The Single Mums' Mansion

by Janet Hoggarth

  ‘All done,’ Natalie said softly quite some time later. ‘Stay lying for a bit. I’ll pour you some water.’ I heard the door open and close while I wriggled my toes and teased my body into life. When Natalie returned I was sitting on the edge of the bed still feeling a bit dozy. ‘Ah, sleeping beauty, how was that?’ She handed me a glass of water.

  ‘Thanks. Can I ask you something?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Was anyone else in the room.’

  She smiled knowingly. ‘Did you feel them?’

  I nodded.

  ‘There was an angel standing at your feet. They know you’ve had a tough time.’

  ‘What were they doing?’

  ‘Grounding you. Your root chakra was completely blocked and if that’s blocked, then everything stays in your head and you feel scrambled and out of touch.’ She smiled at me. ‘Did you have a name for the baby? When I was on your heart chakra, all I could see was the ultrasound scan.’

  ‘Michael. Wow, I never had a name for him, but I didn’t even have to think. I always knew he was a boy, though.’

  ‘Maybe have a little ceremony for him when you get home, let him go. Bury his name in the garden, something like that. It might help with all the jumble in your head.’

  Natalie hugged me on the doorstep.

  ‘Your anti-wedding sounds amazing. Embrace it all and have fun!’

  That evening, when the kids were in bed, I dug out my notes and free maternity packs from the annals of my bottom drawer in the office and I burned them in the magic chimenea. I wrote Michael inside a hand-drawn heart and folded the piece of paper around a small jagged rose quartz crystal. Down at the bottom of the garden where the trampoline resided, I found a spare patch of earth next to one of the bushes and buried it there, drawing the Reiki symbols over the freshly turned soil. The children’s laughter from the trampoline would keep him company.

  For the first time in months, I slept like the dead, not even waking when Chug climbed in bed sometime in the middle of the night. That morning, before the school run, still snuggled under the covers he finished his milk and turned to me.

  ‘Mummy had a baby in her tummy.’

  ‘What? No I didn’t.’

  ‘You did, Mummy. It’s gone now.’

  39

  Anti-Wedding Party

  ‘I got you a present.’ Jacqui handed me an intriguing square package firmly wrapped in brown paper. She had stopped over last night and all three of us had smeared on Lazarus-style face packs that claimed to resurrect our youth. Jacqui cracked open a bottle of cheap fizz at breakfast and we dined like queens, though sadly not in the garden because it was tipping it down.

  ‘Let’s hope it’s a shit as this in the countryside,’ Ali laughed. ‘You had amazing weather for your wedding. Open your present!’

  I ripped off the paper and pulled out a chunky canvas.

  ‘It’s by Remi!’ I cried.

  ‘Oh, it’s beautiful,’ Ali admired. ‘So original.’

  ‘Thank you, Jacqui. I love it.’ The canvas was Remi’s interpretation of Paradise Beach, an image cast with rich blues and golds and the twisted silver tree trunks of the olive trees. There was a postcard of the harbour from Remi tucked inside the back of the frame.

  Dear Amanda,

  I hope you have fun at your anti-wedding. Please don’t get married again today, remember you are already married to Jacqui. Hope you like the picture and it makes you want to return to Paradise Beach. Also, when you wake up, a shot of brandy should do the trick, and a strong coffee!! Try not to sleep on the pavement.

  Lots of love,

  Remi xxx

  Various texts flooded in, like absentees’ telegrams during the best man’s speech, family and friends offering support and orders to drink champagne. I thought of the children and my heart clenched: Isla’s anxious face as she had left with Sam’s dad the day before, worrying that she would ruin the filming by crying and getting upset. Sam’s father hadn’t known how to act at the handover. He’d escorted the children out of the house as quickly as possible. ‘I’m sure it is awkward for you,’ I wanted to say. ‘But how the fuck do you think I feel knowing my children will be performing happy families to all the same people from wedding round one?’

  ‘This is a bit like your wedding, isn’t it?’ Jacqui said. ‘Champagne breakfast, then cocktails in town followed by mega-posh dinner and back here for a tragic disco in the Adventure Bar and hopefully a snog!’

