by Amanda Egan
Regards’
I bet that it goes ahead. They’ll all be so desperate to prove that they’re the yummiest mummy in the school they’ll be in bikinis before you can say “Letchy is a judge.”
Ohh, just made myself feel a bit sick!
Tuesday 24th February
Spoke to Fenella about the beauty contest and she thinks it’s bound to get support.
“Who knows Lib, if I ditch the baby weight, I might give them all a run for their money!”
Couldn’t figure out if she was being serious or not - that’s the thing with her, you just never quite know!
One thing I do know is, if it goes ahead, I won’t be entering. Our dogs can go in the dog show but I won’t be joining the human equivalent.
PM
Met Dan for a quick chat whilst ‘jogging’. He still thinks that we’re going further with this and I just know I’ve got to let him down gently. He’s made me feel human again, and it’s been good to have had an escape, but I’m not being fair to either him or Ned and I know it.
In another world, another time, we could probably have been good together but I have to face facts. I’m a married woman with a child and I’m having sneaky meetings with a teacher at my son’s school. God, that looks so sordid when I see it written down. It would never work and deep down I know I’m not prepared to give up what I’ve got.
I think I may have been incredibly selfish.
Wednesday 25th February
TO DO LIST
Meet Dan and explain the error of my ways
Love my husband
Get brain wiped of all improper thoughts
Go back to the way we used to be
Thursday 26th February
Cooked a special meal for Ned - ‘Operation Marriage’ is now in full swing. Figured if we could just start talking to one another again we’d be heading in the right direction.
Ned called to say he had to stay late at the office and I put the contents of my oven in the bin and called Dan.
Spent two hours on the phone going round in circles on a night I’d intended to share with my husband.
Friday 27th February
I can’t do this anymore.
I don‘t know what I think I’ve been playing at but I’ve definitely seen the light. I love Ned and I can’t believe I’ve been putting what we have in jeopardy. Of course he’s going to keep staying at work - what’s he got to come home to?
I’ve decided to tell Ned I’m having a quick drink with Patience tonight and then meet Dan and tell him I don’t want to see him anymore.
It has to stop.
PM
Well I now seem to have pissed off two men.
Dan didn’t take the news at all well. Contrary to my beliefs, he wasn’t in it for a quick fling and a bit of fun - he really was rather keen.
I really didn’t mean to hurt him but it would seem that I have. He told me I’d been ‘game-playing’ - and maybe he was right. I hang my head in shame.
And then when I got back, about an hour ago, Ned was sitting in the kitchen with a bottle of whisky and looked me straight in the eye with a mixture of pain and confusion. “Patience asked if you could ring when you got in. Strange that, isn’t it?”
And he got up and went to bed in the spare room.
Saturday 28th February
Called Fenella to see if she’d mind having Max because I knew Ned and I needed to talk.
She collected him at eleven and Ned and I stepped around one another in the kitchen, each waiting for the other to speak first.
Ned was staring out of the kitchen window and eventually said, “I’m not going to ask what’s going on, Lib. I’d have hoped you’d have the decency to fill me in without forcing me to wheedle it out of you. You at least owe me that.”
I’d laid awake in bed most of last night, dreading this moment and trying to figure out what I was going to say. Once the moment arrived, it was no easier.
The fact remained, I didn’t know how to explain myself. There was no explanation. What I’d done was wrong. But I wanted Ned to know that it hadn’t gone too far.
“I’ve been seeing someone.” I told him. “Dan, erm … Mr Rooney from the school. We kissed, Ned, nothing else. And I don’t know why I did it.”
I didn’t know what else to say. I knew he deserved to know the truth, but there really wasn’t anything else of substance I could add.
Ned went completely silent and covered his head with his hands. The silence seemed to go on forever but I could find no way to fill it. Instead it engulfed us.
When he finally spoke, he was so quiet I could barely hear him.
“You kissed? You’re my wife and you kissed someone else? And your pathetic excuse is, ‘I don’t know why I did it.’” He shook his head in disbelief and then became angry. “I DON’T GIVE A SHIT THAT YOU DIDN’T SCREW HIM. WHAT YOU’VE DONE IS UNFORGIVABLE. YOU’VE WRECKED EVERYTHING THAT WE HAD.”
He sunk into a chair and thumped the table with his fist. I’d never seen him angry in our whole life together and it unnerved me.
I sat down next to him and tried to take his hand but he shook me off. “You’ve broken us, Lib. What we had was so special and you’ve broken it.”
I tried to tell him that I’d told Dan that it was over - over before it ever really began - but he wouldn’t listen.
I can’t say I blame him really because, if the shoe had been on the other foot, I wouldn’t be making it easy for him either.
But I hadn’t expected to hear what he said next.
“Pack a bag and get out Libby. I don’t want to look at you right now.”
