Around the same time, Penelope seemed to disappear from my life and I wasn’t upset by this at all – in fact I was slightly relieved. It occurred to me that in the last eight months Penelope had learnt nothing about me except that my kids attended the same school as hers.
I stood by myself in the playground and observed the latest fallings-out and playground politics that blighted the lives of us playground mothers every day. Matt and I finally had Saturday nights back to ourselves and he had removed the Kensingtons’ coat pegs from our cloakroom.
November was now upon us and I smiled to myself as I flipped the kitchen calendar over to reveal the month ahead.
One date on the calendar had me smiling no more. On the first Saturday night, written in bright red, was the word ‘Penelope’s’. She had invited us round for a meal. She was in the habit of booking the next get-together before the previous one had even ended. I think she liked to have something to look forward to.
I wasn’t sure if she still expected us to go as I had barely seen her since the mountain climb. I decided to try Matt’s favourite pastime and play dumb, I wasn’t going to mention it or contact her. If the invitation was still open I’m sure she would be in touch at some point in the week.
Matt and I were still in the dark on Saturday morning because Penelope hadn’t yet been in touch. As he badgered me to find out what was happening – probably so he knew whether he could watch Match of the Day or not – my phone beeped and the dreaded text arrived.
Are you still OK for tonight, about 7 o’clock?
Damn, there was no getting out of it now. Matt agreed to go one last time – at least we would get a free feed, if nothing else.
We all walked over to the Kensington house in the early evening, swigging a couple of cans of beer as we went for Dutch courage. The children weren’t thrilled about coming with us but we promised them this would be the last time. I thought about taking my slippers but decided we wouldn’t be staying that long, much to Matt’s delight. Once we arrived the children ran off to play except Daisy who was fast asleep in the pram; placing a blanket over her we left her in the hallway to sleep. Penelope took our coats and directed us into the living area. The room resembled a florist shop with bouquets of flowers scattered all around the room. Penelope needn’t have bothered with the fresh flower look on our account. It was way over the top. On the coffee table there were various cards.
Even though the heating was blasting out at tropical temperatures the atmosphere seemed a little frosty. While Penelope went into the kitchen to fix us some drinks, I picked up one of the cards.
It read ‘Happy Anniversary Rupert and Penelope’.
I showed the card to Matt.
‘Please tell me they haven’t invited us around for a meal on their wedding anniversary?’
Matt shrugged his shoulders as Penelope walked back into the room and Rupert appeared from the conservatory. It was the first time we had seen Rupert since he had been released from rehab and he looked subdued, as well as a little thinner. The conversation was a bit awkward to say the least. I mean what were you supposed to say to him?
‘Hi Rupert, what happened to the woman that lived in the beautiful cottage?’
No, that wouldn’t go down too well.
I could try, ‘You are one lucky man to still have a home and your children.’
I wasn’t sure if he was still lucky to have Penelope or not. Rupert saved us the embarrassment and thanked us for coming and for supporting Penelope over the last eight months. To be honest we hadn’t had much choice in the matter, she had just dumped herself on my family and our Saturday nights.
He continued his impromptu speech.
‘Today is the first day of the rest of my life.’
Then he raised his glass for a toast.
‘Here’s to my family and Happy Anniversary to my beautiful wife.’
Matt and I exchanged glances.
‘It is their bloody anniversary,’ he mouthed at me.
So there we were stuck with a couple on their anniversary who, by the looks of it, didn’t want to be stuck with each other. I thought it was very strange to invite another couple round to share a meal on your anniversary. I thought it was even stranger that Penelope hadn’t thought to mention it was their anniversary. But I suppose if she had we might not have gone and then she would have had to spend time with Rupert all by herself.
Penelope had confiscated all devices from Rupert until he could be trusted. He had no mobile phone, iPod, iPad or Xbox – nothing at all. He had even deleted his profile from the dating website. He wasn’t allowed to leave the house without Penelope and she had taken it upon herself to drop him off and pick him up from work every day. There was no way Rupert would be given an opportunity to stray in the near future.
