by Amanda Egan
Of course it helps that Darcy is such a passive baby - she looks like an angel, sleeps like one and even burps like one - a talent she didn’t learn from her mother!
Patience dropped in for drinks (quite a lot of champagne for a woman in her condition - but I’m not judging). She said she wouldn’t stay to eat because she didn’t want to bring the mood down. “I’m just not up for it guys and I want you all to enjoy yourselves.”
Her mobile was beeping just as she left and, by the expression on her face, I can only imagine it was Pritesh.
Fenella was just popping another cork (definitely making up for lost time and taking full advantage of the fact that she’s not breast-feeding) and said, “Right! What can we do about that daft pair? How do we get them to sort themselves out?”
Told her I thought it was up to them now and that we needed to stay out of it. Josh helped himself to an olive and said, “When have you ever known my darling wife to keep her nose out of things? It’s what she does best for God’s sake! Before you know it they’ll be back together and Mrs here will have the wedding organised. Trust me!”
Ooh! A wedding! And Pritesh will make such a lovely daddy to Solomon and the new baby.
Can just see Mrs S’s little face - oh, I so hope it all works out.
Saturday 14th March
Two unnerving texts this morning.
One from Patience saying she’d seen Pritesh last night and she still hasn’t broken the news to him.
HE’S A HEARTLESS SHIT AND I REGRET THE DAY I EVER MET HIM. MAKING AN APPT TO DEAL WITH THIS NEXT WEEK X
Was just about to construct a very carefully worded reply when my next text arrived.
This time it was from Dan.
I HAVE TO SEE YOU. I DON’T BELIEVE YOU’RE TRULY HAPPY. YOU OWE ME ONE LAST MEETING.
Oh shit! Just when I thought that was all behind me.
Decided I couldn’t handle this by myself and, although I knew it was a risk, I did what I would have done in the old days.
I confided in my best friend. My husband.
PM
Ned handled it all very well. I think he appreciated the honesty and took comfort that it truly meant that there would be no more secrets.
I explained that I’d obviously bitten off more than I could chew and the situation had become too big for me to deal with.
“I guess I just thought he was having a bit of a laugh. You know, a mummy at the school to have a bit of a flirt with? It never occurred to me that I was dealing with someone who was taking it seriously,” I told Ned.
Boy, that makes me sound like one shallow bitch but I guess I just assumed it was a bit of light-hearted fun for him and an escape for me.
How wrong I was.
Before Ned and I had a chance to decide on a reply, I received a second text:
YOU’LL BE SORRY
Sunday 15th March
Ned and I decided there was no response needed to either text. There was nothing more for me to say and there were too many ways to interpret their meaning.
Is he merely saying I’d be sorry for staying with Ned?
Is he being threatening?
Is he being deliberately ambiguous to force me to get in touch?
I got ever so slightly concerned when Ned eventually said, “Of course, if the texts continue and he is meaning to be threatening, we’ll have to tell the school.”
This is all I need! ‘Sorry Miss, but I had a stupid fling with a male member of staff.’
Mummy Misfit strikes again.
Monday 16th March
Holy fucking hot camel shit, as Fenella would say.
The goss on the gates at pick up today was that the school had to call in a replacement teacher as Mr Rooney didn’t arrive this morning, didn’t call in sick and wasn’t answering his home phone or mobile.
That’s it! I’ve killed him! I’ll never live this down. A few illicit kisses and I’m a murderess.
It was Ned’s bright idea to confide in Jenny and Colin. “Let’s get them round here for a drink, tell them the whole story and then see if he’s done this kind of thing before. We know we can trust them and, let’s face it, they know more about the inside workings of that school than anyone, Lib.”
Put in the call to Jenny and arranged drinks for tomorrow night.
Went to bed envisaging a lonely teacher hanging from a rope in his tatty bedsit.
Tuesday 17th March
He’s still not materialised and I’m weighed down with guilt.
Fenella says he’s an attention seeker and will show up in a few days, right as rain and with a great excuse.
Lou (who I finally filled in on all the details) said, “Oh my God! He’s dead for sure, isn’t he? How’ll you live with it, Lib?”
And Nic just said, “You dirty cow. Going for a bit of extra-curricular! He’ll be fine, just having a bit of a hissy-fit, I reckon.”
Three friends, three different takes on the problem.
And they really haven’t helped.
PM
Jenny and Colin didn’t throw much more light on things either. Apart from being very sympathetic about the whole sordid (almost) affair, they said that, as far as the school was aware, he’d never done anything like this before. Although there had been many unfounded rumours because the mothers love to flirt with him, he’d never been known to actually get involved with anyone.
