No-One Ever Has Sex on a Tuesday

by Tracy Bloom

  ‘You need a lads’ night out,’ declared Braindead. ‘Oestrogen is seeping into you at a shocking rate. Look at us. We’re in some poncey coffee shop! We wouldn’t have been seen dead in one of these before you gave up your job to look after Millie. I’ve got just the place. You and me down that new microbrewery. I’ll have you back up to speed with scintillating conversation in no time.’

  ‘Microbrewery,’ sighed Ben. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘What!’ gasped Braindead. ‘What is wrong with you? Normally you’d jump through flaming hoops to get to a microbrewery. Are you ill or something?’

  ‘No, yes, I don’t know,’ said Ben. ‘I have never felt so tired in my entire life. I ache all over – what’s that all about? I run around like a headless chicken every day and I’m stressed, Braindead. Stressed, me? I never get stressed, but the effort of trying not to screw this up is doing my head in. I think I am actually going mad, seriously.’

  ‘This is serious shit, man,’ said Braindead, looking worried for the first time. ‘You really need to talk to Katy if it’s making you feel like this.’

  ‘I know,’ replied Ben. ‘But I so wanted to make this work, you know. Make her proud of me. I can’t bear the thought of telling her I can’t cope.’

  Braindead leaned forward to grab Ben’s arm. ‘I’m here for you, mate.’

  ‘Thanks, Braindead. What do you think I should do?’

  ‘Fuck knows,’ Braindead shrugged. ‘But one thing I do know is that you’re not going to find the answer in here. The answer will most definitely be found in a microbrewery. Friday?’

  ‘Beeeeeeen,’ came a high-pitched wail just as Ben and Braindead were packing up baby paraphernalia to leave the coffee shop.

  Ben turned to see Charlene and Abby fast approaching. He swivelled back to Braindead to urge him to prepare for a swift exit, but his friend’s eyes were already out on stalks at the sight of Abby’s generous assets making their way towards them.

  ‘Hi, Charlene,’ said Ben. ‘Fancy meeting you here.’

  ‘We come here every Wednesday afternoon for a treat as I have Rocco on my own all day on a Wednesday.’

  ‘And I don’t go to college on a Wednesday,’ added Abby.

  ‘Not on a Wednesday either, Abby?’ Ben queried. ‘What are you studying, exactly?’

  ‘Media Studies,’ she replied.

  ‘Makes sense now,’ said Ben. ‘Look, you can have our table, we’re just leaving.’ He heard a cough behind him. ‘Oh, sorry. This is Braindead. Braindead, this is Charlene and Abby. Charlene’s baby is the same age as Millie.’

  ‘The name’s actually Bryan,’ announced Braindead. ‘But, you know, Braindead is a better name than Bryan.’

  Charlene and Abby barely acknowledged Braindead. Charlene was distracted by her phone whilst Abby was nudging her.

  ‘You going to show him?’ she said, nodding at Ben.

  ‘Show me what?’ asked Ben.

  ‘You are the next big thing, Ben. Just give me one second,’ said Charlene, still deeply absorbed in her phone. ‘There. Got it. Take a look at this.’ She turned to show Ben the screen. To his surprise, his face filled it. He was looking upset with something but it wasn’t clear what until the picture panned out and he could see he was watching a recording of him at that damned music class. His heart sank. Why was Charlene showing him this? A painful reminder of yet another horrendous encounter as a stay-at-home dad.

  ‘Why is this on your phone?’ he demanded.

  ‘Remember I was filming Charlene and Rocco for Charlene’s Facebook page? Well, you were much more interesting,’ said Abby coyly.

  ‘I can’t believe that was the week that Abby came along to film,’ cried Charlene in excitement. ‘To think if she hadn’t have been there you would never have got famous on the internet!’

  ‘What!’ exclaimed Ben, nearly dropping Millie’s car seat.

  ‘I’m going home to listen to the Arctic Monkeys very loud!’ boomed out of the speakers on the phone.

  ‘Get you,’ said Braindead, slapping Ben on the back. ‘You totally socked it to that psycho music bitch.’

