by Aimee Horton
Whatever gets you to school, kiddos.
It works though, because we make it to school in record time, and I push them into their rooms with a quick kiss on the top of each of their heads.
Phew.
As I leave the school gates, I feel a wave of guilt. I was a bit impatient with them.
Once home, I turn on the coffee machine and fling open the conservatory doors.
“Right then, Squish, shall we bake some Rapunzel and Hulk chocolate cakes?” I ask George who is still happily sitting in his pram, taking in the room from his new position. “First though, coffee and the Internet to find out how the hell I’m going to make them!”
I pour some coffee, wake up the iPad and quickly find what I’m looking for. I even happen to have all the ingredients.
This will make it up to the kids.
I turns on some music from my phone, selecting the playlist I used to use when I went to the gym, upbeat and full of motivation.
I really should get back to that.
Breaking off a bit of cooking chocolate and popping it into my mouth, I skim the recipe, and singing, I begin to make the chocolate cakes.
Once they’re in the oven, I turn my music off and take George upstairs for his nap. He snuggles down and is snoring before I’m out of the room. Humming to myself, I grab some laundry out of the washing machine and head to the line. Days like this make me think I could happily continue to be a stay-at-home mum.
There must be something terribly therapeutic about the washing line because this is always where I start weighing up my next big decision.
Just as I peg up a pair of school trousers, I hear what I assume is Joe’s voice from the garden next door.
Izzy’s garden.
“Yeah, I know we said we’d see each other more often… but look… yes… but—” At least I think it’s Joe’s voice. I’d worked very hard to delete all memories of the last time I’d heard it. “Look… I’m just… I think we should end it. I’m not comfortable any more.”
Oh my God. He’s on the phone to Tina, isn’t he?
I try not to listen, but I’m holding my breath, a pair of Arthur’s school shorts in mid-air.
“I know what I said, but things have changed. I was being a bastard. Izzy just wasn’t into stuff, and you, well you’re gorgeous, you know that.”
If you like that sort of thing.
My oven timer beeps—the cakes are ready.
“Look, Tina. It’s over. I don’t want to hurt Izzy, or Lola. And there’s something else…”
Izzy’s pregnant, isn’t she?
A car pulls up next door, and my heart starts to race. Why am I always hearing these sorts of things?
Because I didn’t go inside, perhaps?
Yes, I know I didn’t go inside, but I’m just hanging up washing in my own garden!
“Look, I can’t talk about it now. Bye.”
Silence. I don’t dare to move. Joe clears his throat, and I hear a door open and close as he goes inside.
Shit. Now what do we do?
I race inside and switch off the oven, then grab my phone and text Jane. She texts back nearly straight away, suggesting we meet after school.
With the problem delayed for a few hours, I pull the cakes out of the oven and set them on the rack to cool, hoping they hurry up.
Two hot and sweaty hours later, I stand back and survey my work. They look nothing like they did on the Internet. I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong. I followed the instructions nearly exactly, but the icing is too pale, and the Hulk face has collapsed.
It’s a mess. I’ll have to buy some. I bet the bakery has something similar.
I reach for one of the twelve failed attempts and take a huge bite.
At least they taste good.
Turning, I see George, who is sitting in the high chair with a mixture of pink and purple spread across his face, in his hair and on his clothes.
Rapunzel colours.
“George!” I rush over to retrieve what is left of the cake, only to discover there’s nothing left. Just a few smudges of icing and a smattering of crumbs. “Have you eaten an entire cake covered in Rapunzel icing?”
He coos and claps his hands in response.
Shit. I’ve poisoned my baby!
Just as I’m debating whether to call the doctor or not—or even an ambulance—the house phone rings. I ignore it; all I can think about is how much sugar and colouring went into those cakes.
I’ve not even started him on baby rice yet!
Just then my mobile phone vibrates. My heart stops when the school number flashes across my screen.
“Hello, Dottie Harris speaking.” My throat clams up, and my voice comes out as a croak.