Sunday 1st March
If anyone ever found this diary, they would no doubt be saying at this point, “Well serves you bloody well right, you stupid woman!”
And it does serve me right. I deserve no sympathy and the misery I’m feeling is justified.
Fenella says that’s absolute poppycock and that I need to stop beating myself up.
Because, of course, Fenella’s is where I ended up yesterday afternoon with my overnight bag. Ned collected Max and we told him that I needed to stay with Fenella for a few days to help out with Todd and Charlotte now that she was so fat with the baby. He took it in his stride, as only kids can, and then asked me if I was going to help pull the baby out!
Told him, no, that would be a job for the doctors and that I had no intention of pulling any babies out.
So obviously, being at Fenella’s, I had to spill the beans and was fully expecting a Fenella-esque style bollocking.
But I received nothing but sympathy (and copious amounts of Pinot) and she sat and listened to my pathetic blubbering and pitiful lack of excuses.
“Oh Sweedie. You want to know what I think? I think you went a teeny bit cuckoo. Now I know that’s no excuse to piddle off and have an affair but you didn’t, did you? You just got a bit lost along the way and went ever so slightly off the rails. Ned will see that eventually. Obviously he’s angry at the moment - he’s entitled to be - but it’s been a tough year for you, for both of you, and I really think you need a little bit of time to put all this in perspective.”
But she hadn’t seen the look on Ned’s face when he told me to leave and it was still imprinted firmly in my brain.
PM
Called Max to say goodnight to him and then asked if I could talk to Ned.
“No Mummy. Daddy said to say he’s in the shower but I don’t think he is ‘cos I can hear him in the bedroom. He’s got a really bad cold. He says that’s why his eyes are so red.”
Barely slept a wink in Fenella’s plush spare room.
Monday 2nd March
Felt odd to be walking Todd to school today when I knew that Max was being taken by Ned. Spotted them at the school gates and ran over to give my boy a kiss.
Once he’d gone in, Ned looked at me coldly and said, “Don’t bother collecting him this afternoon. I’ve got time off work.” And he turned and left, shoulders slumped, back to our car.<
br />
PM
I’m actually a bit angry now. OK, what I did was wrong but I don’t think I deserve to be thrown out of my own house and denied access to my son.
Asked Fenella what she thought - Josh has, very wisely, been making himself scarce throughout all of this.
“I think, like I said, that Ned needs time to get his head around the whole thing,” she said as she frantically scrubbed her kitchen cupboards - why, when she has a cleaner, I don’t know. Maybe she’s nesting.
I just hope she’s right and we can actually find a way of sorting this out. It’s a job for two though and we can’t be doing it while we’re apart.
Tuesday 3rd March
Really quite miffed that I’m still staying here. I know Fenella and Josh don’t mind putting me up but it must be difficult for them. Keep trying to convince Ned that it’s time for us to get together and talk but he won’t have it - he just keeps saying he’s not ready.
Well, when will he be ready? I know I’ve brought this on myself but how long can it go on? I just want to be back in my home with my husband and my boy and at the moment I’m just in some kind of limbo.
Took Todd to school again so Fenella could have a lie-in but returned to find her scrubbing the kitchen floor - which had been done to perfection by the cleaner yesterday!
“Oh Lib, I’ve just got this massive surge of energy at the moment and I can hardly go jogging round the block can I? Thought I’d throw it all into preparing the house for the baby - I won’t feel like doing it when it’s here, will I?”
Yep, a definite case of nesting going on.
Knuckled down to help - she now has the cleanest house in south west London.
PM
Had an early night so that Fenella and Josh could have some time alone.
Called Max and tried to talk to Ned but, once again, I was told he was in the shower. The cleanest husband in south west London?
Had a couple of texts from Dan begging me to change my mind but it’s made up and there’s no going back. Fenella was right - I think I did go a bit mad. It’s no excuse, I know, but at least I stopped myself before things went too far.
I just want my husband back.
Wednesday 4th March
Arrived back at Fenella’s after dropping Todd at school and found her on all fours in the sitting room. Thought it was about to be another day of scrubbing and cleaning.
How wrong I was!
PM
Here’s a sentence I never thought I’d write in my diary - I delivered a baby single-handedly today!!
Contrary to my initial thought, Fenella wasn’t brushing the coir matting, she was puffing and panting in the throes of labour.
Sadly, I didn’t discover this until I returned from the kitchen after making a coffee and having a fag in the back garden.
Apparently, she’d been trying to call me but the pains were so close together she couldn’t get the words out - makes a change!
When I eventually returned, it was to be greeted by the sight of Fenella butt-naked and ‘fandango’ on show to the world. All I can remember thinking is “That’s gonna leave a hell of a stain.” Daft what goes through your head at times of crisis.
Once I’d finally realised the full extent of what was going on, I went into panic mode and my next stupid thought was “Fenella would now how to deal with this”.
