Stand by Your Man

by Gil McNeil

  As soon as the meeting is over Janet corners me.

  ‘Did they like the plans?’

  ‘Loved them.’

  She doesn’t look happy.

  ‘Good. Actually, I’ve been meaning to have a word with you about your desk. It just doesn’t give the right impression. We like to run a tidy ship here, you know, Alice – it saves so much time in the end. And if you could pick up some milk at lunchtime when you’re out, that would be helpful. Brenda will be busy, and we didn’t realise you would be using quite so much milk for your visitors.’

  I poke my tongue out at Janet’s back as she walks away, which makes Brenda laugh, and then tidy up my desk.

  It would be so nice if Janet could just be a tiny bit more supportive, since she’s a working mother too, but it’s more like the opposite really. When Bill left at lunchtime last week to visit a nursery for his two-year-old she couldn’t have been nicer, like he was in the finals for some sort of fatherhood award. But when I had to leave ten minutes early one day last week, so Mum wouldn’t be late for the dentist, she made a huge fuss and said she wanted a little word but she supposed it could wait until tomorrow. I spent the entire night rehearsing things to say to her but it turned out she just wanted to tell me I’d used her favourite coffee mug, the one with flowers on, and could I please not do it again.

  She seems to think that the only way to be taken seriously if you’re a woman with children is by pretending they don’t exist, so not surprisingly her children are dreadful: Brenda says they behaved so badly last time they came into the office everyone was praying for them to fall down the fire escape.

  The job’s all right apart from Janet, and at least it pays the mortgage. But that doesn’t stop me wishing I could just tell her where to stick it sometimes.

  Jim arrives on Friday night, having decided on a whim to come and stay for the weekend. I wish I could still do that, without having to pack enough bags of clothes and snacks that by the time we’re ready to leave I don’t want to go any more. But it doesn’t seem possible to be spontaneous with kids: not unless you’ve got the kind of child who’ll sit quietly in the back of the car and amuse himself for hours with a glove puppet and a packet of fruit Polos. And Alfie’s almost the exact opposite of this kind of child, if they actually exist. He’d eat the sweets in five seconds flat, and he’s not keen on puppets, unless they have weapons, although he quite liked the Punch and Judy we saw last year at the seaside, but that was only because Punch spent most of the time hitting things with a stick. He ended up bashing the back of my seat with his new plastic lobster and chanting ‘That’s the way to do it’ at the top of his voice all the way home. I had to stop the car and put the lobster in the boot in the end.

  Jim’s on the run, again, from one of his countless ex-girlfriends who he says has turned into a stalker.

  ‘Maybe I should move down here, and get a nice little cottage. I quite fancy the country life.’

  ‘Don’t you dare. Not round here anyway. I don’t want to be besieged by hordes of women trying to track you down.’

  ‘Hardly hordes. Stella’s away for two weeks, at some big conference, and I haven’t seen Amy for ages. And work is driving me crazy – Steve keeps signing up new clients all over the place. I was in bloody Birmingham all last week.’

  ‘My heart bleeds.’

  ‘What about you? Any fit farmers hanging about, longing for a bit of action after dark that doesn’t involve sheep?’

  ‘No, and I haven’t been looking. The only night-time action I can cope with at the moment involves finger puppets and a Bob the Builder night light.’

  Alfie, who’s been milling about trying to get Uncle Jim to play cars with him, now starts singing the theme tune to Bob the Bloody Builder. Excellent.

  ‘Kinky. What do you do with the finger puppets then? That’s a new one on me.’

  ‘You’re a sick man, you know, James. Sick.’

  ‘Yes, but Alfie loves me. Come here, Alf and poke your tongue out at your mother. Look, like this – horrible Mummy.’

  Alfie sticks out his tongue so far he almost dislocates his jaw.

  ‘Oh thanks, Jim, that’s just great. You could teach him to swear next, if you like. And then Mum can come to your office and slap your legs.’

  ‘Don’t you dare. Steve would love that. All right, no more poking out our tongues, Alf, or Uncle Jim’s going to get in big trouble. Is there any food? I’m starving.’

