Minutes spent worrying about whether or not I’m a good parent because I don’t like reading books that rhyme – 38. Glasses of wine to numb the guilt – 2.
Jess asked me this evening if I still like her.
‘Of course I like you!’ I said, scooping her up and kissing her squidgy cheeks. ‘I love you, too! Why would you ask that?’
‘Because you are always looking at your phone and you don’t watch properly when I do dances or shows with the ponies and you haven’t read me any Famous Five for ages.’
I felt awful.
I’ve been so preoccupied over the last few weeks with Cam and Flo and work that I probably have been neglecting her. When a three-year-old spells it out to you, though, it does not make you feel good about yourself.
I made a big fuss of bedtime and got Flo to come into Jess’s room to listen to some Famous Five with us. I moved Jess on to my own favourite children’s books as soon as I could because as much as it looks like a blissful bonding moment on TV shows, reading about Poppy and Sam’s adventures on the farm again and again, every night for six months, makes me want to put the book down and throw myself under the nearest bit of farm machinery while Rusty and the children watch my blood and bones get spewed out on to the ‘field of ripe corn’.
I used to feel terrible about it, because I love books and I want my children to love books and every other parent I speak to talks about story time like it’s the best thing to happen to them since they were single and child-free and had that one night of passion with the Swedish Pilates instructor from the gym, when their bodies were still tight and bendy, but I just found it so tedious.
Famous Five, though – you know where you are with a romp about smugglers in secret passages. Also, I tell myself that Jess is really just listening to the soothing sound of my voice and not noticing the gender stereotypes and casual racism.
Men on Tinder discounted based purely on inability to use capital letters properly in their bio – 13. Further men discounted for including the line ‘does anyone even read this? Lol’ in their bio – 6.
Work is decidedly tense since my ‘chat’ with Steve last week. He looks almost scared of me, but also sort of shifty, as if he might be plotting some horrible revenge. I’m talking to him with the edge in my voice that I use when Flo has done something to annoy me and hasn’t yet apologised.
Cecilia noticed the atmosphere when she came in today for a meeting about the summer exhibition. It starts at the end of July and, with all of the fundraising applications I’ve been working on, plans are not as far along as they should be.
Cecilia took me aside after the meeting to ask if everything was OK. Her eyes were twinkling and she could barely contain herself. ‘If I didn’t know better I’d say you’d had a passionate affair gone wrong!’ she said quietly in the kitchen. ‘It was electric in there!’
I laughed – a lot.
I’m taking Flo for a second attempt at seeing Cam after school tomorrow so I told Steve I had to leave early tomorrow for a hospital appointment. He asked what it was about. I told him I was having a cervical examination because I’d been experienced some irregular bleeding. He didn’t ask any more. I expect I will get a sad face on my performance sticker chart.
I’m really nervous about tomorrow. I tried to talk to Flo about it but she just said she was fine. She was watching a YouTube make-up tutorial and barely looked up. Parenting teens is so difficult because you really have no idea whether they are actually tormented and just putting on a brave face or if, genuinely, the make-up tutorial is just that good. I have watched some and they can be pretty hypnotic, to be honest.
I had a little play with Tinder to distract me – I’ve neglected it lately. I had matched with a man called Mike. I read his profile and then messaged WIB.
‘What does it mean if someone is interested in “exploring a more dynamic idea of a relationship”?’ I asked.
Sierra replied. ‘It means they want the option to shag about and you have to be OK with it.’
Unmatched with Mike.
Left work at three to pick up Flo, wishing I actually was going to an invasive cervical exam.
Cam was already at the café, which was an improvement on last time at least. I feel like this is the point where I should fill in lots of detail about what an emotional experience it was, but honestly? It really wasn’t. Cam was fine – friendly and chatty – although he talked more about himself than anything else. Flo seemed OK with it, bored if anything.
After about forty-five minutes he looked at his watch and made excuses about a work meeting. They hugged awkwardly, like work colleagues who weren’t sure of one another.
‘So?’ I said to Flo as soon as he had gone.
‘It was fine, I guess,’ said Flo.
