Love... And Sleepless Nights MAY 2012 (26 page)

There was me thinking she was some kind of mail order bride, when in actual fact she’s better paid and far more educated than I’ll ever be.

I end up promising that Laura and I will have dinner with her and Brian at the nearest opportunity and finally leave Debenhams just as the heavens open, soaking me to the skin as I run back to the car park.

I didn’t try to find another up lighter. The bastards can have vouchers.

Just as I think the worst of this stupid trip into town is over, Poppy wakes up and starts screaming the house down.

For many reasons, this will be the last time Jamie and Poppy go out together on their own, until she’s fifteen and can carry the fucking up lighter for me.

Laura’s Diary

Friday, July 25th

Dear Mum,

It’s no good, I’m going to have to say something to Jamie about his mother.

It’s been well over a month since I caught her
in flagrante delicto
with the Lycra-clad penis and she still hasn’t had the guts to say anything to her husband or children.

I haven’t seen Jane to speak to her about this – and frankly I don’t really want to. Her cowardice annoys the crap out of me and I don’t intend to hold my counsel any longer.

My poor husband is convinced I’m up to something, of that I’m sure.

I’ve tried to hide my dirty little secret from him, and by and large I’ve been successful.

Whenever he mentions his mother though, it’s a different story.

I am
terrible
at keeping secrets as you know, and being forced to do so makes me awkward, embarrassed and angry – emotions I am not well equipped to deal with. Therefore I end up being mad at Jane for putting me in this position, and inexplicably mad at Jamie for talking about her. I then stay mad at him for the rest of the day. It’s horrible and wrong but I can’t help myself.

To make matters worse, every time we try to get down to some naughty business when Poppy is asleep, visions of Jane’s naked arse being hammered by Nigel and his big waggly penis spring into my head, ruining my mood completely.

So now Jamie thinks I don’t want to have sex with him either. The poor guy is walking round in a daze.

Jamie doesn’t react well when something’s amiss. He tends to make silly mistakes when he’s distracted. Take for instance the other day, when I was visiting Dan and Tim. I’d asked him to get some baby food out of the freezer for Poppy’s lunch, reheat it and give it to her. He ended up thawing out two Chicago Town pepperoni pizzas and liquidising them.

I came home to a wailing daughter with chronic heartburn. Her nappies were even more horrific than usual the next day.

Then there was the business with Jamie stealing Lolly’s baby in Debenhams last month. Okay, it eventually led to a very pleasant meal and a new found friendship, but I’d rather avoid Jamie doing anything else that might wind up with him only being able to see his wife and daughter during prison visiting hours.

This problem with Jane is starting to affect my marriage, so it’s time to come clean and end it once and for all!

Not tonight though.

Tonight Jamie and I are going out on our first date since Poppy’s birth, and I don’t intend to let my dirty little secret ruin it.

The date was Jamie’s idea. He very romantically suggested a meal in the newly refurbished Barley Corn pub, scene of our first ever date, which sounded lovely. I agreed straight away.

Melina (bless her) has volunteered to take Poppy for the evening. This will be the first time both Jamie and I will have been away from the baby for any length of time.

The whole thing makes me bottom wobblingly nervous, but I’m going along with it as Jamie and I need some time alone together – and I need some alcohol in me, dammit. I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to have a good time with a glass of Pinot Grigio.

Also, it’s nice to get dressed up for a change, especially because I can just about fit back into my little black dress, thanks to the treadmill Jamie bought me for Christmas. I’ve walked three hundred miles on the bloody thing and my reward is being able to slip into my favourite evening wear.

Okay, there’s a bit of a bulge in the stomach region that wasn’t there before, and I won’t be eating a big meal, but I’m in the bloody thing – and that’s what counts.

Mel has my phone number on speed dial, and a list of emergency numbers. She had all these anyway being a mother herself, but thankfully resists the urge to punch me in the face as I go through the list with her for the fourth time.

‘It’s all fine hun,’ she tells me in a soothing voice. ‘Poppy will be okay with me for a few hours. You two go and have a nice time.’

‘Okay, but any problems…’

‘Yes. I know. I’ll call you straight away. Don’t worry!’

I am worried though.

I know Poppy’s illness at birth has probably made me overprotective, but I can’t help it.

As I sit here writing this, I can feel a gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach that won’t go away no matter how much I tell it to.

I’m not going to change our plans though. Mel is a great mother and Poppy will be fine, I’m sure. Jamie and I are going to have a lovely dinner together and I’m going to forget all about his cheating mother for the evening.

I may even give him a blow job later, just to make up for the grief I’ve put him through recently.

