by Aimee Horton
“It just got worse. We need a plan. Come for wine tomorrow. x”
Her response is almost instant: “I’m going to regret this, but I’ll be round after my shift. You can pick Hannah up from school. x”
I delete both messages, then snuggle up to Henry, feeling horribly guilty and terribly nervous.
“Love you, Mr. Harris.”
“You too, Dots,” he says, kissing the top of my head as we watch somebody’s legs get blown off.
15.
No matter how gross a baby’s bottom smells, his neck will always smell amazing.
“Who’s my beautiful boy? Who is he? He’s you. Yes he is!” I whisper into George’s neck as I change his nappy. I draw the curtains, getting the room ready for his afternoon nap. Glancing out the window, my heart nearly leaps out of my throat. A van drives slowly down the street and pulls up outside our house. It has a bright purple logo splashed across the side.
Shit.
Quickly I kiss George and put him in his cot, then drop to the floor and crawl onto the landing. Creeping down the stairs, I discover Mabel exactly where I left her, entranced by Tangled on the kitchen TV.
Thankfully no windows are visible from the street in here.
Still on the floor, I crawl towards the front door. I hear stones crunching on the drive and voices approaching the house. I tug the cord of the blind on the little window next to the door and it falls quickly—well as quickly as anything controlled by a plastic string can. I peek out the side, knowing—because I made Henry test it when my parents kept dropping in—that I can see out, but they can’t see in.
Two muscular men wearing Hawaiian print T-shirts with Bondi Bathrooms emblazoned across their chests are approaching my door.
Shit. I thought I’d cancelled it.
In fact, I’m positive I cancelled it. I remember calling them back and quoting the details down the phone. Jane had given me a printed-out copy of the email so I had everything I needed, and I was strong and cancelled as soon as I got back from her house the other day.
I know I did!
After I’d called, I’d slipped the print-out directly in the recycle bin so Henry wouldn’t spot it. Then I’d gone inside and set up the new baby monitor. I remember it distinctly.
So why are they here?
The doorbell rings, and Mabel shouts for me, so I drop back to the floor and crawl to the kitchen. I can’t let them hear her. She’s already halfway across the room, although her eyes are still very much glued to the screen. Kicking the door shut, I pray that the noise doesn’t wake George. I give Mabel a biscuit, which should keep her quiet long enough for them to go away.
The bell rings again. More knocking. Then it all goes quiet. I open the kitchen door a crack, just in time to see the letterbox slam and a piece of paper float to the floor.
I tiptoe down the corridor and squint to read the note
“Bondi Bathrooms delivery—will try to re-deliver tomorrow.”
What’s happened?
Just as I’m about to back away to the safety of the kitchen, I hear a familiar voice.
“Is everything OK? Can I help?” Tina’s stupid loud voice.
“Yes, we’re looking for Mrs. Harris. We have a bathroom delivery for her. The fitters are due on Saturday, first thing.”
Fitters? Shit. On Saturday?
“Oh I can take that for you,” Tina says smoothly.
No, no, please no!
“Sorry, Miss, we can’t do that unless you have a key to the property. The bathroom has to be delivered to the house. My boss would kill me otherwise.”
Ha!
“Oh darn it—I’ve left my key at work. But if you want to put it in my front room, I’ll happily take it across later? You can leave a note.”
You will never ever have a key to my house, Tina.
“No can do Miss, thanks anyway. We’ll just come back tomorrow. Goodbye now.” The men crunch back down my drive. The van doors slam shut, and the engine starts.
I peer through the blind just in time to see Tina stamp her foot and kick a few stones in the direction of my car before marching across the street, her red hair flying behind her. For a moment, I can’t help but wonder if she’s the one who re-ordered it.
No, I’m being ridiculous. Aren’t I?
I pull out my phone and text Jane.
“They’ve just tried to deliver my bathroom! I PROMISE I cancelled it!” I make my way back to the kitchen and grab a soda, trying to get my head around what’s happened.
