by Suzy K Quinn
So as far as training goes, I’ll believe it when I see it.
Hopefully Zach and Laura will get married and Catrina Dalton will have us all as in-laws.
Including Mum and Brandi.
Ha ha ha!
While I was at the bar, the horrible charity auction began.
Duncan Cockett (local businessman and red-nosed drunk) did the hosting.
He owns Cockett Fitness but is fatter than most darts players.
Duncan boomed about what an honour it was to be at yet another Dalton charity event, and asked Alex and Zach if they’d be bidding.
Zach said he ‘certainly would be’ and took Laura’s hand.
Alex slid his hands in his pockets and said, ‘This is nonsense.’
Zach said, ‘It’s only a bit of fun, Alex.’
Alex said, ‘I do plenty for charity already’, and walked out.
There were a few mutters about ‘money not buying good manners’.
A few giggling girls were volunteered by their dates, and Zach walked Laura right up to the stage.
Brandi, of course, shot up without anyone having to ask.
I tried to sneak off, but Duncan was too quick for me.
He shouted, ‘JULIETTE DUFFY! WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?’
I said I didn’t want to do the auction this year because Nick couldn’t make it.
But he wouldn’t take pity on me. Instead, he got the whole room to chant ‘Juliette! Juliette!’
So up I went.
I was wearing my big summer maternity dress with winter tights, and my feet were too swollen for high heels so I’d settled on brown boots that were a tiny bit muddy.
My cheeks were bright red, my curly hair was giant and orange-tinted – all in all I felt like I was worth less than a fiver. Quite a bit less.
Plus, I ended up standing next to beautiful Kate Thompson, who plays professional tennis.
As usual, loads of men bid on Laura. And as usual, she looked genuinely surprised.
Zach cut out the competition pretty quickly by bidding £1000. He said, ‘But she’s worth a lot more!’ And got a round of applause.
Brandi didn’t do badly either. Thorn bid against some guy Brandi had a one-night stand with. She ended up raising a highly respectable three hundred and fifty pounds.
When it was my turn, Duncan put a sweaty hand around my shoulder and said, ‘Now Juliette may not quite be in the first bloom of youth. And furthermore, she’s engaged to be married. But there’s life in the old girl yet. Am I right, fellas?’
Then he asked how long before I’d be a decent married woman.
‘Soon!’ I said, forcing a silly grin on my face.
In the end, I got three pity bids from some old men.
God, I’m lucky to have Nick. I really am.
Monday March 23rd
Helen came round early today.
We were still in bed when she called.
Nick pulled a pillow over his head and pretended to be asleep, so I had to talk to her.
Helen said, ‘Jul-iette. How was the Dalton’s party, darling? I couldn’t go – I had a work thing.’
I knew something was wrong then. She never calls me darling.
She fixed me with those manic blue eyes of hers and told me she’d heard something ‘disconcerting’ about the auction. That Zachary Dalton had bid on Laura.
I said, ‘What?’
She said, ‘Pardon’, and closed her eyes like she had a headache.
Then she grilled me about Laura and Zach – whether they were an item, how serious things were.
I told her it was none of her business.
She said certain people in the village were talking. Saying how inappropriate it was. That Laura and Zach could be together.
I asked why.
Helen said, ‘Considering Laura’s background.’
I said Laura’s background was the same as mine – she grew up in a nice, big house in the country and wanted for nothing.
Admittedly half of that big house is a pub … but a very nice pub. It’s in all the Best Ale and Good Pub guides.
Helen said, almost whispered actually, ‘But your younger sister had that teenage pregnancy …’
And then it all came out – Catrina Dalton called Helen yesterday. I had no idea they knew each other, but apparently they run a handbag charity together.
Basically, Helen wants me to tell Laura to stop dating Zachary.
I told Helen that Laura was happy seeing Zach. And that I’d never get in the way of that, nor should anyone else.
Helen said, ‘That’s what you want for your sister, is it? To be gossiped about?’
