by Sophie King
Is it acceptable for kids to email Christmas thank-you letters or should they still write them?
TIP FROM CELLULITE MUM OF LITTLEHAMPTON
Keep the kids quiet in the holidays by getting them to ice fairy cakes like mini Christmas cakes.
THOUGHT TO KEEP YOU SANE FROM LAWYER MUM
You can’t change others. But you can change yourself.
CHUCKLE CORNER FROM SLEEPY MUM
Mother’s definition of ‘full name’: what you call your child when you’re mad at him.
PARENTING NEWS
Don’t forget our What Mums Know Christmas Party at the community centre, Lambeth Road, on 9 December at 2.30 p.m. Nearest tube Lambeth North. Hope this is central enough for everyone who lives out of town. Do come along and put a face to your name!
66
‘If you don’t leave him, Caro, you’ll always regret it.’ Her sister was saying all the things she felt inside. If only Janie wasn’t so far away. ‘And even if this Mark chap doesn’t work out, at least you’ve tried. Otherwise you’ll always wonder what would have happened.’
‘But what about the children?’
‘They’re more resilient than you think. Annabel had already said to me she thought something was wrong. Besides, what are you getting out of being with Roger? Does he make you laugh or giggle or feel as though you’re the only woman in the world for him?’
‘No.’
‘And how will you feel in ten years’ time if you’re still with him?’
‘I’ll wish I’d gone.’
‘There you are, then, Caro. You’ve got your answer.’
Telling him wasn’t so easy. In fact, it was horrible.
‘So you want us to break up.’ His voice was solid with coldness as though it was her fault.
She’d have preferred him to be angry. ‘Yes.’
‘Fine. We’ll sell the house and take half each.’
So matter-of-fact. So practical.
‘It’s not as simple as that, Roger.’
They were lying in bed, with the lights off. It was much easier to talk when she didn’t have to look at him.
He turned over, his back to her. ‘Seems simple enough to me. You say you’re not happy.’
‘No.’ She sat up in bed. ‘I’m not.’
He moved away from her. ‘I’ve tried my best and it isn’t working. All right, I did something wrong. But I’ve got the rest of my life to live.’
‘So have I.’
She wanted to tell him more, to explain that her marriage had died the minute she had found out about his affair but panic had made her pretend she could keep going.
‘I’ll move out. You stay here with the children for the time being.’
His words made it real. It was no longer some vague scenario in her head.
‘Where will you live?’
‘I’ll find a flat somewhere.’
‘With that woman?’
He sighed in the darkness. ‘I told you. I’m not seeing her any—’
‘Roger, I saw you both at the station. So did Ben. And he’s heard you on the phone.’
Part of her still wanted him to deny it but his silence spoke louder than any words could have done.
‘The man I’ve been seeing . . .’ she began, and felt his body stiffen. ‘Well, it’s over. Not that it makes a difference to us. But he made me feel cherished, made me realise I need to be loved. And I don’t think you really love me, do you, Roger?’
‘I used to.’
Used to? The pain of what she’d lost seared through her as she felt him get out of bed. ‘Where are you going?’ She was scared now, not sure that she wanted him to go.
‘To the spare room.’
‘Can’t we talk?’
‘There’s nothing else to say.’ He shut their bedroom door quietly behind him. He still hadn’t even asked Mark’s name or where he lived or if he was married or any of the other questions she had asked when she’d found out about Elaine.
‘Elaine.’ There. She had said it out loud. For years, she had been an unable to do so. But now it was an agonising relief.
Caroline felt hot tears trickle into the pillow. It was so very hard. But at the same time she felt something else, something that had eluded her for so long. The knowledge that finally, by breaking up with a man who had been so painfully unfaithful, she had been true to herself.
She leaned over to turn on the bedside light. Slowly, deliberately, she propped up the pillows behind her and spread out both hands in front of her. Her wedding ring gleamed dully as if it, too, felt the inevitable pull. She slid it off and examined it on the palm of her left hand, which now felt light without it. Something inside her made her spin it carelessly on to the bedside table; it twirled perilously close to the edge. Then, switching off the light, she turned over and fell asleep.
