door open. You know it makes sense.’ I’m really not looking forward to it and half hope the client will hate this one. But I have a sinking feeling he won’t and we’ll all be back here before we know it, up to our necks in St Bernards.
Chapter Seven
It’s My Party and I’ll Cry if I Want To
Charlie comes home from school clutching an invitation to a birthday party, and is already wildly excited because the birthday boy, Jack, has promised there’ll be a magician and Coke and indoor fireworks. I ring Jack’s mum Clare to ask for tips on a present, and tell her Charlie is thrilled about the magician and fireworks. She says, ‘What magician?’ and it turns out she was planning on Pass the Parcel and lots of jelly, but may be forced to reconsider now or ruin Jack’s reputation entirely. We agree that small boys really are hopeless, and I promise to ring Kate to see if she knows any magicians who are likely to be available at very short notice.
By the time I ring Kate Clare has already called her, but she couldn’t help. We’ve decided on a joint birthday party for Charlie and James this year, which is due in a couple of weeks. Kate has booked the local swimming pool for a vast fee, and the café upstairs will provide a birthday tea. We’re allowed to bring our own cake, but everything else has to come from the café at hugely inflated prices. But – and this is the really fantastic bit – they do all the cleaning up afterwards, blow up all the balloons, and even provide a party helper. Marvellous. I don’t care what it costs as long as I don’t have to pick squashed birthday cake out of the living-room carpet.
Kate also has Phoebe’s party to sort out for next month, which is proving far more tricky. The only hints Phoebe will give her are that James is not allowed to come, and if Kate won’t let her wear make-up and high heels she’ll die. She’s on a bit of a mission about make-up at
the moment, and Kate has had to start hiding her make-up bag in the back of the wardrobe to foil Phoebe’s attempts to leave the house looking like Pat Butcher in EastEnders. I come up with the inspired suggestion that Kate books someone from a beauty salon to come round and do a full make-up for Phoebe and her friends, and then Kate can take photographs of them all. Kate rushes off to tell Phoebe and rings back ten minutes later to say sulking Phoebe has been transformed into hysterically happy Phoebe, and I’m invited to the party as guest of honour, but only if I promise not to bring Charlie.
It looks like the second dog-food job is on, and Barney has been ringing in an increasingly hysterical state because Lawrence has arranged for countless owners with St Bernard dogs to turn up at the office so Barney can see if he likes the look of them. I spend hours on the phone sorting out the studio and crew, and Mack threatens to visit the shoot with a couple of cats just to liven things up. We are due to meet up this weekend, but I tell him if he makes one more crack about cats he can stop in London.
I’m just walking in the door after picking Charlie up from school when the telephone rings. Charlie rushes to answer it, and gets there before me.
‘Oh hello, Barney.’
Christ.
‘Yes, I’m very well, thank you. Would you like to hear my best new joke?’
Double Christ.
‘What do you call a donkey with only three legs?’
