The Darker Side of Mummy Misfit #2

by Amanda Egan

  TO DO

  Complete paint job on sitting room - hang pics etc.

  Not so easy, as I’m useless at knocking nails in walls, but Ned’s never around to help these days. Refuse to pay someone to do it - that’s just daft.

  Finish cooking and freezing nibbles.

  Also check what Fenella’s prepared. She’s offered to help but I think that’s just so that she knows there’ll be enough food to keep her going through the night.

  Stock up on Irn Bru.

  Think a dozen cans should do her for the night. Must remember to buy some new champagne glasses - never owned a complete set before but see no reason why we shouldn’t now we are a ‘family of means’. Also Fenella is quite fussy about her choice of Irn Bru glass and she’s passed the habit on to Mrs S who will now only drink ‘accessorised’ Babycham.

  Finish wrapping Christmas presents and rack brain for birthday present idea for Ned.

  Sex? With a bow?

  Stop kicking myself for not inviting Dan to the drinks party.

  Would have been a daft idea - he’s a teacher, not a friend. Daft!

  Double check that Olga is OK for the night.

  I offered to pay her if she came to look after the kids. Felt like a bit of a Meemie because I would normally have asked her as a guest, but I was worried that Nic and Rick wouldn’t be able to enjoy their evening if Mikhail was playing up. I know Olga needs the money to send back home to her family and she was thrilled to be asked - so I didn’t feel so bad. Nic and Rick are staying the night with us so I pray Mikhail lets us all get some sleep.

  Finalise numbers.

  Me, Ned, Mrs S, Pritesh, Fenella, Josh, Jenny, Colin, Patience, Skunk, Silver, Nic Rick - all OK. Elle has a Christmas bash with Rob, and Harriet has far too many balls in the air (and to break) but may “pop in”. I’ve not bothered to ask Mum and Bert - she’d be bound to upset someone and I can’t be on edge all night waiting for her to drop another verbal bombshell.

  Kids - Max, Todd, Charlotte, Solomon and Wonder Lungs

  Dogs - Dog, Dot, Stripe, Splodge, Brown.

  Phew, it’s going to be quite a houseful and at the moment it’s covered in dust sheets and half-painted walls.

  Better get on.

  PM

  Thank the Lord for green-haired, pierced punks!

  Skunk turned up at about midday with some new pickles he’s thinking of introducing to the ‘Ba’s Kitchen’range. He thought it might be a good idea to ‘test drive’ them on people at the party.

  Anyway, he was at a bit of a loose end so he offered to stay and help me with the painting and any odd jobs I couldn’t manage.

  We had a great afternoon, singing along to ‘Heart’ radio. Must have made quite an incongruous sight - middle aged mum and punk working side by side and singing to the likes of Take That and Bonny Tyler.

  Skunk told me that things were going really well with Silver and that they were intending to move in together in the New Year.

  “She’s great, Lib. You know, she’s put together an ace stocking for Mrs S for Christmas - it’s got some of those wicked trackies she loves wiv ‘Chili Hot’ on the butt cheeks, a rare Bazza CD, some o’ those ‘saddo-loved-up’ books she reads and some weird dangly bits to put on her Babycham glass.”

  Told him that sounded fab and that Mrs S would be over the moon - they really are so good to her and I know she appreciates what they do for her.

  “Anyway, ‘ow you been keeping then, Lib? You know, after the baby and all that? Must be tough.”

  Realised that Skunk was the first person, for the longest time, to acknowledge my loss - it had become a bit like the elephant in the room, with everyone else side-stepping it and I appreciated his directness.

  Told him I was OK but no, it hadn’t been easy.

  “Must fuck up your marriage for a while, eh? S’pose it kinda changes everyfink.”

  I nodded silently at Skunk. So much said in so few words.

  Tuesday 16th December

  Ned was amazed at the transformation of our house when he finally got home last night.

  Felt a bit miffed with him for being late (again) so didn’t bother telling him what I had planned for today.

  Skunk had said that he had a totally free day and, if I wanted to make myself scarce, he’d come in and give the kitchen a lick of paint.

  Practically bit his hand off at the offer - it would mean I’d have the whole of the downstairs completed before Christmas.

  So today Patience is having Max, Todd and Charlotte while Fenella and I take Mrs S out for a spin in her wheelchair around the shops. Since her fall she doesn’t get out and about that much, as she’s still a bit dodgy on her pins, and I thought it would make a pleasant change for her.

  Fenella ‘rolled’ round here just after eleven and we set off with Mrs S bundled in her coat and scarf telling us that her bootie was “lovely warm” because she had a hot water bottle down her ‘Blingtastic’ trackies under her billowing blood-red sari.

  PM

  My kitchen is gorgeous, which is just as well because I can’t move from the sofa in the corner. My back’s breaking and I’ve got blisters on my feet and hands.

  Never take a geriatric, arthritic octogenarian shopping in a wheelchair with a heavily pregnant rhino.