‘Just fine?’
‘Well, no offence, Mum, as I know you must have liked him once,’ she said, ‘but he’s a bit of a dick, isn’t he? All that talk about his creative spirit when his job is just writing about tents?’
I laughed. ‘He’s certainly always had a bit of a way with words,’ I agreed. ‘Do you think you’ll want to see him again?’
‘I don’t mind keeping in touch,’ she said, ‘but I can’t ever see any kind of deep and meaningful father/daughter situation going on. Ian’s my dad, isn’t he? Really.’
‘Yes,’ I said, giving her a big hug, ‘he really is.’
We were in the car on the way home when Ian called. Flo answered my phone for me.
‘Hey, Dad,’ I heard her say. Then a pause while Ian talked. ‘Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.’ Another pause, and then she laughed. ‘I know,’ she said, ‘I love you too.’
More silence at Flo’s end and then she turned to me, twisting the phone away from her mouth. ‘Mum,’ she said, ‘Jess is hungry and Dad is ordering pizza – do we want some?’
‘Well, dur,’ I said. ‘I think we deserve a pizza, don’t you?’
She turned back to the phone.
‘Mum says yes,’ she said. ‘See you soon!’
Slightly regretted the seven slices of ham and pineapple when I was lying in bed later on my back and my stomach still looked about four months pregnant, but totally worth it.
Email from Steve at work today copying in the chair of trustees. He had the cheek to question my ability to do my job in light of fundraising results to date and ‘certain inappropriate remarks’ made recently. He wants me to attend an ‘emergency’ meeting with a representative from the trustees to discuss how we move forward.
That man has got a bloody nerve. My ability to do my job? He is an absolute joke. I didn’t even want to take on the fundraising role in the first place, told them I didn’t have the right experience. It might have worked if I had the backing of someone who wasn’t a complete and utter moron, but when your boss’s idea of support is to tag you in a motivational quote on Twitter then you seriously have to question whether they are really cut out for management.
What was absolutely the shittiest part of it, though, was that he must have sent it just as he was leaving for the weekend, so by the time I had read it he had already gone and I’ll be forced to stew over it all weekend.
So pissed off. What a coward.
Very tempted to go home and drink the entire bottle of wine that’s in the fridge but I didn’t want Steve to win. He wanted to ruin my weekend and, damn it, I wasn’t going to let him.
I ate four Jaffa Cakes instead, slowly. (Basically mindfulness.)
I messaged Dylan to see if he was going to be in the shop tomorrow – I’ve been wanting for ages to get rid of some of Jess’s baby toys and I thought I could help him create a bit of a friendlier children’s corner, plus I’d feel better having something to do rather than just sitting at home eating biscuits and worrying about work and Cam.
‘I’ll be here!’ he replied. ‘Funnily enough, I don’t have loads of staff chomping at the bit to work Saturdays in June. Not ones I could leave in charge, anyway. Tom is keen, bless him, but last week I overheard him tell a customer that Emily Dickinson has a new book of poems out soon.’
‘Perfect,’ I replied. ‘I’m child-free and would otherwise be doing exciting jobs like picking bits of Lego out of the vacuum cleaner or taking things out of their packets in the fridge so that Flo doesn’t get on my back about best before dates.’
‘Well, that does sound like a treat,’ said Dylan, ‘I wouldn’t want to impose …’
‘It’s a sacrifice I’m prepared to make.’
Book covers stroked fondly – many. Actual rooms I can call entirely my own – none. (Bit disappointing.)
I had an ace day today, mooching about the bookshop and complaining to Dylan about Steve. Bless him, he’s very patient. He’s on his own with three daughters so I guess he’s used to women/girls offloading their problems on to him.
He made me a coffee in a Penguin Books mug (A Room of One’s Own – that would be nice) and gave me free rein in the children’s corner. I rearranged some of the shelves to make a bit more space and filled a box with Jess’s old toys. I’d brought a rainbow rug that Flo used to have in her bedroom, plus a couple of cushions, to make a little reading corner.
