by Suzy K Quinn
I don’t want to throw away all my carefully prepared Lentil Savoury. But at the same time, it does look disgusting.
I’ll throw it out tomorrow.
Tuesday October 13th
Mum threw out my Lentil Savoury Bake.
I am absolutely furious!
She’d just come back from Iceland (to buy frozen pizzas, mini kievs and chicken nuggets ‘for Callum’ – but she eats them too) and needed to make room in the freezer.
I need to start thinking about getting my own place. It’s impossible to eat healthily here.
Mum has this special popcorn recipe where she can get a whole pack of butter into the pan.
Thursday October 15th
Got a mega-period today. Ten months without any period at all and then it’s like ten months at once.
Lucky I didn’t throw out those jumbo sanitary towels.
I’d forgotten about periods. That at least was one good thing about being pregnant.
Friday October 16th
Althea phoned today. She’d seen Nick and Sadie shopping in Harrods.
Apparently, they were at the oyster bar drinking champagne.
Sadie looked quite pregnant, but still thin apparently.
I was really pissed off. I’d hoped that Sadie would have puffed up like a sumo wrestler by now. And Nick never took me to fancy places like Harrods.
Apparently, Althea asked Nick (in a big loud voice) if he’d paid any child support yet.
She’s a good friend.
But then Wolfgang got ‘collared’ by a security guard and she had to leave.
The staff at Harrods don’t share Althea’s view about freedom of expression.
Saturday October 17th
Some nights I think I can run forever. And some nights I can barely do ten minutes without hating it and swearing to myself and wishing I’d never promised Daisy I’d do the sodding marathon.
Tonight was one of those nights. I only managed one jog around the village, then staggered home.
Sunday October 18th
Brandi cooked the family tea tonight. She’s practising because she has a crush on the man who hosts Master Chef.
She did us nachos with squeezy cheese sauce and salsa – all from jars and packets.
For dessert, she made us a tower of ginger-nut biscuits stuck together with squirty cream and finished with hundreds and thousands.
Mum and Callum loved it. Although Callum was bouncing off the walls by the end. We sent him outside to jump on the trampoline before bed.
Mum asked if I’d heard anything about Nick paying maintenance.
I said I hadn’t, but told her about my new solicitor courtesy of Alex Dalton.
Everyone was impressed.
‘Alex must fancy you,’ Mum decided.
I told her I wasn’t in his league.
Mum hefted her boobs up in her Lycra bodysuit and said, ‘Men don’t care about leagues. They care about sex, beer and sport. In that order.’
Dad frowned and said, ‘What about wildlife? And star constellations? And die-cast models?’
Mum said, ‘All men except your father.’
Monday October 19th
Daisy had a cold today and WOULD NOT NAP.
Rocked, patted, jiggled and eventually shouted. Nothing worked. In the end I bundled Daisy in the stroller and went for a run around the village.
When I got back, she still hadn’t fallen asleep. But I had managed to run six miles.
Result!
Tuesday October 20th
It poured with rain today, so I took Daisy to the village library.
They were doing a ‘Reading is Fun!’ event, and loads of the village kids were there – including Jemima Dalton.
She is such a sweet, polite little girl. She said, ‘So nice to see you again,’ then helped Daisy find a book to chew.
Jemima couldn’t take part in the reading event because she’d already read all the books in the library.
I apologised for rushing off the other day, and asked her to thank Alex again for the afternoon tea. And also for Jeremy.
She said, ‘Thank him yourself, he’s right behind you.’
I jumped out of my skin, and Jemima laughed and said, ‘Only joking. But he’ll be coming soon. You like him, don’t you?’
Bloody perceptive children.
I said, ‘He’s a very nice man.’
She gave me a knowing smile.
I pretended I needed to change Daisy’s nappy, then sprinted to the toilet, splashed a load of water on my face and wiped yesterday’s mascara from under my eyes.
I sauntered casually back into the library and carried on reading to Daisy. But I kept checking the door to see if Alex was coming.
A few minutes later, Alex arrived.
I pretended to be surprised to see him.
Jemima said, ‘But I just told you he was coming.’
I went all red.
Alex did that half-smile of his.
God. Why does the floor seem to suck me down when he looks at me?
He knelt down to blow a raspberry on Daisy’s stomach, then asked me if Jeremy Samuels had been in touch.
I said I’d been meaning to thank him and told him he was right about me needing good representation.
Alex said, ‘I usually am right about things.’ Then he said he’d seen me running around the village and that my form was improving.
I wanted to ask which day he’d seen me.
Was it Monday, when I’d been wearing Laura’s sleek, black running gear and powering along swigging from a runner’s water bottle?
Or Wednesday, when I was staggering along in stained elephant trousers, panting like an old horse and muttering, ‘I fucking hate running’?
I told Alex that the colder the weather, the less faith I had in myself to finish the marathon.
Alex said, ‘Isn’t it about time I started training you again?’
I felt myself nodding vigorously.
Alex gave me that wry smile of his, and said he’d come by the pub at 8pm tomorrow.
I said, ‘Are you sure you don’t mind? Coming right into the village … away from the posh bit.’