‘Happy Anniversary,’ I offered, as we sat down at the table to start our meal.
I wasn’t entirely sure what was happy about it as they both looked as miserable as sin.
Penelope had cooked a chilli. It was bland to say the least and the only flavour came from the lumpy, burnt bits. The garlic bread wasn’t much better. It could only really be described as bread as it seemed to be lacking a certain key ingredient – garlic – and it was stale. There was only thing for it – sink a few more beers to wash the taste away.
While we were away up the mountain, Penelope had been delighted to inform me that Little Jonny was doing rather well at school. He had been chosen to attend another school for one day a week. Apparently, he was now deemed to be gifted and talented – I hoped for his sake that he didn’t share his father’s more dubious ‘talents’. Penelope was gushing with pride when she told me he was the obvious choice from the class, no other child came close to his intelligence level.
I decided to warm up the frosty atmosphere by asking Penelope how Little Jonny was getting on with these ‘gifted and talented’ days. I wasn’t remotely interested but I knew Penelope would relish this conversation and hopefully she and Rupert would be reminded of what beautiful children they had made together. I had consumed enough alcohol to numb the pain of the impending ‘Little Jonny’ conversation.
Almost immediately her face turned crimson. Rupert coughed and then spoke.
‘They made a mistake.’
‘Made a mistake about what?’ I replied.
‘There are two Jonnys in the class and the letter was meant for the other one, they gave it to us by mistake.’
I bet Penelope was livid. Never mind coughing, I nearly choked with laughter.
I turned to Penelope and said sarcastically, ‘Surely not? You were so adamant that no-one even came close to Little Jonny’s intelligence levels the other week. There’s only one thing for it then, Penelope, you need a tutor. You can’t possibly have another child beating Little Jonny in class.’
Recently Little Jonny had started to become unbearable at school, making the other children’s lives hell. It was understandable given that his home life was far from stable. He had started to throw his weight around at school. At this present time he was the talk of the Playground Mafia.
He was always starting fights and calling names, before putting on his ‘It’s not me, Miss’ sweet face and of course Penelope couldn’t see any wrong in him.
He was her golden boy. There were two boys in particular that Little Jonny made fun of – one was our Samuel and the other was a boy called Jacob. Both boys struggled at school and were dyslexic. Little Jonny knew they were different and singled both of them out, preying on who he thought were the weaker boys in order to make himself feel more important. Little Jonny was losing friends fast. Even Josie, whose son was in the same class, was having difficulties with Little Jonny and everyone was encouraging their children to stay away from him.
Penelope wanted to make her children popular. Little Jonny had different friends back to his house almost every night of the week for tea. Of course, when I say friends I mean that in the loosest sense of the word. These were children whose parents welco
med the opportunity to offload their offspring for a few hours after school and save a few quid while they were fed elsewhere.
The constant flow of children through the Kensington house wasn’t for the sake of the children. It was to ensure they had someone to play with and didn’t bother Penelope. She was probably rifling through their book bags to find their reading levels while checking the labels on their coats to see if they were worth listing on eBay. The thing that amused me the most was that even though she had all these children playing around her house it was very rare anyone ever returned the favour.
Matt decided to change the subject quickly with a corker of a question.
‘Have you done anything nice for your anniversary?’
I rolled my eyes at him.
‘Obviously not as we are here for dinner.’
I didn’t think it was good time to go over how happy Rupert and Penelope had been for the last fifteen years, as he had been living his double life for the majority of that time. I also thought it was best not to remind Rupert he could be curled up with Charlotte now in a beautiful cottage instead of being with us on his anniversary, eating burnt chilli and un-garlicky garlic bread.
Rupert changed the subject to holidays.
‘Are you going anywhere nice next year on holiday?’
