Mad About You (5 page)

‘Apologize to your sister,’ I ordered Yuri.

‘No way.’ Yuri crossed his arms.

‘Yuri, I’m going to count to three and you’d better apologize or you’ll be in big trouble. One … two …’

‘Uhm, hello?’

I turned to my right. A woman was leaning over the fence, waving at me. Damn. I really hadn’t wanted my neighbours to hear me shouting at my children.

‘Hello!’ my neighbour said again.

I jumped up and went over. ‘Sorry. Hi, I’m Emma.’

Close up, the neighbour was pretty in a very natural way. Her hair was cut short and she was very tanned with bright blue eyes.

‘I’m Carol. Carol Richards. Number nine.’

I shook her hand. ‘Nice to meet you. We’ve just moved over from Dublin.’

Carol leant on her spade. ‘I thought I heard an accent. How are you finding it so far?’

‘It’s fine, thanks. I’ve just been unpacking and getting organized, so I haven’t really had a proper chance to look around or meet people.’

‘Who’s this, then?’ Carol pointed to Lara, who was peeping from behind my leg.

‘Oh, sorry, this is Lara, she’s three, and that’s Yuri, he’s four.’

‘And three-quarters,’ Yuri said, coming over to inspect the new person.

‘Three-quarters is very important. Nice to meet you, Yuri and Lara. What beautiful names you have.’

‘I’m adopted from Russia. My mummy says I’m her heart baby,’ Yuri piped up.

‘Wow, lucky you,’ Carol said, smiling at him.

Yuri continued with his life story: ‘Mummy said when she saw me in the orf’nage, she knew I was her little boy.
Her heart told her. Some babies come out of their mummies’ tummies, like Lara, and some come in their mummies’ hearts, like me.’

I stroked the back of Yuri’s head. I loved him telling people he was my heart baby. It made me want to weep with love and pride.

‘Well, it looks as if you’ve been filled in on our family history,’ I said, laughing.

‘It’s very heartwarming.’ Carol had a lovely smile – very genuine. I liked her immediately. I could tell already that she didn’t have any agenda or angles: she was exactly who you saw.

‘Do you have babies?’ Lara asked our neighbour.

‘Lara!’ I said, embarrassed. ‘I’ve told you it’s rude to ask people that.’

‘It’s OK,’ Carol reassured me. ‘Actually, Lara, I have two boys.’

‘Are they big or small?’ Lara asked.

‘Terry is nine and Freddy is seven, but he’s tall so everyone thinks he’s nine, too. They’ve gone to the park with their granny.’

‘Yuri isn’t big at all. Mummy keeps trying to get him bigger. It’s cos of the yucky food in the orf’nage.’

What was going on? The kids were never normally so forthcoming with information. Before I could interrupt, Carol turned to Yuri and said, ‘I think you’re a perfect size.’

Yuri beamed at her and climbed up on a rock to look over her fence. ‘Wow! Your garden’s a big mess,’ he said.

Carol laughed. ‘Well, it’s actually an organized mess. You see, I grow all my own food.’

‘Do you grow cornflakes?’ Yuri asked.

‘No, but I grow rhubarb and strawberries and courgettes and aubergines and carrots and tomatoes and cucumbers and beans and lots of other things, too.’

‘Yuck. Yuck. Yuck. The only thing I like is strawberries,’ Yuri announced.

‘Yuri! Don’t be rude. It’s incredible that Carol grows all those vegetables and fruits in her garden.’

‘What’s a corgette and what’s a oberine?’ Lara asked.

I could feel my face going red. I was mortified that my daughter didn’t know those vegetables. I’d probably have Jamie Oliver knocking on my door tomorrow, berating me for being a bad mother. I’d been very conscientious about vegetables with Yuri because he really needed them to strengthen him when we’d brought him home from the orphanage. But Lara spat out every vegetable I put into her mouth, and dinner time had become a war zone. Yuri would eat vegetables if they were hidden in a sauce, but Lara could spot, smell and sense a vegetable at ten paces. She refused to eat anything except the plainest of food and, if I’m being honest, I’d kind of given up. I knew I needed to try to introduce vegetables again, but I hated fighting with Lara every night and it nearly always ended in tears – either Lara’s or mine. Sometimes even Yuri joined in.

‘Why don’t you come over and I’ll show you the garden?’ Carol suggested.

‘Thanks. We’d love to!’ I was delighted to be getting some quality time with someone new. Carol definitely seemed like my type of person, so hopefully we could be pals.