“Mrs. Harris? Hi, it’s Phoebe from school. I’m afraid Arthur and Mabel have chicken pox. Can you come and get them?”
“So it’s not just an insect bite then?” I ask hopefully.
“No. So… when will you be here?”
“Fifteen minutes.” I’m relieved it’s not something as serious as a broken bone. I scrub most of the icing off George, head to the car and strap him in.
Less than an hour later, we’re all hanging out in the lounge: Arthur and Mabel, who are watching TV; Hannah, who already had chicken pox; George, who hasn’t died from ingesting the cupcake; and Jane, who is offering us moral support. Arthur and Mabel don’t seem that bothered, but the spots are spreading quickly. And even though they don’t look ill, they’re taking full advantage, shovelling as many failed cakes into their mouths as they think I will allow.
“So he’s not going to become obese?” I ask Jane, plopping George onto the floor in front of me and propping him up with cushions.
“He’ll be fine. Now, back to the weekend.”
I sigh, reminded that yet again, I’m lucky to have Jane in my life.
Arthur and Mabel having the pox has actually been a real life saver. It means I don’t have to take them to the barbecue and spend the entire time stopping them from setting each other—or the house—on fire. Instead, it means Henry can stay home with them while getting to know Jane’s other half, Ben. And Jane and I will head across the road for the little get-together.
“What about Hannah?” I ask, thinking about Tina’s rant to Ben.
“She can stay here with the kids or come with us. Tina is pretending she doesn’t know the connection, so why can’t we?” Jane shrugs. “Maybe it will put her on edge? Give us a bit of an advantage?”
“So, you and I, and maybe Hannah, will go over to the barbecue late afternoon. We’ll make Tina and Joe aware that they can’t continue on, put Tina on edge a bit more… and then we’ll come back home and eat lots of yummy Mexican food while we wait to see what happens?” I reel off the plan, feeling a bit sick and uncertain. “Should we still do this if Izzy is pregnant?”
“We don’t know that Izzy is pregnant, and it’s more about Tina than Joe. Remember, this isn’t just about exposing the affair. It’s about letting her know that we, or most importantly you, know that she’s a manipulative, spying cow. Think of everything you’ve heard her say, how she’s tried to ruin your new friendships.”
I know that whilst she’s doing this for me, she also has an axe to grind herself.
“But no talk of the baby monitor? Just twist stuff so she looks like an idiot?” I ask, and she nods. “OK.”
Please God, let this go right.
~~~~
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here?” Jane asks Hannah for the third time.
“I’m sure,” Hannah replies. “I want to come to the party! Arthur, you don’t mind, do you?” She turns and looks at my spotty son, who shrugs.
“No, don’t care. It means I can watch Power Rangers.”
I give Henry another hug and a kiss on the nose. The guilt of blaming him for cheating still makes my stomach knot up.
“You’re OK with Ben turning up even if we’re still over the road?” I ask, and he gives me a squeeze.
> “Sure, just don’t stay too late. I’m already starving, and I know what you two are like once you’ve had a drink.” He grins.
“Don’t worry. The chilli is in the oven, and there are nachos and salsa on the counter. Once we get home, we just need to dish it up and stuff our faces. Plus, since Hannah is coming, Jane will want to get her into bed with the others, so no way we’ll be later than seven-ish,” I promise, glancing at Jane, who nods in agreement.
Unable to delay it any longer, we traipse across the road, hoping to make a fashionably late entrance, which is also known as “not wanting to be the first to turn up and have to make awkward small talk.”
Please let this work. Please let it be over quickly.
There is a sign taped to the front door saying to “Come on through” so we walk in and make our way into the back garden. A large bucket of ice and various bottles is on the ground next to the fence strung with brand new fairy lights. The barbecue is burning away, and there is enough food piled up on a table nearby to feed a small office building.
Only Izzy, Joe, Penny and Phil are there; the girls are sitting on the garden furniture next to each other, and the men are standing awkwardly nearby.