‘Yes, we are off to our other house in the sun,’ I replied.
As soon as the words left my mouth I wanted to rewind thirty seconds. There was deadly silence as our hosts swapped puzzled glances.
‘What other house in the sun?’ Rupert enquired.
‘We have owned another property in southern Spain for the last ten years,’ I answered. ‘So we will be off there again for our holidays as usual.’
‘You own another property and you’ve never thought to mention it?’ exclaimed a very jealous but curious Penelope.
You could see she wasn’t happy about the fact I had never mentioned it but to be perfectly honest, why would I? What business was it of anyone else? All our close friends knew we owned a second home. It wasn’t as though I was trying to hide the fact; it was just nobody else’s business.
This conversation usually goes two ways. The first way being that we rapidly lose friends as they become jealous and fall out with us, claiming we’ve got too big for our boots. The second is the antithesis of the first – we immediately acquire new best friends who won’t leave us alone until they obtain a free holiday out of us. My money was on the Kensingtons blagging a free holiday then falling out with us immediately afterwards when their holiday euphoria ended and the jealousy kicked in.
The questions were then fired at us relentlessly.
‘How many bedrooms does it have?’
‘Has it got a pool?’
‘What’s the address?’
There’s only one reason why she wanted the address and that was so she could have a good nosey on Google Earth before deciding if she should blag a free holiday.
‘When are you going?’ Penelope enquired.
‘At the end of May, in the school break,’ I reluctantly replied.
‘That would be great wouldn’t it, Rupert? That would fit in brilliantly with our plans. How many bedrooms did you say the villa had?’
‘I didn’t,’ I answered.
And I certainly didn’t give a monkey’s about their plans.
Had I just heard right, had Penelope just invited the whole of the Kensington clan on our next family holiday? I began choking on burnt chilli bits while Matt stared straight at me and kicked my ankles under the table.
‘No…No…NO!’ he muttered under his breath. He was damn right it was a ‘No!’ There was absolutely no way we were sharing our house or our holiday with them.
‘What do you think?’ enquired Penelope. ‘I think it’s a fantastic idea,’ she continued.
Which bit was fantastic? I would rather spend two weeks locked in a pit full of snakes with only the PTA for company. Spending two weeks with the whole Kensington clan was NOT on my ‘To Do’ list this year – or any other year for that matter.
Before Rupert could slip his feet into his flip-flops and shake his cocktails in Penelope’s direction she had fired up her laptop and was checking out our holiday home on the Internet. Matt passed me a glass of water in the hope that it would stop me choking on my burnt chilli.
‘You own this house?’ Penelope asked in disbelief.
I glanced at the computer screen.
‘We do indeed,’ I answered, rather smugly.
‘But it’s beautiful, look at that pool and hot tub, look at the rooms and the view. We are definitely going there, Rupert.’
I know it was their anniversary but I couldn’t work out why either of them would want to celebrate the pantomime of the past fifteen years. Even so, there was no chance they were coming on holiday with us.
After the mountain climb I had hoped to shake Penelope off and it had been working until now. She had hardly spoken to me since we arrived back and she’d paired up with her new best friend, Camilla. So why couldn’t she go on holiday with her? I got the impression I was about to become flavour of the month again, just because we owned a house in Spain.
‘Have you booked your flights?’ Penelope enquired.
I thought Matt was about to spontaneously combust, he was holding his breath and making a small whining noise while muttering, ‘Please no, please no.’
I couldn’t be rude and not answer her, after all we were sitting in their house on their wedding anniversary, eating their burnt chilli and drinking their wine.
‘Yes, we are all booked, thank you,’ I replied, hoping that would draw a line under the conversation.
No such luck. Before Matt and I knew it Penelope was screaming at Rupert.
‘Quick, get the credit card now, we could even be on the same flights, hurry quick.’
Matt and I sat there open-mouthed when Penelope shrieked, ‘I’ve booked it, it’s booked,’ as she hit the ‘confirm’ button.