  ‘You did!’ said Charlene, looking really pleased with herself. ‘And lots of other people think so too. I put it up on my Teenage Mums Facebook group page, and so far you have over four hundred shares. And look at some of these comments.’ She grabbed the phone out of his hand.

  ‘My hero,’ she read aloud. ‘Wish I’d have said that weeks ago in the music group I go to. I’m never ever going again. And listen to this one. I’ll have whatever he’s having. He is sooooo right. And what about this one? I want him to run a music class. Music, Mummy & the Arctic Monkeys. Finally a baby class worth going to. Ben, you should totally start your own music class. It would be so brilliant. We’d help, wouldn’t we, Abby? We could sit around and play brilliant music like the Arctic Monkeys and the Kaiser Chiefs and One Direction and have plastic tambourines and maracas for the kids and serve cocktails and stuff like that. Do it, Ben, please, go on! Say you’ll do Music, Mummy and the Arctic Monkeys?’

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ cried Ben. ‘Just slow down, will you? I think I need to start by asking what on earth possessed you to put me on your Facebook page without asking?’

  ‘You’re not bothered, are you?’ said Charlene. ‘It’s just Facebook,’ she shrugged.

  ‘It’s not just Facebook,’ said Ben. ‘It’s the worldwide web, and I’m out there now and you never even asked me?

  ‘But,’ replied Charlene with a look of utter confusion on her face. ‘You’re famous.’

  ‘Not really, am I, Charlene? And I don’t want to be famous anyway.’

  ‘What?’ But why not?’

  ‘Because I don’t. Especially not for having some poxy video on Facebook. I don’t deserve to be famous for that.’

  ‘But you have deserved it,’ said Charlene, still looking confused.

  ‘Who says?’

  ‘All these people.’ She stabbed at her phone. ‘They’re freaking over the moon to have someone dare say that baby music classes are pants and you shouldn’t go if you’re not enjoying them.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have done it without asking,’ Ben huffed.

  ‘Okay,’ said Abby, stepping in. ‘You’re right. We should have asked, but you really should read the comments. They all think you’re amazing. Seriously.’

  Ben stared at Abby like she had just landed from the moon.

  ‘They have no idea what they’re talking about,’ he said. ‘I’m not amazing at all. I can’t even hack it in a poxy music class.’

  ‘You are amazing,’ declared Charlene. ‘You are like the best stay-at-home dad ever.’

  ‘No, I’m not,’ said Ben, shaking his head. ‘I’m rubbish at it. In fact I’m starting to think dads were just not meant to be mums. I’m going to have to tell Katy she was right after all. Swapping was a stupid idea, because I didn’t have a clue how hard it was to look after a baby. I am a failure.’

  ‘Hey, fella,’ said Braindead, putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘There is no shame in being a failure.’

  ‘You are not a failure,’ said Charlene firmly.

  ‘Most definitely not,’ added Abby.

  ‘But I don’t know what I’m doing,’ Ben cried. ‘I’m not doing it properly and no-one can tell me what I should be doing. Everyone is telling me different things. None of it makes any sense.’

  ‘Listen to me,’ said Charlene, grabbing his shoulders to make him look at her. You can do this and I know exactly the person who can help you.’

  ‘Do you?’ asked Ben, wide-eyed at Charlene’s commanding tone.

  ‘Are you at home tomorrow?’

  ‘Of course. Where else would I be?’

  ‘Right,’ said Charlene. ‘I’ll bring her round. She is seriously brilliant at babies. She knows absolutely everything.’

  ‘Who is she?’ asked Ben.

  ‘You’ll see. You won’t regret it, I promise. She’ll make you into dad of the year in no time.’<
br />
  ‘Okay,’ Ben sighed. ‘I suppose it’s worth a try.’

  ‘Cool,’ said Charlene, clapping her hands in excitement. ‘Tomorrow at yours it is then.’

  ‘Can I come?’ added Abby.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘OMG,’ gasped Charlene the following morning when Ben opened the door to her. ‘I have been waiting all my life to have a look inside one of these riverside flats, seriously! No wonder you let Katy go back to work if her job gets you all this!’

  She pushed past him down the hallway, and he became aware of a commotion in her wake.

