Bad Mother's Holiday - Hilarious Summer Holiday Reading!

by Suzy K Quinn

  ‘How was the drive here, Juliette?’ Alex asked. ‘Not too unsettling?’

  ‘No, I’m really fine now,’ I said. ‘The morning sickness has totally gone.’

  Catrina Dalton appeared then, at the top of the staircase. She wore a white bandage around her hair, ears and chin, and tortoise-shell sunglasses. An odd sprout of blonde-grey hair poked out of the bandage, like a Mauri warrior.

  Catrina was dressed in a red skirt suit with a black velvet collar and oversized buttons. The suit jacket was a little tight around the waist, straining against her older-lady-who-lunches-too-much middle.

  ‘Alex. Darling. There you are,’ Catrina called, whipping off her sunglasses.

  Alex looked up. ‘Anya. You remember Juliette.’

  Catrina gave a jerky nod. ‘Yes, the girl who is now having your child.’

  I gave an awkward wave.

  ‘Come upstairs,’ said Catrina. ‘The luncheon is ready.’

  Catrina Dalton’s apartment was much grander than the simple, stylish lobby. Burgundy and gold flocked wallpaper, a huge slab-marble dining table, chandeliers, swooping crushed satin curtains – it looked like a regency king had taken up residence.

  The table was laid with gleaming cutlery and crisp, white napkins. Lumpy, brown stew and golden bread cobs sat in silver platters.

  ‘I was very uncomfortable making the goulash,’ said Catrina, gesturing with short, pink fingernails. ‘But I know how you love my cooking, Alex.’

  ‘You should have told me,’ said Alex, pulling out seats for Daisy and I. ‘I would have ordered from Giovani’s.’

  ‘But you love my goulash,’ said Catrina, green-gold eyes flashing. Then her mouth sagged. ‘The surgery hasn’t gone right this time, Alex.’

  ‘You always say that.’

  Catrina exploded with laughter. ‘Oh yes! I’ve had so many procedures now. I’m like a ham on a carving board.’

  A serving lady came in then, and presented Catrina with two pills on a white china plate.

  ‘Thank you, Monique,’ said Catrina, popping the pills and placing a hand on the lady’s arm. ‘Would you please serve for me? It’s been difficult today.’

  Monique served big ladles of goulash into white china bowls, then lifted bread rolls with a fork and spoon.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear you’re uncomfortable,’ I told Catrina, smiling at the serving lady. ‘If you need to rest at any point, I totally understand.’

  Catrina gave a jolting nod. ‘The worst of it is, they didn’t take enough skin. I can still see lines.’ She patted taut, white cheekbones.

  ‘How’s Jemima?’ I asked. ‘Alex tells me she’s boarding full time now. Does she enjoy it?’

  ‘Oh, she loves it,’ said Catrina. ‘So many friends. They grow up quickly, these children. She’ll be old enough to join my modelling agency soon, but I don’t think she wants to. She’s talking about being a scientist.’

  ‘I miss seeing her in Great Oakley,’ I said.

  ‘She’s getting too old for that little village,’ said Catrina. ‘Now listen – we must talk about this baby. How did it happen?’

  Alex’s head whipped around. ‘Anya.’

  ‘What?’ Catrina feigned innocence. ‘I can’t ask?’

  ‘We didn’t plan the pregnancy,’ I admitted. ‘It just sort of happened.’

  ‘An accident?’ Catrina enquired. ‘Is there really such a thing?’

  ‘Zachary was an accident,’ said Alex. ‘You told him one Christmas, remember? I’m not sure he’s ever got over it.’

  ‘Things were different back then,’ said Catrina, with a wave of diamond-covered fingers. ‘Keeping babies away is so easy now. A woman can always decide.’

  ‘Anya,’ Alex barked.

  ‘I didn’t decide,’ I said, my voice firm. ‘Neither of us did.’

  We ate in silence after that, silver spoons making polite clinks on porcelain.

  Daisy said, ‘Yuck food, Mummy.’

  Tried to shush her, whilst enthusing about the overly spiced, buttery, lip-stinging goulash.

  Then Alex said, ‘I’ve asked Juliette to accompany us on the cruise, Anya.’

  Catrina became enthusiastic. ‘Oh Alex. The cruise. I can’t wait. You know, Carlos has never taken me away.’

