Love... And Sleepless Nights MAY 2012 (24 page)

Then something deeply distressing happens. Jane begins to cry. It’s rather like seeing a sabre-tooth tiger playing with a ball of string.

‘I don’t know why I did it Laura!’ she wails. ‘Michael doesn’t come near me anymore. All he cares about is that bloody thing!’ She stabs a finger at the television. ‘Nigel just showed me some attention. One thing led to another and…’

‘He’s slipping you a mid-morning length?’

‘Yes!’ She starts to cry again. ‘I haven’t felt wanted in years! He… he made me feel
special
. Can’t you understand that Laura?’

I had intended to launch into a verbose attack on Jamie’s mum, having been on the end of many a barbed comment and throw-away insult over the years. I was looking forward to getting some payback for all her self obsessed, holier-than-thou bullshit.

This isn’t that Jane Newman though.

This is a sad, lost and lonely woman, rapidly descending into her dotage. It’s quite pathetic – and takes the wind out of my sails completely.

I sit beside her. ‘Yes, I understand. Though he could have made you feel special with a meal and a bottle of wine, Jane. You didn’t have to go straight for the hardcore doggie-style antics.’

‘I’m such a fool!’ Jane punches the couch armrest. ‘I’ve ruined everything. You’ll tell Michael and Jamie and everyone’s lives will be destroyed.’

Aaah…

So the real Jane Newman starts to re-assert herself.

Laying this at my door is a masterpiece of deflection. I’m not having it. ‘Don’t bring me into this, Jane. This is your doing. I won’t say anything, but I expect you to have the guts to tell them yourself.’

I’m not really sure if that’s the right way to play this, but I’m not letting this manipulative harridan paint me into a corner, where I have to be the one to decide whether the truth comes out or not.

Her eyes narrow. She can see I’ve got her pegged.

It’s wrong, but a small part of me does an exultant back flip of pride.

‘You can’t expect me to tell them.’

‘I can and I bloody do. This is your mistake… you deal with it.’

I want to leave now. The quicker I can get away from here the quicker I can start drinking to blot out the last ten minutes of my life.

…I could drink if I didn’t have a baby to look after, that is. Damn Jamie and his stupid healthy sperm!

I get up off the couch and stalk towards the guest room to retrieve Poppy.

‘Why did you come here in the first place Laura?’ Jane asks.

‘I wanted your advice on teething. Poppy’s being a nightmare.’

‘You wanted
my
advice?’ Jane sounds incredulous.

‘Yes. Yes I did,’ I reply, my voice softening traitorously.

‘Oh.’ She actually looks quite touched.

What a fucking bitch!

‘Try putting the dummy in the fridge before giving it to her. That always seemed to work for Jamie.’

‘Did it? Okay. I’ll give it a try.’

I gather up my sleeping baby and open the front door.

‘Are you going to say anything to Jamie?’ Jane asks forlornly as I cross the threshold.

‘I don’t know. I’ll wait to see what
you
do Jane.’ I can’t leave without a final comment. This is after all a woman I don’t really like much. ‘Just try not to shag anyone else in the meantime.’

I don’t wait for a response.

I’m off down the driveway and into the car before she can say a damn thing.

As I reverse away, I look back briefly to see her standing on the doorstep, looking very small and lost. Jane Newman has always been a frightening spectre in my life, but now I see her in a totally different light.

She’s gone from a stone faced mother-in-law - standing over me in judgement and disapproval - to a woman with her knickers around her ankles, and an expression of deep sexual pleasure on her face while a gym instructor rams her from behind.

I really don’t know which image is worse…

So there you have it, Mum. I am now faced with a dilemma.

Do I tell Jamie? Or do I keep it to myself?

I know if Jane says nothing I’ll be harbouring an awful secret – but should I really say something to Jamie that might deeply upset him?

Also, do you want to know the
worst
part?

Jane’s advice about the dummy worked. Poppy’s been quiet for hours.

What a fucking bitch!

Love you, Mum.

Your confused daughter, Laura.

xxx

Jamie’s Blog

Sunday 13 July

Something is going on with my wife…

I’m about as astute when it comes to the female mind as Sherlock Holmes after a lobotomy, but even I can tell something’s up.

For the past few weeks her behaviour has been quite strange. Not all the time, but enough for me to notice.

I’ve questioned her about it.

This was, as ever, a colossal mistake.