  All was going swimmingly as we meandered around the shops pondering over our purchases - a mega expensive anti-stretchmark cream for Fenella, some new cushions for my kitchen for me and some thermals for Mrs S.

  We then decided to head off for some lunch as Fenella said she was wasting away from lack of food - she’d been nibbling on crisps, nuts and chocolate digestives the whole time we’d been out!

  Lunch was great - an ‘all you can eat’ Indian buffet - and we certainly made the most of it. Mrs S was of course saying it was nothing like proper home-cooked Indian food, but it didn’t stop her tucking in.

  Fenella actually made me feel a little unwell with the amount she managed to eat but she said she needed it as fuel to make it through the rest of the afternoon.

  If anyone should have had extra fuel to make it through the afternoon, it should have been me.

  No sooner had we hit WH Smith (for Mrs S to have a look at the new Mills & Boon titles), Fenella started complaining of a pain in her side. It got progressively worse as Mrs S debated whether to buy ‘Primal Passion’ or ‘Letter to my Love’.

  By the time we were paying, Mrs S was out of her wheelchair and Fenella was in it, groaning and holding her stomach.

  “I am very much thinking that we may need to be delivering a baby in the gift wrap section,” Mrs S was twittering as she leant on her walking stick, which thankfully she’d remembered to take with her.

  Told her not to be so silly and that all Fenella needed was a bit of fresh air and some Rescue Remedy.

  The ‘bit of fresh air’ concept was much harder to put into practice.

  I don’t know how much Fenella weighs now but I’d hazard a guess at about four times a Mrs Sengupta because I could hardly get the wheelchair to budge.

  It eventually took two security guards to get her out onto the street with Mrs S tottering beside me and hanging on to my arm, talking of hot towels and kettles of water. Tried to explain to her that it was far too early for the baby to be making an entrance (or exit!) but she was having none of it.

  Once outside I had to put all my strength into getting the wheelchair closer to a bench so that Mrs S could have a sit down - the security guards told me it was more than their jobs were worth to push her further than the shop front - something to do with health and safety.

  What about my health and safety? I thought I was about to suffer heart failure by the time I fell onto the bench next to Mrs S.

  Fenella was beginning to pant by this point and I was panicking that Mrs S might have been right about the imminent birth. I managed to get my breath and tell Mrs S to sit and chat calmly to Fenella. I stood shivering in a shop doorway and called for an ambulance after letting Josh know th
at his wife might be about to give birth prematurely in the middle of town.

  By the time the ambulance arrived Mrs S was beside herself with the drama of it all and Fenella was looking a little green around the gills.

  “I had very much forgotten how exciting it can be to have a day out and about”, Mrs S was telling the lovely ambulance-man as he took Fenella’s blood pressure. “It is very much more exciting to be travelling in an ambulance as a passenger and not a patient.” She just kept going on and on and I really wanted to scream at her to shut up but I knew, deep down, it was probably because she was a nervous as I was.

  Once we got to A&E we were kept waiting for ages but Fenella seemed to have improved a little. Mrs S kept herself busy hobbling backwards and forwards to the drinks machine and talking to the other patients - she really did make the most of her big day out.

  After we’d been waiting for a couple of hours Fenella decided to hoist herself out of the wheelchair and make her way to the loo. Mrs S had become restless by this point and was banging on the receptionist’s counter demanding that Fenella be seen by a doctor before she gave birth on the floor. “I am very much knowing what I am talking about. I have been with child four times and I know the signs. You must not be leaving this woman in pain any longer.”

  At which point Fenella appeared back from the loo and coyly whispered in my ear that it may have been a bad case of wind and just “the smallest of false alarms”!

  We left fairly quickly after that, before Mrs S was barred for life, and she and Fenella took it in turns to be pushed home by Muggins.

  Uphill! With all our shopping hanging on the handles!

  Wednesday 17th December

  Oh my poor aching bones - felt like a geriatric arthritic myself when I got out of bed this morning.

  Fenella called to apologise and said that she’d been burping and farting all night. “Must have overdone the Indian a bit, Lib! Soz!”

  Told her not to worry about it, it had all worked out in the end - so to speak!

  Took Max next door to see if Mrs S had recovered from her busy day out.

  Of course she was positively buzzing with the excitement of it all.

  “Libbybeta, I have not been enjoying myself so much for years. I was telling Skunk this morning on the telephone, I felt like one of the Charlie’s Angels on a mission about town. What an exciting day!”

  My aching limbs decided it had all been worth it if I’d managed to cheer Mrs S up that much, but I figured there must be easier ways.

  PM

  Spent the afternoon cooking with Max who’s very excited about the party on Friday because he gets to have his best friends and all the dogs over.

  Realised how lucky we are to have a child who’s so easily pleased and happy-go-lucky. He also has no idea that things aren’t too great in the Marchant household at the moment and that’s exactly the way I want it to remain.

  Just as well he didn’t witness Ned and me trying desperately to make conversation over a bottle of wine tonight.

