The Darker Side of Mummy Misfit #2

by Amanda Egan

  Mr Rooney approached me as I was packing my files away. He got quite close and I could smell toothpaste and a rather nice aftershave.

  He positioned himself close to my ear and whispered, “You two are up to something, aren’t you? Can’t wait to find out what.”

  Hmm. Felt the first stirring of arousal I’ve had in months.

  Oh, pull yourself together woman! He has that effect on all the mums - get to the back of the queue.

  Wednesday 5th November

  We were enjoying a mini fireworks display at F&J’s along with Patience and Solomon when my mobile rang and I saw ‘Nic’ flash up on the screen.

  They’ve got baby Mikhail settled in at home and want us to go and meet him tomorrow. He sounded so happy … and I felt so sad.

  A new baby. I’ll have to hold it and smell it and grow to love it.

  And I’m not sure if I can.

  Put a bit of a dampener on the fireworks and I went home with the hump.

  Thought I was getting better but the hurt just won’t go away.

  Thursday 6th November

  Most of the day was spent finalising things for the parents’ welcome drinks party tomorrow but I did manage to pop in to Mrs S before we set off to Nic and Rick.

  Skunk and Silver were there with her and teaching her to play poker. She had her trademark Babycham by her side and Desmond was happily whistling bits of ‘Firestarter’ whilst sitting on her shoulder.

  “Old Des has got quite a routine going now, Lib. Can’t ‘ave ‘im just doin’ Bazza Manilow numbers can we?” Skunk said.

  “I am very much looking forward to seeing ‘Miss Stuck-up’ when she returns with my Pritesh. She won’t be calling my birdie untrainable again in a curry-hurry.”

  Told Mrs S to make sure I was there to witness the look on Gestapo’s face when she does the ‘big reveal’. I’m sure it will be priceless.

  PM

  Ned came home from work early so that we could get to Nic’s at a reasonable time. I’d bought them some adorable Babygrows and a snow-suit but the act almost broke my heart.

  Anyway, the upshot is Mikhail is very cute, if a tad odd looking. He has the most serious expression and, at three months, seems very knowing in a slightly unnerving sort of way.

  Max asked if he could understand what we were saying to him or if we would have to learn Russian. We explained to him that Mikhail would learn to speak English as he grew up and right now wouldn’t understand any of what we were saying because he was too young.

  “Oh, so he won’t mind if I say he looks a bit like an old man then?”

  Explained that no, he wouldn’t but Nic and Rick might!

  Nic laughed and tickled Max. “Oh I don’t mind Maxie-Boy! You looked like a rotten tomato when you were born and now look how handsome you are.”

  Max giggled and jumped off the sofa declaring that babies were boring and he was going to play with Stripe.

  “I’m glad we haven’t got one,” he added as he went to find Stripe. “They don’t do anything!”

  At that moment Baby Mikhail chose to fill his nappy with a humungous wet one and I took great pleasure in handing him back to his fathers!

  Friday 7th November

  Welcome Drinks Party

  Thought I needed a spot of retail therapy this morning and decided to treat myself to something new to wear tonight.

  What’s more, I decided I’d buy new for a change and not hit the charity shops. I didn’t intend to go mad with some ridiculously over-priced designer gear because that’s just not me, but it felt good to be able to have a wander around the shops and not worry too much about price-tags.

  Decided on a really trendy tunic and some beautifully soft suede knee-length boots. They’ll look great with my leggings, and I think my anxiety may have helped me to shed a couple of pounds over the last few months, so that can only be a bonus.

  Late morning I had a call from Shergar to say that a lot of the mums had decided against coming tonight because they didn’t see “any value” in meeting new parents.

  “I mean we’re all frightfully busy, Libby and to be perfectly honest, a lot of the newbies are just so not PLU. I’m frankly surprised at some of the riff-raff allowed into Manor House in the past year.”

  Once I’d got over the shock of her rudeness, I had to ask what she meant by ‘PLU’.

  “PLU, darling. ‘People Like Us’ - but then I suppose, strictly speaking, being one of the nouveau, you’re not really, are you?”

  Bloody cheek! Most of the mothers there are only loaded because they’re arm candy for the old gits they married - seems she chooses to forget that.

  Finished the conversation very quickly after that and fumed.

  I fumed so hard that I managed to clean all the bedrooms, do the vacuuming, scrub the kitchen and sort out the under-the-stairs cupboard.

  PLU! ‘The ideal motivation to assist in tackling those boring household chores.’ They should bottle it.

  PM

  Back from school drinks and knackered. Will have to recount the details tomorrow but once again am gob-smacked by the snotty attitude of some parents.

  Saturday 8th November

  So, where do I begin?

  Fenella and I arrived early last night to set up the school hall ready for the arrival of … whoever decided to turn up.

  Mr Rooney popped his head around the door and asked if he could do anything to help. We politely declined but Fenella had a few ideas of her own that she confided she wouldn’t mind him helping with.

