by Nicola May
Her biggest problem when she had first got together with Mark was not having any of her own money. It felt alien to her to have to ask if she needed anything.
From day one of their affair seven years ago, Mark had told Dana that once he left Carole, she was to have anything she wanted. He was adamant that he didn’t want her to have to go to work. All she had to do was ask for money and she could have it. As an impressionable teenager she was taken in by the glamour of this older man and all that a life with him offered. However, it was quite a transition going from a freedom-loving au pair to his partner, obviously not helped by one very disgruntled ex-wife and a very precocious ten-year-old step-son.
The divorce had come through quickly, which was lucky as Tommy was already on the way. Dana hadn’t planned her life to be like this. She was sad that she had broken up a marriage, but despite the age gap, the love between her and Mark had been so strong that she couldn’t let it pass her by.
Her plan had been to travel as an au pair for a while to improve her English, then to apply for a degree in Film Studies and find work in that field. She would then settle down and have lots of children.
But life, as it so often does, had taken a different path and she had reached her end goal a lot earlier than she had thought she would. Even her wish for a large family seemed blighted, as despite trying for the past four years, she wasn’t falling pregnant.
‘Dana,’ Tony called from behind the table. ‘Two lattes ready for table eight.’
Dana sped over to get them.
‘Nice wiggle,’ Tony joked, his long dark locks curling over his collar like some sort of cool surf dude.
‘I’m not a snake!’ she smartly retorted.
‘But oh, what you could do with that pert little asp,’ Bruno, Tony’s brother, added out of her earshot.
‘She’s a married woman,’ Tony interjected.
‘An unhappily married woman, I reckon.’ Bruno’s dark brown eyes glinted. ‘The best sort.’
‘What do you know, and what does that matter, eh?’ Tony gesticulated wildly, his Italian accent becoming stronger.
‘Calm down, fratello mio. I was just stating a fact.’
The café was so busy that time sped by and Dana couldn’t believe it was the end of her first week already. She cleared the last lunchtime table and went out to the kitchen to hang up her apron and get her coat. Tony followed her and handed her a small envelope.
‘Your first week’s pay, signora.’
‘I cannot tell you how excited I am.’ Dana grinned.
‘I’ll split the tips later and give you those in cash next week,’ Tony added.
‘Oh, is my pay not in cash then?’ Dana questioned.
‘It’s a cheque; I have to put it through the books. An honest unit we are here, you know,’ the handsome Italian smiled.
‘Of course I realise that. I want it to be above board but it would make my life easier if I had cash.’ She had no bank account of her own, so her intention was to squirrel the cash away, save up for a surprise weekend away for her and Mark and then come clean about her job.
Tony held out his hand and she gave the envelope back; he reached into his pocket, pulled out some notes and counted £120 into her hand.
‘This is between you and me, Mrs Knight,’ Tony winked. ‘And only ‘cos I like you.’
Dana blushed to her roots.
Lily and Lola raced out of class and into Gordon’s arms. He
swept them both up, causing Lily’s glasses to go flying.
‘Daddy!’ the little girls shouted in unison.
‘TFI Friday, my lovely ladies!’ he trilled loudly.
‘What does that mean?’ Lola asked, screwing up her pretty little face.
Gordon realised what he’d just said and cringed inwardly.
‘Thank Flora it’s Friday,’ a broad Mancunian male accent intervened.
Gordon looked up and smiled, as these timely words came from a guy who was quite a chicken.
‘Who’s Flora?’ Lola then asked.
‘The Princess of Weekends,’ the Mancunian butted in again and Gordon laughed out loud.
The twins, followed by Eliska, then charged down the path towards the school gates and freedom.
‘Sorry – I haven’t seen you here before. But thanks for rescuing me!’ Gordon acknowledged his saviour, taking in his fitted black T-shirt.
‘I’m Robbie, Eliska Murray’s temp childminder, just helping out until her mother finds a full-time help.’
Gordon held out his hand. ‘Gordon Summers. Nice to meet you, and I hope you have a good weekend. It’s the twins’ birthday party for us, so there’s lots to get ready.’