The first time I asked she just said
‘nothing’
. The second time I got
‘honestly Jamie, nothing’
. The third occasion resulted in
‘will you leave me alone, you twat! I said there was nothing wrong!’
.

I should have ended it there, but a couple of hours later I asked again… and she ignored me for the rest of the evening.

I know there’s something funny going on though, and I’m itching to find out what it is.

I’m almost one hundred percent sure Laura’s not having an affair.

What with looking after Poppy every minute of the day, she’d have to buy a Tardis to make time to cheat on me.

I will have to exercise patience - which I’ve never been very good at. Mainly because when I have a problem on my mind I can get very distracted from day to day activities. This can lead to somewhat disastrous results.

Dwelling on what might be wrong with my wife led to a mortifying experience the other day, one that might also have led to a lengthy prison sentence, if I hadn’t done some very fast talking - and Captain Coincidence hadn’t reared his head to save the day.

For the first time in the seven months since Poppy was born, I was allowed out of the house with her on my own.

Due to the events that occurred however, it was probably the
last
time as well.

Laura is naturally the parent Poppy has been alone with more, given the fact that muggins here has to go out to work every day. This has given them time to bond as mother and daughter, as is right and proper.

When it comes to
my
relationship with my daughter, it largely consists of me pleading with her to shut up and ramming a bottle into her mouth, so I doubt she thinks of me as a vital part of her existence right now. In fact, Poppy probably groans inwardly whenever she sees me coming.

In an attempt to rectify this imbalance, and prove that I have what it takes to be a father, I suggested to Laura that I be allowed to take Poppy out on my own yesterday afternoon while she had some girlie time with Melina.

It’s Mel’s birthday and she had a spa day planned for her and her friends. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to take Poppy off Laura’s hands for a few hours.

‘I don’t know,’ Laura says in a very uncertain voice. ‘You are Jamie after all.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Honey, you can be a bit absent-minded now and again.’

‘If you’re going to bring up me forgetting to buy condoms again, I’ll - ’

‘I didn’t mean that. But you have to admit you can be a little scatter-brained.’

‘Laura, please,’ I say, voice dripping with honey. ‘This is our baby we’re talking about. I’ll be very careful.’ I stroke her arm. ‘It’ll give you and Melina a chance to have some fun together.’

That seems to do the trick. ‘Okay… you can have her this afternoon. Just be careful okay?’

‘Of course! Everything will be fine!’

…and it was. For about three hours.

Then I lost Poppy.

I waved goodbye to Laura on the doorstep and went to get my daughter ready for our big day out. There were a few things I wanted to buy in town, so I’d decided to take Poppy to the shops for a bimble about.

When I told her this was the plan, she smiled. This may have been genuine pleasure - or just a natural female reaction to the word ‘shopping’, I couldn’t quite tell.

I spent twenty minutes making sure I’d packed everything.

Babies are tiny things, but they come with a half ton of baby equipment that you need to have with you at all times. It took a few minutes of grunting and swearing to get it all in the boot - especially the bloody pushchair, which cost me about as much as the car did.

With Poppy strapped into her car seat with a minimum of fuss, I drove away safe in the knowledge I’d successfully packed everything for the trip.

Three minutes later I drove back to pick up Poppy’s bottle… then drove away safe in the knowledge I’d successfully packed everything for the trip.

Two minutes later I drove back to pick up the nappies… then drove away safe in the knowledge I was a fucking idiot.

We arrived in town about half past two.

About five to three I finally manoeuvre Poppy’s pushchair out of the car park lift and we begin our relaxed walk around town.

Except it’s a Saturday afternoon, so it’s about as relaxing as nuclear haemorrhoids. There are people everywhere.

I had planned to spend a couple of hours here, but as I try to negotiate the enormous pushchair around the vast amount of foot traffic I decide to cut the shopping trip short and take Poppy to the park.

In fact the only store I now intend to tackle is Debenhams, because Laura has asked me to pop in and pick up a present for a wedding we’re going to in a couple of weeks. I’m under strict instructions to buy a Debenhams up lighter. Not just
any
Debenhams up lighter though, I must purchase an ‘Elenora’ up lighter in silver.

Quite why they feel the need to give a lamp a woman’s name is beyond me, but I didn’t argue the point, knowing it would be an argument I would most definitely lose.

Into the store I go… and thus begins a nightmare of epic proportions.