They’ve just tried to deliver a bathroom I cancelled.
Tina happened to be here to try and take in the delivery.
I’m usually on a walk with the kids, but George was extra tired today so I decided to put him for his nap a little earlier.
Which means…
Tina doesn’t know I’m here.
“Hey Mabs, fancy playing Rapunzel escaping from the tower? I’m going to put George in his new sling!” I call, making a quick plan.
We’ll go out the back and across the fields.
“OK, Mummy!” she sings, and when I turn around, she’s already naked and going in search of her dressing-up outfit.
~~~~
“I can’t believe you didn’t put it in the bin,” Jane says.
We’re both sitting in the kitchen, a bottle of rosé wine between us, our glasses half-full. There are a few take-away menus spread between us, and right in the middle, in front of the bottle of wine, is the baby monitor. I may have recovered it from the tampon basket.
She’s going to get cross before she gets why I did that.
“Do you like my new bottle cooler? I got it from Not n the High-Street. Isn’t it cool?” I gesture towards the bright pink shoe-shaped wine cooler, which Henry made me promise to send back because it was too girlie, but I couldn’t bring myself to.
“Don’t change the subject.”
She knows me so well.
Sighing, I pick up my glass and take a sip, letting the cool sweet wine soothe my dry throat. “Look, I was going to, but I wanted to know why Penny had gone funny. I mean, I thought we were going to go into business together. I knew you’d really like her, and then she just went off me!”
“So you decided to spy on her?” Jane picks up her glass but doesn’t drink from it. Instead she uses it to gesture across the road in the general direction of Tina’s house. “If Penny ever found out, she’d think you were as bad as her.”
“It wasn’t like that, though! I like her! I want her to be my friend. It’s not her fault I live opposite a psycho who’s trying to split us up!” I take another swig of wine. Aware that I sound a bit like a stalker, I reach for a Mexican take-away leaflet and pretend to read the specials.
“You know that, and I know that,” replies Jane. “But not everybody knows you like I do. Not everyone knows that you mean well. If they did, then this,” she gestures towards the monitor with her glass, “wouldn’t be an issue.”
“But Tina told her I was coming on to her husband! She told her I’d said that was the only reason I was going into business with her!” I am angry now, and my voice is getting high-pitched and squeaky.
“Shhh!” Jane points up to the ceiling. “The kids.”
I nod, and we sit in silence for a few moments before she says, “Did she really tell Penny that?”
“Yes. Well, I only know what Penny and Phil were talking about last night,” I say, blushing as I admit to listening to her again.
“OK, first off, no more listening to Penny. You can be friends, you just need to rebuild that trust, and to do that, you can’t be lying to her any more, OK?”
She means business. I nod.
“Now, about Tina, I think she needs taking down a peg or two. Not just because she made Ben’s life hell for the last however-many years and is still making everything difficult for us, but also, nobody messes with my best friend.” She brandishes her glass in the air in an act of defiance. “Order me a chimichanga, and turn on the monitor. Let’s get this over with.
”
I beam and order a fat-inducing meal while Jane tops up our wine glasses. “I’m going to check on the kids,” she says.
When she returns, I tell her the food will be here at eight-thirty.
“I’m going to waste away!” She collapses onto her chair giggling, and I laugh too.
“Not as silly as last time, OK?” I warn as I notice that there’s barely a quarter of the bottle left. “Henry isn’t back until tomorrow night, so he can’t bail us out again.”
“Don’t worry. I never want to feel like that again. We’re too old, Dots!”
“Agreed. Now, are we ready?” I ask, reaching for the monitor.
“Yes… no, wait! Before you start, did you cancel the bathroom yet?”
“I called and left a message saying I had already cancelled it, but nobody rang me back—why?”
“Good, so at least you’re clear.” Jane is looking at me, an odd expression on her face. “You… erm… You promise you cancelled it, don’t you, Dots? Because you know how you are with that sort of thing.” Her words hang in the air, and she looks guilty as she says it, guilty for not trusting me.