  “Mmm, Lib, he really is quite a dream-boat, isn’t he?”

  Agreed that yes, he was rather cute but reminded her that we were both happily married women and she’s five months pregnant.

  “I know, I know. I can hardly forget with a belly like this on me, can I? Anyway I’m always hornier when I’m pregnant, so allow me my fantasies.”

  Patience arrived just at that moment to help and joined in the conversation. “Don’t talk to me about being horny, I haven’t had a man in seven years! My last one got me pregnant and it’s been a drought since then. You’ve both already got men on tap so you’ll get no sympathy from me.”

  Which was exactly the moment I noticed Letchy skulking outside the hall door, ear-wigging every word. I warned Patience with a gesture to the door and she added, in quite a loud stagey voice and with a wink, “Of course it’s all so much better, now I’m a lesbian. Nothing like a bit of girl-on-girl action to satisfy the libido.”

  Once we were sure Letchy had moved on, and Fenella and I had stopping laughing, we told her that she’d probably chosen the worst possible thing to say. Letchy would never leave her alone now - she’d added fuel to the dirty little perv’s rampant imagination.

  “Oh I wouldn’t worry about that. I’m more than capable of dealing with the likes of him. It just adds to the fun. Let’s get them all thinking I’m a black, penniless, single mother lesbo. I don’t give a shit!”

  Fenella added, “Perhaps you and I should be discovered having a snog in the broom cupboard? Add a pregnant bisexual twist to the plot.”

  God, those two are incorrigible! I can see it’s going to take me to keep them in check.

  Jenny arrived shortly afterwards, looking very waitress-like in a black skirt with white blouse and pinny. “Evening, ladies. Colin won’t be long, he’s just ironing a shirt. God it’s been a pig of a day, get us a glass of vino.”

  We poured her a drink and she filled us in on ‘A Day in the Life as a School Secretary.’ Two mothers had refused to collect their sick children as it was “inconvenient” and Colin had been asked to move his car from the school forecourt by a mother who wanted to use the space instead.

  “It’s his designated space for Christ’s sake! He’s the caretaker, he needs to park it somewhere. When he refused, she said she’d report him to Hinge & Bracket. Bloody cheek!”

  I slipped her an envelope with 200 quid in it and told her that I hoped that would cheer her up - the school can afford it
and, as extra-curricular events don’t really form part of their duties, it came out of our float money. Authorised, of course, by Hinge & Bracket.

  The canapés had already been delivered so all we needed to do was talk Jenny through what was in each one. “Not that any of the mummies are likely to eat anything,” Fenella told her. “So just keep bringing them round my way. Can’t drink, so I intend to max out on the grub.”

  As it hit seven o’clock, a few teachers and parents began to trickle into the hall and the familiar hub-bub of noise started up.

  Ned and Josh arrived together after settling the kids down with Olga, who was also supplementing the paltry wages she got from ‘Lydia-Boss-Lady’. I hadn’t had the chance to fill Ned in on the hateful conversation I’d had with Shergar so, when he commented on the fact that it wasn’t a great turnout, I just told him I’d bring him up to speed later.

  I guess there must have been about fifty parents there in total - not great for a school of 160 kids - and the ones who had turned out had obviously done it to decide whether the newbies were worthy of their inclusion in the school.

  Overheard snippets from the evening:

  # 1 “I really feel that Manor House needs to introduce a more rigorous selection process. In fact, I might bring it up at our next coffee morning. After all it’s our responsibility to protect our children from just anyone joining the school.”

  # 2 “ … and that revolting little man simply refused to move his car. Does anyone actually know what he does around here anyway?”

  At this point, Jenny was offering canapés and answered, “That “revolting little man” is called Colin and happens to be my husband. He’s also the caretaker of this school and dedicates his life to keeping it a safe environment for your little darlings. Pork sausage?” And she thrust her silver platter under the nose of a Jewish mama.

  #3 “I firmly believe that the school fees should be upped by about 25%. That would soon sort the problem. And as for CCL! Why would we want to provide an education for under-privileged kids? Isn’t that what states schools are for?”

  #4 “I’m meant to be on tombola duty at the Christmas fair. I must remember to let the committee know I can’t do it. Off to The Sanctuary for an overhaul. The nanny can just use her day off to bring the kids to the fair.”

  And so it continued, whinge after whinge, bitch after bitch, moan after moan.

  I sometimes wonder why I bother even trying to get to know the evil lot. And then I remind myself it’s all for little Max’s benefit and to try get him the best education we can.

  The only real giggle was watching Patience with a confounded Letchy as she teased him with her sultriest pout and girliest giggle.

  As we cleared away at the end of the evening, I just thanked the God of Mummies that I had Fenella, Patience and Jenny as my allies.