  ‘I would like to snog an usher,’ Ali said. ‘It’s been ages since I had any action.’

  ‘Well, as bridesmaids, I think we get to shag the best man, don’t we?’ Jacqui asked hopefully.

  ‘Sadly, that role lies with Rob and unless you are both gay men, you don’t stand a chance.’

  ‘Has Chris texted you?’ Ali asked, sipping her fizz.

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘I just thought he would today, that’s all.’

  ‘I’m glad he hasn’t. I did actually like him and so did the kids, but my head isn’t right.’

  ‘I still think you’re mad. Men like him don’t grow on trees!’ Ali said sadly.

  ‘But it proves nice men are out there, just that the timing was all wrong. I’m better off on my own for now.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that!’ Jacqui clinked glasses with me. ‘Here’s to being single and fabulous.’

  Dinner was so fun. The Criterion in Piccadilly fussed and bowed to us, its gilt-edged Midas palace glamour, marble columns, chandeliers and old-school charm fitting for the occasion. I had booked it on one of those bargain websites where you’re somehow offered a three-course meal for fifty pence. The universe was shining its hallowed disco ball down on us that afternoon because our French waiter was gay and fancied the kilt off Rob, who was decked out in full Highland dress.

  ‘Do not tell anyone, but I have got you all sides for free. Bon appétit!’ He also managed to ‘find’ some delicious petits fours to go with the free coffee and dessert wine, and when Rob told him it was my anti-wedding, he threw in complimentary glasses of champagne.

  ‘You’ve got to love the gays,’ Rob cooed, flamboyantly blowing kisses as we left our waiter with a sizeable tip.

  ‘Take this,’ Rob goaded me in the Adventure Bar, ever the devil on my shoulder. ‘Go on! It’s your wedding, to me! I knew I would get you in the end – I’ve waited long enough. I took mine an hour ago and I need a playmate.’

  ‘Why are we taking drugs?’

  Mel was tucked away in a corner with Jacqui, putting the world to rights, Ali was dancing with Amy on the tiny dance floor, and I was lurking with Rob by the bar at the bottom of the steps, clutching a pill in my sweaty palm.

  ‘Because we’re in this Godforsaken place and need to block it out!’

  ‘It’s not that bad.’

  He dramatically rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, no? Where are the gay people?’

  ‘Somewhere else.’

  ‘It’s full of breeders! I’m used to clubs raining men. Anyway, it’s grown on me now I’ve come up on the pill. Take yours and we can have sex.’

  ‘Rob! No.’

  ‘No to which part?’

  ‘All of it.’

  ‘But I like you,’ he joked. ‘You’re my favourite of all the breeders. No one would have to know. Didn’t you say people shagged in the toilets here?’

  I was about to join in the banter when the words caught in my throat. A tall dark man appeared at the top of the stairs and waved.

  ‘What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ Rob laughed.

  For a split second I thought he was Chris and my heart really did skip a beat. But he skirted round us and joined the noisy group behind. I stared at the back of the man’s head and contemplated the pill, hesitantly bringing it up to my lips.

  ‘Yay! Take it!’ Rob encouraged, desperate for a cohort.

  ‘Do you know what, you save it for later.’ And I sensibly handed back the party banger. ‘Let’s do shots instead.’
/>
  *

  I woke on top of the duvet still wearing my black tulle party dress, my temples throbbing and feet swollen from dancing in high heels. I was glad I wasn’t Ali. She and Grace had to fly out to Spain at lunchtime to visit her mum.

  My phone pinged from underneath the pillow.

  As it was my wedding and the kids are all desperate to see you, would you mind coming and collecting them later on?

  I lay back and sighed. Sam was officially married, finally making me the first wife. I had expected to feel something, possibly upset, but I just felt like it had all happened to someone else. Knowing I couldn’t put off seeing his house for ever, I agreed to his request. So, it was with the largest of sunglasses, the shortest of dresses and the brightest of red lipsticks that I headed over to collect the children.