The next day Georgie cried when she told her after school. It was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. It wasn’t fair. If only she hadn’t hung on after Roger’s affair, no one could have blamed her. ‘I’m sorry, darling, but you’ll still see Daddy.’
‘Not every day.’ She was sitting on the sofa, tears pouring down her cheeks.
Thank God for Annabel who had her arm round her little sister.
‘Mum and Dad haven’t been happy for ages, Georgie. It’ll be better this way.’
‘Not for me.’ Georgie leaped to her feet, dashed out of the room, slammed the door and ran upstairs.
‘Leave her.’ Annabel seemed so mature, as though she was the mother. ‘I’ll go up in a minute.’
‘Where’s Ben?’
‘Working. I’m not meant to tell you this yet but he’s rung Auntie Janie to ask if she can find him a job in Australia until he starts his course next year.’
Caroline blew her nose. ‘That’s not a bad idea.’
‘I think he needs the structure.’
‘So, you’ll both be away.’
‘You’ll be all right, won’t you?’
Caroline nodded. Annabel had coped with so much abroad – perhaps she didn’t need her mother as much as Caroline had assumed. And if she did, well, she’d still be there for her, Ben and Georgie. ‘Course I will, darling.’
The same cleaning urge that had hit her before when she was upset compelled her to scour the house now from top to bottom. To wash the corners of floors that hadn’t seen a mop for months – maybe Roger had been right about Mrs B. Clear out under beds. Empty bins.
She stopped. A tube ticket was stuck to the bottom of the bathroom bin in a splodge of toothpaste that had leaked out of a discarded pump. An ordinary tube ticket; the kind they all used every day.
Caroline prised it out, heart pounding, as she read it. It was a train ticket from Wembley. Dated yesterday.
Somehow, she got herself into the office the next day. She felt drained from having cried so much and her bare left hand seemed like someone else’s. But otherwise life seemed impossibly normal. The office was busy and her inbox was teeming. For once, however, she was grateful for the distraction.
CHECK OUT THIS WEBSITE FOR THE NEWLY SINGLE.
How apt! The website was for newly separated men and women. It wasn’t, it assured her earnestly, a dating agency but a group that gave support. And it was hoping she would be interested enough to add it to the Family page which the editor had asked her to take on. She put it among the possibles.
The phone. Roger? Part of her wanted it to be and yet . . .
‘Hi. It’s Jeff.’
‘Hello.’
He was distant. Almost suspicious-sounding. ‘Roger’s just rung me. He’s told me everything.’
‘Was he all right?’
‘Not great. Caro, why didn’t you tell me?’
‘It all happened so suddenly.’
‘He says you have someone else.’
‘Yes. No. There was someone but that’s not why.’
‘Was he the man I met at the ball?’
‘Jeff, please. I’m at work.’
&
nbsp; ‘Well, when can we meet?’
‘I don’t know. There’s so much going on. Maybe in a couple of weeks.’
‘That’s when I’m seeing you at your magazine’s awards ceremony. Remember?’
She’d forgotten she’d asked him, ages ago, when Roger had said he couldn’t make it.
‘Of course. See you, then.’
67
Last reminder for our What Mums Know Christmas Party.
He reached in his pocket for the printout to check he’d got the right address. A small, barrel-shaped woman with frizzy hair pushed past him. ‘Hi, I’m Cellulite Mum of Littlehampton,’ he heard her saying to a tall woman with orange (orange?) hair.
‘And I’m Going Grey of Manchester.’ Orange Hair clapped the other lady on the shoulder. The two fell about, screeching with laughter like schoolgirls.
He looked around. Would she be there? It wasn’t her sort of thing or his, but he’d had to come in the hope she might turn up.
Do you want a break?
Maybe we should.
Again and again he had regretted those words. It might be the sensible option but he had a terrible feeling he might have done something very stupid. Like losing the love of his life, which seemed far more important than not knowing if his daughter was his. He’d worked the last bit out in his mind and was pretty certain now of where he stood.
‘Hi. Come on in!’