  We make supper and Jim says he’ll give Alfie a bath.

  ‘I’d watch out for nipping, if I were you. He’s quite keen on it at the moment when he’s getting tired.’

  ‘Oh lovely – nice bit of nipping, just what I need. Does he need a drink?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll bring one up, and check you’ve got him in the right pyjamas.’

  Last time Jim managed to put him in an old pair that were at least three sizes too small.

  ‘You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?’

  ‘No.’

  * * *

  I sit by the fire, which is lovely, although the romance of real fires has certainly started to wear off now I know how much they involve – scuttling about with piles of logs and buckets of coal like a demented scullery maid.

  Jim comes back downstairs, looking shattered.

  ‘Well, that went well. Little bugger took hours to go to sleep. Every time I thought he’d gone off he’d sit up again and start chatting.’

  ‘I know. It’s really annoying, isn’t it?’

  ‘Slightly, yes. He was telling me all about Peter bloody Pan for ages. He still thinks he can fly, you know.’

  ‘I know. I’ve hidden his hat and green trousers – it was driving me crazy. He kept leaping off the stairs. There’s more wine left if you want some, or coffee?’

  We talk about work, and I tell him about the plans for the new garden.

  ‘How did you manage to end up doing that?’

  ‘I don’t know really. Lola sort of volunteered me – she’s very bossy – and Molly didn’t help, she’s really into the idea. I’ve got to meet a load of nutters from the Garden Society, and they’re doing all the plants. They’ve formed a sub-sub-committee for herbs, and one for vegetables, and Mr Channing’s making sure everything goes together, so I’ll have to come up with the bloody plan soon. It makes me feel sick every time I think about it. Oh and talking about being sick, Molly’s pregnant.’

  ‘Blimey, you have all been busy, haven’t you? Good for Molly.’

  Things are so simple in Boy World. Molly’s with Dan, already has one child, so she must be pleased to be having another one. Simple.

  ‘Do they know you don’t know anything about gardening?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve just told you – the Garden Society are in charge of the plants. I just do the walls and stuff. I’ll show you what I’ve got so far, if you like.’

  ‘Oh I can’t wait. God, you’re really getting into this country-life bollocks, aren’t you? You’ll be learning to shoot next.’

  ‘Don’t tempt me.’

  ‘Who’s this Lola?’

  ‘My new neighbour, I told you. You’ll meet them on Sunday, at Ezra’s birthday, so I need something to wear. Will you come shopping with me tomorrow?’

  ‘No. Never again. I told you last time, I hate going shopping with women – they shop differently to men.’

  ‘What, you mean we actually spend more than five minutes choosing?’

  ‘Me and Alf will stay in, watch a bit of football, and you can go out and drive yourself crazy trying on forty-six different outfits and then buy another pair of black trousers. Deal?’

  He can be really sweet sometimes, my big brother.

  ‘Patric’s supposed to be taking Alfie out for the afternoon, with Cindy. If he turns up.’

  ‘Oh good. I haven’t seen him for ages. Excellent. Well, that’s something to look forward to. You can go off shopping and I’ll stand by for Mork and Mindy.’

  ‘Or we could go in the afternoon
and you could help me choose. Alfie needs some new vests as well.’

  ‘You’re hopeless – you know that, don’t you? Hopeless. You’ve got the chance for a nice girly Saturday trying on make-up and obsessing about shoes and you end up buying new vests for Alfie. I’ve a good mind to bring Stella down with me next time – she could shop for Britain. Do you know, I counted how many different shades of pink nail varnish she’s got once, and you’ll never guess.’

  ‘Six.’

  ‘See, you are officially hopeless. Fourteen. I’m not kidding, fourteen different-shaped bottles and different brands, but all bloody pink. It’s a mystery to me how anyone could need that much pink nail varnish.’

  ‘How many pairs of trainers have you got now, by the way?’

  ‘That’s different. You need different pairs for different things – I’ve told you. And anyway, it doesn’t take me four hours to decide which ones to wear.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘Oh charming. When you can’t win, you just say shut up. That’s so like a girl.’

  ‘Shut up, or I’ll find one of my bottles of pink nail varnish and paint your nails while you’re asleep.’