  Sunday 9th November

  Lou called from Scotland to say that she’s got herself a job in Finn’s nursery so that she can keep an eye on him.

  “But the bastards won’t let me start until my CRB comes back clean. Anything could happen to him in that time - crayons could be choked on, Lego shoved up nostrils.”

  Explained that she wouldn’t be happy if she’d found out that anyone else at the nursery had been working there without a CRB and she poo-pooed me.

  “Yeh, but I know I’m OK and I need to be there for ma boy.”

  Classic Lou-Logic at it’s best.

  Settled down to go through my notes for the Auction of Promises next Friday.

  There have been unconfirmed rumours that one of the mums personally knows Nigella and that she’s pledged a day’s cookery course with her. Nigella, or ‘My God’, as she’s known in our house, could be within my grasp. Still haven’t decided if I love or hate her. And would I really bid good money to spend a day simpering whilst simmering and pouting whilst poaching? Probably not, if I’m totally honest.

  All seems to be in order for the event and Fenella’s mum, Olivia, seems very excited to be bringing down the gavel. Just hope she has the knack of doing the hard sell to get people whipped into a frenzy of bidding. They need to forget that it’s for charity and set their eyes on the prize instead.

  With any luck, they’ll all be so eager to outdo one another we’ll make a killing at the expense of their vulgarity.

  Perfect!

  Monday 10th November

  Had an email this morning which has left me reeling. I think I used every swear word in the English language plus a few in Russian, Czech and Swedish taught to me by Olga and a few of the other au pairs.

  Just way too pissed off to write at the moment - and suddenly have quite a lot to get sorted.

  PM

  OK, so here’s the story.

  Shergar, Barbie and Dress-up Mummy have decided to down tools on the Christmas fair which is twelve days away!

  Their pathetic excuse is that Barbie needs to have major surgery (no doubt not life threatening but purely cosmetic) and Shergar is “just monstrously busy in the lead up to the festive season”. Dress-up didn’t give an excuse - probably too spaced out.

  I’m practically certain that it’s all to do with the fundraising being for CCL and it just leaves me burning with rage.

  Had an emergency meeting with Fenella - me on the fags and her on the Irn Bru.

  Felt just like the old days but who’d have thought we’d find ourselves in this position exactly a year down the track? We’d been foolish enough to believe that we’d served our apprenticeship last year.

  I’d already collected the files from Shergar and they made pretty sad reading. They really hadn’t done very much at all and things were looking horribly grim.

  Fenella had a flick through the meagre offerings. “Sweedie, there’s no way we can let the kids down. The fair’s one of the highlights of their school year. They love being little grown ups, going round with their purses buying Christmas presents and winning bits of tat on the games. What are we going to do?”

  I shook my head in despair as I looked over the files. Just about the only things they had managed to sort were a couple of dads to be Father Christmas, a few naff games and three stalls of designer clothes and shoes.

  Twelve days to go and that’s the sum total of their work - it beggars belief.

  Told Fenella my biggest worry.

  “If everyone is so anti-CCL, people won’t be spending money. Somehow, we need to find a way around this.”

  Organising the fair, with a willing team behind us, will probably be a doddle compared to convincing people that we’re doing it for a worthwhile cause.

  Tuesday 11th November

  Right, got the fundraising issue sorted and all OK’d by Hinge & Bracket.

  We’ve now agreed that all proceeds will be divided equally between CCL and new equipment for the school. That way we’ll be able to shut up those who have an issue with scholarship kids at the school - a new climbing frame or gym equipment will surely stop them moaning.

  It does mean that we’re going to have to raise an awful lot of money, but Mr Umbolo’s generous donation has already lightened the load significantly.

  So … all we need to do now is organise a fair - again!

  PM

  It’s been a rather long day but a lot has been achieved.

  Summary;

  Reliable xmas fair team now in place - me, Fenella, Patience, Jenny, Olga, Eva and Sarah (a couple of ‘normal’ mums who proved to be invaluable last year) and Mrs S. Obviously, strictly speaking she’s nothing to do with the school but we’ve got her stuffing envelopes with raffle tickets and addressing them to each family to go home in the kids’ book bags. She’ll then move on to wrapping the lucky dip prizes and the grotto gifts. I’m paying her in bottles of her favourite tipple and a bonus Bazza DVD boxed set. It’s good to keep her busy.

  Had quick chat with Fenella on the phone before hitting the hay at a ridiculous hour, her final comment ringing in my ears, “Keep knickers firmly in untwisted position. We can do this!�
��

  Only Fenella!

  Wednesday 12th November

  Had several unsavoury emails today, ranging from lack of support, quality of tombola donations and requests for unsuitable activities and stall-holders.

  Ignored them all. No point getting myself entangled in them - at this late stage, the fair will run our way or no way.

  Went to drop more work to Mrs S and found that she’d roped Skunk, Silver, Pritesh and Gestapo into helping with the raffle tickets.