  ‘Look, if you let me park the double buggy here then there will be more than enough room for the other pushchair. Trust me, I can fit this pushchair into the most awkward corners. It comes with the job.’

  Ben could not believe his ears or eyes. He’d been waiting with nervous anticipation for Charlene’s arrival, even though he suspected it was unlikely that she was actually going to provide the answer to his parenting problems. He’d made a special effort for Charlene’s baby guru, whoever she was, and dressed Millie in the dreaded pink as well as actually tidied up a bit. It was all very well for him to live in a pig-sty all day but he really didn’t think visitors should be subjected to his poor domestic habits. However, when he peered around the door and could see what was coming, he wished he’d made no effort whatsoever; in fact, he wished he’d fled the country.

  ‘Hello,’ said Abby, her cleavage arriving before her head. ‘Hope you don’t mind me coming along for the ride.’

  ‘Er, yeah,’ said Ben, looking petrified. He started to cough as Abby leaned into his personal space, nearly knocking him out with the reek of celebrity perfume.

  ‘Can you get a move on?’ said the woman standing behind her in the hall. ‘I am carrying twins, you know.’ Abby stroked Ben’s arm as she slowly pushed past him, following Charlene into the lounge.

  ‘Alison?’ said Ben when there was no longer the barrier of another person between them. ‘Is that you?’ He barely recognised her. She was much slimmer, of course, since the last time he’d seen her, at Charlene’s wedding. Alison had been enormous then, as she was on the verge of giving birth to twins, and beside herself with anger at Ben for punching Matthew. He’d never wanted or expected to see her again.

  ‘Here, can you just hold George for one second?’ she said, thrusting a baby into his arms whilst she adjusted another one into a sling tied over her shoulder.

  This could not be happening, thought Ben. Charlene was supposed to be solving his problems, not bringing into his house the unknowing wife of the man who’d shagged his girlfriend.

  ‘That’s better,’ Alison said, once she’d got baby number two into position. ‘Now, there’s no need to worry.’ She placed a hand on Ben’s flinching shoulder. ‘When Charlene said you were in a state and needed my expertise, how could I refuse? But I know what you’re thinking . . .’

  I very much doubt it, thought Ben.

  ‘I am the last person who should be rushing to your side, given what happened at Charlene’s wedding.’

  ‘Look—’ Ben started.

  ‘No, listen,’ Alison interrupted. ‘Matthew explained everything. And I totally forgive you.’

  ‘Really?’ Ben couldn’t help but exclaim.

  ‘Of course,’ said Alison. ‘It was just a bit of jealousy, that’s all. I understand.’

  ‘You do?’ Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Could Alison really understand Ben’s jealousy of her husband sleeping with his girlfriend? He’d always thought that Alison was slightly weird, but there was weird and there was utterly bonkers.

  ‘I know we are very fortunate with our lovely big house and brand-new car and all that. It’s easy to see how you could let a little bit of envy get the better of you, especially when you were drunk.’

  Ben was speechless.

  ‘And I know that Matthew has totally forgiven you, so if he can forgive you for leaving him lying in the middle of that dance floor, unconscious, when his wife could have gone into labour at any minute, then so can I.’

  ‘Well, thank you,’ said Ben slowly.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ said Alison. ‘Besides, when Charlene told me that Katy had demanded to go back to work leaving you holding the baby, well, what could I do? It is my duty to support my fellow stay-at-home mums-slash-dads.’ She plucked George from Ben’s arms and strode past him into the lounge.

  Ben closed the door behind her, taking in the traumatising sight of three pushchairs outside his front door, including some monstrous contraption made for two babies. How had this happened? Today was supposed to be about regaining control and he already felt like he was fast spinning out of it. He walked into the lounge in a daze.

  ‘She’s so got your eyes,’ said Abby, gathering Millie from the baby gym in the middle of the floor and clutching her close to her chest. Millie started to cough. Good grief, Ben thought, she’s going to stink of cheap perfume. How would he explain that to Katy? Millie screwed her face up, a telltale sign that she was about to wail. Sure enough, she opened her mouth, her face turned red and she let out a piercing scream.

  ‘Oh, it’s okay, baby,’ said Abby, bouncing her furiously up and down, much to Millie’s distress. ‘It’s okay now, I’m here.’ Millie clearly didn’t agree and wailed even louder. Ben stepped forward to take the child from her.