  Or the way I snubbed him when he tried to get ‘friendly’.

  I guess he’s wondering why he bothered coming home on time.

  Thursday 18th December

  Realised that I’d not had the call from Jenny with the goss she’d promised, so decided to take the initiative and call her before Max and I set off to do the food shopping for tomorrow.

  She explained that she’d been really busy as the school office only closed yesterday, but went on to tell me that Hinge & Bracket are on the alert for Gestapo’s next faux pas, as they’ve heard via “reliable contacts” that Rudeman was most definitely guilty and they’re looking for any excuse to rid the school of the overhanging stigma.

  “Just keep your eyes and ears open, Libby. One step out of line and we’re rid of her. Ooh, by the way, thought you might want to know you’ve got a new mum starting in your class after Christmas. A lovely lady - Rachel Turner. She’s step-mum to a little girl, Betsy. I think you’ll really like her.”

  Told her I’d keep an eye out for her in January to make sure she’d feel welcome and, after reminding her what time the drinks start tomorrow night, put the phone down and contemplated this latest instalment.

  So, Rudeman did do the dodgy deals then? - no real surprises there. Feel really sad for their kids though. After all, if Gestapo does get them chucked out, they’re the ones who’ll end up suffering. Decided to make sure I wouldn’t be the one to seal Gestapo’s fate - if I manage to avoid her enough, I won’t know if she’s boobed in any way.

  PM

  Well, I hope someone snitches on Gestapo soon because I don’t know how much longer I can keep my trap shut.

  Max and I set off to Waitrose earlier this morning. He was very excited to be choosing the snacks and drinks for his part of the party and I had a list as long as my arm for all the other things I needed.

  Just as we were approaching the check-out we spotted her! Bloody Gestapo with a trolley full of smoked salmon, blinis and Moët.

  “Oh, hello Libby. What a surprise to see you here. I always had you down as more of an ASDA shopper.”

  Only Gestapo could come out with a line like that, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

  Then she had the audacity to peer into my trolley and actually pick out a bottle of lemonade (a rare treat for my boy and his buddies).

  “Really Libby, you don’t let your child drink this muck, do you? I wouldn’t dream of it. And Hula Hoops? Ugh!”

  Hadn’t realised she’d turned into the food police and I was livid. Racked my brains for a suitable Fenella-esque retort but thankfully Max beat me to it before I made of fool of myself with a “Fuck you, bitch, no wonder we call you Gestapo.”

  “Mummy and Daddy say that everything is OK if you have it in modulation - that means not too much.” And he leaned over her trolley. “Looks like you got too much bubbles and fish in there.”

  Had to turn my back to the conveyor belt to stop myself from laughing but heard her moving away with her trolley saying “Quite a vocabulary on him, your son, hasn’t he?”

  Ned and I had a laugh about it together tonight - an infrequent occurrence in our marriage at the moment.

  And it felt good.

  Friday 19th December

  Ned’s birthday and drinks party

  Woke early to wish Ned a happy one and give him our presents - a hand-painted mug from Max, chocolates from the dogs and a new digital camera from me. (I’d finally got myself organised when I realised I didn’t have the usual financial constraints - must stop forgetting we’re not poor any more!)

  Ned set off to work and Max and I got busy with our party preparations.

  Once we were finished I wanted to spend some time getting ready, so I settled Max down at my dressing table and asked him to make an extra special card for Skunk. Ned and I had decided we wanted to give him a couple of hundred quid for all his hard work. It would come in handy for his move in the New Year.

  Mum called while I was in the middle of doing my make-up so I ended up with one perfect eye and one with spider lashes. Thanks Mum! Even when she’s not around she causes dramas.

  And she’d rung for a moan so there was no way I could get rid of her quickly. I kept giving Max the ‘thumbs up’ to the card each time he showed me his progress, but I was more than a little distracted by Mum’s moaning, my dodgy eye and the hair removing cream I had on my legs.

  One of the dogs was just beginning to throw up into a pair of my favourite shoes, when Mum continued, “… and I’m coming to the end of my tether with Bert, you know. He knew I wasn’t having any hanky-panky when I agreed to move in with him. But, no, he keeps bringing it up now he’s got me where he wants me!”

  Was just about to chuck a manky bath towel down to catch the dog puke when she added, “If he carries on like this, I’ll have no choice but to move out. I might end up on your doorstep, homeless and manless, Libby.”

  Heaven help me and my marriage if that happens - we’ll ne
ver survive it.

  Put the phone down feeling thoroughly depressed before our party - 1st prize for downers goes to Mum once again.

  Then I saw the fantastic card Max had finished for Skunk - it had a quirky little picture of a man with green, spiky hair and he’d written ‘We love Skunk’.

  Except his first ‘K’ looked a bit like a ‘P’!

  Instantly cheered up and we boogied round the bedroom to Christmas carols while I got ready for the night ahead.

  Saturday 20th December

  We all had a great time last night. Everyone was in the party mood and it went with a swing.