The Pile of Stuff at the Bottom of the Stairs by Christina Hopkinson

shrieking is making me feel as though I might as well have a hangover. He kisses me with beery breath.
    “You look great,” he says. “How come you look so lovely and I feel so lousy? You’ve stolen my youth and bottled and drunk it.”
    “I think it’s what you may have drunk from a bottle that explains it, my darling.”
3. Compliments me. Not so extravagantly as he did in the beginning, but even now, he manages to find ways of telling me that I am nice to look at.
    “What are we doing today?”
    Here we go. “Swimming and then trying to get through, I guess. It looks pretty grim outside and we haven’t got any kids’parties or anything. Maybe one party a weekend is enough for you?”
    He’s slumped over a second can of Coke.
    49 ) Drinks fizzy stuff and eats crisps in front of the boys. Usually just before mealtimes. I always decant my Diet Coke into a mug and hide in a cupboard to eat chocolate, in the manner of a bulimic.
    I know, I know. Positive day and all that. It’s just so bloody hard when he does things like this.
    “No, Rufus, you can’t have any Coke.”
    “But…”
    “I know Daddy’s having some, but he’s not feeling very well. You’re feeling fine.” I turn to Joel. “Did you have a good time last night?”
    “It was all right. I don’t really get the point of these stand up and chat parties.”
    “As opposed to what, lie down in silence parties?”
    “You know what I mean.”
    “Who did you talk to?” God, I speak to him in exactly the same way as I do the boys. Is he going to mumble “no one” and “nothing” at me?
    “Becky…”
    “A bit drunk.”
    “No, she was just having a laugh. She’s great.”
    “She’s your number one fan.”
    “Well, someone has to be.”
    “Who else?”
    “Michael, though we run out of things to say to one another once we’ve done the Premiership.”
    “You don’t even like football.”
    “I don’t even know that he does. And all I want to ask him is how come he’s still so rich.”
    “Can’t see any evidence to suggest he’s not.”
    “More’s the pity.”
    “Mitzi’s looking good, isn’t she?”
    “Urgh, no, something weird’s happened to her face. She’s definitely had some work done.”
    “What?”
    “Botox, obviously.”
    “Do you know, I think you might be right. That’s why she has that shiny forehead that actresses have. I just thought they must all use the same moisturizer.”
    “And she’s way too scrawny.”
4. Is good at saying other women are unattractively thin. I’m not sure I believe him, but well done him for trying. It is of particular importance to me that he should say this of Mitzi because of what happened when we met, back when the three of us worked together.
    “By the way,” I say, “Mitzi’s invited us to stay over the half term, you know, the summer one, at their new place in Norfolk.”
    “Did you manage to think of a good enough excuse?”
    “No, of course not. Didn’t even try. It will be great to have something to do then. Everywhere’s so expensive over half term and it will be fantastic for the boys. Apparently, it’s like Swallows and Amazons , all sailboats and buckets and spades and identifying the different species of seagulls.”
    Joel snorts. The whole of Britain outside London is a flyover state to him. Ursula would take him, occasionally, to the familycottage in the West Country, but most of the time they’d find themselves abroad doing a term’s sabbatical in San Francisco, Hong Kong or Rome.
    “Well, I’m going,” I say. “You can stay here if you want and find another way to amuse two feral children for free in overcrowded museums for a week.”
    “What makes you think staying with Mitzi and Michael is free? At the very least, we’ll have to pay for it by being entertaining. That is what we’re there for, isn’t it, to entertain all their boring banker friends?”
    “Well, it’s lucky that you don’t find it an effort to be entertaining then, isn’t