didn’t do guilt. Lucy had been right when she’d said that if she was a man no one would question her focus on work and her lack of guilt. Oh, to be a man … or a Lucy.
I put down my toast. I couldn’t face eating anything: my stomach was doing too many somersaults.
After breakfast, Claire helped me get Yuri and Lara into their jackets. I asked her to take a picture on my phone of the three of us. As I hugged my two children close, I could feel my eyes welling with tears. This was a first day for all of us – new school, new job, new life.
As we left, I reminded Claire to collect them at twelve thirty sharp. ‘I’ll call you when I get a break. I’ll be dying to know how their first day went. I feel terrible I won’t be there.’ I tried to hide how emotional I was feeling about it. I felt sick that I couldn’t collect them on their first day, but I could hardly ask to leave work early on my own first day.
‘Don’t worry, Emma, they’ll be fine,’ Claire reassured me. ‘I’ll fill you in on every little detail when you get home.’
Yuri and Lara hugged Claire tightly, then we left her to tidy up.
As we walked the ten minutes to Mrs Roberts’s Montessori school, Yuri kept asking me if Connor might be there.
‘Yuri, I’ve told you, darling. Connor lives in Dublin and we live in London now. But there will be lots of new children to play with. It’ll be great fun, I promise.’
Lara skipped along beside me. ‘I can’t wait to go to school, Mummy. I’m a big girl now, isn’t I?’
‘Yes, sweetie, you are, a very big girl.’
As we approached the gates, we were greeted by the unmistakable sounds of post-holiday catching up. Mothers and children swarmed everywhere, with most of the kids shrieking wildly. Some little ones were crying and clinging to their mothers’ legs, but most were already back in school mode, racing around, bags sliding down their shoulders and shirts coming untucked. The women were squealing hellos, kissing each other and talking animatedly about their summer holidays. They all seemed to know each other. There was lots of laughter and camaraderie. I felt as if we were behind a glass wall, watching it all as spectators, very much on the outside.
I was glad I’d dressed up. Most of the mothers were very stylish and well groomed. They had perfected the smart-casual school-mum uniform. I was surrounded by glossy hair, skinny jeans, wedges or ballet flats and smart T-shirts with light summer jackets over them. Fabulous silk scarves and perfectly manicured nails were
de rigueur
. I’d have to make an effort every morning if I wanted to fit in here. This school gate was a lot more stylish, and more intimidating, than the one on our estate back in Dublin.
Yuri clung to my leg, while Lara commented on the other girls’ dresses. ‘I like the sparkly one. I like the pink one. I like the twirly one, but I don’t like the brown one. Brown is stinky, like poo.’
I crouched down. ‘Lara, remember what Mummy said about giving your opinion? If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it.’
‘But poo is brown, Mummy,’ Lara reasoned.
‘Yes, but it’s not a nice thing to say about a dress. Only say nice things, OK?’ I didn’t want her going in and alienating everyone on her first day. The school yard was a tough place.You needed to make a good first impression, even if you were only three and a quarter.
Lara whispered, ‘Poo is brown, brown is poo.’
I watched the mothers chat to each other, feeling like a complete outsider. Back in Dublin, I’d been one of those women, thrilled to see the other mums after a long summer. Arm in arm we’d stroll off for coffee and catch-ups before I headed into work at ten thirty. But here I was standing alone with no one to talk to and I had to be in work by nine thirty. I tried catching a few of the women’s eyes, but they just smiled vaguely and moved towards their friends. I was clearly not about to be adopted. I’d
I put down my toast. I couldn’t face eating anything: my stomach was doing too many somersaults.
After breakfast, Claire helped me get Yuri and Lara into their jackets. I asked her to take a picture on my phone of the three of us. As I hugged my two children close, I could feel my eyes welling with tears. This was a first day for all of us – new school, new job, new life.
As we left, I reminded Claire to collect them at twelve thirty sharp. ‘I’ll call you when I get a break. I’ll be dying to know how their first day went. I feel terrible I won’t be there.’ I tried to hide how emotional I was feeling about it. I felt sick that I couldn’t collect them on their first day, but I could hardly ask to leave work early on my own first day.
‘Don’t worry, Emma, they’ll be fine,’ Claire reassured me. ‘I’ll fill you in on every little detail when you get home.’
Yuri and Lara hugged Claire tightly, then we left her to tidy up.
As we walked the ten minutes to Mrs Roberts’s Montessori school, Yuri kept asking me if Connor might be there.
‘Yuri, I’ve told you, darling. Connor lives in Dublin and we live in London now. But there will be lots of new children to play with. It’ll be great fun, I promise.’
Lara skipped along beside me. ‘I can’t wait to go to school, Mummy. I’m a big girl now, isn’t I?’
‘Yes, sweetie, you are, a very big girl.’
As we approached the gates, we were greeted by the unmistakable sounds of post-holiday catching up. Mothers and children swarmed everywhere, with most of the kids shrieking wildly. Some little ones were crying and clinging to their mothers’ legs, but most were already back in school mode, racing around, bags sliding down their shoulders and shirts coming untucked. The women were squealing hellos, kissing each other and talking animatedly about their summer holidays. They all seemed to know each other. There was lots of laughter and camaraderie. I felt as if we were behind a glass wall, watching it all as spectators, very much on the outside.
I was glad I’d dressed up. Most of the mothers were very stylish and well groomed. They had perfected the smart-casual school-mum uniform. I was surrounded by glossy hair, skinny jeans, wedges or ballet flats and smart T-shirts with light summer jackets over them. Fabulous silk scarves and perfectly manicured nails were
de rigueur
. I’d have to make an effort every morning if I wanted to fit in here. This school gate was a lot more stylish, and more intimidating, than the one on our estate back in Dublin.
Yuri clung to my leg, while Lara commented on the other girls’ dresses. ‘I like the sparkly one. I like the pink one. I like the twirly one, but I don’t like the brown one. Brown is stinky, like poo.’
I crouched down. ‘Lara, remember what Mummy said about giving your opinion? If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it.’
‘But poo is brown, Mummy,’ Lara reasoned.
‘Yes, but it’s not a nice thing to say about a dress. Only say nice things, OK?’ I didn’t want her going in and alienating everyone on her first day. The school yard was a tough place.You needed to make a good first impression, even if you were only three and a quarter.
Lara whispered, ‘Poo is brown, brown is poo.’
I watched the mothers chat to each other, feeling like a complete outsider. Back in Dublin, I’d been one of those women, thrilled to see the other mums after a long summer. Arm in arm we’d stroll off for coffee and catch-ups before I headed into work at ten thirty. But here I was standing alone with no one to talk to and I had to be in work by nine thirty. I tried catching a few of the women’s eyes, but they just smiled vaguely and moved towards their friends. I was clearly not about to be adopted. I’d
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