a new friend?’ Stephanie likes to build a picture of my life.
I end up telling her all about him, not realising how much I am talking until our time runs out.
On my way home, I realise that’s the first time Stephanie has offered any encouragement over a friendship with a man. She was always quiet when I told her about my last boyfriend, David the lawyer, the one I met in front of the Picasso sculpture. She did smile once when I marvelled at how controlled he was in all aspects of life. He lived by the motto, ‘Everything in moderation’. I told Stephanie that if I opened a bar of chocolate it would be wolfed down in virtually five seconds. I teased David, calling him Mr Two Cubes as he’d only allow himself two cubes of dark chocolate after supper, before carefully wrapping it back in its silver foil and putting it back in the fridge. I see now, that it was never going to work between Mr Two Cubes and me.
*
It’s bedtime. Louis has been quiet since I picked him up from school and took him to the café.
‘What’s the best thing you’ve done today?’ I ask, tucking him up in bed.
‘Nothing,’ he mumbles, his little jaw clenched.
‘Louis, is something wrong?’ I stroke his hair.
A thundercloud descends over his face. ‘Everyone at school has a daddy, where is mine?’
‘Oh, Louis, we’ve talked about this.’
‘Luke’s dad helps him take his shoes off at school, and his coat.’
‘Emily doesn’t have a daddy,’ I say. ‘She has Uncle Ben. Sometimes in life things aren’t as simple as they should be, but you have Uncle Hugo and …’
‘But he’s not my daddy! Where is he?’ He kicks his feet under the duvet.
‘He has problems.’
‘What problems?’ More kicks. ‘Why can’t I see him?’ He hurls Fido the dog on to the floor, tears rolling down his face. ‘I want my dad,’ he sobs.
*
I sit on my rocking chair, unable to sleep.
I stayed with Louis until finally he drifted off.
Not a day goes by when I don’t feel guilty that Louis doesn’t have a father. Stephanie tells me I must move on, that the only thing I can do is learn from a bad relationship. She’sright, but it still doesn’t stop me wishing I could rewind time and do things differently.
If I could do one thing differently, I’d go back to that night when I first met Matthew. I was teaching nursery children back then, but I would come home, strip out of my uniform and party all night.
We met in a bar.
I knew he was trouble.
I should have listened to Hugo.
Should have walked away.
14
2006
I run down the corridor and into the kitchen, leaning against the counter to catch my breath. The school mums can’t see me like this! I’ve just been promoted to head teacher! I can’t lose this job. I
love
my job. Thank heavens it’s Friday. I press my head into my hands. What was I thinking last night? I shouldn’t have gone out again. I told Hugo it wasn’t a great idea to have his birthday party on a Thursday. No one can get trashed if they have to go to work the next day. His argument was that a few of his friends were going away at the weekend; it was the only night when everyone was around. I dig into my handbag to find my breath freshener. I almost choke. It smells nothing like mint but it certainly beats breathing toxic fumes all over the parents.
As I mix the paints, ready to make Christmas cards with the children, I have a hazy memory that Hugo was in a grump with me last night. I tell myself I’ll stay in this evening. I’llclean the flat. I’ll cook, maybe bake us something. Hugo and I share a poky two-bedroom flat in Shepherds Bush, off the Uxbridge Road. On the whole it works well, except sometimes I sense he disapproves of my lifestyle. Come the weekend I’m ready to party and often crawl home in the early hours of the morning, not surfacing from my duvet until late afternoon. But come on, Hugo, I’m twenty-six. That’s what weekends are all about. We’re young! Everyone drinks in their
I end up telling her all about him, not realising how much I am talking until our time runs out.
On my way home, I realise that’s the first time Stephanie has offered any encouragement over a friendship with a man. She was always quiet when I told her about my last boyfriend, David the lawyer, the one I met in front of the Picasso sculpture. She did smile once when I marvelled at how controlled he was in all aspects of life. He lived by the motto, ‘Everything in moderation’. I told Stephanie that if I opened a bar of chocolate it would be wolfed down in virtually five seconds. I teased David, calling him Mr Two Cubes as he’d only allow himself two cubes of dark chocolate after supper, before carefully wrapping it back in its silver foil and putting it back in the fridge. I see now, that it was never going to work between Mr Two Cubes and me.
*
It’s bedtime. Louis has been quiet since I picked him up from school and took him to the café.
‘What’s the best thing you’ve done today?’ I ask, tucking him up in bed.
‘Nothing,’ he mumbles, his little jaw clenched.
‘Louis, is something wrong?’ I stroke his hair.
A thundercloud descends over his face. ‘Everyone at school has a daddy, where is mine?’
‘Oh, Louis, we’ve talked about this.’
‘Luke’s dad helps him take his shoes off at school, and his coat.’
‘Emily doesn’t have a daddy,’ I say. ‘She has Uncle Ben. Sometimes in life things aren’t as simple as they should be, but you have Uncle Hugo and …’
‘But he’s not my daddy! Where is he?’ He kicks his feet under the duvet.
‘He has problems.’
‘What problems?’ More kicks. ‘Why can’t I see him?’ He hurls Fido the dog on to the floor, tears rolling down his face. ‘I want my dad,’ he sobs.
*
I sit on my rocking chair, unable to sleep.
I stayed with Louis until finally he drifted off.
Not a day goes by when I don’t feel guilty that Louis doesn’t have a father. Stephanie tells me I must move on, that the only thing I can do is learn from a bad relationship. She’sright, but it still doesn’t stop me wishing I could rewind time and do things differently.
If I could do one thing differently, I’d go back to that night when I first met Matthew. I was teaching nursery children back then, but I would come home, strip out of my uniform and party all night.
We met in a bar.
I knew he was trouble.
I should have listened to Hugo.
Should have walked away.
14
2006
I run down the corridor and into the kitchen, leaning against the counter to catch my breath. The school mums can’t see me like this! I’ve just been promoted to head teacher! I can’t lose this job. I
love
my job. Thank heavens it’s Friday. I press my head into my hands. What was I thinking last night? I shouldn’t have gone out again. I told Hugo it wasn’t a great idea to have his birthday party on a Thursday. No one can get trashed if they have to go to work the next day. His argument was that a few of his friends were going away at the weekend; it was the only night when everyone was around. I dig into my handbag to find my breath freshener. I almost choke. It smells nothing like mint but it certainly beats breathing toxic fumes all over the parents.
As I mix the paints, ready to make Christmas cards with the children, I have a hazy memory that Hugo was in a grump with me last night. I tell myself I’ll stay in this evening. I’llclean the flat. I’ll cook, maybe bake us something. Hugo and I share a poky two-bedroom flat in Shepherds Bush, off the Uxbridge Road. On the whole it works well, except sometimes I sense he disapproves of my lifestyle. Come the weekend I’m ready to party and often crawl home in the early hours of the morning, not surfacing from my duvet until late afternoon. But come on, Hugo, I’m twenty-six. That’s what weekends are all about. We’re young! Everyone drinks in their
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