  ‘Juliette might be joining us too,’ said Alex.

  ‘It’s a lovely idea,’ I said. ‘But it just doesn’t seem practical. To leave Daisy for so long … I’d feel too guilty.’

  Alex frowned. ‘It’s only a week, Juliette.’

  ‘I left Alex for months at a time,’ said Catrina. ‘You mustn’t stifle children.’ Then she dropped her spoon dramatically and announced:

  ‘No, it’s no good. I’m afraid I need to lie down. Alex – help me to the bedroom.’

  Alex helped Catrina into the bedroom. Then he reappeared and said, ‘My mother would like to speak to you.’

  The spicy goulash danced unpleasantly in my stomach. ‘In her bedroom?’

  Alex raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t look so terrified. They removed her false nails for the surgery.’

  ‘She’s going to say something horrible.’

  ‘No. I’ve told her not to. You’ll be fine. Go on – I’ll be right here.’

  ‘What does she want to talk about?’

  ‘With my mother, you can never be certain.’

  I put down my napkin. ‘Daisy,’ I said. ‘Will you stay out here with Alex while Mummy gets verbally abused?’

  Daisy nodded.

  ‘Come with me, Daisy,’ said Alex. ‘We’ll find the ice cream. Anya always keeps at least two tubs – chocolate and pecan gelato, and Sicilian lemon sorbet. Her guilty pleasure. We’ll keep it our secret, okay?’

  Daisy trotted off with Alex, while I headed into Catrina’s room.

  In the gloom of the bedroom, I could make out a glowing white bandage and glittering green-gold eyes.

  Catrina sat up in bed, propped by several satin pillows.

  ‘Take a seat my dear,’ she said. ‘Here. On the bed.’

  It was just like Little Red Riding hood.

  Catrina took my hand in her papery fingers and said, ‘I’d like to buy you some clothes. Will you come shopping with me? Have you ever been shopping in Kensington?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I haven’t. Thank you, that’s really nice.’

  ‘Now tell me.’ Catrina pulled herself up, wincing as she did so. ‘What’s your faith? Your religion?’

  ‘My dad is Christian,’ I said. ‘He reads out bible passages sometimes, but no one really listens.’

  ‘Faith is so very important,’ said Catrina. ‘Alex and Zachary were brought up Catholic, of course. It seemed crazy to me that Harold would carry on these Irish traditions, but they’re familiar to him.’

  ‘I always thought I’d let my children decide their own religion,’ I said.

  ‘Oh you poor dear.’ Catrina patted my hand. ‘That is quite ridiculous. My family are Jewish, but do you think I had a choice? This baby will be a Dalton. It must be Catholic. And you must convert.’ She patted my hand again. ‘It will help.’

  ‘I can’t convert to Catholicism,’ I said. ‘I don’t speak Latin or own any nice hats.’

  ‘I will buy you a hat,’ said Catrina, closing her eyes, head sinking back on the poufy pillow. ‘This is just the way things are. You can’t make bacon out of a dog. I need to sleep now. Juliette? You must look after yourself. Women have to look after themselves. No one will do it for us.’

  She opened her eyes then, and looked vulnerable and kind all at once.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I’ll do my best.’

  When I got back to the table, Alex and Daisy were waiting.

  ‘Your mother wants to take me shopping,’ I said. ‘And for me to become Catholic.’

  Alex laughed. ‘I should have guessed faith would rear its ugly head sooner or later. Did she tell you she used to be Jewish?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Anya has never quite got over converting for a man
who divorced her,’ said Alex. ‘Enjoy the shopping trip. She’s very generous with my father’s money. It’s one of her best qualities.’

  Saturday 3rd February

  Nick was supposed to take Daisy today, but he has man flu.

  ‘I’m not being a drama queen,’ Nick insisted, sniffing loudly and doing a hammy cough into the phone. ‘I’m very, very sick.’

  ‘If you were really ill, you wouldn’t be watching the Sopranos,’ I said. ‘I can hear it in the background. Parenting doesn’t end just because you’ve got a runny nose.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Julesy,’ said Nick. ‘I need a weekend to myself. Then I’ll be fighting fit for next time.’

