Wonder Women (33 page)

‘Like what?'

‘Like you starting the shop and loving it, but feeling torn between that and the kids. Me loving spending time with the kids. The offer from Richard Anthony. Trouble at work for me; we lost the brownie account.'

‘The brownie account? Why?'

‘Tesco pulled out, so the whole thing's on hold.'

‘Anna must be gutted.'

‘She is. I know she's going to have to let someone go, and I also know it probably wouldn't be me … it would be some of the juniors and I know how desperately they need their jobs.'

‘Lee,
you
desperately need your job! We need it. I don't see how you think we're going to—'

‘What if you take Richard up on his offer?'

‘And what? Become a high-powered career woman who sticks her children in childcare sixty hours a week? Which we pay for
how
? I might ask.'

‘What if we don't? What if I stay home with them? You could work as hard as you wanted to and not feel a moment's guilt, because I'd be the stay-at-home parent. Imi wouldn't even need to go to the childminder any more. Anna said that if I did decide to leave, she'd want to retain me as a freelancer, and I'm sure I'd be able to get a few other freelance clients, so I wouldn't be bringing in nothing.'

‘But I would still feel guilty, because it wouldn't be me looking after them.'

‘Jo …'

‘I know. I know it's ridiculous.'

‘It is. The kids may like the idea of a stay-at-home parent but they do have two parents, and it could be me just as well as you. Now you're not breastfeeding, I can do everything for them that you do. I've loved the time I've had with them since you started working on the shop. They love being with me too.'

‘I know they do,' Jo said, a little miserably.

‘You don't have to sound so sad about it. Could this be Jo the control freak creeping in here?'

‘You don't have to sit there being right all the time.' Jo managed a weak smile. ‘So if we did it –
if
, mind you, I'm not convinced yet …'

‘You'd be able to focus on growing the business to its full potential and it would give me space to do some of the things I want to do.'

‘What do you want to do?'

‘I … I want to be an artist, Jo,' Lee said quietly, as if he was confessing some kind of shameful deviance to his wife.

‘You are an artist.'

‘I'm not. I'm a crayon mercenary. A scribbler for hire. I want to do something that's real, that comes from the heart. The kind of stuff I was starting to do at university, except then I had no life experience and even less technique.'

‘So what kind of thing?'

‘I don't know yet. But I think if I'm at home, if my brain is free of day-to-day work stuff and I have some space and quiet, I'll begin to understand what it is.' He smiled wryly. ‘Renaissance Man rises again, eh?'

Jo raised an eyebrow at this, but she didn't comment further. Maybe Lee would be able to manufacture more space and quiet in the average day looking after two toddlers and a home than she could.

‘Let me think about it, okay?' she said finally. ‘It's a big step, and I don't think it's a decision we can make right now.'

She got up and went into the kitchen to do the washing-up. As she scrubbed at a frying pan, she thought about what Lee had said. It was an astonishing, audacious and wonderful proposition. She couldn't imagine any of the other husbands of her acquaintance making an offer like that – to be a stay-at-home dad so their wife could pursue a career dream. Could they make it work? Who knew? If she could get past her own stubborn, egotistical need to be everything to everyone, if she could take a step back and let Lee do what she knew he was perfectly capable of doing, maybe they could. It was a huge decision though. They shouldn't make it right away.
But now, she thought as she rinsed out the sink and dried her hands, right now she would spend some time holding and loving her wonderful husband, because he was a gem beyond price, and he deserved to know it.

Jo now

‘You'll be divorced within a year,' said Jo's mother abruptly. ‘A house husband? Lee? Pottering about in a pinny doing your laundry? Running around after the children? No man would stand for that.'

‘But it was his idea.'

‘Of course it was. He's always indulged your every whim. He's just trying to make you happy.' Jo's mother snorted, as if trying to make someone happy was an aberration, or a weakness.

At that exact moment, Imogene fell over and bumped her head against the edge of the sofa, and Jo thanked her little girl silently. There was no way she would have been able to answer her mother without losing her temper.

It wasn't just geographical distance that prevented Jo from visiting her parents often, though it was convenient to pretend it was. It was conversations like these. Her father was a taciturn man, who very seldom offered an opinion on anything, but her mother always had something to say, and it was almost always critical. Jo dreaded visiting with the kids, because she knew her mother would criticise the way they were dressed, what they ate, their manners, the way Jo spoke to them, not to mention offering a thought
or two on Jo's appearance. Jo's mother had always parented with a fine balance of bullying and guilt, and she always knew best.