‘I’d get the wife on to that if I were you.’ Robbie winked and set off to find Eliska.
Gordon had just got the children strapped in the car and was about to zoom off when there was a tap on the driver’s window. It was Inga.
‘Darling girl. Word at the gates is you’ve been fired and a right honey has got your job for now.’
‘For your information, Meester Gay Gordon, word at the gates is wrong, I left the ungrateful bitch. And now I have no money, so can you spread the word please?’ She handed him some leaflets outlining her babysitting services.
‘I could use some help at the girls’ party tomorrow if you’re free. I’ll pay your going rate; say from two till six,’ Gordon said kindly.
‘I think I may love you,’ Inga crooned.
‘From afar, sweetie, from afar.’ Gordon flicked his wrist camply. Inga laughed out loud.
‘Where you staying anyway?’ he asked her.
‘I am sleeping on a friend’s bedroom floor. I sneak in when the family she is au pairing for have gone to bed.’
‘Oh, Inga darling, that’s no good. Come to me tomorrow. I will feed you too.’ He scribbled down his address and handed her a £5 note. Inga squished her face up. ‘Pre-payment for your bus fare. See you.’ Before she could object, the Mini whizzed off.
‘See you – wouldn’t wanna be you,’ the girls shouted in unison and waved wildly out of the back window.
Joan rounded up her brood. She was feeling so much better now she knew what was actually wrong with her. She had had visions of being seriously ill and constant nightmares of dying and having to say goodbye to her family. Rosie ran out to greet her too. Joan had happily said yes to Mo, when she had asked if she minded taking her in on the extra afternoons she was at the surgery until five.
‘Have a lovely weekend,’ Mr Chambers shouted after her. He had a soft spot for Joan and her brood; they were such a delight to teach.
Tommy stood inside the class waiting for Dana. She was unusually late, and came running up the path at full pelt.
‘So sorry I’m late!’ She addressed both Tommy and Mr Chambers, who noticed a different spring in her step.
‘By seconds, that’s all,’ he said kindly. ‘Enjoy the weekend.’ The dedicated teacher then walked back into his classroom.
Emily Pritchard reached the end of the road, then pulled up beside Inga, who was walking on the pavement, and opened her car window.
‘Still OK to babysit tomorrow, dear?’
‘Oh, yes of course Mrs Pritchard. I’m helping at the twins’ birthday party first. So I can be with you for sevenish, if that’s all right?’
‘Birthday party, you say?’ Emily said acerbically. ‘Maybe Joshy forgot to give me the invite.’
‘Oh...um, I am late,’ Inga said hurriedly. ‘I must go fast, see you tomorrow.’
Why did all these English mums have to be so bitchy, she thought as she headed back into town to place an advert in the newsagents’ window. She hoped she never ended up like that!
– Chapter Six –
‘Rosie’s mum is coming up the path,’ Skye shouted to Joan, who was just putting Cissy to bed.
Strange on a Friday evening, Joan thought. She kissed her younger daughter goodnight, relishing the scrumptious scent of baby, and made her way downstairs.
&nbs
p; Mo almost fell through the front door. She was completely breathless.
‘I am so sorry to bother you,’ she managed to get out. ‘It’s just...’ She did her best not to cry. Skye, Clark and Kent appeared at the kitchen door and Joan stood in front of Mo to shield the blood-sodden towel that was wrapped around her friend’s wrist.
‘Carry on watching telly you lot, we’re just having a cup of tea.’
‘Where’s Daddy?’ Skye whined.
‘He’s working late, sweetheart, he’ll be back soon.’ Joan too felt like whining. Colin in all the years she had known him had never worked late on a Friday – and by the look of Mo, she could really do with a man here.
Joan put the kettle on, got a bowl of warm water and gently removed the towel. Neither of them needed to speak; Joan knew that proud Mo must have been in a bad way to knock on her door. The two women had struck up a strong friendship since the night of the diabetes incident, when Joan had got herself carted off to Denbury General, and she was pleased that Mo felt she now had somewhere safe to escape to if things got really bad.
‘Was it a fork?’ Joan asked gently.