“He’s a really decent bloke, Libby,” Colin told us. “I used to think he took full advantage of servicing the mummies but I had a pint with him a while back and he’s just not like that.”
Well that’s just fantastic, isn’t it? I’m now going to have to admit to Hinge & Bracket that I snogged a teacher and he topped himself because of me.
Just as I get accepted for having a bit of cred for all the fundraising and organising I took on, I’m going to have to leave.
Jenny promised that she’d call us as soon as they heard any news and Colin was his usual sweet self. He pulled me into a bear-hug and said, “Hey, Libby, don’t beat yourself up. You weren’t to know this would happen and you just need to concentrate on your own little family. If he’s that unhinged, he shouldn’t be working with kids in the first place.”
God, I’d never thought of that!
Wednesday 18th March
Still no news.
Apart from an email from Hinge & Bracket on a totally unrelated subject - the beauty contest.
‘Libby
Sadly we have had 25 mothers apply to enter the Yummy Mummy Contest so it would appear that our hands are tied and we will have to go ahead.
The date is, as previously stated, May 8th.
Obviously no action on your part is required - although we trust you will join us on the evening to enjoy the proceedings!
We have both taken the decision not to enter the competition but would not think less of you if you decided to.’
Ah, H&B, you gotta love ‘em. Nobody can do tongue in cheek quite like they can.
Almost cheered me up for a minute there.
Then I remembered, my fingers are practically smeared with a man’s blood.
Thursday 19th March
Jenny called at just gone seven this morning to say that the school had heard from Dan, very apologetic and claiming mental exhaustion. He’s sending in a doctor’s certificate and will be on leave until after the Easter holidays.
Silently put up a prayer to the ‘Saviour of Murdering Adulteresses’ - I’d been spared but it had certainly taught me a lesson. I feel very sad for Dan but I need to concentrate on my marriage and make up for the hurt I’ve caused Ned.
It’s time for us all to put it behind us, including Dan.
PM
Had a text from Patience which left me sad and angry:
BOOKED FOR MONDAY. CAN’T TELL PRITESH. DON’T WANT HIM TO FEEL TRAPPED. WOULD YOU BE ABLE TO COLLECT ME AFTERWARDS? ABOUT 3ISH X
Why can’t they just bloody well talk to one another and sort this whole mess out? If they eventually get
back together and he finds out after the event, they’ll never survive it, that’s for sure.
I know I can’t get involved in their business but it’s so hard to sit back and watch it all go tits up.
Friday 20th March
Word of the beauty contest is out and preparations are already in full swing. Personal training sessions have been doubled, Botox top-ups booked and extraordinary new wonder-diets are being discussed.
The participating mothers are all trying to give the impression of being very supportive of one another but it’s clear that they are in it to win it and they all have their eyes on the prize - the title of ‘Manor House Yummy Mummy’.
I was just ear-wigging a conversation between Gestapo and Barbie to report back to Fenella for a laugh - they were swapping tips on the use of pile cream to lessen wrinkles - when I received a text from ‘UNKNOWN’ …
TIME TO COME CLEAN. I KNOW WHAT YOU DID.
PM
To say the text unnerved me would be an understatement.
Of course I told Ned immediately and he just assumed it was Dan up to dirty tricks again but I’m not convinced. I know he’s been through a bit of a dodgy time but I don’t think he’d stoop that low.
But if it wasn’t him, who was it? And how could they possibly know?
Saturday 21st March
Ned and I took Max and the dogs for a lovely long walk across the common, in the hope that it would take my mind off things and blow away the cobwebs.
I’m stressed out by the constant fear of my mobile delivering another text and also worrying about the Patience/Pritesh dilemma.
Ned told me there’s nothing I can do to change either situation so there’s not point in worrying.
“The text was just a bit of mischief and probably a one off, Lib. And as for Patience, you can’t interfere in something as serious as that and you know it.”
Of course, I know he’s right but it doesn’t stop the constant cycle of worry.
PM
Soooo … I know I shouldn’t have, but I sent a text to Pritesh.
Just a short message to give him a good kick up his cute little bootie:
PLEASE TRY TO SORT THINGS OUT. THERE’S MORE GOING ON THAN YOU THINK. DON’T REGRET LEAVING IT 2 LATE.
I was relieved not to receive a reply - partly because it meant I wouldn’t have to answer any probing questions but also because I knew Ned would tell me off.
Deep down, I know I shouldn’t have but I couldn’t sit back and do nothing.
This was one baby I could save.
Sunday 22nd March
Got F&J and their kids and dogs for lunch today so looking forward to a full house to distract me.
Had no other menacing texts so that’s one good thing - hope Ned was right and that’s an end to it.