I squeeze her shoulder. I don’t blame her. I am terrible at that sort of thing. “I promise.” I look Jane straight in the eyes so she knows I really do mean it. Because, as much as I want that bathroom, I have enough to deal with. Plus, I don’t want to give Tina the satisfaction of seeing it being delivered again.
“OK. I believe you. Let’s get this over with.”
Taking a deep breath, I turn the monitor on to Channel B, and we sit back with our wine and listen.
~~~~
I can’t believe her monitor was turned off! She has never turned it off.
Is she on to me?
In fact, none of the monitors were working as we flicked through the channels. In the end, we opened a second bottle of wine and headed into the lounge to talk about Ben.
He sounds amazing; I’m so excited to meet him on Sunday.
“And Hannah likes him?” I ask, glancing out the window as a car pulls into Tina’s drive. “Tina’s home by the way.” I gesture with my wine glass towards the window.
“I wish it was my chimichanga,” Jane says feebly, before answering my question. “Yes, Hannah adores him, and he seems to adore her. She reckons she loves Declan too. He plays with her and Artie at lunch some days. They sound like a right little gang.”
“Penny said Tina wanted another baby or something like that,” I say absentmindedly, looking back towards the window as another car drives down the street. “That’ll be food. Do you want to do the door or the kids?”
“The door. Nothing is coming between me and my food, especially not a jabbering five-year-old,” Jane says, making her way to catch the door before the bell goes.
I creep upstairs and check first on George, then Mabel.
As I approach Arthur’s room, I hear scuffles. I open the door quickly, expecting to find them causing mischief. To give them credit, they’re doing quite a good job of faking sleep, so I tiptoe out of the room and whisper, “Wow, they are totally, one hundred percent asleep!” Once the door is closed, I hear them burst out laughing.
They’re just like Jane and me at that age. It’s scary.
Back downstairs, I find my best friend in the kitchen, half-open boxes and cartons spread across the breakfast bar, knife and fork in hand.
“What have you been doing, lazy bones?” I ask, skipping over and opening one of the boxes.
“Shhh!” She points at the breakfast bar and puts a finger over her mouth. Then I hear a crackle, and I realise she’s heard something on the baby monitor. “She’s on the phone. I think with Ben.”
I settle onto a stool, dragging the hot ’n spicy chilli towards me.
“And I told you… he is not to meet her. I don’t care if you’ve met her kid.”
Shit this chilli is hot.
I hunt for the sour cream as Tina rants at poor Ben. “I’ve seen her in and out of the house opposite… No, I don’t care that the kids are friends at school. That woman will not be a part of his life. It’s not like you’re married or living together, is it? What? You have GOT to be kidding me. There is no way that is going to happen—ever.”
The phone slams down.
“What do you think he said to her?” I ask. I can’t help myself. I need to know what Jane thinks, because to me, it sounded very much like Ben had told Tina that he and Jane would be married or living together soon.
Jane looks a bit shaky and downs the rest of her wine in one mouthful. “God knows, but she is fierce, isn’t she? Pour me more wine, will you, and pass me that spicy stuff.”
Knowing she’s changing the subject, I do as I’m told, and we sit in silence, listening as Tina slams about on the other side of the monitor.
Is she talking to herself?
“Is she talking to herself?” Jane asks at the same time. We look at each other, forks hovering over our plates. Together we lean in, trying to hear more.
“They’ve got to break up.” Tina’s voice is bordering on frantic, and as she mutters something else, I swear I hear wine sloshing into a glass. “Yes, that’s right. I’ll break them up, and then I can break up with that stupid Joe, and we can all get back to normal.” More sloshing of wine and a few loud gulps and a hiccup. “Then he’ll come back to me, and we’ll all be back to normal. Just how it needs to be.”
It sounds like she’s pacing back and forth; then she begins planning when they’ll start having babies again. This is beyond what I was ever hearing. If it wasn’t for Jane being caught in the middle, I’d be feeling sorry for Tina right now.
