At the moment, Lee thought, his relationship with Jo seemed to consist of fleeting brushes. She would sweep past him in the morning, kissing his cheek as she rushed out of the house to get to work, and she would briefly rub his arm or shoulder as she fell into bed beside him late at night. If he saw her in between, she was always in motion, rushing from her desk to the door, flying out of the car into the shop, dashing into the bathroom to grab a few minutes with the kids as they played in the bath.
Richard had rented them office space in Angel, and together they had hired a small but high-powered team: a PR person, someone to scout locations and a fashion buyer. Holly was still in overall charge of the look of the range and the original designs, but Gary, the new buyer, was there to get stuff in bulk as they opened more stores. Jo had had to hire more store staff for the shop in East Finchley to help Mel, because she quite simply had no time to be there herself. Things were moving fast, but in a good way. Even though he missed her, Lee had to admit when he did see Jo, her face was aglow with excitement. She was loving every second of this new adventure.
And Lee? How was he finding his new adventure? Stay-at-home dad extraordinaire? Primary caregiver? House husband? The first day was an unqualified disaster. He’d managed to get Zach ready for nursery, but hadn’t got Imogene dressed or given her any breakfast. As a result, he ended up stuck in traffic on the way back from nursery with a hungry, screaming baby in pyjamas. Once they were home and he’d got her fed and dressed, he was exhausted. He had sat with her on his lap, watching some kids’ TV, and then let her play on the floor while he tackled the breakfast dishes and put some washing on. Then she got tired and fractious and wanted to have a nap, and Lee put her down without checking the time. When he did look at the clock, it was only fifteen minutes until he had to go and fetch Zach. He hadn’t made any lunch, or got a minute’s creative work done. Off he went, back to the nursery, with Imi screaming in the back once again because he’d had to wake her up to put her in the car.
It was raining, so they couldn’t go to the park or even play in the garden, so the afternoon was spent devising games indoors. All of a sudden, it was six o’clock. The living room looked as if a toy bomb had exploded, there was nothing for dinner, the remains of the sandwiches they had had for lunch were drying out on the plates that were still on the table and the load of laundry he had put on that morning was still lying, wet, in the machine. He was angry with himself. He felt like he had failed, and particularly failed Imogene, who seemed to have had a thoroughly miserable day.
He resolved to do better the next day, and he did. He had both kids dressed and fed well before it was time to take Zach to nursery. He’d worked out that Jo was right, and that walking with the pushchair was easier and less stressful than driving and having to find parking, so he did that. He timed Imi’s nap so she had plenty of time to wake up naturally before they had to leave to pick up Zach, and he even managed to organise beans on toast for lunch and a pasta dinner before Jo got back from work. The same load of washing was still languishing in the washing machine, but what the hell. One day at a time. Each day got a little better and he got a little more done, and managed to keep both kids reasonably happy. By the end of the week, he was on his knees though. He felt much more exhausted than he ever had putting in a full week’s work in an office. If he thought about why, it was because he would set out to do the simplest task, but never manage to complete it. Going out in the car, shopping, washing dishes, cooking … anything he tried to do meant he had to see what both children were doing, either engage them and get them ready to do it with him, or occupy them safely while he tried to do the task alone. Nothing ever got done without interruption either.
By the second week, he felt a little more confident, so while Zach was at nursery, he took Imi to a couple of the baby-and-toddler groups she had previously attended with Jo. The first one they went to was in a church hall. He still hadn’t quite cracked timekeeping with a small child, so they were about fifteen minutes late. They walked in hand-in-hand, and the group of women sitting on chairs near the coffee table all turned to look at them. One woman smiled brightly and said, ‘Oh hello, Imogene! Lily’s over there, waiting to play with you!’ She indicated her own daughter, a little girl of about Imi’s age, who was banging two saucepans together in the kitchen corner. Imogene leaned against Lee’s leg and hung on to his hand shyly. The women all turned back to their conversation. No one spoke to Lee.