  ‘No,’ shouted Abby above the din. ‘It’s okay, I’ll take care of her. You sit down, Ben.’

  It was clear that the perfume fog surrounding Abby and Millie was going to do nothing to soothe her, so Ben reached out just as Charlene stepped between the two of them, sweeping Millie out of Abby’s arms.

  ‘You don’t do it like that, you idiot,’ said Charlene. ‘Put her on your shoulder like this. Are you watching, Ben? This is how you do it. They like being on shoulders, you see. Means they can see stuff.’

  There were no signs that being able to see stuff was having a calming influence on Millie.

  ‘Let me have a go, Charlene,’ Ben urged. ‘It’s not working, is it?’

  ‘No,’ said Charlene. ‘Like Abby said, we are here to help. This is what you do, put the baby on your shoulder. She’ll calm down in a minute, honestly.’

  ‘Charlene,’ came a stern voice from behind Ben. ‘Give Millie to me now.’

  Ben turned to look at Alison. She was holding her arms out with an empty sling across her waist. George and Rebecca were laid out on a neatly folded blanket next to her, clutching teething toys, cooing and dribbling gently. Alison lifted Millie off Charlene’s shoulder and laid her in the sling, and as if someone had sprinkled her with contentment dust, she went quiet immediately. Alison reached over to her bag, pulled out a teething ring and handed it to her.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said to Ben. ‘Freshly sterilised this morning. Speaking of which, Charlene said you were struggling with your machine. Do you want to show me where it is? Charlene and Abby can be in charge in here, but I will be leaving the door open to keep an eye on you,’ she said, as though issuing a warning. ‘Kitchen?’ she demanded, turning to Ben.

  He stood with his mouth open before allowing Alison to steer him around and lead him out the door. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the steriliser with her whilst Millie contentedly nestled in the sling. He could hear the dulcet tones of Jeremy Kyle drifting out of the living room as Charlene and Abby made themselves at home.

  ‘So,’ said Alison, pulling the machine towards her. ‘Let’s take a look, shall we?’

  ‘No, it’s okay,’ said Ben, still in a daze. ‘I worked it out. I found a video on YouTube.’ He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Alison was in his kitchen. The real Alison. Matthew’s wife. Matthew and Alison, whom he and Katy had vowed never to see again.

  ‘YouTube?’ Alison said, turning to him in amazement.

  ‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘Melissa from Minnesota was extremely helpful.’

  ‘I very much doubt it,’ laughed Alison, shaking her head. ‘YouTube
is hardly where you should be seeking childcare advice.’

  ‘I know, but I was desperate,’ he said.

  ‘But didn’t Katy show you how to do all this stuff before she went back to work? I mean, it’s all very well wanting to go back to your career and have it all, but not telling you what to do, what her routines are?’

  ‘Routines?’ asked Ben

  ‘You know, how she schedules. When does she feed Millie, what time does she go to sleep, what time do you wake her up?’

  ‘Wake her up?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why on earth would we ever wake her up?’

  ‘If she sleeps too long.’

  Ben blew his cheeks out. Alison was even weirder than he remembered. Ben and Katy seemed to spend most of their lives praying that Millie would sleep too long. It never happened.

  ‘But babies can’t sleep too long. It’s impossible.’

  Alison shook her head sadly at him.

  ‘Oh dear,’ was all she said.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You haven’t got Millie into any kind of routine, have you?’

  ‘She’s a baby! Babies don’t do routines.’

  ‘What’s the longest length of time that Millie sleeps?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Ben gulped, starting to panic again. ‘Depends on what time she goes down at night. If we manage to get her to sleep by half past eight—’

  ‘Half past eight!’ gasped Alison.

  ‘What?’ asked Ben. ‘What does that mean? Is that too early? Too late? See what I mean? Every time I say something about Millie someone looks at me like that. Like I’m an idiot who should not be in charge of a baby. Which of course I am.’

  ‘George and Rebecca are in their cots at seven sharp and sleep right through until six a.m.,’ Alison announced. ‘Though to be fair, they are quite advanced for their age.’