***

Oh boy, it’s four hours later and I’m pleased to report that Pinot Grigio has once again become my bestest friend in the whole wide world.

I’m not shit-faced or anything… I have a baby to look after and there’s no way I’d be able to write all this down if I was.

This is a good thing, as I want to get the events of the evening down on the page before heading off to bed.

Jamie is already snoring his head off upstairs, thanks to the epic sloppy blow job I’ve just administered.

Poppy is likewise fast asleep in the cot next to him thanks to a warm bottle of milk.

The combination of wine and the espresso coffee I had at the end of the meal means I’ve got a real buzz going on at the moment and won’t be sleeping for a while yet.

Here’s the highlights of this evening then – one that started with me full of nervous anxiety, and ended with me extremely surprised at my husband.

‘You look lovely,’ Jamie says from the doorway as I pose in my little black dress.

I’ve really gone to town on the make-up tonight. Given the fact I haven’t been dressed up for months, I’ve probably gone overboard and gone way past town into the nearby council estate, but Jamie thinks I look good, so I’m well happy.

‘You look very smart,’ I reply. And he does. Jamie is wearing his best suit. The one that only gets trotted out for weddings and job interviews.

He’s even ironed his shirt and combed his hair. I’m once again reminded what a very attractive man my husband is when he puts in a bit of effort.

Jamie comes up to me and delivers a lingering kiss that makes my knees a bit shaky. ‘Shall we go?’ he asks.

‘Yeah, let’s go eat!’ I reply happily.

…what I’m really looking forward to is that lovely tall glass of Pinot, though.

We get to the car. Jamie jumps in and I’m opening the passenger door when I catch sight of one of Poppy’s dummies in her car seat behind me.

‘Er… I’m just going to ring Mel and check I gave her a dummy for Pops.’

Jamie sighs and nods. He knows better than to argue.

Mel does indeed have a dummy, so I put the phone away and we drive to the Barley Corn.

Halfway there I spot a sign by the road advertising fresh vegetables for sale. This reminds me about Poppy’s carrot and leek baby food, so I ring Mel again to check I’ve given her some to feed Poppy with during the evening.

Mel says yes – in a voice betraying only a little of her understandable exasperation – and I put the phone away as we park outside the pub.

Once inside we’re shown to a secluded table at the back of the refurbished restaurant section. It’s very nicely decked out, with some pretty paintings on the wall of what looks like the surrounding countryside. There’s one particularly good painting of a field full of gambolling lambs that catches my eye.

Ten seconds later I’m on the phone to ask Mel if I packed Poppy’s bib. The one with the fluffy sheep on it. This time Mel doesn’t bother to keep the exasperation out of her voice and assures me that she does indeed have the bib in question.

I put the phone away as the waiter walks up to take our order.

I have the lasagne and Jamie orders a big, fat juicy steak.

Then, nirvana approaches in the shape of another waiter with my large glass of Pinot. How lovely it sparkles in the soft light of the restaurant.

I snatch the glass off the waiter’s tray and take a long, wonderful gulp.

…yes I know you’re supposed to savour wine, but I’m a new mother who hasn’t fed her Pinot addiction for months so gulping was the only option at this point.

It tastes
marvellous
. A symphony of flavour on my tongue.

The fantasies I’d enjoyed earlier in the day about this glass have been well and truly realised.

Then it dawns on me that the wine has made me temporarily forget about Poppy. It’s only been a few seconds, but I already feel like the most neglectful parent on the planet.

There she is, without her mother in a strange place, and here I am feeding my alcoholic tendencies, with not a thought for her dire situation.

It’s a wonder they don’t call social services.

I figure a call to Mel can’t hurt just to check up. This time she cuts through the chit-chat and just tells me to fuck off. Quite understandable in the circumstances.

It takes all of Jamie’s strength to wrestle the mobile phone from my grip, but he eventually succeeds and pops it away in his jacket pocket. ‘Poppy’s fine, Laura. Mel knows what she’s bloody doing.’

‘Does she Jamie?
Does she
? For all we know she’s left Poppy in the kitchen with the dog while she watches soap operas in the living room!’

‘Don’t be so bloody stupid. Mel is your best friend, for Christ’s sakes. Just relax. The kid couldn’t have a better babysitter.’

Jamie is right of course, I’m being ridiculous. If anything Mel is probably a better mother than me, after all she’s being doing it for longer.

So why won’t that nagging fear that Poppy is being neglected leave me?

Why do I want to smash the wine bottle over Jamie’s head and grab the phone from his jacket while he bleeds out on the floor?

Get a grip, girl.

How? How do I get a bloody grip?