He led Imi over to the kitchen corner and knelt on the floor. He passed her a spoon and a plastic bowl, and she began to play, keeping up a stream of babbling commentary as she went along. She and the little girl, Lily, didn’t seem at all interested in playing together. Lee knew that Imi was still too small to play with someone, but she often liked playing alongside another child, as long as they didn’t snatch things from her. He got off the cold lino floor and pulled up a chair. He was quite happy to sit near her and watch her play. Every now and then she brought him a plate with a piece of plastic food on it, and he obligingly pretended to eat it. She moved on and played with some bricks, then rode around on a little push-along car. Her coordination was good, probably from trying constantly to keep up with Zach, and Lee watched in pride as she propelled herself efficiently with her fat little legs.
After forty-five minutes or so, there was a snack break, and all the children sat on a big waterproof sheet on the floor and ate raisins and breadsticks. Imi scoffed all her raisins and helped herself from the bowl of the little boy next to her, then got up and hurtled off to the play-dough table for a while. Ten minutes before the end of the session, there was a singalong, and Lee sat with her on his lap while she clapped her hands to all her favourite nursery rhymes. She had had fun, but he could see she was exhausted, so he took her to the baby-changing area and changed her nappy before loading her into her car seat. She was asleep before they reached the end of the block. It wasn’t until he got home that Lee realised that not one of the mothers in the group had even greeted him, let alone engaged him in a conversation.
He mentioned it to Jo later that evening. She was surprised. ‘Really? I’ve always found that lot will never shut up. I mean, granted, they only talk about kids and babies, or pregnancy or birth if you’re lucky, but they’re normally very friendly.’
‘Perhaps I was just so caught up in playing with Imogene that they didn’t want to interrupt.’
‘Maybe,’ said Jo, but she didn’t sound sure. ‘Maybe … they’re just not used to seeing a dad there,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I’ve certainly never seen one there before. You are rather a rare bird, you know.’
‘What, a stay-at-home dad is a rare bird? That’s ridiculous.’
‘In middle-class yummy-mummy playgroups like that one, you are. The dads just aren’t around.’
‘I suppose it might take them a few goes to get used to me. Maybe I’ll have a T-shirt printed that says, “Freelancer, not unemployed layabout”.’
‘So the one I’m having made for you that says “Kept man” won’t do?’ Jo smiled and slipped her arms around his waist.
‘Do you reckon “Gigolo” would be too much for the Baby Chickens Toddler Group?’
‘Oooh, if you had a gigolo T-shirt, would it be white, and very tight?’ asked Jo, running her hands over his arms and shoulders.
‘Well, if that’s what my sugar mommy bought me, that’s what I would have to wear,’ said Lee, smiling down at her.
‘Aren’t sugar mommies supposed to be older?’
‘Details, details,’ he said, and kissed her.
He and Imi went to another toddler group on the Thursday, and there a few mums did at least try to talk to him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were just being polite. They asked after Jo, and asked how he was managing with Imogene, and then smiled indulgently when he played with her, as if he was doing something rare and unusual. When he got out a baby wipe and cleaned her face and hands after snack time, one of the women said, ‘Look at that! So clever!’ As if he was a small child himself. He couldn’t believe that they all still lived in a society with such divided gender roles. Did their husbands not play with their kids? Was a man caring competently for his child such a rare thing that it merited comment?
That Friday afternoon, he took both kids to the park. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was a little bored, and while they played he caught himself surreptitiously checking Twitter on his phone. He’d always thought parents who stood around in the park staring at their phones were terrible people, but he was beginning to understand that watching Zach climb the wrong way up the slide and then launch his way back down head-first over and over, or pushing Imi endlessly on the swing was not the most stimulating thing he had ever done. He was relieved when he saw Holly’s sister Miranda come into the playground with her kids. At least here was someone he could talk to.
He hadn’t seen her for ages, and he was surprised at how thin and pale she looked. She’d always been quite round, even a bit dumpy, but she had lost quite a lot of weight – maybe two or three stone – and not in a good way, Lee thought. It didn’t look like healthy exercise and diet-inspired weight loss, more like the weight had fallen off because she wasn’t eating, or sleeping. Her clothes were hanging loose, and she had dark shadows under her eyes. He knew it must be worry and strain about her mum. Her kids seemed unaffected, and he saw that little Oscar had just started walking. He was barrelling around the play area with that slightly forward stance and lurching walk brand-new toddlers use. He was a dear little chap, built like a prop forward, and he was cackling away to himself with pride at his new achievement. It was enough to make anyone smile, and Lee looked up and caught Miranda’s eye and grinned. She managed a weak little smile, but looked as if tears weren’t too far away. Lee went straight over. ‘You look like you could use a coffee.’