I’m not sure we should be listening to this.
I don’t feel comfortable at all, and suddenly, I realise I’m no longer fascinated by Tina’s crazy antics. This is not going to help us fix things. I don’t want to hear any more. Leaning over, I turn the monitor off and look at Jane, who is now really pale.
“She’s got to be stopped. I’ll think of a plan, but first pass me that chimichanga,” she says, her face set with determination.
We demolish the food in a ridiculously short amount of time. Now, we’re sitting in front of Dirty Dancing, drinking mugs of warm Ribena. Both silent, deep in thought.
“I’ve got it!” Jane exclaims just as Johnny marches into Kellerman’s looking for Baby.
“What?” I ask, not taking my eyes off the screen. They fill with tears before he even says those famous words: “Nobody puts Baby in the corner.” I smile as he takes her hand and pulls her up from her seat.
The television pauses.
“Focus, Dottie. I’ve decided what we’ll do.”
“What, what?”
“Well, I’ve not got it all, but I think this is the only thing we can do.” Jane’s voice is calm and reasonable as she explains the plan.
“So we’re not actually going to mention the baby monitors?” I ask, thinking what a genius my friend is.
“No, all we’re doing is exposing her as a bit of a bitch.”
I nod, although I do have a niggle.
“What about Izzy?”
I don’t want to hurt Izzy.
Sighing, Jane sips her drink, and then gently rests her hand on my arm.
“Dots, she’s going to be hurt whatever happens. I mean, she’s hurting right now. And we’re not going to tell her. She might guess, but it’s up to Joe to tell her.”
I nod sadly.
Poor Izzy.
“The best way to punish Tina is for her to realise that she’s not as smart as she thinks,” Jane continues. “We just want to embarrass her a bit, and maybe while we’re at it, it will teach Joe to think before he acts.”
What a mess! And who would have thought Jane and Ben would be caught up in it all as well. Wait a minute… Could Jane and Ben be the answer?
“Well a party would be easy. She just needs to know it screws up yours and Ben’s plans!” I exclaim, an idea forming.
“How do you propose that?
” Jane looks cynical, and I’m almost hurt she doubts me.
“Because she’s going to bump into us and find out he’s coming over to our house for Sunday tea. She’ll want to scupper that in a second!” I do a little arm dance in my seat, proud to have contributed.
“OK… Let’s take the bitch down, Dots.”
16.
Why is my friend always more helpful than my husband?
Having Jane around in the morning is a lot more helpful than having Henry around. She got all the kids up and insisted I have a shower on my own.
“You never get a shower on your own!” she says as she balances a stinky George on her hip. I almost feel bad about pretending I can’t smell him.
Should I offer to change his nappy before I shower?
I notice a damp patch on his sleep suit just above her wrist.
No, she’ll be fine.
Keeping my face blank, I kiss George and Jane, and then dart into the shower. I take full advantage: shaving my legs, using a body and a face scrub, even double conditioning my hair. I poke my head out of the bathroom to check if anything has gone wrong, and when all I hear downstairs is laughter, I pop back in and apply a coat of fake tan. I dry my hair and even manage to tame my wild curls into some sort of style.
By the time I skip downstairs, feeling refreshed, everyone is standing at the front door ready to go.
“You look beautiful, Mummah,” says Mabel, sounding as if she’s from a Victorian musical.
Arthur, on the other hand, does not sound quite as eloquent as he wolf whistles and exclaims, “Yeah Mum, hot stuff!” much to my and—by the look on her face—Jane’s alarm.
The child will be smacking my bum and asking for a beer before I know it.
We walk to school, the sun shining on our faces, the children all behaving. And for the first time, I think that perhaps we can fix the whole big mess.
Everything is going to be OK.
After dropping the kids off, we dawdle home, stopping to point out the flowers and the ducks in the pond to George. All of a sudden, the calmness is broken by somebody barging past, nearly knocking Jane over and sending George flying.