A large, bubbly woman with Christmas-tree earrings dragged him in, pressing a plastic cup into his hands. ‘I’m Earth Mother.’ She indicated the label on her chest. ‘Which one is your wife?’
‘Sorry?’
She grinned at him. ‘Duchess or Scummy Mummy or Sleepy Mum?’ She glanced at her list. ‘There are a few more, too, who we’re still waiting for.’
He took a swig. ‘Actually, I’m Mimi.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Mimi? But you’re a man.’
‘I know. I pretended to be a woman. I’m sorry. It’s a long story. Actually, I was wondering if you’d seen—’
‘You know it’s against the rules, don’t you?’ The piggy, mascara-less eyes were distinctly hostile. ‘If you read the small print when you registered, you’d see that you’re not allowed to give false details.’
‘False details?’ An extremely tall, curly-haired woman stopped, slopping warm mulled wine over his trousers. ‘Sorry about that.’ She eyed Mark suspiciously. ‘Who’s been giving false details?’
Mark drained his cup – he loathed mulled wine but anything to numb the embarrassment – while Earth Mother explained the situation. ‘I used to specialise in that part of the law before I had my career break,’ remarked Lawyer Mum, fixing beady eyes on him.
‘Moral support.’ He returned her gaze steadily. ‘My wife is in prison for insider-dealing and I’m bringing up our two children whose behaviour, both at school and home, has been challenging. Most of the women I know offline are reluctant to befriend a single dad in case their friends or husbands think they’re trying to have it off with me, so I thought I’d find some mates online instead. Obviously I was mistaken.’
‘Please.’ Earth Mother caught his arm. ‘I didn’t mean to be unkind. It’s just that we have to be careful. You get some real freaks, you know.’
Lawyer Mum nodded. ‘How long did your wife get?’
‘Six months. Listen, I’m sorry to be rude – again – but I wanted to meet someone here. Someone called Part Time Mum. Have you seen her?’
Earth Mother shook her head. ‘Know of her, of course. But she’s not on my acceptance list. Maybe she isn’t coming. Oh, look, here are some more!’
Mark swivelled round hopefully.
‘I’m Melinda of Southsea,’ said a woman in a pink tracksuit and a baby sling with, inexplicably, no baby inside. ‘My husband’s parking the car. I’ve got to go back in a minute to feed Garth but I wanted to say hello first.’
‘Welcome!’ Earth Mother beamed. ‘How incredible. You’re exactly as I imagined you!’
‘Really?’
Lawyer Mum frowned. ‘I want to meet Ali of Slough.’
Melinda flushed. ‘Actually, that’s me too. I enjoyed saying things so much that I sort of doubled up.’
‘Interesting.’ Earth Mother nodded. ‘They say that each one of us has two sides, don’t they?’
He couldn’t bear this. Small-talk was not what he had come for. Maybe Caroline was hovering outside. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, easing his way past.
‘You’ll never guess who that was?’ he heard Lawyer Mum say.
Oh, sod it. Just as well there were labels. She’d never have guessed half of them. Single Mum had a wedding ring on – she’d taken the plunge last week she was telling everyone excitedly – and Mad Mum was perfectly normal in a jacket and skirt, uttering intelligent sentences, which she managed to finish unlike most of the people there who were too busy screaming with laughter and hugging each other as though they were old friends.
‘Mulled wine?’ said a woman in scruffy jeans, a tattoo on her bare arm (wasn’t she cold?) and long jade earrings.
Susan peered at her label. Bad Mum. ‘No, thanks. I’m driving. Is there anything soft?’
‘Over there. By the counter,’ said Bad Mum, pityingly.
Susan hesitated, not wanting to leave Tabitha in her chair while she threaded her way through the crowd.
‘I’ll get you a drink,’ said a small woman. Her hair was scrunched back into a bun and worry lines were etched on her forehead. ‘I’m Frazzled Mum. But I’m getting better, thanks to the site.’
Susan relaxed. ‘I know what you mean. Water would be great, thanks.’