We got to her garden via the side entrance to her house. While our side of the wall between the two houses was black, Carol’s was white and it had vegetables painted on it in bright colours. Yuri and Lara were very impressed.

As for her garden, I was stunned. What Carol had achieved with a fairly small space was incredible. I couldn’t believe the variety of fruit and veg she had managed to plant and grow. I had killed every plant I’d ever owned, including a cactus,
and they were supposed to live for ever. We ate the sweetest strawberries I’d ever tasted – even Lara liked them. I was thrilled that she didn’t spit them out. Then Carol served us apple juice, made from her own apples. It tasted fantastic. We all drained our glasses. The fresh fruit tasted so much better than supermarket stuff that I made solemn vows to myself to be a better mother from that day forward and feed my children fresh things. I’d have to find a farmers’ market or something.

Carol even had a hen coop tucked behind the glasshouse. She kept four hens, which laid all her eggs. The children went from being curious to enchanted in ten seconds flat – they loved this garden of colours and scents and hidden surprises. Back over the fence, ours contained a paddling pool and overgrown grass.

‘Carol, this is amazing! Have you been working on the garden long?’ I asked.

She sipped her apple juice, savouring it. ‘Ever since we moved in, ten years ago.’

‘Well, you’ve done a fantastic job.’

‘Keith, my husband, says I’m a bit extreme. I’ve gone very green, you see. I get so furious when I see neighbours’ bins full of things they could recycle. The worst on this road is Poppy. She puts all her plastic packaging into her black bin. It makes my blood boil.’

Yikes! I sometimes did that too. I tried to be good, but if I was in a hurry or unpacking zillions of boxes, like I had been lately, I sometimes just shoved everything around me into the black bin. I’d have to be careful in future. I didn’t fancy Carol going through my bins and calling me to task.

‘
Cooeeee!
’ a voice called from behind us.

I turned to see a tall, rake-thin blonde woman tottering down the side entrance. She was wearing skin-tight white
jeans, a jewelled, fitted kaftan and the most enormous sunglasses I’d ever seen – they covered three-quarters of her face.

‘I saw you from my window so I thought I’d pop around. The side gate was open, Carol. I presume you’re our new neighbour?’ she asked me.

‘Yes, I’m Emma.’

‘This is Poppy – she lives at number seven,’ Carol said.

‘Oh, right, hi, nice to meet you.’

‘We wented to your house and sawed your beautiful minder. She’s like a princess,’ Lara told Poppy.

Poppy smiled at her. ‘Aren’t you a cutie? And I love your accent. It’s adorable. Yes, Sophie is gorgeous. I like looking at pretty things. I couldn’t have anything ugly in my house – it would depress me.’ Turning to Carol, she said, ‘I honestly don’t know how you can sit in this garden – it’s like being in the middle of a muddy field.’

Carol laughed good-humouredly. ‘This garden means that we don’t eat awful processed food full of additives.’

‘I prefer Valium and white wine to food. It helps me deal with my life.’

Well, well. One of my neighbours was growing enough veg to feed half of London and the other was a lush. London certainly wasn’t boring. Curiosity got the better of me. ‘Are you having a tough time?’ I asked.

Poppy laid a hand on my arm. ‘Darling, when I met Nigel he was head of corporate law at Hendricks, Goodge and Farrow. He was handsome, wealthy and married, but unhappily so, fortunately for me. Anyway, we had a very passionate affair and he divorced his wife to make an honest woman of me. His first wife took him to the cleaner’s. We were left with very little, so we moved here.’ Poppy rolled her eyes. Clearly, Putney was a long way down the list from where she aspired
to live. ‘And then once he had married me there was, as they say, a job vacancy for a mistress. The bastard left me for his secretary – don’t talk to me about clichés. So in our divorce I got half of half, which, let me tell you, was not a lot.’

This was fascinating. I felt positively boring next to this tale of woe. ‘How long had you been married?’

‘Seven years. And the bastard had the audacity to have an affair and leave me, and our two sons, for a woman who is fatter than I am and uglier. So you see, darling, I need my pills.’

I tried not to laugh. Poppy seemed more upset that her rival was unattractive than that her marriage was over.

‘What age are your children?’ I asked.

‘Six and four. I got my tubes tied after I had Charlie.’

‘Yuri’s four. Maybe the boys could come over and play some time?’

Poppy nibbled a strawberry. ‘Anytime. You can keep them, if you like,’ she said, with a wicked grin.