I told her people always gossip about our family. With a mum like ours, we’re used to it.
Helen said, ‘Well you should warn her at least. Catrina Dalton is not happy. What relationship can work if a mother isn’t happy?’
I pointed out that Helen hadn’t liked me much at first.
She said, ‘Um … yes. But then there was the mishap’ (she meant Daisy). ‘So …’
Usually, I find Helen’s rude comments funny. But there are times when she crosses the line.
I got very cross and said, ‘Don’t EVER call my baby a mishap.’
Nick shouted out from the bedroom, ‘She’s right, Mum. That’s out of line.’
Helen looked a bit chastised. Then she said, ‘What I mean is, I appreciate there are certain things one must accept.’
I said, ‘So maybe Catrina Dalton will learn to accept Laura.’
Helen’s lips did that horrible puckering thing they do when she gets really angry.
She barked that Catrina had made her feelings ‘VERY clear’. Then she left, muttering that she’d practically planned the wedding for me and got no thanks.
When she’d gone, Nick crawled out from the bedroom and asked if there was any Coca-Cola in the fridge.
It’s always funny when he tries to be serious with his hair all sticking up and duckling fluffy.
I told him about the ball and how Catrina Dalton had been whispering to Alex about us ‘Duffy girls’.
I didn’t tell him about Alex offering to train me.
Nick said, ‘The Daltons are complete wankers.’ Then he said, ‘Daisy’s asleep, you know.’
I asked if he’d checked her breathing.
He rolled his eyes and said, ‘Yes.’ Then he said, ‘Get over here.’
He kissed me – just like he used to do.
Suddenly, it was like the old days.
I’d forgotten he’s a good kisser.
Then he whispered, ‘I love you, Juliette. I still love you. I know it’s been a while.’
He was SO rock-hard too.
Before long he was inside me and I realised how much I’d missed having sex with him. It was so nice being close. He was really pounding me into the sofa. Really going for it. So unlike how he’s been these last few months.
I think I would have come quickly – except he came first. And when he did, he moaned and fell on top of me. Then he turned me around, put his hand between my legs and helped me come too.
We lay on the sofa with our arms around each other. It felt so nice.
Nick has his faults. But we love each other. And we’re a good fit. Most of the time.
Tuesday March 24th
Phoned Laura to talk about wedding stuff.
She was a bit distracted, because she was getting ready for her auction date with Zach. He’s taking her on a riverboat up the Thames.
So phoned Althea, and she told me weddings were capitalist bullshit.
‘But you got married,’ I pointed out.
She said, ‘Only for the party.’
I told her Nick and I had sex yesterday and it was really nice. And that we should probably make time for it more often.
Althea said: ‘Good idea. Men go crazy if they don’t have sex. Just look at the porn they watch. Maybe that’s why Nick is such a dickhead right now. You don’t have sex enough.’
Which I suppose could be true.
Made it out running, even though it was pretty cold.
I meant to jog for an hour non-stop. But after fifty minutes it was too horrible and I ended up leaning against my knees, panting and thinking I might throw up. Then I walked for ten minutes. Then jogged another three. Then walked a bit more. Then I jogged the last bit back to the apartment in case Nick’s mum was looking out of the window.
I think you’ve really got to ease yourself into this running stuff. No point putting yourself through pain and getting injured.
Gently does it.
Wednesday March 25th
Alex called round last night to take me running.
I could tell Nick was jealous, but he managed to grunt an ‘alright’ when I let Alex up to the flat.
As I was putting on my running gear, I thought, ‘This is going to be an absolute nightmare. Alex is properly fit. He’ll run at 100mph.’
But actually, Alex was kind and we did lots of walking, as well as running.
Neither of us said much at first – in my case, partly because I was out of breath. But after a while, we got talking.
I asked Alex about his family and the hotel business. Then I asked about the Dalton estate, and whether the rumours were true about him selling up this year.