  Agreed to let Nick convalesce, but only after telling him that when mothers are ill, they just get on with it. And then telling him that two more times.

  Evening

  John Boy came home this afternoon with lavish gifts: a large bottle of Moet for me and a crying, weeing Baby Annabelle doll for Daisy.

  ‘I won big on a football bet,’ John Boy explained. ‘I want to share the love.’

  John Boy had bought himself twenty-four limited-edition cans of Stella Artois and yet another pair of neon Nikes.

  Thanked John Boy for his generosity, but Baby Annabelle is giving me post-traumatic stress – re: new-born babies. She cries randomly, like a real baby, and needs burping and cuddling to make her shut up.

  Daisy isn’t bothered by the crying. She simply carries baby Annabelle upstairs and returns without her. I suppose you could call this controlled crying, but it’s also borderline neglect.

  ‘She needs burping,’ I fretted the second time Daisy abandoned the crying doll. ‘You can’t just leave her crying up there. How can you stand it?’

  ‘She noisy, Mummy,’ Daisy replied. ‘Too noisy. I put in room.’

  In the end, I went up to burp Baby Annabelle. Annabelle giggled coyly, fluttering her long eyelashes, then cried the moment I put her down.

  Daisy has rescued me from a meltdown by wrapping Annabelle in a duvet and stuffing her in the boiler cupboard. But, as I explained to Daisy, you can’t do that with real new-borns.

  How on earth will I cope with two?

  Evening

  The supermarket shopping just arrived.

  I’m such an idiot, forgetting to tick no substitutions AGAIN.

  They sent me black hair dye (instead of blonde) and liver and beef dog food (instead of a steak and kidney pie).

  Sunday 4th February

  Feel awful this morning. Not sick, but just really, really tired and headachy.

  I don’t know if it’s the pregnancy or winter blues.

  The house is a terrible mess. My skin has gone horrible. I’m craving chocolate and coffee. All I want to do is lounge around watching movies.

  Brandi and Callum came over after lunch. Suggested a nice, quiet Disney film, but Callum made vomiting gestures, so we compromised on Jurassic Park.

  It was a bad choice, because Daisy was traumatised.

  I thought Jurassic Park was reasonably child-friendly, but at least half the film comprises of kids screaming. Also, someone gets eaten on the toilet halfway through.

  John Boy, being a ‘proper’ horror fan, was bored and fell asleep sucking his thumb.

  Brandi and I took pictures of John Boy’s thumb sucking and posted them on Facebook.

  Over 300 likes so far.

  Monday 5th February

  Catrina Dalton’s assistant just phoned. She asked when I was free for a shopping trip with Mrs Dalton.

  Have arranged to go this weekend. Dad will take Daisy.

  I’m quite excited. Clothes shopping with the best-dressed woman of 1984!

  Maybe I’ll be stylish, for once in my life.

  Tuesday 6th February

  Think I have flu. Being pregnant and ill is AWFUL.

  Haven’t felt this bad since Althea and I drank a whole bottle of limoncello, then experimentally fried an egg in baby oil and ate it.

  It’s HORRIBLE being ill when you have a child. How did people cope when they lived in caves? And how on EARTH will I cope with the new baby?

  Am back at Mum and Dad’s house being looked after.

  Asked Mum if she’d be kind enough to go shopping and buy me Heinz tomato soup, Lemsip Extra Strength and a can of Cherry Coke.

  Mum agreed, but came back with Cadbury’s Heroes, custard creams and a large pork pie.

  Politely asked if Mum had remembered the tomato soup, medicine and caffeinated drink.

  Mum told me not to be so bloody fussy.

  Hauled myself to the shop for the necessary convalescent provisions. Returned and heated the soup, only to have Mum drink my Cherry Coke when my back was turned.

  Evening

  Nana Joan joined us for a takeaway curry tea. She’d just had her blonde hair extensions redone and flicked them angrily as we helped her up the stairs into Mum and Dad’s kitchen.

  We thought Nana was cross about her ridiculous new extensions, which were almost waist length and made her look like a wrinkly old Barbie doll that had melted and spread in the oven. But actually, Nana was cross because Mum forgot to put her football bet on – the same bet John Boy won.

  Mum shouted about gambling being a waste of money and a bad example for grandchildren and great grandchildren.

  Nana shouted back that she would have won £173.

