Читать книгу The Single Mums’ Book Club - Victoria Cooke - Страница 10

It’s one-fifteen when the doorbell rings. The kids’ bags have been packed and by the door since ten-thirty. Ava and Ralph have taken it in turns to ask, ‘When is Daddy going to be here?’ precisely every four minutes since they woke up at seven a.m.

‘You’re late,’ I hiss as Mike steps through the door.

‘Oh come on, I said elevenish not eleven on the dot.’

‘Since when has quarter past one been elevenish?’

He gives me a sideways glance as Ralph comes bounding down the hallway.

‘Daddy!’

‘My big man!’ Mike scoops him up and spins him around. Ralph’s trainers scrape the wall leaving a black scuff mark about a foot above the skirting board, which irks me, mostly because Mike did it. As much as he grates on me, he is a good dad when he’s actually with the kids. It’s part of the problem of course – he gets to be Captain Fun whilst I play the role of the evil villain: Regimental Mum. I know this is common during separation but when we agreed on joint custody, Mike promised to take the rough and the smooth. I could say something but he’d come back with some rubbish about me being better at the discipline side or how he has all that rules and routine stuff to deal with at work and he just wants to chill out on the weekends.

‘Daddy, Daddy, look at my dress!’ Ava comes running down the hallway in the Monsoon bridesmaid dress that she wore to Mike’s friend’s wedding a few months ago.

‘Why are you wearing that?’ I shriek. I had it washed and ready to put on eBay.

‘I’m a princess,’ she says twirling.

‘You sure are.’ Mike throws her into the air and catches her. ‘And I bet you’ll only eat pink bonbons won’t you?’

‘Don’t feed her just bonbons,’ I say wearily.

‘As if I would,’ he says before whispering, ‘I totally will,’ into her ear. She giggles and thrashes her arms and legs around with excitement.

‘Don’t let them stay up too late or they’ll be horrible tomorrow.’

‘Stephanie, relax, I’m their father. I know what I’m doing.’

‘Okay, and you’re aware of everything Henry needs because last week Ava said you let him have cake and he’s really too young for cake.’

Mike puts Ava down. ‘Ralph, can you take Ava to the car? I won’t be a minute.’ Ralph takes Ava’s hand and when they’re down the steps Mike turns to face me.

‘You need to stop telling me what to do.’

‘Mike, I just want you to be on my side once in a while. Not because I want to boss you around or have some backup or whatever, but because the kids need consistency in their lives. They need to have boundaries. Do you know how hard it is saying no to extra sweets when they come back whining, “Daddy lets us have them”?’

‘I’m not here to bend over backwards to improve your life anymore, Stephanie. Don’t you think I do enough by providing for you all and paying for this place when I don’t even live here?’ He sweeps his arm around the hallway like it’s a grand palace. It is a very nice house, don’t get me wrong, it’s a four-bed townhouse in Cheshire, which I’m very lucky to live in but I know what he earns and he’s trying to make me feel indebted to him.

‘You do. I’m sorry,’ I say, reeling inside. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’ I want to yell that he should be paying for his kids and what he gives us isn’t enough after bills but I don’t want to cause a row about it. He can be irrational and hot-headed when he gets angry and he’s been even worse lately for some reason. I can’t risk him pulling all his money and taking us back through the courts.

I spend the rest of the day binge-watching The Crown. By late afternoon I’m missing the kids like crazy and sit flicking through photographs of them on my phone – something I do every weekend when they’re at their dad’s. As I’m looking at pictures of Ava dressed as Matilda for the last World Book Day, a message comes through. It’s Janey.

Hi Steph, I saw the kids go off with Mike. Mine are at a sleepover and Jimmy is working away (again). Fancy a drink in an actual pub like two grown-ups? X

I get a flutter of excitement. A pub! I haven’t been out since way before Mike left. Our group did a lot of couples’ dinner parties. They weren’t really pub people. Suddenly I get the taste for half a lager and some dry-roasted peanuts.

That sounds great. X

Perfect – I’ll come over in half an hour. X

I run upstairs, throw on some make-up. I’m not a heavy make-up person but I’m not going to lie and say I’m confident with a naked face. This decade has brought some rather fetching fine lines and reddened dry patches on my face and whilst they don’t bother me much on the whole, I’m not exactly keen on flaunting them either. I change my baggy sweater for a fitted denim shirt before squirting on the dregs of perfume from a sample bottle I’ve had in my drawer for years and brushing my shoulder-length light-brown hair. It’s the most effort I’ve made in a long time. As I’m coming down the stairs, the doorbell rings.

We walk to the local pub, which is near the local Tesco. As a duo they make up the underwhelming ‘village centre’ of Milden, where we live. It’s getting dark and I’m on high alert. My fingers encase the small personal alarm in my pocket and my eyes dart left and right. It’s only a five-minute walk to the pub and its welcoming glow is soon in my sights. As we reach the doorway, I exhale, sliding my hand out of my pocket. It’s a nice village pub type place and half of it is more of a restaurant. Mike and I sometimes came here when I was too tired to cook. The typical ‘pub smell’ of stale beer and grilled steak fat is warm and comforting and we find a table by the open fire easily. It’s pretty quiet for a Saturday.

