The Single Mums' Mansion: The bestselling feel-good, laugh out loud rom com

by Janet Hoggarth

‘Now, if that isn’t a sign I don’t know what is.’

  ‘So that means I was definitely Herod’s wife.’

  ‘And the message is: avoid all men who are good with their hands, just in case your relationship crucifies itself.’

  ‘Amen to that!’

  *

  I awoke in Imogen’s girlie bedroom. Posters of plastic popstars adorned the purple flowery walls and a violet butterfly duvet cover cocooned me in her cosy single bed. The hilarity of yesterday was forgotten as fear sluiced round the base of my stomach once more. Sometimes it disappeared for days, especially when Ali and I got into a companionable groove and felt like we were winning at life. It was in the quiet moments that it found me, creeping in through the half-open back door, cooing, ‘Hey, I’m here, remember me?’ I always bargained with it, with the universe and ultimately with myself.

  ‘If I write one thousand words today, take the fear away.’

  ‘If I manage not to shout today, the fear won’t come back.’

  ‘If I meet someone else, that will get rid of it, won’t it?’ But I didn’t want anyone else. Even a whole year later, I only wanted Sam. I knew my window for bargaining with him had closed a long time ago, so all I was left with was my own pathetic game of don’t step on the cracks.

  I got up and padded softly downstairs to the kitchen in order to make a cup of tea. I didn’t want to wake anyone. Sun streamed in through the tiny lead-patterned window at the top of the stairs, dust specks twirling in time with the birds tweeting an unusually loud post-dawn chorus.

  ‘Oh, hello.’ Mel was sitting at the weathered kitchen table nursing a cup of tea and reading a book.

  ‘Gosh, I didn’t expect to see you here.’

  ‘This is my house!’

  ‘I know. I just thought you would still be in bed.’

  ‘No. I’ve been awake for hours. I have a meeting with suppliers tomorrow and it’s playing on my mind.’ Mel’s cottage industry of Himalayan salt scrubs had proliferated and now she was branching out into beautifully scented candles, supplying local shops and some well-heeled London boutiques. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Oh, you know, the fear’s returned.’

  ‘It’s bound to today. I think you have to be gentle with yourself, remember you’re a queen!’

  ‘Ha. I know. Well, I must steer clear of men who are good with their hands. Oh…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Something freaky has just hit me.’

  ‘To do with the meditation?’

  ‘Kind of. A man who’s good with his hands.’ Sweat beaded in my armpits.

  ‘Tell me. I didn’t know you’d met anyone. You’ve been keeping it quiet if you have.’

  ‘Let me make tea and then I’ll tell you. It’s made me feel a bit sick.’

  As I automatically poured water and stirred my tea bag, I heard the kids come downstairs and head to the living room to switch on the TV. I plonked down opposite Mel, the radio rumbled in the background, eighties hits competing for my attention.

  ‘There’s this man from years ago. He’s one of Sam and Ali’s friends from uni, though I know Sam doesn’t see him any more. He went off the rails and kind of fell from grace.’

  ‘Have I met him?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Was he the really, really drunk one at your wedding, the one who carried you across the dance floor telling everyone he loved you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He was very good-looking, but mad.’

  ‘Exactly. Well, when I first started going out with Sam, we spent a lot of time with Woody. He worked near me, and Sam and him were good friends. We had a few nutty weekends away with them all, Ali included. After one crazy weekend, he came and met me at work for lunch and confessed he liked me and asked if I felt the same.’

  ‘What?! You never told me!’

  ‘I didn’t tell anyone. It freaked me out.’

  ‘Because you did like him…’

  ‘Yes and no. He was dangerous and handsome, and he always had different glamorous girlfriends, and on one of those outrageous weekends, he kissed me in a dark corner when we were all off our tits on ecstasy, but I pushed him away.’

  ‘Wow. Did Sam ever know?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Was it any good? What did you say?’

  ‘I said no. The kiss was pretty sexy, actually, hence my fear. He said he knew there was a spark. And I said you can have sparks with all sorts of people but choose not to ignite them. I asked him why he would even think of asking me, with Sam being a good friend, and he didn’t seem to care. And that snapped me out of any little secret passion I’d harboured for him. I saw him for what he was, a self-regarding druggy narcissist who was only interested in his own gratification. All his behaviour after that just confirmed it.’