  Mum apologised and put the kettle on.

  We ended up playing gin rummy with Nana Joan, so she could win some money back.

  Nana Joan is almost unbeatable at gin rummy. Card playing gets very competitive at her old people’s home and Nana has a championship title to hold onto.

  Nana shared a few championship secrets with me: an accelerated learning ‘memory palace’ technique to access her neural pathways more speedily, and Pro Plus caffeine tablets for concentration.

  Wednesday 7th February

  Made it to the Co-op today for more soup and Cherry Coke.

  The Co-op’s Visa card machine was broken, so had to get money from the hole-in-the wall cashpoint outside.

  In my confused, flu-ridden state, I entered my pin incorrectly three times and the cash machine sucked my card into its baying mouth.

  It will take five days to receive a replacement card.

  Five days!

  The bank only has to print a bit of plastic.

  It takes less time to fit a kitchen. Well, according to Ikea anyway.

  So I am now pregnant, ill and without means to pay for anything.

  AND I still don’t have any tomato soup or Cherry Coke.

  Afternoon

  Laura just visited with baby Bear in tow. She wanted to see how I was feeling, and also boost my immune-system with some homemade herbal tea.

  It was kind of Laura to come, but to be honest the visit left me feeling stressed out.

  Laura was constantly rocking, jiggling, feeding and soothing baby Bear – reminding me that babies are a lot of work.

  How will I do all that rocking and feeding with a toddler running around?

  And what if I get ill? How will I cope?

  Alex says he’ll support me, but realistically this will be financial support. Whether we’re together or not, I can’t imagine him being on the scene very much.

  The best I can hope is to be a beautiful prisoner in some London apartment, with a stranger on call to buy me Cherry Coke.

  Told Laura about shopping with Catrina this weekend.

  Possibly, I’ll be too ill to go. I hope so, anyway – I’m having last-minute nerves about parading my unstylish face around stylish shops.

  ‘Shopping with Catrina will be fun,’ said Laura. ‘She’ll get you some lovely things. She’s generous, if nothing else. And she’s your baby’s grandmother. You should spend some time together.’

  ‘Do you spend time with her?’ I asked.

  ‘I can manage her in small doses,’ said Laura. ‘I’ve learned a few tricks from Zach. Like always meeting in restaurants, so you never
have to eat her goulash.’

  Thursday 8th February

  Had a bleed this morning.

  Majorly worried.

  Phoned the hospital. They told me lots of women bleed during their pregnancies and go on to have healthy babies.

  However, it could also be a sign of miscarriage.

  The tired-sounding midwife asked me to come and get checked over.

  Drove straight to the hospital, calling Alex at every red traffic light.

  He didn’t answer.

  Waited in the maternity ward, amid the screams of birthing women.

  Daisy asked if the women were being eaten by dinosaurs.

  Alex called me back while we were waiting. He felt gratifyingly guilty for missing my earlier calls, and said he’d come immediately.

  Told Alex I’d probably have had the scan by the time he arrived, but he said, ‘In an NHS hospital? I doubt it.’

  He was right.

  Alex turned up an hour later, and I still hadn’t been called in for the scan.

  Finally, a midwife came to hook me up to the ultrasound. She was one of those no-nonsense midwives, telling me off for wearing a complicated wraparound cardigan and shouting, ‘Just sit still!’ while she squeezed the cold stuff onto my stomach.

  Finally, she put the swishing plastic thing on my tummy and said, ‘You’re fine. I can hear the heartbeat.’

  Burst into tears.

  Alex said, ‘Thank goodness,’ his jaw clenched extra tight.

  ‘Keep an eye on things,’ said the midwife, glancing at the wall clock. ‘Come back if the bleeding starts again. Off you go then.’

  ‘What should I do now?’ I asked.

  ‘Just carry on as normal,’ said the midwife. ‘Lots of women have bleeds. Some bleed throughout the whole pregnancy.’

  ‘She’s going on a shopping trip with my mother tomorrow,’ Alex interjected. ‘Should she cancel? My mother can be tiring.’

  ‘Oh, no reason to do anything differently,’ said the midwife. ‘It all looks fine.’

  When we left, Alex suggested (again) that I see his private maternity specialist, Dr Rupert Snape – just to be on the safe side.