Alex said, ‘You listen to too much gossip, Juliette. I’d never sell the family home.’
‘I thought the house might hold bad memories,’ I said.
Alex said, ‘Are you talking about the fire? I hardly ever think about that. Not anymore.’
I said, ‘Jemima visits you a lot. Does she like Great Oakley?’
Jemima is Alex and Zach’s (very) little sister.
A few years ago, Catrina Dalton had an affair with a 20-something Greek underwear model, and Jemima was the result.
Jemima is seven-years old, but has a designer wardrobe and a modelling contract with Gap. She’s the sweetest little girl you could ever meet, and always totally polite and well behaved. It’s amazing really, because her mum is horrible.
Jemima goes to a private boarding school in London during the week, but comes to the village at weekends and during the holidays.
‘She loves the village,’ said Alex. ‘Just like I did as a child.’
That surprised me. Because as a child, Alex never seemed all that happy.
Zach was always as bouncy and cheerful as they come, but Alex was more serious. Not exactly withdrawn, but quite stern. People rarely messed with him, put it that way.
I suppose he and Zach do have different dads.
‘Does Zach like the family home too?’ I asked.
Alex said, ‘Yes – but that’s irrelevant. I own it. I bought Zach out years ago.’
‘But he’s always staying there,’ I said.
‘He treats the place like a hotel,’ said Alex, with a wry smile. ‘So does my mother. Must be something about being a Dalton. But I’m happy for the family to stay whenever they like – especially Jemima. It will always be her home.’
I said, ‘But isn’t Jemima’s real home with your mother? In London?’
Alex said, ‘She feels more comfortable in Great Oakley with Zach and I. Surely that’s obvious?’
I asked how Jemima found boarding school. I mean, it must be lonely – living away from her family.
Alex said, ‘She’s learning independence. Just like Zach and I did.’
Alex and Zach went to Windsor College, where they foster confidence, perseverance, tolerance and integrity. (Us Duffys went to Oakley Primary, where they foster a tolerance of powdery mashed potato.)
‘But didn’t you feel lonely as a boarder?’ I asked.
Alex said, ‘Sometimes. But it was good for me.’
I asked Alex if he remembered playing in the woods when we were kids.
Alex looked very serious and said, ‘Of course I do.’
When we got back to the apartment, Alex crossed his arms, frowned and said, ‘Goodbye Juliette. I’ll come again next week. Same time.’
And off he went.
Nick was all grumpy when I got in, asking me how ‘fancy pants Dalton’ could run with a ‘gold watch between his arse cheeks’.
Thursday March 26th
Sadie called round today to talk about running outfits.
She was pretty annoyed that I’d been jogging without her – especially when she found out Alex Dalton came round last night.
She said, ‘You know Catrina heads a modelling agency. If I date Alex or Zach … poof! I get on the cover of Cosmo.’
But I wasn’t going to give in to Sadie’s emotional blackmail. She’s let me down for enough training sessions – it’s a cheek to expect me to phone her last minute.
As we were getting changed, I asked her how often she thought a couple should have sex.
She said, ‘Whenever you want a man to buy you something.’
Then she asked how often Nick and I had sex.
I told her not very often.
She said, ‘I always thought he’d be weird in bed. He strikes me as the sort of guy who’d watch himself in a full-length mirror.’
But he’s only ever done that once.
Friday March 27th
Showed Nick some houses on Rightmove, but he said they ‘weren’t quite us’.
I shouted at him about being too picky and dragging his feet.
Nick said I was spoiled and ungrateful. Then he phoned his Mum and told her I wasn’t happy with the apartment.
Helen came round and made a big show of ignoring me.
It was quite nice actually.
Much better than her pointing out stains on Daisy’s clothes or complaining because I’ve brought the muddy stroller into the shiny kitchen.
Saturday March 28th
Most embarrassing day ever. EVER.
Oh my God. Oh my God! I can barely write it down.