  ‘OK, but why is this relevant now?’

  ‘He turned up at Ali’s birthday party, all sensible after a breakdown, seems to be on the up and no longer mad.’

  ‘Don’t tell me, the spark was still there.’

  I slowly nodded.

  ‘Did he just think he could waltz back in and take up where Sam had left off?’

  ‘No, but I think if I had let him stay the night, something might have happened.’

  ‘Not might, definitely.’ Mel slapped her forehead. ‘Holy Herod, is he a carpenter?’

  ‘Yes. It’s like a red rag to a bull. I never knew he did stuff like that, but I suppose skippering boats you have to be practical, and his dad has run building firms for years. It’s in his blood.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Nothing! If that angel workshop flagged up anything, it was to run a mile from men with manual skills.’

  ‘But you don’t have to marry him, you could just have sex and see what happens?’

  ‘I know, but what if a disaster occurs?’ I wrung my hands.

  ‘It’s just sex. You’ll be fine.’

  ‘But it’s never just sex. Anyway, I think I’m safe. He’s away now for months and I won’t bump into him.’

  ‘Well, you could do this instead and order someone non-carpenter related!’ Mel lifted up the book she had been reading.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It’s a book on Cosmic Ordering. I got it last week. Mad Nikki told me about it. We could go through it before you leave and both order something! It’s Beardy Weirdy, of course!’

  ‘So, what do we do?’

  ‘Well, I’ve skim-read it. I don’t honestly think it needs a whole book, but it’s called the Law of Attraction. It’s all about how positivity travels on a high frequency, a bit like the angels yesterday. Negativity travels on a low frequency. In order to tap into the positive frequency and attract those things to us that we want, we have to be and think positive. That’s putting it simply.’

  ‘Like a magnet? Just attract good things?’ I had read about it in The Journey and various other books.

  ‘Yes, but more than that, you have to feel it, act like you already have the thing you have asked for. Be very specific. If you ask for a new pair of shoes to make their way towards you, make sure you ask for the right colour, right size, type, etc.’

  ‘And how long does it take?’

  ‘You can set a time limit, or not; it’s up to you. But once you wish for it you have to trust that it will happen. Don’t keep asking. You wouldn’t keep sending Amazon emails when they’ve told you your book is on its way, would you?’

  ‘So, I’m going to have to play hard to get with my own brain? Double bluff that I almost don’t care if the thing happens, but at the same time feel like I already have the thing?’

  ‘Exactly!’

  ‘Come on, let’s do an experiment! I want to shag Ryan Reynolds. Can I ask for that?’

  ‘No! No specific people, or changing people’s behaviour. You can ask for someone like Ryan Reynolds. Write down all the attributes you would like a man to have and ask that he is delivered to your door.’

  ‘Hmm, I think the
last thing I need is a man. How about a job? I need a job. Something to do alongside writing, to bump up tax credits, editing and maintenance payments.’

  ‘Write it down and ask then. Put the paper somewhere safe and be grateful when you ask.’

  So I did exactly that, folding the piece of paper inside my diary in my handbag.

  ‘And don’t think about it,’ were Mel’s last words on the subject.

  12

  Cosmic Shopping List

  ‘She wasn’t a patch on you,’ Rob loyally sucked up over the phone. ‘She’s not warped; we won’t be best friends.’ Carrie was officially meeting everyone, like a debutante during the Season. Gossip reached me via the jungle drums almost weekly. It left me distracted and on the back foot, never knowing which friend would report meeting her next.

  Amid my distraction I’d taken my eyes off the ball with Meg and she’d slipped somewhere I couldn’t reach her. Weekly spats turned into daily hours of screaming and febrile tantrums. Her darkness had won.

  ‘I think she’s finally realised Sam is never coming back,’ Mel said down the phone. ‘And she’s feeding off you feeling so stuck.’

  One evening at bedtime when I was guest of honour at my own pathetic pity party, Meg just followed me round the kitchen hitting me, my violent shadow. By some superhuman effort, I didn’t retaliate but roughly seized her and dumped her in the garden instead. She grabbed a brick from under the patio bench and hurled it at the glass doors. She was four. How did she lift a brick? Ali was generally upstairs dealing with settling Grace when Meg descended into one of her maelstroms, so I was largely left to my very limited devices of shouting and bargaining, which proved fruitless. But this evening was different. There would be no bargaining.