‘Dylan,’ I said, coming back through to the front of the shop, ‘when I was clearing up upstairs I noticed a small armchair in that second room. Would you be up for us bringing it down?’
‘Do you need a sit down already?’ he said, winking.
‘Har har,’ I said. ‘No, I was thinking of parents coming in with children. It would be nice for them to have somewhere to sit while the children looked at the books – it might encourage them to stay a bit longer. I was also wondering about moving a selection of the current adult fiction choices into the kids’ section and having a special “quick picks for grown-ups” shelf? That way you’re not stuck there with nothing but The Gruffalo – you can choose something for yourself at the same time.’
‘That’s a genius idea!’ said Dylan. ‘I love it. And yes, let’s go and get the chair now.’ He headed towards the stairs and then looked back. ‘You’d better not be about to present me with a bill for bookshop consultancy services, mind,’ he said.
‘I definitely am,’ I said. ‘I take payment in prosecco or Jaffa Cakes.’
I haven’t heard anything from Cam since Wednesday. I’d (foolishly) thought he might be in touch to see how Flo was after their meeting, or to ask if she wanted to see him again, but nothing. If I don’t hear anything over the next few days then I will call him. I kind of want to leave it, though, and see how long it takes him, see how much of a careless shit he really is.
Snails removed from Jess’s bedroom, collected under the guise of ‘snail sanctuary’ – 4. Glamorous parties cancelled to accommodate Ian’s plans – ha!
Ian was looking decidedly sheepish when he dropped the girls off this evening. ‘I’ve got a favour to ask,’ he said, ‘and you might be mad.’
‘What is it?’ I asked, suspiciously.
‘Josh and I have got a potential new client based in New York. They’re a massive company and this could be a really big deal for us.’
‘Yeah, yeah, I know you’re important,’ I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes. ‘So how does it impact me?’
‘It involves going there in person,’ he said, ‘in a couple of weeks. It would be over the weekend, though, when it would be my turn to have the girls.’ The calendar was right there on the wall next to my head. Ian looked at it at the same time as I did and we could both see it was empty for two weekends’ time. ‘Normally we’ll be able to be more flexible with them, or Josh can meet them, but we both need to be there for the pitch.’
He looked back at me hopefully. ‘I could have them next weekend instead?’ he suggested.
‘That’s fine,’ I said, looking at the calendar. ‘Obviously, I’ll have to get out of all of the parties and whatnot that I’ve been invited to, but it shouldn’t be a problem.’ I smiled at him and he made a move as if to kiss me and then checked himself. ‘And well done,’ I said, ‘on the new client. I’m sure you’ll nail it.’
‘Thanks,’ he said, awkward now. ‘I hope so.’
‘There’s one more thing,’ he added. ‘Jess has been invited to a birthday party on the Saturday – here’s the invite.’
He handed me a garish-looking invitation. A sprinkle of glitter fluttered on to the floor.
‘It’s Macy from nursery,’ he said. ‘Her mum gave me this on Wednesday. She’s the one who always dresses entirely in pink,’ he added. ‘Macy, not the mum.’
‘I know the one,’ I said. ‘Jess says she always goes straight for the dressing-up box and never lets anyone else have a go on the tiara.’ I stuck the invite on the fridge with a magnet in the shape of an Irish leprechaun that Ian brought Jess back from his last trip to Dublin.
‘Thanks, Frankie,’ he said, ‘I appreciate it. In fact, I got you these as a pre-emptive thank you.’ He produced a double pack of Jaffa Cakes from behind his back. I laughed.
‘If this is the deal then we may have to swap more often,’ I said.
‘Actually,’ he said, ‘there was something else I wanted to talk to you about too, only perhaps just the two of us?’ I must have looked a bit worried as he quickly reassured me. ‘It’s nothing bad,’ he said, ‘and I’m not going to ask you to give things a second try or anything …’ Cue awkward laugh. ‘I just thought it might be something to talk about when I have your full attention.’
Intriguing.
We agreed to go out for a drink on Tuesday night – Flo can stay home with Jess for an hour, I’m sure it won’t kill her. (Although Jess might.) What does he want to talk to me about though?