It was for that exact reason that Jo had come here today. In a fit of masochism, she wanted to ask her mother's opinion on the proposed plan for Lee to give up his job and Jo to take up Richard's offer to expand her company. She knew that her mother would predict the worst possible outcome, and wouldn't hold back from articulating the worst of the things that Jo herself might fear. So far, Laura Morris had not disappointed. It wasn't enough for her to imply that Jo was a spoiled brat who was hell-bent on emasculating her husband. Clearly she wanted to break her children's hearts as well.

‘What about Zachary and Imogene?' she asked plaintively. (Zach's name on his birth certificate was just Zach, not Zachary, but she refused to call him anything else.) ‘Imagine how they'll feel when all the other children have their mum come and collect them from school and they're left with their dad? Everyone will think Lee is some kind of unemployed layabout.'

‘Will they? And if they do, do we care?' Jo couldn't resist saying.

Her mother gave her one of her Looks. It was a brilliant maternal Look, which incorporated disappointment, pity and disapproval in a single glance. The Look used to devastate Jo, but she was kind of over it now.

‘Really, Joanna,' Laura said. ‘You don't seem to be taking this seriously at all.'

Jo's father chose that moment to wander into the kitchen.
‘What isn't Joanna taking seriously?' he said. ‘Is it laundry related? Or anything to do with potty-training? If it's either of those, I'm going back into the living room to watch the golf.'

Jo opened her mouth to answer, but she should have known better than to try. Her mother was much quicker off the mark than she could ever be. ‘Joanna has come up with a hare-brained scheme where she goes off and becomes a high-powered career woman' – Laura said ‘high-powered career woman' in much the same way she might say ‘streetwalker' – ‘and she's making Lee give up his job and stay at home to babysit the children.'

‘Firstly,' said Jo, hating herself for rising to the bait, ‘it was Lee's idea to give up work, not mine. Secondly, I've had a significant offer of investment and help to grow my business and it's a great opportunity, and lastly, a father does not
babysit
his own children.'

‘Do you want to take up this investment offer?' said Jo's father.

‘Yes,' said Jo, rather surprising herself. ‘Yes, I do. I'm proud of Jungletown, and I'm flattered that someone else sees so much potential in it. And I think if I didn't go for it, I would spend the rest of my life wondering what might have happened.'

‘And Lee offered to give up working?'

‘His company is in trouble. If he takes voluntary redundancy, he'll get a reasonable payout, because he's been there so long, and he'll still do some freelance work for them. He mainly sees it as an opportunity to pursue some projects of his own though.'

‘Projects like what?' Jo's mother cut in.

‘Artistic projects,' said Jo, expecting and getting a disdainful maternal sniff.

‘Moneywise?' said her father, always a man of few words.

‘The offer I've had on the business would pay me a regular salary. That's something I haven't been able to take so far. It'd be slightly more than Lee currently earns, plus we'll have Lee's payout and anything he brings in as a freelancer, and if Imi doesn't go to the childminder, that saves us quite a bit too. We'd actually be a little better off.'

‘Hmm,' said Jo's father. ‘Well, I don't see a problem.' Jo's mum blustered and made all sorts of noises, but she knew she had lost the argument.

Jo resisted the urge to cheer. It wasn't that she needed her father's approval, and it wasn't just from saying it all out loud, hearing her mother's objections and defending against them. The whole thing had made her realise that not only was the plan possible, it was something she really wanted to do. She wanted to take this new leap of faith in her life with Lee. It was huge, it was scary, it was potentially risky, but she wanted to do it, and she was so excited now she could barely wait to get home, grab Lee's hand and jump.

Holly had not slept for four straight nights. Judith's pain medication made her restless and she groaned and cried out through the night, even though most of the time she was still asleep. Holly had moved rooms, into the bedroom next door to her mum's, and contrary to the family habit of a lifetime, they slept with both doors open so she could hear Judith if she needed her. Because there was no way to tell if Judith was calling her or merely shouting out in her dreams, Holly got up every time she heard her. For the last four nights, she had been up pretty much every hour. It wasn't even as if she had the days off to sleep and relax: she was still trying to get work done, and the house was still like a train station with medical personnel coming in and out, and a stream of people from Judith's church.

Holly was an atheist, but she had a grudging admiration for the effort the church people made. There seemed to be a rota, and someone came to visit every morning and evening. They never came empty-handed – everyone brought food. It wasn't as if Judith ate anything really, and Holly hadn't cooked for herself in weeks, but as twice a day, a
meal for roughly four people was delivered, she couldn't keep up. There was so much food that the fridge and freezer were full and Holly had begun to palm dishes off on Miranda, on Mel and Jo, in fact on anyone who stood still for more than five minutes.