Mo nodded, thankful that the bleeding had subsided and by the look of it, no stitches were required. She sipped on the sweet tea that Joan had presented and took the two strong painkillers by her side.
‘Rosie OK?’
‘She’s with Tommy at Dana’s, thank goodness.’
‘This can’t go on, Mo. I’ll be rounding the corner and seeing an ambulance at yours next.’
‘I know,’ Mo said weakly. ‘I’ve started saving, you know with the extra shifts I do when you look after Rosie.’
‘Well, that’s a good start,’ Joan encouraged.
‘I threatened to leave him tonight and he said that I was too cowardly to ever do it and too fat and ugly for anyone to ever want me again, so why bother anyway.’
‘Oh, duckie. He’s ill – he needs help but he’s got to realise it himself.’ Joan put her arm round Mo’s shoulder and squeezed her. ‘There are hostels that you could go to as a last resort, you know.’
‘Oh Joan, I couldn’t subject Rosie to that and I would be so frightened that they might take her away that I don’t want to even enquire. I am very well acquainted with the ways of Social Services, and I don’t trust them an inch.’
‘Do you want to both stay here tonight? We’ll find room even if it’s a made-up bed on the floor.’
‘No, you’re fine. Hopefully, he’ll be crashed out asleep by the time I get back. I can just put Rosie to bed when Dana drops her back.’
‘I tell you what, then. Why don’t you come and spend the day with us tomorrow instead? We’re going to the park to fly kites. The fresh air will do you good and Rosie would love it.’
‘Joan, you’re such a brick, and hark at me moaning on.’
‘I actually don’t think I’ve heard you moan once, so drink your tea and shut up.’ Joan smiled.
‘It’s me who should be worrying about you anyway,’ Mo said guiltily. ‘How are you getting on with the new diabetes lifestyle?’
‘It’s fine actually – lots of fibre, less saturated fat, less meat, more fish and more exercise. And with regular visits to Dr Delicious, it can only do me good, I reckon. Plus it might even help me to shift a few pounds too.’ Joan paused. ‘Sorry, Mo, that came out wrong.’
Mo tutted. ‘Sshh, you. I know I need to lose more than a few pounds.’
‘Well, I’ve decided to start power-walking around the park from Monday, if you fancy coming with me? The kids and Squidge will enjoy it and it’ll keep us fit.’
‘I’m not sure,’ Mo said. ‘I can barely walk round the corner without puffing like an old woman.’
‘Exactly!’ Joan exclaimed. ‘We need to get you running here without so much as a bead of sweat on your brow.’
Mo managed a smile. ‘You’re having a laugh, aren’t you, but OK let’s go on Monday and see how we get on.’
‘That’s the spirit, Mrs Collins.’
After seven years Carole still could not be civil when she dropped Sidney off every other weekend. Dana totally understood why the other woman would hate her. She had been just eighteen years old to Mark’s thirty-five when they met. A pretty, naïve little girl who had not set out to steal a husband, but her infatuation for him was so strong, at the time she’d have moved a mountain for them to be together.
And now here they were, Mark and Dana, to the outsider the perfect couple, living in a huge house on Bramwell Hill with their own beautiful son, expensive car and all the other trimmings that go with a city boy’s lifestyle.
Now, Sidney ran into the play room, where Tommy had a Scalextric track set up. It was a relief that the ten year old had not been tainted by his mother’s poison: the half-brothers got along fine.
Mark made sure the boys were happy, then walked into the kitchen to see Dana. She was peeling potatoes ready to make some homemade chips for lunch.
‘Thanks for always being so understanding about all this,’ he said, then draped his arms over her shoulders and kissed her cheek. ‘And I meant to say earlier, it’s so good to see you looking happier recently.’
When Dana put down her knife and turned around, she was crying. She wasn’t used to her husband being so tender.
‘Hey, what is it?’ Mark asked lovingly.
‘Hormones, I guess. No baby Knight again this month, I’m afraid.’ She wiped her hands on a tea towel. ‘I don’t think I can bear it any more – every month thinking I’m pregnant. My boobs hurt, my tummy swells and then there’s always the disappointment of the false alarm.’
