The Guilty Mother. Diane Jeffrey

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СКАЧАТЬ sitting on a bench. She looked how I felt, drained and dazed. She was unwrapping a chocolate bar for her little girl, who was jumping up and down impatiently.

      But in the other direction a couple of women walked by, one with a pushchair and one holding a toddler by the hand. They were talking and laughing together, their animated made-up faces glowing with youthful energy. They made it all look so easy; they made me feel like a failure, as if I was inferior to these yummy mummies and would never be up to scratch. I burst into tears.

      Using one hand to push the stroller, Jenny took my elbow with her other hand, and led me to a free bench a few feet away. She held me and rubbed my back while violent sobs racked my whole body. I’m not sure how long I cried. I was aware of passers-by staring at us, and I was embarrassed, but Jenny didn’t seem to be.

      ‘You need help,’ she said, when I’d finished, without asking me what was wrong. ‘You can’t possibly cope with two teenagers and twin babies by yourself.’ She fished a packet of tissues out of her handbag and handed me one.

      ‘Bella helps me out when she’s home,’ I said. ‘And Michael …’

      What did Michael do exactly? An image came to me, then, unbidden – Michael raising his eyebrows disapprovingly. I couldn’t pinpoint an actual event to go with the image; he seemed to be giving me that look a lot lately. When he came home at a reasonable time and dinner wasn’t ready. Or when he came home late and the house was still untidy.

      Jenny didn’t push it. ‘Wasn’t your mum helping you out?’ she asked instead.

      ‘She was, but we had a row.’ I didn’t go into details. It was a petty argument, caused partly by my inability to take advice and partly by my mother giving criticism and instructions rather than suggestions and assistance. I needed to pick up the phone and call her, but I wished just for once that she would make the first move.

      ‘I’ll have a word with Irena when we get back to your place,’ Jenny said. ‘We’ll set up something permanent with her. Then we’ll make a doctor’s appointment for you. And from now on, you must have some time out for yourself. Some “me time”, as they say. Every day. To do some exercise, to have a haircut and a facial, or just to relax and breathe.’

      I stared at Jenny blankly. I could hardly find the energy to get out of bed, or the time to do basic household chores. On an exceptionally good day, I managed to get dressed and clean my teeth before Michael came home in the evening. How on earth was I going to get out and do some sport or get a makeover?

      Jenny answered my unspoken question. ‘You need a nanny. We’ll find you a nanny,’ she said.

      I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea or how Michael would feel about it. We could easily afford it, although Mike was tight with money – well, he called it “frugal” – but I had my maternity pay.

      ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘You’re a brick.’ I welled up again, thinking I didn’t deserve her.

      ‘Of course you do,’ she said firmly, and I realised I’d voiced that thought. ‘You have to stop thinking like that. You’re not yourself at the moment, that’s all.’

      ‘How did you know?’

      ‘Well, you might have sailed through motherhood last time with Callum, but I found it a bit of a struggle with Sophia.’

      I knew that must be an understatement. Jenny wasn’t the sort of person to seek attention for herself and she wouldn’t have wanted me to feel sorry for her. I hugged her.

      In the end, Jenny didn’t find a nanny; she found an au pair. With hindsight, of course, it was a mistake letting Clémentine into our home. But we couldn’t have foreseen how she would change our lives. Especially mine.

       Chapter 3

      

       Jonathan

       April 2018

      Just as I’m undocking my laptop to leave the office for the day, my phone beeps with a text. It’s from Nina, my childminder. I read it, swearing under my breath.

      ‘What’s up?’ Kelly says, turning to face me.

      ‘I was supposed to go to see The Cherry Orchard this evening,’ I say absent-mindedly, my finger typing out a short reply on the keyboard of my phone, ‘but Nina has let me down.’

      I hit the arrow to send the text and look up to see the blank expression on Kelly’s face as she ponders this.

      ‘It’s a play,’ I add, ‘by Chekhov.’

      ‘I know,’ Kelly says. She doesn’t sound at all indignant, but I feel slightly guilty for underestimating her. ‘I haven’t seen that one,’ she continues, ‘but I’ve seen The Seagull and read Three Sisters. More of an Ibsen fan myself.’

      There’s an awkward pause and I don’t know how to fill it. I can’t stand Ibsen or Chekhov, personally. I’m not a keen theatregoer at all, except for the Christmas pantomime, but that doesn’t seem like the right thing to say.

      In the end, Kelly puts a stop to the pause, but adds to the awkwardness. ‘Is it for a review for The Mag?’ She doesn’t pause for me to answer. ‘I’ll go with you if you don’t want to go by yourself.’

      ‘What? Oh, no. Nina was supposed to look after my kids. She’s not my date.’

      Holly, my girlfriend, is my date. Holly is pretty and intelligent – she’s a pathologist – and I’ve been seeing her for about eighteen months now. My heart sinks at having to cancel my plans with her this evening, although part of me is thrilled at not having to sit through the play. But I still need to fake a review somehow.

      ‘Oh.’ Kelly actually sounds disappointed and I realise the play is probably more her bag than mine. ‘Well, I can babysit if you like,’ she says, ‘to thank you for your help earlier.’

      ‘That’s very kind of you, Kelly, but it’s part of my job description to oversee your work, and I couldn’t possibly accept your kind offer. I’ve got two tickets, though. It’s on at Bristol Old Vic. Is there someone you could go with?’ Her angelic face brightens up and she nods.

      ‘Yeah. My mum’s quite arty. I’m sure she’d love to go with me!’

      I open my desk drawer and pull out the envelope containing the tickets. ‘I’ll need some feedback I can use for my write-up,’ I say. Kelly nods again. ‘I’ll give you a hand with your feature on the homeless if you like.’

      On my way home, I call Holly to cancel.

      ‘Oh, never mind. That’s OK,’ she says, although I can tell from the sound of her voice that it’s not. ‘If you like, I could …’

      She doesn’t finish her sentence, but I can guess what СКАЧАТЬ