Well it was time to be a big girl and step up to the mark. I ran and got a duvet and some towels and slipped them under her - at this point it was more than clear that it was too late for an ambulance, we were in this alone. Put the 999 call in anyway in the hope that they’d turn up before things got too gory.
Fenella was mooing like a cow at this point and I thanked the Lord that Charlotte was at nursery - no child should ever have to hear their mother doing farmyard impersonations in that position on the floor.
I’d just gone to get a cold flannel to put on her forehead when she clearly found her speaking voice again and screamed “FUCKING, PISSING HELL, THIS HURTS! JUST GET THE LITTLE FUCKER OUT WILL YOU LIBBY? SODDING WELL DO SOMETHING YOU USELESS BITCH! GET IT OOOOOOOUUUUUTTT!”
Stupidly felt a bit affronted that she’d called me a “useless bitch” but then remembered I’d called Ned far worse when Max was born. Decided I’d forgive her.
When I returned with the flannel, she’d gone back to the bovine noises which, I have to say, I found much nicer and ever so slightly calming.
I sat on the floor with her and held her hand, trying to help her through her breathing and issuing soothing words.
The mooing stopped and she looked straight at me with murder in her eyes and spoke very slowly and quietly. “Shut … the … fuck … up, Libby. You are doing my … buggering … head in!”
OKAY! Realised it was time for me to be quietly supportive and have a little peek ‘downstairs’ to see what was happening.
That was when I noticed the head was nearly out and I let out a little whimper and put my hand over my mouth.
Fenella must have spotted me because it set her off again. “WHAT? LIBBY TALK TO ME! WHAT? WHY THE HELL DON’T YOU TALK TO ME?” And the mooing resumed. Thank God! I couldn’t seem to do anything right - when I talked I was wrong when I didn’t I was still in the shit. Felt a smidgeon of pity for all the dads who have been through childbirth and been on the end of a royal bollocking.
Decided it was my turn to look her in the eyes. “Fenella, listen to me. The baby’s head is out. You’re nearly there. You’ve got to work with me on this - I’ve never done it from this end before.”
Hoped my words might be of some comfort to her and make her realise how close she really was. Instead, my ears were assaulted with the most almighty howl and she stuck her chin down into her chest and turned beetroot red - she looked, for all intents and purposes, as if she were about to explode.
And then, quite miraculously, a new human being slithered into my hands - a tiny, wrinkled gift of life covered in blood and guts and looking far calmer than I felt.
And even more miraculously, I heard the knock on the door signalling the arrival of the ambulance. I’d taken one look at the umbilical cord and knew what was expected of me but had no idea how to execute it. Would one of Fenella’s Sabatier knives have been up for the job? Or her lovely silver grape scissors? I really didn’t have a clue and I figured there was no time to Google it.
After I’d answered the door, Fenella turned into a mild-mannered lady of the manor. “Hi guys, sorry to have to call you out when you’ve got lots of emergencies on your hands. But I think we’ve done quite well really, haven’t we Lib?”
We? I’d done nothing apart from being privy to the most beautiful sight ever. I’d actually been there to catch an emerging life and I think, at that point, I was feeling shakier than Fenella. She even asked me to make tea for the paramedics, as if we were on some kind of jolly - earl grey or builders? Milk, two sugars?
One of the guys looked at me and sat me down suggesting a stiff brandy. “Your first time was it?” I nodded, no longer able to construct a sentence.
Once they’d done all their checks and delivered the placenta - I’d have totally forgotten about that and wouldn’t even have thought to Google it - they left us with Fenella glowing in bed with her slumbering babe looking like a ‘Hello’ magazine photo shoot. She had a girl by the way, and the most beautiful baby I’ve ever delivered. OK, my first but she is SO gorgeous and I’m totally smitten.
While Fenella looked like a beauty queen, I looked like seven shades of Dog and Dot shit but I felt happier than I’d done in months. I’d helped my friend’s new baby into this world and felt a shift in my own life. I’ll never forget my lost baby but I realised the time to move on had finally come.
Things are going to be just fine. I know they are.
Thursday 5th March
It must have been quite surreal for Josh to receive a call from me at his office and then come home to find that their baby was here and it was all over.
He certai
nly looked a bit shell-shocked when he joined me in the kitchen after spending time with Fenella and their new baby Darcy.
“I don’t know how to thank you Libby,” he said as he popped the cork from a bottle of quickly diminishing supply of Cristal. “What would we have done if you hadn’t been here?”
Told him not to think like that. I had been there and that was all that mattered.
The cork was barely from the bottle when Fenella appeared in the kitchen in her silk dressing gown and baby on her shoulder. “Don’t even contemplate touching that fizz until I get madam here settled in her crib and you’ve poured me a large one! I’ve got months to make up for and I did all the hard work.”