Alex said, ‘Perhaps I’m not as posh as you think.’
Then he marched outside to his expensive one-of-a-kind vintage car.
Wednesday October 21st
7pm
Daisy in bed.
Alex is coming over in an hour.
What the fuck am I going to wear??!!!
Laura and all her runner robot Lycra are in London. And there’s no point asking Mum or Brandi for clothes. Unless I want to go jogging in high heels, neon and seven layers of spray tan.
Why oh why didn’t I think of this before, when the shops were open?
At the moment, my options are:
Baggy elephant grey joggers covered in weird white marks that no amount of washing will shift. (Where does all that white stuff come from when you have a baby? Is it spit? And if so, how does it get on your legs?)
Nick’s old Abercrombie and Fitch T-shirt. Bad memories there. And anyway, it makes me look fat.
Leggings with big saggy knees.
Dad’s bright white tennis kit from 1980 something.
I seriously need to update my wardrobe.
I’m in this horrible no-man’s land where I don’t have the figure for tight T-shirts that show my tummy when I lift my arms (and I STILL have that weird brown pregnancy line under my belly button. Will it EVER go?), but I’m too young to wear big billowy Monsoon tops with flowers all over them.
7.50pm
Decided that the best thing to wear is Dad’s tennis kit. It’s the cleanest, anyway.
Oh fuck it – the doorbell.
That must be Alex.
Thursday October 22nd
Seeing Alex on the pub doorstep yesterday was … well, just weird. Good weird, but weird nonetheless.
I mean, I’ve seen him loads of times drinking in the pub. But actually calling at the back door where
the family come in …
He was all silent assassin again – arms crossed, black T-shirt and dark grey joggers. Very serious looking.
I said, ‘Have you come to repossess the house?’
He gave his quirky little smile and said, ‘Did you think we were playing tennis?’
I told him my running gear was in the wash and said I hoped I looked okay.
He said, ‘You look perfect.’ So I forgave him instantly.
Then he asked about Daisy and my parents. And whether the pub was doing well.
I said yes. It’s the only pub in the village. So it always does well.
We went jogging along the waterfront.
I kept saying, ‘Go ahead if you need to. I don’t want to slow you down.’
But he stayed by my side the whole time. Even though it was obvious he could go much faster.
We jogged for over an hour, not really saying much. Well – I couldn’t say much, I was too busy wheezing.
If Alex hadn’t been there, I would have stopped after ten minutes. I so wasn’t up for running in the dark and cold. But I couldn’t stop with him there. It would have been too embarrassing. So on I went. And weirdly, as soon as I stopped thinking that I could stop, it got easier.
When we got back to the Oakley Arms I was all flushed and sweaty – my hair all frizzy around my face.
I thanked Alex for the run and he said, ‘I’ll be here again tomorrow. Same time. We’ll do ten miles. Make sure you’re ready.’
Friday October 23rd
Another run with Alex last night. We did ten miles. Just like he said. Didn’t talk much. But it was nice. Just running together.
Saturday October 24th
The whole village is talking about Alex and I.
I’m trying to make out like it’s no big deal. But secretly I’m MEGA happy.
I get butterflies in my stomach whenever Alex calls at the pub.
And also, I’m running further than ever.
Friday October 30th
Alex and I went running EVERY night this week.
EVERY NIGHT!
At times it’s hideous.
Alex is incredibly strict and doesn’t go easy on me.
‘Come on!’ he barks, as he bounds around me. ‘Keep up! Push yourself. PUSH yourself!’
But I have to admit we’re getting amazing results. I’ve run further and faster than ever. There are definitely times when I want to kill Alex and myself. But they’re getting fewer.
I’ve been so full of energy in the day that I’ve even run with the stroller sometimes. Just on a whim. Daisy always looks a bit shocked. Like I’m shoplifting her or something.
Saturday October 31st
Halloween
Brandi and I took Callum ‘trick-or-treating’ tonight.
It was pretty embarrassing.
Callum pounded on doors, stuck out his bucket and said, ‘Give me sweets or I’ll silly string you.’
Luckily, most people thought it was funny. Except for one old lady who Callum threatened with shaving foam.
Mum decorated the pub with spray cobwebs and dangling rubber spiders. Then she moaned because no one was drinking her ‘Witches Brew’ – a mixture of all the pub spirits that haven’t been selling.
I’m not surprised no one was buying it – it smelt like boozy toothpaste.
In the end, Mum and Brandi drank most of the ‘Witches Brew’. Then they got up on the bar and danced to the Monster Mash.
Monday November 2nd
Mum is ALREADY putting up our Christmas decorations.
We have two Christmas trees every year – one in the house, one in the pub.
Mum makes sure both trees are so covered with tinsel, flashing fairy lights, and various tacky ornaments you can’t see the branches.
Her favourite ornaments are all from our summer holidays – a mini bottle of Ouzo (Greece 2000), a pink plastic couple having sex (Spain 1991), and a hanging wooden penis (Cyprus 1995).
Mum was annoyed because the village supermarket won’t sell real trees for a few more weeks. The pub one is plastic, so she’s put it up already, but she’ll have to wait to do the house one.