“Drinks!” Tina says as a greeting. “I do know how you like a gin and tonic, Dottie!” She winks, thrusting us both a glass before turning to tend to the barbecue once more. I take a sip and try not to choke because the drink tastes suspiciously like neat gin, and as tempting as it is to down it in one single shot, I can’t. I’ll just sip it politely.
Got to keep alert!
“Hello!” I say to the group, my stomach knotted with nerves. “Izzy, Penny, you remember Jane?” The girls nod in recognition, smiling at us. There’s a slight awkward silence, which Jane confidently fills by shaking everyone’s hand and introducing herself and Hannah to Joe and Phil.
I always forget to introduce my kids. Usually on purpose.
Turning back to her daughter, Jane points at Declan across the garden. “Hannah, look, there’s Tina’s little boy over there. Why don’t you go and play with him?” Hannah happily trots off to join him.
“Where’s Henry?” Penny asks, looking at me with a look of sympathy.
“At home with the kids. Arthur and Mabel have chicken pox.” I don’t like the idea of people thinking there’s trouble between us. “Plus, Jane’s other half is coming over for supper so he’s keeping an eye on the chilli.” I know I sound like I’m overcompensating, but I don’t care.
Soon it will be over.
An awkward silence descends again, and it’s obvious we’re all trying to think of something to say. Eventually I think of something. I can always think of something. “No kids?”
I didn’t say that something would be any good. Of course neither of them have their kids with them; otherwise we would see them, wouldn’t we?
“No, my sister is babysitting,” Izzy replies.
At the same time, Penny says, “My mum has come to stay for a few days while Phil goes away with work.”
“Ahh, I totally don’t blame you for taking full advantage of babysitters! Ha ha! Are you going out afterwards?” I laugh falsely, sipping my drink before grimacing again as the burning sensation makes its way down my throat.
“Yes,” says Penny.
“No,” replies Izzy.
Awkward.
A song comes on that I vaguely recognise, and so to break the mood, I jiggle up and down a bit. I reach for a bowl of crisps and munch my way through them, trying not to catch Jane’s eye. Just then, three women appear carrying bottles of vodka and laughing loudly. Tina introduces them as her work mates and then heads back to tend to the hot dogs, which are nearly done.
Mmm, hot dogs.
No. I must not stuff my face. This is an afternoon barbecue. Dinner at home is my main meal.
Izzy and Joe have wandered over to the buffet table, and before I know it, Jane is over there with them.
Shit.
A slight breeze catches the smoke and lifts it into the air, making a few people cough. Shivering, Jane pulls her cardigan around her.
“Sausages look amazing, don’t they, Joe? Nothing like a big hot sausage inside you on a chilly night like this—is there, Tina?” Her face is a picture of innocence.
Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. This is not a laughing matter, not even nervous laughter.
Tina laughs, though. Uproariously so, as she hands Jane a hot dog and looks purposefully at Joe, who is having a bit of a coughing fit. Realising she’s not going to get a reaction from him, Tina returns to the barbecue.
Phil rummages in the drinks bucket for a bottle of wine, then fills up everyone’s glasses. I use this opportunity to grab a cheeseburger.
Stomach lining… plus I’m only being sociable.
A few more people turn up, and Penny informs me that some are from Tina’s work, and others live down the street.
How have I never seen them?
Just as I’m about to ask Penny that very question, I hear Jane quietly suggest to Joe that he should be careful with the ketchup bottle; he wouldn’t want to “shoot his load” too early.
Oh God.
Tina obviously heard too, as both she and Joe are looking uncomfortable. After glaring at Jane, they make eye contact before quickly going off in opposite directions.
Tina returns shortly after with some candles, placing them on tables and balancing them on fence posts. Phil and Joe go around lighting them. I don’t even have to look up to know Jane will seize another opportunity.
“Careful Joe, you don’t want to dip your wick so close to home.” Joe excuses himself, muttering something about a stomachache, and makes his way inside.
I think we’ve made our point now.