‘Oh love. I’m sorry.’ He held her to his chest tightly. ‘Actually, I meant to tell you that John Hoskins – you know, the new senior accountant I mentioned before.’ Dana nodded. ‘Well, his wife had IVF – and she’s pregnant with twins now. If you wanted to go down that route, I’d be more than happy to support you.’
She was taken aback once more by Mark’s thoughtfulness. Recently, they had seemed to be growing apart. She knew that his job was busy and he was under a lot of pressure, and yet, as much as it was annoying that he didn’t want her to work and she had to keep Rosco’s a secret, she did really love him and was happy that he had mentioned the IVF and not her.
She herself had been reading up about it in a magazine just last month and had intended to give it a little longer trying before suggesting it herself. They obviously could produce a healthy child; but for some reason now needed a little extra help. Evidently, this was not uncommon.
Mark continued: ‘The Hoskins went to a clinic in Chelsea, said it was like a hotel, not a hospital. If you do want to go for it, that’s where we shall head. Only the best for my little Czech angel.’ Mark kissed her again and headed back towards the play room. ‘Just say the word and I’ll book us an appointment.’
Dana carried on peeling the potatoes as she looked out over the perfectly maintained garden and Tommy’s trampoline. Old Malcolm the gardener noticed her and blew her a kiss as he cleared the recent leaves with his special garden vacuum cleaner. She laughed to herself, wishing that she could invite the LWL round for tea just to see their faces at all that was hers.
Minutes later, she walked into the play room – and smiled at the sight of Mark, Sidney and Tommy all shrieking in delight as their cars sped around the track at top speed.
Mark looked up at her and grinned widely.
‘Let’s do it,’ Dana said loudly.
The children squealed their appreciation as their dad’s car span wildly out of control and on to the floor.
Gordon waved to Inga from the flat window. She had been such a great help at the party. The girls loved her young energy, and she had left the place spotless.
He flopped back on his comfy cream leather armchair and flicked on the television. The girls had decided to go back and stay with their real dad’s sister for the night, so Gordon and Chris had the sofa, X-Factor and a whole evening to themselves. Bliss.
It had a
ctually amused him that certain mums took offence if their dear little ones weren’t invited to the various Year Two birthday parties. In fact, Gordon had not invited anyone from the school. It was just family and his friends. He found it easier that way. Nobody had ever discussed his situation, but he didn’t want to have the girls trying to explain that they lived with their gay uncle and his boyfriend, hence the reason they called him Dad at school. He decided that when they were a bit older he would address the situation with them and they could choose what they wanted to do. Maybe he was being paranoid, but he knew how cruel kids could be.
Lily and Lola had been just three when their parents had died, and although they had missed them initially, especially their mum, with all the love and fun he threw at them, they soon took to their new life with their new daddies. Most of the mums thought that he was a straight single parent and he was happy to keep it that way for now. It was just Inga and Dana who knew otherwise. Old Preachy Knickers was the trickiest. Thank goodness she was married or he would no doubt be beating her off with a stick
Chris came in from the kitchen, two glasses of chilled white wine in hand. He looked suddenly older than his twenty-five years. Tall, clean-shaven and immaculate in jeans and a tailored black shirt, he struck a handsome figure.
He kissed Gordon on the forehead, handed him his wine and moved across the room to lounge on the huge squashy leather sofa.
‘Smell or something, do I?’ Gordon joked.
Chris was silent.
‘Tired, I bet,’ Gordon said kindly. ‘Thank you so much for cooking, Pooks. Those mini-burgers went down a treat, and as for jelly and home-made ice cream too, you excelled yourself, dear. You’re a great dad, do you know that?’
A tear ran down Chris’s face and Gordon ran over to him.
‘Hey!’ He lifted his partner’s chin up lovingly.’ What’s up?’
‘I don’t know how to say it,’ Chris said on a sob, and Gordon suddenly went cold.
‘Go on. Whatever it is, we can deal with it together.’
‘You know how much I love you and the girls?’ Chris went on. Gordon nodded and bit his lip.