One morning, she found herself standing in the kitchen, staring blankly at an enormous apple crumble on the kitchen table. She had no idea where to put it. The fridge was crammed, the freezer was full and it was too warm in the house to leave it out. It smelled delicious, but she'd already had breakfast: one of the other church ladies had brought a basket of warm croissants. She could hear the soft sound of singing from Judith's room. There were four or five women up there, singing and praying around the bed. Holly's mobile rang. She answered without looking to see who it was.

‘Hi, Holly,' said a male voice, deep and quite attractive. ‘Are we still on for eleven?'

Eleven? Who was she supposed to meet? Was it work or a social engagement? How could she have made a date with Mr Nice Voice and not remembered it? And who was it? She pulled the phone away from her ear and glanced at the screen to see if caller ID could help. Daniel. Daniel? Did she know a Daniel? She must, if the name and number were stored on her phone.

‘Um, eleven …' she said slowly, her brain befuddled with lack of sleep. She was too sluggish to make small talk to buy her a bit of time.

‘If eleven isn't convenient, I can come earlier or later. I just got a car so I'll be driving over with all the samples.'

Daniel! Monkeyman T-shirt Daniel! Of course! Now she
remembered that they had made an arrangement weeks before for him and Chris to bring her a selection of new T-shirt designs to choose from. She felt awful. She knew the Jungletown contract meant so much to Outtake, and this meeting would be something Daniel and Chris would have worked hard to prepare for. She felt doubly bad because the shop did need new T-shirt stock. Postponing the meeting would let Jo down as much as it would the boys.

She snapped into action. ‘Look, Daniel, I don't know if you know, but I've had something of a family crisis recently. My mum's ill …'

‘Oh, I'm sorry,' said Daniel quickly. ‘I didn't know. Would you like to reschedule? I completely understand.' He tried to sound professional, but Holly could hear the disappointment in his voice.

‘No, no, no. I just wanted to say, if you don't mind, could you come to my house in Ealing instead of us meeting at the shop?'

‘No problem. Give me your address and postcode. I have a satnav, so it'll be easy to get there. What about parking?'

‘There are no restrictions in our road,' said Holly, grateful that he was being flexible and nice about the whole thing. If they were coming to see her at home, that meant she had a good hour to shower, drink two cups of coffee and wake up. And by eleven, the church singing should have stopped and her mum would likely be having a nap.

The best-laid plans, however, are so often thwarted. She was on her way up the stairs to shower, second cup of coffee in hand, when the doorbell went. It was two blokes who had parked their extremely large delivery van across the
driveway. Another gift from David, Holly surmised. She wished her brother would let her know when stuff was arriving. He was obviously feeling guilty that he wasn't able to spend much time with his mum, so he kept throwing money at the problem. He'd sent a sheepskin mattress cover to prevent bedsores, a massage pad, and a walking frame to help Judith to get into and out of the shower. The latest offering was a simply enormous recliner chair with a motor, so that if the person sitting in it was too weak to stand up by themselves, the seat would tilt from horizontal to vertical and lift them into a standing position. It was a very thoughtful gift and must have cost a lot, and Holly was sure Judith would be grateful, if she ever came down into the living room to sit in it. But however wonderful the chair was, it was sodding gigantic and extraordinarily heavy, and it took two deliverymen fifteen minutes of huffing, puffing, manoeuvring and swearing to get it into the house. Holly knew Judith would worry about the paintwork in the hall, so she darted around nervously, trying to stop them scuffing every surface on their way in. Once it was finally in the living room, one of them insisted on explaining to Holly how it worked. He did this extremely slowly, pointing at the pictures in the brochure as if she was a slightly backward small child. Two or three times, he said, ‘Just give the instruction book to your hubby, and he'll get it going.' Just standing next to the delivery chauvinist made her eyes water. The man was clearly a stranger to the morning shower and to antiperspirant. So while she would have loved to take the instruction booklet, roll it up and shove it where the sun don't shine, she wasn't getting any closer than she absolutely needed to.
He then produced a wodge of paperwork, pulled a pen from behind his ear and ponderously insisted on her initialling each page and signing to show she had received the chair in good order. Through all of this, Holly kept glancing nervously at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. Daniel and Chris would be arriving in a very short time, and she was still unshowered, her teeth were unbrushed and her hair was scraped into a scruffy topknot. She was also wearing holey tracksuit bottoms and an ancient faded red T-shirt, and she was, she realised from the goggle-eyed stare of the deliveryman's gormless mate, braless.