  ‘Right, that’s it. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH. I HATE YOU. YOU MAKE MY LIFE HELL. YOU MAKE YOUR LIFE HELL. THIS HAS TO STOP NOW!’ The relief was monumental. The fact that I had screamed something gutturally repulsive directly in her face with such force that gobs of spit smacked her cheek was beside the point. Deep down, I knew what the sensible plan was. It was to listen, holding her in a strait-jacket arm-hold until the rage blew itself out, but I had nothing left to offer. It was all I could do. And it was shit. I was shit.

  Chug was in his cot crying inconsolably, no doubt scared by the shouting. Isla was in her bed, probably hugging Emily, her lavender heat-up bear. Meg was just crying now, her anger spent, like mine. Someone urgently banged on the front door. I wiped my eyes and stalked off, leaving Meg sobbing. I wasn’t cut out for this kind of parenting. Why couldn’t it be innocent potato prints and baking fairy cakes instead of a fucking war zone?

  Philippa from next door was standing there, an empathetic look on her face.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  I nodded silently, too scared of what might slip involuntarily out of my mouth. I ran upstairs and grabbed Sonny from his cot. He was hysterical and desperate for a cuddle. I dashed back down to the kitchen were Meg remained bawling.

  ‘Hello, Meg,’ Philippa said in a low sympathetic voice, the voice I imagined she used with her clients. ‘What’s up?’ She grabbed a tissue from the side and handed it to her. When she didn’t take it, she wiped her eyes and nose, which were streaming. Meg let her, a miracle in itself. She stopped crying immediately. ‘Does she need some milk or something?’ Philippa asked as she turned towards me.

  ‘Yes, I’ll get it.’ I rummaged in the plastic tat drawer where plates, bowls, sippy cups, babies’ bottles and random take-away cartons fought for space with the Tupperware, place mats and lolly-ice moulds.

  I poured Meg’s rice milk into her pink sippy cup and handed it to her.

  ‘We can hear what goes on when we’re in the garden,’ Philippa said looking me in the eye. ‘I’m not judging at all, but do you need help? How is Sam with you about what’s going on? Does she behave like this at his?’

  ‘She has tantrums with him, but saves the worst ones for me.’

  ‘That will be because she feels safe with you.’

  ‘She threw a brick at the back door.’ Philippa winced. ‘I don’t know what to do. Who to talk to. My parents think she will grow out of it, but I think it’s getting worse.’

  ‘I think you both need help. You’re dealing with three on your own, and you have another baby here too and I know you help a lot with her. It’s only just a year since Sam left and he’s in his new house and all moved on, though I bet he isn’t. I bet it’s hard for him, too.’

  ‘Good. I want it to be.’

  ‘Of course you do. But you need to help this little girl. I know I’m sticking my nose in, but you sound like you’re all in so much pain I had to come and see if you were OK.’

  I caved in and the tears arrived.

  ‘I’m such a shit mum. All I can think about it how broken I feel.’ At this point Ali wandered into the kitchen, an empty bottle in her hand.

  ‘Oh God, what’s happened? Hi, Philippa.’

  ‘Meg threw a brick at the back door and had been attacking Amanda for the last half-hour at least.’

  ‘Mands, why didn’t you call up the stairs?’ Ali gasped. ‘I can’t hear anything up there. I had no idea.’

  ‘You’re not a shit mum, Amanda. You’re just pushed to your edge, and this is the time to sort it out before it gets worse.’

  ‘Oh, Mands, you’re not shit. I don’t know how you juggle them all and just get out of the house. You have so much to deal with, and you have me here in the way.’

  ‘I want you here,’ I sobbed. ‘It stops me from feeling alone. I haven’t even written any of my book now for ages. There’s nothing inside me any more.’ Ali came over and hugged me while I sobbed all over her shoulder.

  ‘I’ve finished,’ Meg said, and handed me the empty cup. ‘Can I go to bed now?’

  When I came back down to the kitchen after putting Meg and Chug to bed (Isla was awake and needed reassuring all was OK) I was wrung out. Philippa was getting ready to leave.