‘Do I look that bad?’ she said, shocked. Lee could have kicked himself.
‘No, not at all,’ he said quickly. ‘Sorry, that definitely came out wrong. You look a bit tired, that’s all, and I know you’ve been having a tough time.’ She managed a weak smile.
‘I’m sure I look rough as anything. And I’m knackered. Yes, I would love a coffee, but we’ve just got here, so I can’t really drag the kids off …’
‘You stay here,’ said Lee. ‘If you wouldn’t mind keeping half an eye on Zach, I’ll go and get us a couple of takeaways.’
She smiled gratefully and nodded. Imi was playing in the little sandpit, so he scooped her up and popped her in the pushchair, then made a dash to the coffee shop and returned with two lattes and a couple of chocolate brownies.
The kids all seemed content to get on with their own thing and he and Miranda sat side by side on the bench, sipping their coffee. She held her cup with both hands as if she was cold. Lee didn’t say anything, just sat quietly beside her. After a few minutes he took the bag with the brownies out of his jacket pocket and slid them across the bench to her. She peeked inside and managed her first real smile of the day.
‘My favourite. How did you know?’
‘You ordered one when we had coffee ages ago, that time I was looking after the kids when Jo went on her business course,’ Lee said. ‘I remembered you liked them.’
She stared at him like he was an alien who had emerged from his spaceship and come to sit on her bench. ‘You remember that? It was months ago. Maybe a year?’
‘Was it?’ Lee said, a little embarrassed.
‘You’re the only man I’ve ever met who would notice stuff like that,’ said Miranda. ‘I’ve been married to Paul for twelve years. I don’t think he could tell you what my favourite dessert was if you held a gun to his head.’
Lee glanced at her, a little surprised at how bitter she sounded. In his limited experience Miranda had always been gushy, a bit superficial perhaps, but always sweetness and light.
He sat quietly for another minute or so. Eventually, he said, ‘I’m sorry. What you’re going through, you and Holly, and your family … it must be so hard. How are you coping?’
‘Holly is being amazing,’ Miranda says. ‘She has it much harder than me. She’s there all the time with Mum, and it’s so difficult.’ She stopped short, as if she might have said more but had thought better of it.
‘It can’t be easy for any of you,’ said Lee gently.
‘I just wish I could do more,’ said Miranda. ‘I wish I could do anything. But every time I see Mum, I get so upset. She looks worse every time, even if it’s only a day or so since I last saw her.’ She took a sip of her coffee, and then the words started to spill out of her. ‘My time with her is so limited … I always have the kids to worry about, and getting someone to look after them while I drive to Ealing and spend time with Mum and drive back … I worry all the way there and all the way back and the whole time I’m there … what if they need me? What if I can’t get back in time? And then I feel bad, because I’m worrying about traffic on the North Circular, not giving Mum my full attention, and then there’s all the things I used to do … the groups I was in and the PTA at the school, and just running my own household … Paul’s dry-cleaning and shopping and cooking … and sometimes I let things slip and I feel bad about that too …’
What the hell was Paul doing through all this? Lee found himself thinking. Was he moaning at his wife that she hadn’t collected his dry-cleaning while she tried to care for her dying mother and his children too? A tear brimmed over and slipped down her cheek. She turned away, mortified. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go on at you. You barely know me. Now there’s another thing I can add to my list of things I’m doing wrong … ranting at strange men in the park.’
Lee put his coffee down and grasped her hand and held it on the bench between them. ‘Okay, firstly, I’m not a strange man. Because of Jo and Holly, I do know what you’re going through and I asked you how you were doing. And secondly, you’re doing amazingly well. You’re doing everything you could possibly do, and more. Give yourself a break.’
She looked down at her hand in his, and managed a little smile. ‘Thanks. That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in I don’t know how long.’ She gave his hand a little squeeze, then took her hand away and busied herself with getting a tissue out of her handbag. Lee looked up and saw that over by the swings there was a little cluster of women who had obviously been watching them. One leaned over and whispered to her friend. Fine, he thought. Let them gossip. If they were going to read evil intentions into him comforting a woman with a dying mother, then they needed to go and get themselves lives.