There were, she thought, surprisingly few kids here, even though the invitation had said they were welcome. Anyway, she hadn’t been able to leave Tabitha with anyone. Her dad had flu, and Josh and Steff had gone on a weekend break to Paris. Besides, she’d had enough of pretending. She was who she was. And so was Tabitha.
‘Hi, I’m Earth Mother. Welcome!’ A large, bustling woman with Christmas-tree earrings beamed down at Tabitha. ‘Is this your daughter?’
‘Yes. Tabitha, say, “Hello.”’
It was one of her new words from the last Steff-and-Josh weekend.
‘Hallhalhall.’
Susan wiped away the dribble. ‘I’m Rainbow, by the way.’
‘Rainbow!’ A woman with a baby sling stopped beside her. ‘I love your messages. They’re so sensible and not judgemental like some of them. I’m Scummy Mummy, because I can never seem to keep my clothes clean – not with this one in my arms all day.’ She glanced down at Tabitha’s chair. ‘Did you sort out the access stuff with your ex?’
‘It’s working out much better than I thought.’
‘Was that your wish?’
‘Sorry?’
‘You know, your wish. The one with that funny little bear when the website got started.’
‘Oh, that was just a bit of fun,’ said Earth Mother. ‘We thought it might catch people’s attention.’
Scummy Mummy looked annoyed. ‘Well, I happen to believe in things like that and it worked for me. I wished for a girl because I’ve got three boys already and I had her.’
‘And I wished that life would get better for both me and my daughter,’ said Susan, slowly.
‘And has it?’
‘Yes.’ She reached down for Tabitha’s hand. ‘I think it has.’
Earth Mother clapped. ‘That’s wonderful! It’s so amazing to see everyone together.’
‘What gave you the idea to start it?’ asked Susan.
‘Well, I had six children of my own and then my husband left me. Two years ago I joined a computing class and married the man who ran it. He had four teenagers of his own and now we have thirty-two grandchildren and step-grandchildren between us!’ She dropped her voice. ‘I wanted to write a book about my experiences but no one seemed interested, so Greg, my husband, helped me set up a website so I could share my thoughts with others. It’s been a lot more work than I realised but so inspir
ational! Here’s Greg now.’
Susan tried to hide her surprise as a man who had to be considerably younger than Earth Mother joined the group. ‘Everyone enjoying themselves? Great. Nice to see it’s working out.’
He bent down and planted an affectionate kiss on Earth Mother’s cheek. Flushing, she kissed him back and Susan felt a pang of loneliness.
‘Juice anyone?’ asked someone, who was handing round a tray.
‘Thanks.’ Grateful for the interruption, Susan fished a straw out of her bag for Tabitha. It fell to the floor and a good looking man – he must be brave to have come – picked it up.
‘Thanks.’
‘No trouble.’ He handed it to her awkwardly. ‘You haven’t come across someone called Part Time Mum, have you?’
‘No. Sorry.’ He had dark circles under his eyes as though he hadn’t slept. And she knew what that felt like. ‘All right, love?’ she asked Tabitha.
Her daughter grinned. She’d been right to bring her. If there was one thing she’d learned in the last few months, it was the importance of being yourself.
‘I’ve been looking for “Expectent” Mum,’ said Earth Mother, returning to the group. ‘I do hope she comes. I’ve been quite worried about her.’
Susan hesitated. If she told her what had happened, it was like breaking a confidence.
‘Maybe she’s had her baby,’ prattled on Earth Mother. ‘Did you read her posting the other week about her false alarm? Poor love. I’ve had a few of those myself.’
Susan smiled ruefully. ‘Me too.’
He was here! Now what? She hadn’t been going to come but Roger was coming to the house for some more clothes and she hadn’t wanted to be in when he arrived. No, it was more than that. She’d wanted to see Mark. She needed closure before she could go on.
‘Hi.’
The surprise in his eyes made her heart flutter.
‘I didn’t think you were coming.’
‘I wasn’t.’
Gently, he took her elbow. ‘Let’s go outside to talk.’
A woman with a label declaring herself to be Pushy Princess stared at him with undisguised interest as they made their way out of the hall. Outside they found a playground with animal-shaped rides.