  Pulling up outside for the first time, I was struck by numerous similarities. It wasn’t detached or set back from the road like my house was. However, the same white shutters shielded both upstairs and downstairs windows, and the masonry was painted a similar off-white. Two potted sculpted olive trees stood proud either side of the exact same turquoise front door. Maybe I was just seeing things that were so ubiquitous in this part of south London, where Victorian houses were almost painted by numbers. I rang the bell, nerves giving way to sweaty palms. Carrie opened the door and fleetingly looked startled.

  ‘Oh, hello! Sam didn’t say you were coming.’

  ‘He asked me earlier to collect the children.’ I nosily examined the stripped wooden floors and dark grey walls either side of the corridor leading to a huge kitchen at the back, flooded with light from bi-folding doors.

  ‘Oh, right. I don’t know where they are. Do you want to come in?’

  ‘I’ll wait here, if that’s OK.’

  Carrie retreated into the house and I watched as she flitted desperately from room to room trying to find the children.

  ‘Sam! Amanda’s here! Where are you all?’ she shouted up the stairs. Had it been one octave higher it would have verged on hysteria. ‘Sam!’

  ‘Hey, we’re here.’ Sam’s voice eventually drifted down from somewhere upstairs. ‘Just getting their things together.’ Carrie didn’t know what to do then because she must have felt my gaze on her as she hovered around self-consciously at the bottom of the stairs, wringing her hands.

  ‘How was your weekend?’ she eventually asked after returning to the doorway, a rictus grin possibly masking regret at such an ill-served first shot. I was taken by surprise; what could I come back with? How did your wedding go?

  ‘It was fun. Lots of friends and stupid antics.’ She looked relieved I was playing by the rules.

  ‘Oh, I’m glad. I hope you had a lovely time. You deserved it.’ She smiled at me, a real genuine smile, igniting her eyes at the edges, smoothing away the apprehension that I remembered from last time we met. She wanted me to like her, I could feel it. I returned the smile, the sunglasses putting me at an advantage.

  ‘I did have a really good time. Thank you.’

  ‘Good. I’ll go and hurry them up.’

  ‘Mummy!’ Meg cried. She bolted from the foot of the stairs and jumped into my arms, her cheeks buoyant with her Cheshire cat grin. She was wearing a fancy pink party dress of the like she would normally balk at. She felt like a crinkly Cellophane-wrapped bouquet in my arms. Sonny held tightly onto Sam’s hand and looked like he had been crying. I bent down to kiss him and he grabbed my neck.

  ‘Snuggle, Mummy.’

  I picked him up after Meg had untangled herself.

  ‘Hello, Isla, you got all your stuff?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Say goodbye to Daddy then.’

  ‘Bye, kids. Thanks for being so good and doing your wedding duties so well. I’ll see you when we get back.’

  Sonny waved from my arms and Sam kissed his head, close enough for me to smell his unfamiliar aftershave. Everything about him seemed distant now, almost like we had never existed as a couple or shared a life together. The proof was the children, but as I stood on his doorstep, one toe grudgingly dipped in his new life, he felt so far removed from that boy in the Haagen Daz’s shop fourteen years ago. How can someone change that much? Maybe it was me who had changed. I thought of the tatty Post-it note hidden away in my desk drawer, waiting for me to do something with it. Maybe some time in the future I would have it framed and give it to him as a present, let him know we could once more be friends. It would have been funny to offer it as an inappropriate wedding gift. However, I hadn’t reached that point yet. Perhaps his fortieth birthday in a year’s time would be perfect.

  What do marriage and hurricanes have in common?

  They both start off with a lot of sucking and blowing, but in the end, you lose your house.

  40

  Take a Chance on Me

  ‘I took inspiration from your Shrine of Tat,’ Jacqui told me Friday morning after yoga when I complimented her on the transformation of her living room. ‘It brings the place to life a bit more.’

  She had added some of Remi’s calm abstract paintings, potted orchids on the fireplace, Venetian mirrors on one wall, and on the shelves running the entire length of the room, she had arranged her books in rainbow colour order, interspersed with family photos and a few sparse ornaments. The boxes had finally been unpacked as Jacqui allowed her house to take on a life of its own. Even her garden had metamorphosed. Straggly plants and over-stretched bushes had been dug out and a serene carpet of lawn, velvety to the touch, spread from the stone-flagged patio down to the sizeable shed at the bottom. Buddha statues, outdoor candles and a mini rock garden planted with diverse cacti and succulents added a peaceful air to the previously neglected dumping ground. Her house had finally turned into a family home.