I felt like I had been hit by a truck. In fact being hit by a truck would probably be less painful than spending a fortnight with Penelope, Rupert and their bloody kids.
For a minute I thought it would all be OK as my bus was scheduled to pick them up on New Year’s Eve and drive them out of my life forever. Then I remembered my bus theory wasn’t reality – it was just a dream, a fantasy that was never going to happen. Surely I knew enough dodgy characters from my ‘dole days’ with Fay to make it a reality? I was prepared to pay good money – well any money in fact – not to have to go on holiday with these people.
Matt and I were still sitting at Penelope’s table with our mouths wide open and chilli dribbling down our chins. We were numb, there was no other way to describe it.
‘This is the best anniversary we have ever had,’ squealed Penelope.
The tactless retort would have been, ‘Bloody hell, you must have had some really crap ones,’ but clearly they had.
The past fifteen years had not been great for both of them. OK, maybe a little fun for Rupert but for Penelope there can’t have been much joy. There was a loud bang as Rupert suddenly popped open a bottle of champagne and quickly filled our glasses.
‘A toast,’ he declared, ‘to a great holiday.’
The holiday was booked for May, which meant I would have to endure another six months of Penelope in my life. I only had myself to blame. I nipped to the bathroom and fell to the floor. As I slumped against the bathroom door, I sent Fay a text. If there was anyone who would know what to do, it would be her.
I need a solution and I need it fast. Penelope and Rupert have booked to come on holiday with us.
I only had to wait a few seconds for her reply.
LMAO. Stop sending me prank texts, it’s not 1st April. Do you seriously expect me to believe you are going on holiday with Penelope and Rupert?
I would do anything – and I mean anything – to reverse the clock. I was that desperate I would even become the next chairperson of the PTA and run the Summer
Fair single-handed if it would mean I didn’t have to spend a fortnight with them – and believe me, those were desperate measures. I didn’t want a bus any more – I wanted a time machine to transport me back to yesterday.
It’s no laughing matter, I’m being serious! Help! I sent back.
Well I suggest you climb another mountain and push her over the edge. Or get your calendar out and plan the bikini shopping trip!
The flights were booked. There was nothing I could do. From the bathroom I could hear the happy chatter around the dinner table – well everyone except Matt – maybe he had choked on the burnt bits in the chilli. If he hadn’t, he was probably wishing he had.
When I returned to the table, Little Jonny and Annabel were jumping around the room with joy. My children were staring at me in disbelief.
Samuel shrugged his shoulders at me and mouthed, ‘Why?’
He was not happy and after Little Jonny’s torment towards Samuel recently at school he probably couldn’t think of anything worse than spending his two-week holiday with the budding palaeontologist – or was Little Jonny the professional footballer this week?
Penelope announced at the table that she wanted to start her exercise routine again in order to get fit for ‘our’ holiday. She decided she needed to up the ante and seriously lose weight, ready for May. I had technically been dumped of all joint weight loss activities since the mountain climb and I wasn’t sure I could cope with being chucked out of her house again when I started losing more weight than her. I couldn’t face walking with Penelope so I came up with a genius proposal, we would go bike-riding instead. This way it would be difficult to talk – or listen in my case – and the torture would be over more quickly. Penelope agreed that it sounded like a plan and the first ride was scheduled for Monday morning.
After booking Matilda and Daisy back into the nursery for the odd few mornings, our exercise regime began again.
Monday morning arrived and after Penelope wrestled her bike from the garden shed – dragging it from behind the plant pots, bits of wood and old paint tins – we set off on our first bike ride. I did think that I should suggest she sold the shed’s contents on eBay to make some money, instead of fleecing everyone else in the village.
A Year in the Life of a Playground Mother: A laugh-out-loud funny novel about life at the School Gates (A School Gates Comedy Book 1) Page 23