‘Actually, speaking of kids,’ I said, suddenly inspired, ‘I’m looking for a childminder. I’m starting a job soon. Do you know of any good local nanny agencies?’

‘What line of work are you in?’ Poppy asked.

‘I’m a makeup artist.’

Poppy whooped. ‘There is a God! You must give me all your best tips. I need them. Honestly, since I turned thirty-seven everything has started drooping and I can only afford Botox once a year. And let’s be honest, darling, it’s tough out there and I do not want to spend the next forty years alone. I need to look my best to get a new man and I’m only interested in millionaires. I’ve been on several dates and none of them had big enough bank balances … yet.’ She winked at me.

I laughed. Poppy was fun. ‘I’d be happy to give you some tips.’

Poppy lifted her sunglasses onto the top of her head. ‘Now, childcare. I got my girl through Outstanding-aupairs.com. I can forward you the details when I get home. There’s an agency on Putney High Street called Nanny Solutions that’s supposed to be good, too. But actually, now that I think of it, my cleaning lady mentioned that her daughter’s looking for work. She’s nineteen or twenty and she’s Irish too. I’ll text Maggie when I get home and let you know. Maggie’s fantastic, so kind and trustworthy. I’m sure her daughter will be a decent girl.’

‘That would be brilliant.’ I was delighted with how things seemed to be falling into place – first the job, now the childminder. ‘Thanks so much.’

Carol was crouching to examine one of her vegetables. ‘I’m not going to be much help to you. I’ve never left the children with anyone but my mother,’ she said.

‘Never?’ I was shocked. ‘But what if you need to go out and your mother isn’t available?’

Carol shrugged. ‘I just stay in, or take the boys with me.’

Poppy butted in: ‘And, by the way, her mother lives miles away and only babysits about three times a year.’

I was gobsmacked. ‘So you’ve never left the children with anyone else?’ Was she serious? It just sounded so … inflexible.

‘No, and I never would.’

‘I’d leave my kids with anyone who’d take them,’ Poppy announced.

‘Why?’ I asked Carol.

‘I wouldn’t let a stranger look after my most treasured possessions,’ Carol said. ‘I just wouldn’t be able to relax.’

‘I’ve had lots of different babysitters looking after Yuri and Lara, and I’ve never had a problem,’ I pointed out.

‘You’re wasting your breath,’ Poppy assured me. ‘You’ll never change Carol’s mind.’

I was taken aback by Carol’s attitude. How could she never leave her boys with anyone but her mother? Her oldest was nine. There must have been lots of nights when she’d wanted to go out but had had to stay in. I didn’t see anything wrong with using babysitters. I’d always hired nice local girls.

When I’d gone back to work after my adoption leave, Mum had looked after Yuri, but when Lara had come along I’d hired a lovely Polish girl called Natasha, who had minded the two children for the four hours I was at work each day. Natasha had been amazing: she’d baked with them and taken them to the park and was very sweet. If I hadn’t had her, I wouldn’t have been able to work. Working mums had to hire people to look after their small children or put them in crèches. I didn’t have the guts to say it out loud, but I thought Carol was being unrealistic.

Carol could probably guess what I was thinking from the look on my face, and it was her turn to sound defensive. ‘I’m not judging anyone else. I just personally wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving my children with someone I barely knew. Would you let a stranger wear your clothes or sleep in your bed? No.’

‘It’s called having a life, Carol. It’s called getting out of the bloody house. It’s called retaining your sanity,’ Poppy said. ‘Nowadays children rule their parents’ lives. It’s all about them. We’re just slaves to their needs and wants. I’m sorry, but I think it’s utterly ridiculous. A woman is not a monster for wanting to have a few hours to herself.’

‘Or for going back to work,’ I added, ‘which a lot of the time isn’t even a choice any more. Lots of my friends have had to go back to work to help pay the bills.’

Carol sat back on her heels and looked at us. ‘It’s a choice everyone has to make. I’m not saying my way is the only way, but it’s the only one that I feel happy with. I contribute to our
household bills by growing all the food we eat and selling the extra at the markets on Saturdays.’

Poppy made a dismissive gesture with her hand and dropped her sunglasses back over her eyes. ‘Carol, darling, you need to go out some Saturday night, eat an enormous steak, drink cocktails made with tons of additives and live a little.’

Carol grinned. ‘I live very well, thanks, Poppy. We’re all different.’

‘And that’s what makes life interesting,’ I added, not wanting to alienate either of my new neighbours.

‘Give me a Martini over a parsnip any day,’ Poppy drawled.