  I did this to him once, and I wouldn’t lend him my nail-varnish remover until he promised to take me to the school disco, and get his friend Gary Davies to dance with my friend Karen.

  ‘Fine by me. I’ll wear pink nail varnish to your friend’s posh party, and you can introduce me to the entire village as your gay brother, Jimmy. Bet that’ll go down well with the gardening mafia.’

  Patric turns up just as we’re finishing lunch, and is wearing a new black suit, which seems to be a few sizes too big for him. He says he’s been meeting a client this morning, and Cindy’s been left at home because they’re having a dinner party tonight. She’s probably making water lilies out of napkins or something.

  ‘I’m so busy at the moment, it’s ridiculous. Oh, and I’ll need to drop him off slightly early, around four if that’s OK, because Cindy will need a hand getting everything ready. We’ve got some really important people coming.’

  He always does this. Whatever arrangement you make he either arrives an hour late, or has to leave early. But somehow if I try to make a fuss about it, it comes out sounding all needy and desperate, which is the exact opposite of how I feel. But luckily Jim doesn’t have this problem.

  ‘That might be tricky, Pat, to be honest. We’re planning a mega-shopping expedition. Alice has got a rather hot date coming up and we’re on the hunt for a killer outfit. So you leaving early won’t really be an option, because we won’t be back here until sixish. That all right, mate? I’m sure Cindy will understand.’

  Patric hates being called Pat, and he’s not too keen on mate either, which is why Jim does it. He went through a phase of putting a Postman Pat video on every time Patric was around, or whistling the theme tune. In fact he’s doing it again now, whistling ‘Postman Pat’ as he goes off to make coffee. Patric looks thunderous.

  ‘Coffee, Pat? Or are you keen to be off?’

  Jim’s really pushing it now, which I have to admit I’m enjoying.

  ‘No, I think we’d better get going. Come on, Alfie, find your coat.’

  This is my cue to run round getting him ready; but somehow I just don’t feel like it today. I don’t see why Patric can’t put Alfie’s coat and shoes on, just this once.

  ‘His coat’s on the peg by the door and his shoes should be there too. Oh and his swimming things are in his bag, if you’re planning on swimming today.’

  ‘Yes, I thought we might.’

  Actually, it’s what they always do. Patric’s pretty hopeless at planning Alfie-type activities, so I found out about the weekend programme at the local leisure centre, which has obviously been designed with weekend dads in mind. Swimming sessions with inflatables, a bouncy castle and soft play stuff in one of the gyms, and all sorts of classes where you can stick them for half an hour and still get to read the papers. Tumble Tots, trampoline, gymnastics, that kind of thing. I take him myself sometimes, although the trampoline’s a bit nerve-racking. And there’s a café where you can have tea afterwards.

  Jim comes back in with his coffee and starts tormenting Patric about his new car.

  ‘Nice little motor, mate. Must have set you back a bob or two. I thought Alice said money was a bit tight at the moment?’

  Patric purses his lips and tries to get Alfie’s shoes on.

  ‘I’m not sure about the colour though. Isn’t black a bit passé now?’

  ‘Classic colours never change.’

  ‘Oh, is that right? Well, good for you. Nice to meet a man who knows how to spoil himself. Most of the blokes in my office with kids get all sensible and start buying estate cars, or saving up for school fees. It’s tragic.’

  Jim winks at me and goes back into the kitchen. Patric’s gone white with fury.

  ‘I’ll see you later, Alice.’

  He stamps off down the path with Alfie, who’s so excited about going swimming he’s barely given me a second glance, which is nice but vaguely upsetting too. Half of me wants him to refuse to go anywhere with Patric, and say he’d rather not go swimming with someone who’s treated his mother in such a shocking fashion, which would be pretty unusual for a three-year-old, I admit, and anyway I’d much rather he had some sort of relationship with his dad. But that doesn’t stop it all being very disgruntling.

  ‘I don’t know why you don’t push him for more money, you know, I really don’t. Wanker. That car must be costing him a fucking fortune.’