Tuesday November 3rd
Helen phoned today.
She’d heard about Alex and I running around the village.
She said, ‘You’re barely out of your wedding gown and you’re out in public with another man.’
I told her that since Nick got my bridesmaid pregnant I could go out with whomever I liked.
She said, ‘Nobody knows Sadie was with child on your wedding day. And I think it best we keep that on a low level. No sense in causing a scandal.’
God!
I said, ‘When Sadie has the baby it won’t be hard to do the bloody maths, will it?’
I could almost feel Helen wince down the phone. ‘There’s no need to swear.’
And then she said how important Nick’s reputation was in his profession.
I said, ‘He’s not a priest Helen, he’s an actor. A bit of scandal might do his career some good.’
And she snapped, ‘BUT IT WOULDN’T DO ME ANY GOOD!’
Then she talked about men being men and said Nick’s father had been the same.
I said Nick’s dad sounded like an arsehole.
She got all stroppy then and threatened to ‘end this conversation if you can’t be a grown-up’.
I told her that since she phoned me, I didn’t mind in the slightest if she ended the conversation. In fact, I’d prefer it if she didn’t phone me up and tell me what to do.
I said, ‘I’m not engaged to your son anymore. I’m not living in your apartment anymore. And I don’t have to be nice to you anymore. So if I want to go jogging with Alex Dalton I bloody well will.’
She said, ‘You’re only doing this to get at Nicholas, aren’t you?’
I said, ‘Oh get a life, Helen.’ And hung up.
Mum, Dad and Brandi gave me a round of applause.
Callum said, ‘Who was that headache?’
He sounds so much like Brandi sometimes.
Mum said, ‘The evil stepmother.’
Dad said, ‘Did she ask about Daisy?’
I said, ‘No. Not once.’
Wednesday November 4th
Apparently, Alex and I running together is now officially the gossip of the village.
This is according to Mum, who is almost certainly the one spreading it.
Let them talk.
It’s perfectly innocent, much as I wish it wasn’t.
While we were running last night, I told Alex I’d updated my Facebook status to ‘single’.
He said, ‘God, is that what Facebook is all about? Telling everyone whether you’re in a relationship or not?’
It turns out HE’S NOT ON FACEBOOK!
I always wondered why I could never find him. (Yes – I did try to cyberstalk him when I was younger.)
He said I was ‘far too good for Nicholas Spencer’.
My knees go all weak when he looks right at me. Which isn’t all that good when I’m running.
Thursday November 5th
Fireworks Night
Afternoon
Funny feeling in my stomach today.
Maybe it’s all the fireworks going off and the smell of bonfires. But it just feels like something is about to happen.
We let off a few fireworks in the pub garden (why don’t Catherine wheels ever spin round?), and Callum burned himself on a sparkler.
Alex should be calling round soon, although I don’t really want to go for a run tonight.
I’m absolutely stuffed.
Mum did her usual bonfire tea of hot dogs, jacket potatoes, piles of grated cheese, butter, coleslaw, mayonnaise, sticky treacle pudding and a big bowl of Haribo sweets.
So it’ll be a job to squeeze myself into my running gear.
Blah.
Better get ready. Alex will be here soon.
Evening
OH MY GOD!!!!
Fireworks, fir
eworks, fireworks.
Did fifteen miles with Alex, which I think is amazing in itself (although Alex had already done five by the time he picked me up).
When we got back to the waterfront, Alex said, ‘Fifteen miles. I think that deserves a drink, don’t you?’
I agreed, wanting to add, ‘And five packets of dry-roasted peanuts.’
Usually I would have said, ‘Dad will give us a free pint at the Oakley Arms.’
But I felt weird about drinking at Mum and Dad’s pub. Maybe because I didn’t want Alex to see the big wooden penis hanging on our Christmas tree.
So I was pleased when he said, ‘I was thinking the Yacht Club. It’s right over there. The wine’s very good.’
I said, ‘I didn’t know you drank wine.’ Because I’ve only ever seen him drink whisky.
And he said, ‘I don’t. But you do. White wine. And Guinness. Not together. Obviously.’
‘How did you know that?’ I asked.
He said, ‘Observation.’
I’ve only ever been to the Yacht Club for private parties (you have to be a member to drink there), so it was nice to go on a normal night.
The whole place is basically one long panoramic window built into pale, Swedish-style wood, so we had an amazing view of the river and all the boats bobbing in the water.
Mum would have hated the Christmas decorations – they were simple, tasteful white fairy lights twinkling along the wooden beams. Not a neon fairy or wooden cock in sight.
Alex was right about the wine – it was delicious. I mean, not that I really know much about wine. But it definitely tasted better than the stuff at Mum and Dad’s pub.
For a while, we sat watching the river, me drinking white wine, and Alex sipping some dark-coloured whisky with a Scottish name.
Then we started talking.
I found out that Alex spent part of his childhood in Shanghai, Singapore, Bahrain and a whole load of other places. Which explains a lot – namely why he and Zach weren’t around for most of the village events, but would magically appear at the Dalton charity balls with fantastic suntans.
I asked him how it was, growing up in lots of different places. He said it gave him an education.