PM
A good lunch was slightly marred by constant texts from Pritesh. He was demanding to know what I meant by my message and I’d got myself backed into a bit of a corner. I knew I couldn’t actually come out and tell him that Patience is about to abort tomorrow but I just wanted to hint enough to make him act.
His final text simply said:
OK LIB, IF YOU WON’T TELL ME, I KNOW A WOMAN WHO WILL!
As F&J loaded the kids and dogs into their car to leave, I heard Fenella’s mobile ringing.
So now it’s totally out of my hands because if Pritesh asks a direct question, ‘Gob Almighty’ won’t keep her mouth shut, I can guarantee it.
And Ned can’t blame me for that!
Monday 23rd March
Collect Patience from clinic
Took Max to school hoping that I’d get a call or text from Patience to let me know that her appointment was cancelled and that there’d be no need to collect her this afternoon.
Was slightly concerned when I’d heard nothing by midday so I tried to call her. Her phone was switched off and I had to assume the worst - she’d gone ahead and it was too late.
Called Fenella to see if she’d spilled the beans to Pritesh.
“Course I did, Sweedie. He couldn’t get off the phone quick enough to get round there. Frankly, I don’t know why we didn’t step in sooner.”
Told her that I think Patience had gone through with it anyway and that I was due to collect her at three.
“Well, bugger me, Lib. I honestly thought it would all work out for the best. Oh well, we tried. We couldn’t have done any more. I’ll get Max from school for you this afternoon so that you can collect the silly cow and spend a bit of time with her.”
Great! I get all the best jobs.
PM
What an afternoon!
First I received text #2.
I DON’T BELIEVE YOU HAVE COME CLEAN YET. I’M WAITING.
Thankfully, I had no time to dwell on it as I needed to get to the clinic.
So, Muggins here set off to collect supposed heart-broken and grieving friend. And waited and waited and …
… eventually asked at the desk if Patience Umbolo would be discharged soon, only to be told that Ms Umbolo had cancelled at eight o’clock this morning and had not booked a further appointment.
Muggins returned home fuming but relieved.
Only to find a scribbled note through the door:
PEOPLE WILL SOON BE TALKING.
Tuesday 24th March
I can’t wait until Friday when we break up for Easter and head off on holiday. We really need this break and I want to escape the constant threat of a new message. Sure, they can still text me but the note through the door was just a bit spooky and too close to home.
Patience finally rang last night to apologise for not letting me know what was happening.
“I’m so sorry, Libby. Everything happened so quickly it just slipped my mind. To be perfectly honest, Pritesh and I spent most of the day in bed,” she giggled. “I think we’re going to sort things out, thanks to you and Fenella-the-Gob!”
Thank heavens, that’s one thing less to worry about.
PM
Letters went home tonight reminding everyone that the Manor House Dog Show will be on Friday afternoon after school finishes. Surprisingly Gestapo took the initiative to organise it - clearly hoping for a rosette for ‘the rat in the bag’.
It costs ten quid a dog to enter and Max is insisting that we put all three of ours in for it.
“Mummy, we know they’ll win. Dog will get a prize just for being the only boy dog to ever have puppies.”
Explained that there wouldn’t be a category for that and also that our dogs weren’t pedigree so they wouldn’t stand a chance.
Max would hear none of it. He filled the form in and begged me for thirty pounds so that he could hand in his entries tomorrow.
Just hope he’s not going to be too disappointed when the first prize goes to some ponced up handbag-dog with a bow in its hair and a designer bolero.
Wednesday 25th March
Fenella said that she’s entering Splodge and Brown into the contest too.
“Our dogs have more personality in their manky whiskers than the other lot have put together, Lib, so we’re going for it. I’ve booked all of them in for a two o’clock wash and brush-up on Friday. Make sure you’re there with your three.”
Had to have a giggle when she said she’d also bought them all matching bandanas in the Pound Shop.
“They’re gold with a silver tassel edging. They’ll look like proper winners, Lib!”
Now I don’t know who will be more disappointed - Max or Fenella!
PM
No dodgy texts or messages since Monday so maybe they’ve given up - fingers crossed.
Ned’s decided to take Friday afternoon off work so that he can be at the dog show.
“Not that I hold out any hope of one of ours winning,” he told me, “but I just think it’ll be a laugh to see the competitive streak rearing its ugly head while all around us legs will be cocking.”
Told him of Fenella’s plans for our lot, including the trip to the doggy beauty parlour.
“I can’t say I’m surprised, Lib. I reckon she’ll give the Yummy Mummy contest a go too, just for the hell of it. She’s a game girl, our Fenella.”