  My phone started ringing, piercing the tranquil air.

  I mouthed: ‘It’s my agent,’ and walked to the window to take the call.

  ‘Good news, we’ve managed to bump them up and get more money. If it’s OK with you, I’ll agree to the terms…’ And he reeled off rights and all the legal stuff I pretended to know about in minute detail.

  ‘I have a book contract, sealed and dealed!’ I reported back to Jacqui. ‘It’s official!’

  ‘Wow! That’s great news. You’ll finally get paid, too!’

  ‘More importantly, I feel like a real person with a job. No more faking it till I make it.’

  ‘What a shame I’m away this weekend or we could have a toast. Wait till Ali’s back next week and we’ll open some fizz.’

  I ordered take-away pizzas as a treat that night. The four of us sat on the rug in the living room having a celebratory carpet picnic, toasting to my success with lemonade.

  ‘Chris likes pizza,’ Isla announced unexpectedly. ‘You should have invited him, too, now you’re a proper author.’

  ‘He’s busy.’

  ‘Are you still friends with him?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘We’ve not seen him for ages.’

  ‘Erm…’

  ‘Will we see him again?’ Meg asked hopefully. ‘I liked him. He wasn’t like that other man.’

  ‘Woody,’ Isla said assuredly.

  ‘Yes, him. He was shouty.’

  ‘Shouty,’ Chug echoed, his mouth full of pizza. Evading answering, I playfully pinched his chubby cheek and he laughed, chewed up cheese cascading out into the rug.

  I dozed off in a carb coma during the millionth showing of Finding Nemo and awoke to a crashing sound from upstairs followed by howling. Meg was sitting next to me sucking her thumb and cuddling her favourite Build-A-Bear. I jumped up, taking the stairs two at a time to find Isla in a heap on the middle landing at the bottom of the steps outside the bathroom with Sonny rolling around next to her crying loudly.

  ‘Which one of you is hurt most?’

  ‘Me!’ they both cried, turning a simple accident into Sophie’s Choice.

  ‘Isla, where does it hurt?’ I asked as I scooped up Sonny and carried him over to her. I could barely hear her
through his histrionics.

  ‘My ankle.’ I knew it was no use asking Sonny because he was in a state and refused to make sense.

  ‘Sonny, shush. Let me see Isla’s ankle.’ He clung to me like a monkey, making it hard to bend down and inspect. Isla had eased herself onto the step and laid her leg out in front. Her ankle looked OK but her face was drained of colour.

  ‘Can you move it?’ She shook her head, crying when she tried to swivel it side to side.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I was going to put Sonny to bed for you and I carried him up the stairs.’

  ‘All the way from down there?’

  ‘No, once we got up. I brushed his teeth, then he wanted to be carried to your room, but I fell on these steps and dropped him, and my ankle twisted.’

  ‘Sonny’s OK, though?’ I tried to establish. ‘He didn’t bump his head or anything?’

  ‘No, he just slipped onto the floor, that’s all.’ I prised Sonny off me and managed to get Isla standing. Meg was now watching curiously, clutching her bear, still sucking her thumb.

  ‘Can you put weight on it?’

  ‘Kind of, but it hurts lots. Is it broken, Mummy?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Why does it hurt so much?’

  ‘Because you probably sprained it carrying Sonny – he’s a little lump. I’ll get some Calpol.’

  Once I had got everyone ready for bed and a bag of frozen peas on Isla’s ankle, I texted my sister-in-law Sarah, who was a nurse, and asked about anything else I should do. She rang immediately.

  ‘Is it swelling? Have you put ice on it?’

  ‘Yes to ice. No to swelling. But she’s in bed now. Should I check again?’

  ‘Yes, go and look.’

  Isla was awake with the night light on and the blind drawn.

  ‘Can I see your ankle?’ She pushed back the duvet and I moved the peas wrapped in a flowery tea towel.