  ‘Thanks for coming round. I’m sorry you have to live next door to this madhouse.’

  ‘You’re not mad, well, only a little bit. It makes our lives far more interesting being here.’ She smiled. ‘Ring your health visitor tomorrow. The waiting list for counselling is long, but I know that some children’s centres can get you in quicker. Be sure to tell them how desperate you feel. Because you’re on your own, it might speed things up.’

  ‘Wine?’ Ali suggested after Philippa had left, grabbing two glasses before I had even answered. ‘Do you want to talk about Meg?’

  ‘No. I’m done. All I keep thinking is that she wouldn’t be this bad if I was more together. But I’m not.’

  ‘But you seem it.’

  ‘I’m not, Ali. I feel dead inside. I don’t feel like I will ever recover from Sam’s betrayal.’

  ‘But you do all this Beardy Weirdy stuff. It helps, doesn’t it? Your Reiki has helped me! And those crystals you got me, I do feel like they keep me calmer than I ought to be.’

  ‘I feel stuck. I feel like I need something to change. I need to change.’

  ‘I think you need to have sex.’

  ‘The thought makes me feel sick.’

  ‘You need someone you really fancy. Come on, let’s do some of that Cosmic Ordering. Get your weird spell book out, too, and send out a charm to bring us hot men.’

  ‘But who will want me? Someone with three tiny kids and one of them who’s turned feral. I wouldn’t want to date me!’

  ‘Shut up! Drink your wine and let’s write shit down. We’re going to order some men! Then we’ll pull a Tarot card just to see who’s going to turn up.’

  Dear Universe

  I would like to meet someone who is really into me for a change, who accepts that I have children, who is funny, good-looking, and is willing to fit into my life. Oh, and they have to have a decent cock.

  Light and love,

  Amanda

  Dear Universe

  I would like to meet someone who treats me well, who i
s a bit of a rock star, exciting, loves going out and having fun. Doesn’t mind that I am a single mum, likes sex, has a big cock, likes going out for dinner and is looking for a relationship. It would be good if he was rich too as I have no money. But if you get me my money from the house then that would be even better!

  Love,

  Alison

  *

  ‘The Hierophant.’ Ali thrust the card at me, showing a picture of an older learned-looking man on a throne.

  I thumbed through the Tarot Bible, not yet au fait with the meanings of all the cards, this being our new obsession in the house. ‘Hmm, it could mean someone quite conventional, also someone who is a guru, and quite clever, I think. Maybe you’ll meet a brain surgeon?’ I shuffled the cards and one fell from the pack.

  ‘It’s a sign!’ Ali cried. ‘The Devil? That’s not good!’

  ‘Hmm, let me see…’ I read the page. ‘The Devil could mean that I might be led astray by someone, or someone is controlling. Or I’ll act without awareness of consequences to my actions. It also flags up addictions.’

  ‘You’re going to go on a rampage and start having one-night stands and meet loads of bad boys.’

  My phone started ringing in the kitchen. It was Amy.

  ‘Love, guess what! The bar where we DJ-ed for Ali’s birthday want us to start a residency. Isn’t that brilliant?’

  13

  Be Careful What You Wish For

  ‘No one’s dancing! What if no one ever dances and we’re left standing here like idiots until two a.m.? What if I have to play “Agadoo”? What if we’re actually shit and it’s only in the rich fantasy world inside our heads that we’re any good at all?’

  ‘Flipping ball sacks, love, will you lighten up! It must be exhausting being you! It’s still early, a lot of our crowd are staying in because of the wedding tomorrow. It will liven up as soon as some of the pubs chuck out further down the road.’

  ‘But that twat asked for some awful teenage chart music, something Isla would like.’

  ‘Chill! Look people are just having after-work drinks; no one wants to dance yet. Let’s massage them slowly without them realising. I’ll put on some old soul classics and Stevie Wonder. You can come in later with the big guns. I’ve advertised it all over our Facebook page. I reckon some fans will wheedle their way out of the woodwork.’ Amy winked at me and placed the needle on a single, looking every inch the cool-headed disco diva in her vintage silver shoulder-padded crop top and high-waisted green flares. The wall of fairy lights draped artfully behind bathed us in a flattering halo, disguising our age, which was rather higher than the clientele’s.