  ‘I know. But I’ve told you, I don’t want his money. I know what he’s like. If he was paying real money he’d feel he was off the hook and Alfie would never get to see him. Or he’d start throwing his weight around and asking to have him all weekend or something, to get his money’s worth.’

  ‘Well, that wouldn’t be so bad, would it? I mean for you to have a weekend off occasionally?’

  ‘Yes, it bloody would. I couldn’t cope with a whole weekend without him, not yet. Maybe when he’s bigger. If he wants to. He’s too little now.’

  God, there really must be something the matter with me – I’m actually feeling a bit tearful, just at the prospect of Alfie going away for the weekend. Maybe I should try to get out more.

  ‘All right, don’t start getting all wobbly. Blimey. Anyway, I think the chances of Mork and Mindy wanting our Alf round trashing the place for the whole weekend are pretty slim, don’t you?’

  ‘True.’

  ‘But I still think you should screw him for every penny he’s got.’

  ‘I know. But I don’t want to. Apart from anything else, this way I don’t feel dependent on him. I’d hate that.’

  ‘Fair enough. Well, come on then, little Miss Independence. If we’re going shopping, let’s get it over with. Although I’m warning you, five shops and that’s my limit.’

  ‘And what was all that about a hot date? It’s just a tea party, you know.’

  ‘I know. But he doesn’t have to know that. Wanker.’

  Ezra’s party is in full swing when we arrive. Alfie’s clutching his present as Lola opens the front door, draped in a beautiful dark-green silk dress, which she has inexplicably teamed up with fishnets and very high red suede shoes. I know fishnets are trendy, but I can’t help thinking that the last time they’ve been seen round here was at the Vicars and Tarts party, and even then only on the men.

  I’m wearing my best black trouser suit that I wear for client meetings. It’s a bit boring but fairly flattering, with my new white shirt that I bought yesterday, after I’d tried on so many different outfits that I ended up feeling dizzy. I’ll just have to hope nobody mistakes me for a waiter.

  ‘Hello, welcome. Oh you’ve brought a present – how lovely.’

  Alfie grips his present tightly to his chest and says it’s for Ezra. He seems rather worried that Lola might claim it for herself, and then Ezra appears, grabs it and runs off, ripping paper as he runs.

 
; ‘Ezra darling, come back and say thank you to Alfie.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He’s been up since five waiting for the magician to turn up. It’s been hell.’

  The noise inside the house is incredible. Hordes of people are standing around in groups drinking champagne and seem oblivious to the fact that their children are wreaking havoc. Jim takes Alfie for a wander round, but really he’s just checking out the women: he reckons his attractiveness rating goes up stratospherically whenever he’s got Alfie with him. I just wish it worked so well for me.

  The people from Lola’s office all seem to be wearing designer clothing, and in one or two cases designer sunglasses as well, and most of the villagers have taken refuge in the dining room and are looking suspiciously at the trays of sushi, which are being circulated by a couple of young women wearing long white aprons over short black dresses.

  The caterer, who has a ponytail, is busy in the kitchen, and when I go in to find some juice for Alfie he asks me if I have any idea how he can get his wok to work on the Aga. He says he’s dreading the children’s tea, and seems particularly offended by the birthday cake, which is a large blue dinosaur.

  The magician, Barry, also known as Waldo the Wizard, is ready for the off and begins by making animal shapes with balloons, which goes down well, and rude noises with the balloons, which goes down even better, but then the disappearing rabbit reappears, thanks to a bit of over-enthusiasm from Ezra, and escapes and races round the room pursued by all the children screaming.

  Barry tells me and Molly that he thinks he’s going to buy a shotgun, because the same thing happens nearly every week, and shooting the rabbit as a sort of grand finale would go down really well, he thinks. He’s probably right.

  Finally Charles manages to sort things out by telling everyone the ice cream is melting, so they swarm into the dining room. Lola’s moved all of the villagers out while the children have tea, and is now holding court in one of the sitting rooms, and she’s Not Happy. I think she thought all the London people would be fascinated by her new rural friends, whereas in fact they’re all standing round in groups not talking to each other. She says she’s tried introducing people but it hasn’t really been a success.