Birthday lunch for Helen today, which was bad enough in itself. But worse, it was round Bill and Penelope Dearheart’s house.
Bill and Penelope hadn’t seen Nick in ‘far too long’. (In Helen’s world, Nick needs to be paraded in front of her friends regularly. God knows why. He hardly makes her look good.) So Helen and Penelope arranged a ‘simple birthday luncheon’ where the parading could take place.
The Dearhearts live in one of those big farmhouses at the end of a muddy tractor track.
It’s called ‘The Vicarage’ and has a huge conservatory and a garden full of lavender bushes.
You can only really get there by Land Rover, so my little car tipped and heaved through the muddy troughs like a lame dog.
Penelope Dearheart greeted us at the big oak front door with a forced smile.
She’s a shorter, blonde version of Helen – perfectly groomed, perfectly scarfed and perfectly fragranced.
And like Helen, she has those thin twitchy lips that always look a little bit angry.
Bill was his usual loud, rude self, with his big square head and booming laugh.
As Penelope ushered us in, her two crazy, inbred greyhounds, Sergeant and Horatio, bounded in from the garden.
They were the size of small horses and knocked over a bottle of scented fig oil and an antique chair as they leapt around the hall.
Sergeant was chewing a gnarled copy of Period Home and Horatio had clearly been eating mud.
If they had human faces, they’d have been cross-eyed and grinning.
Penelope shouted at them as though they were human children.
‘How many times have I asked you to be careful in here?’
Then she sent the dogs into the garden and announced we’d be eating in the conservatory, ‘so we can enjoy the pale spring sun peeking through the clouds.’
I was totally nervous.
Especially when we sat at the table, and Penelope told us the wine glasses were antique family heirlooms.
Daisy was in the sling and kept trying to grab everything. And the more I moved the glasses away from her, the more she wanted them.
<
br /> I was so busy moving the wine glasses, I didn’t notice Daisy grab a big block of Stilton and stuff it into her mouth. Then she half-coughed, half-vomited blue cheese and dribbled all over the lovely white table linen, the beige carpet, and Penelope’s plate.
I tried to clear everything up, saying sorry over and over again.
Penelope and Helen’s lips twitched.
Then (WHY does she always do this at the WORST POSSIBLE MOMENT?) Daisy did the longest, loudest mega-farty poo ever. It sounded like a train rumbling past.
Everyone tried to pretend they hadn’t heard. Which made it even funnier.
I excused myself to change Daisy, and Penelope got all flustered.
‘NOT in the downstairs lavatory please. It’s being decorated. You can use the upstairs bathroom.’
The upstairs bathroom had one of those free-standing baths with Victorian taps. But it didn’t have a bin for the dirty nappy.
Daisy was crying. I got all flustered.
Decided to stash nappy under the pram downstairs. Bit disgusting, but I thought I could throw it away at home. Then I went upstairs again to wash my hands.
When Daisy and I got back to the conservatory, the two dogs were going crazy over something in the garden.
Penelope said, ‘Oh no. Bill. What have those dogs got now?’
I had a bad feeling. Right in the pit of my stomach.
Suddenly, Sergeant galloped up to the glass with the nappy in his mouth.
Penelope said, ‘I think he’s got a …’
Bill said, ‘It looks like … a nappy.’
Then everyone was horribly quiet.
Everything was in slow motion.
Horatio chased Sergeant and tried to tear the nappy from his teeth. Sergeant wouldn’t let go. The nappy was ripped apart and the contents flew all over the conservatory windows.
There was this terrible, terrible silence.
Brown shadows hung over the lunch table.
Everyone looked politely at their plates. Except Helen, who was glaring at me with boiling eyes.
We all carried on having lunch as though there wasn’t poo on the glass.
Penelope rushed us through the courses (walnut and Stilton salad, beef Wellington, crème brûlée). Then she said there wasn’t really time for a cheese course and she and Bill had an appointment.