Just as I’m trying to make eye contact with Jane, hoping she realises it’s time to stop, Tina sweeps past with two rather large glasses of wine.
As soon as she’s inside, the atmosphere relaxes. Jane catches my eye and nods. She knows we’ve done enough, and pointing to her watch, she makes a hand movement to signal ten more minutes.
Just enough time for a hot dog…
All of a sudden, the music is switched off, and for a moment the garden is silent. Then the soundtrack of the evening, which had sounded like one of the latest NOW CDs, is replaced by a soft twinkly sound, like a lullaby.
What the…
Everyone is looking a bit confused. One of the women from down the street mutters, “Music today is so strange.”
“That sounds like Ruby’s lullaby CD,” Penny says. Everyone looks around, but nobody can see where the sound is coming from.
Oh shit.
There’s a buzzing, and the lullaby is gone, replaced by the sound of a television and a young woman talking loudly.
“That’s my sister,” says Izzy, twisting her head around to try to work out where the voice is coming from.
The garden has gone eerily quiet, and everyone is looking around for Tina, who is nowhere to be seen.
What the hell is going on?
I look at Jane in a panic, not sure what to do. Where is Tina? Is she doing this? A telephone is ringing over the monitor now—except Jane and I are the only ones who know it’s a baby monitor that’s stuffed under a sofa. They’re just confused.
The young voice answers, and we hear her as if she’s here in the garden with us. “Hi Izzy, yeah… just FaceTiming my friends. Is that OK?” Everyone turns to Izzy, who is standing across the garden near the fence, phone to her ear. A look of alarm has spread over her face.
Mouths fall open, and Hannah appears at the door of the conservatory. The baby monitor in her hand is nearly identical to mine, although from what I can see, it’s the next model up. She flicks another switch, and we all hear an old man’s voice. There’s a shuffle in the corner, and the middle-aged woman who lives on the street is pushing herself up off a garden bench. She barges past Hannah. We hear Tina’s front door slam, then moments later, over the monitor, we hear another door open and slam, before the
line goes fuzzy.
“Look what I found, Mummy! Walkie-talkies like baby George has! Do you think I can talk to Arthur from here?” sings Hannah.
Jane and I leap towards her, ready to turn it off. But we’re too late, because the silence is replaced with Tina’s loud, unmistakable voice.
“Come on, big boy, let’s do it. No one knows we’re here.”
I look at Jane in panic, and notice her face looks like I feel. Everyone in the garden exchanges shocked glances, with an undercurrent of glee.
“Oh the dirty cow,” says Penny cheerfully. “I didn’t even know she was seeing anyone new.”
I feel sick. I know what’s coming next. Jane and I continue to exchange looks, working out if we should grab the monitor or not. She nods, and we reach for it, but not before we hear a man’s voice. Joe’s, of course.
“This is absolutely the last time,” he pants. Tina gasps, and he groans slightly. “I’m sure… I’m sure Izzy is starting to suspect…”
Everyone turns to stare at Izzy, who lets out a strangled cry. I’m torn, feeling like I should stay and comfort her. Jane takes charge. She grabs the monitor from Hannah, switches it off and tosses it in Penny’s direction. She pushes Hannah towards the door, takes my hand and pulls me with her to the safety of my house before the bomb finally explodes.
Epilogue
If at first you don’t succeed—try, try again.
One Year Later
I’m speeding, well as much as you can speed when you’re stuck behind a tractor on what feels like a single-track road. We’re in my brand new Range Rover, which I bought when Penny and I landed one of our biggest clients yet, but it feels like I’m driving a bus. I don’t think there’s enough room to overtake, although the cars behind me seem to think otherwise as they weave back and forth before streaming past me, leaving me alone behind the precarious-looking piece of farm machinery.
I can’t do this. I have to carry on until he turns off.
Next to me, Jane is gripping the seat. Her eyes are closed, and she’s counting very slowly to ten. Looking over my shoulder, I check for the millionth time that the hospital bag Jane had calmly packed and placed in the back seat two weeks ago is still there.