‘What are you drinking?’ Janey asks, rummaging in her bag, presumably for her purse.

‘Let me get these. I owe you one after all,’ I say before pushing my way to the bar. I don’t tell her I took twenty quid out of Ava’s money box to come out. Obviously, I’m going to put twenty pounds back in as soon as I get my next payment off Mike tomorrow, but I don’t know Janey well enough to be sure she’d see the funny side.

I order my half of Fosters, some peanuts, and Janey’s Prosecco and it’s over a tenner. It’s going to be a short night.

‘Ahh, this is nice,’ Janey says. ‘I love my kids but I love a bit of me-time too if you know what I mean. I feel torn in half most days trying to keep Tom off his silly computer games whilst Seren mithers at me to bake or spills slime all over the carpet.’

‘How about Jimmy? Is he much help?’

Janey has a mouth full of peanuts so shakes her head. ‘He’s got a carpet business and spends more or less every day of the week fitting carpets in the most far-flung places you could find. Honestly, you’d think the people round here didn’t have use for carpets.’

‘Oh.’ I’m not sure what else to say.

She picks at the corner of a beer mat and doesn’t look up. I can’t see her face but her body looks like it’s caved in on itself. Her confident, broad shoulders stoop like someone is pressing down on them. ‘I know I should be grateful. He’s making decent money but he’s not much use when he is at home.’

I swallow.

‘Listen, if the kids are with Mike every weekend, we should do this more often. Mine are always sleeping out, which is something since Jimmy never helps out.’ She sounds more upbeat now.

I’d love to but I don’t think my bank balance could keep up.

‘What’s the matter?’ Janey says, studying my face. ‘You’ve not touched your drink yet.’

I don’t want to tell her I’m making it last. ‘Oh, nothing. It’s just that things … finances, are a bit tight since the divorce. Regular pub trips are a bit out of my league at the minute.’

‘Oh, Steph love, you should have said. I’ve got a nice bottle of pink Prosecco at home we could have had.’

‘No,’ I protest. ‘I’m glad to be out. This is nice and it’s not something I ever do. I just can’t do it often. I am job hunting though.’

‘What did you do before …’ She kinks her head side to side, and I take it to mean kids.

‘I was a bookkeeper. So it’s not like I gave up a huge salary or anything but any extra would help right now.’

‘That should be easy to go back into shouldn’t it? Nothing is sure except death and taxes, so they say.’

I shrug. ‘I thought so but I haven’t even managed to get an interview anywhere. I think I’ve been out of the game for too long. I’d need training on the latest bookkeeping software, and nobody wants to invest that sort of time in their staff anymore. I might have to ditch taxes and go into funerals at this rate.’

She reaches across the table and puts her hand on mine. ‘You’ll get something soon.’

‘It would be nice to get together more though when you’re free,’ I say, bravely putting myself forward.

‘Yeah, it would. Do you know what I’ve always fancied doing that wouldn’t cost much?’

I have a mouth full of peanuts so shake my head.

‘A book club.’

I raise my eyebrows. In my brief time of knowing her, I didn’t have Janey down as a bookworm.

‘That actually sounds like quite good fun,’ I say after swallowing my beer.

‘I think so. We could meet, say, once a month and talk about what we’d read over drinks and nibbles. We’d have to set a book each month, of course, and commit to reading it.’

I’m so elated I could cry. The inside of my nose is tingling and everything. This is a commitment to see an adult human on a regular basis. ‘That sounds fab.’

‘Great. Let’s choose a book now and we can start reading asap!’ She pronounces asap as a word. ‘I’ll read anything. Is there a book in particular that you fancy?’

I pause to think. ‘Actually, there’s been so much hype about The Handmaid’s Tale that I wouldn’t mind seeing what all the fuss is about, if you’ve not already read it. I haven’t watched the show or anything.’

Janey practically jumps out of her seat. ‘Perfect. I haven’t seen it either but have heard so many good things.’

‘I kept meaning to give it a whirl but once the kids are in bed, I just need something light and short, so I tend to binge on Friends reruns or Schitt’s Creek.’ I don’t say why I need something light to help me sleep.

She pulls out her phone and starts typing. ‘I’m just ordering it now. Do you want me to get you a copy whilst I’ve got it here on Amazon?’

I shake my head. ‘I’ll sort out a copy.’ Perhaps I can raid the local charity shops.

‘Fantastic,’ Janey says jigging with excitement. ‘I’ll get the next round in.’

Before I can stop her she’s off. I search for a copy of The Handmaid’s Tale online but once you factor in postage it’s the price of a couple of packed lunches. If I can’t get a second-hand copy, I’ll join the library over in Crinkly.

‘Here you go, book buddy!’ she says, plonking another beer down in front of me with enough enthusiasm the white foam sloshes over the top.