Me and My Sisters (10 page)

I watched her go, slowly climbed into the car and leant my head back on the seat. My life seemed so dull compared to hers. She was so full of passion and enthusiasm for what she was doing. When was the last time I’d felt that strongly about anything? If I was honest, it was when I’d bought that Jason Wu dress for the Breast Cancer Ball in October. But had it fed my soul? What did that even mean?

I called Julie.

‘Hi, Sophie.’

‘Does being a mum feed your soul?’ I asked.

‘Are you drunk?’

‘No. I just met Denise Fuller, who was in my class in school. She’s a scriptwriter now. You should have heard her, Julie – she’s so passionate about what she does. She said her job feeds her soul. What feeds yours?’

‘My soul hasn’t seen the light of day in four and a half years. It’s so deeply buried under the stress of my day-to-day life I think it may have been crushed to death.’

‘What do you feel passionately about?’

‘Sleep.’

‘No, seriously, come on.’

‘Sophie, I haven’t got time to ponder whether my soul is fed or not. There are a lot of days when I don’t get time for a thirty-second shower. Giving my soul a three-course meal is low on my list of priorities – it’s on a par with getting my legs waxed because then Harry might think I want sex.’

‘Do you think being a full-time mum is enough?’

‘Enough for what? Enough to drive you round the bend? Enough to make you insane with love and pride one minute, rage and shame the next? Every time I hear about a woman expecting twins or triplets, I cry because I know she’ll not come up for air for years. And when Angelina frigging Jolie was wandering around with a twin hanging off each boob, looking beautiful, I wanted to scream.’

‘Maybe I should do something for charity.’

‘To hell with charity! Come and babysit for me once a week – I’ll be your charity. Let me describe my morning to you. It began at two a.m. when Leo woke me up to tell me he’d had a scary dream. At three thirty Luke did a poo and needed his bum wiped. At five Liam came in to ask me if God was bigger than a crane – yes. A house? Yes. A castle? Yes. A tree? Yes. A monster truck? YES! At six, Tom woke up and refused to go back to sleep. I then spent two hours chasing the triplets around, trying to get them to sit down and eat breakfast. Two bowls of Rice Krispies ended up on the floor. It took a further forty-five minutes to wrestle them into their clothes, during which one jumper and one shirt were ripped. We arrived to Montessori half an hour late. I got a bollocking from their teacher. When I got home I had to clear up all the breakfast things. While I was doing that, Tom went into the bathroom, drank some shampoo, went into my bedroom, climbed on to my bed and vomited everywhere. I now have to go and collect the triplets from school and think up ways to keep them entertained for the next eight hours. So, as you can probably tell, my soul, if it’s still alive, is very badly neglected. I’m hoping to get reacquainted with it when the boys are eighteen.’

‘But I’m not as busy as you. I have more time on my hands, so maybe I should do something else.’

Julie sighed. ‘Sophie, your life looks pretty perfect to me and you seem very happy. Just because you met someone who loves their job doesn’t mean your job as a mum and wife isn’t important. Everyone is fulfilled in different ways.’

‘You’re right. Thanks, Julie.’

‘I’ve got to go – if I’m late to pick up the triplets Mrs Walsh will probably call the police.’

Julie was right: I was happy. So what if shopping gave me the high that careers gave other people? Everyone had different passions. I liked my life just the way it was. I reached into my bag and popped Wednesday’s pill into my mouth.

No more babies.

10

Julie

Gavin had called and invited himself over for breakfast. As it was Sunday, the triplets were still in their pyjamas, watching
Ben 10: Alien Force
, and Tom was playing on the floor with his Lego. Harry and I were actually able to have tea and toast in relative peace. I had thrown a sweatshirt over my fleecy pyjamas and pulled my hair back into a clip. Harry went to answer the door to Gavin, but arrived back with two people – Gavin and a younger version of Angelina Jolie. She was stunning in a totally natural way – which is actually unnatural, because so few people are. She had no makeup on and was wearing skinny khaki jeans and a plain grey sweatshirt, but she was drop-dead gorgeous. Harry was positively ogling.

‘You might want to stop drooling,’ I whispered, handing him one of Tom’s bibs.

‘Julie, this is Acorn.’ Gavin introduced us.

I shook her hand. Shit, why hadn’t I got dressed this morning and put on makeup? I felt like a wrinkly old hag. ‘Very nice to meet you. Come and sit down. Will you have tea or coffee?’ I asked.

‘Coffee, please. We didn’t get much sleep last night.’ She looked at Gavin and giggled.

Oh, God, could this get any more depressing? They had obviously been having sex all night. New, steamy, rip-the-clothes-off-each-other sex. I remembered that … vaguely.

Acorn peeled her sweatshirt off to reveal a tight vest-top and a pair of big, round, perky boobs.

I glanced at Harry. I think his heart had stopped. Angelina Jolie was his ideal woman and here was a younger version, with bigger boobs, sitting in his kitchen. I poked him in the ribs. ‘Harry! Pour the coffee, will you, please? I’m going to put on more toast.’

‘Thanks, Harry.’ Acorn smiled, as my lovestruck husband handed her a mug.

‘So, who’s minding the tree this morning?’ I asked.

‘Actually, it looks like the new clubhouse development is going to be shelved. The captain’s wife, Mrs O’Connor, came to the tree last night with a lasagne and told me they can’t raise the funding. A third of the members haven’t paid their subs this year, so we should know in the next few days if it’s been cancelled.’

‘I know two people who will be very relieved,’ I said.

‘Yeah. Dad may even speak to me again in daylight.’ Gavin snorted.

Acorn sniffed the air. ‘Julie, is something burning?’

‘No, that’s the lingering smell from the fire that the triplets started when Uncle Gavin here was babysitting.’

‘Dude, seriously?’ Acorn turned to her boyfriend.

‘It was an accident. I’ve apologized a million times.’

‘Our very own arsonist.’ Harry finally found his voice.

‘You’re a real comedian,’ Gavin drawled.

‘Morning.’ Marian opened the back door and strolled in, wearing her dressing-gown. I felt better – she looked even worse than I did. ‘Sorry to barge in but we’re out of milk.’

‘No problem, I’ve loads. Will you have a cuppa?’ I asked.

‘Will I have a cup of coffee and avoid going back to the chaos in my house? That’s a definite yes.’ She grinned.

‘Hey, Marian, how’s it going?’ Gavin asked.

‘Shite, as usual. How’s the tree-hugging?’

‘Good, thanks.’

‘Is it true you’ve changed your name to “Blade of Grass” or “Tree Stump” or something?’

‘It’s Willow, actually, and this is Acorn. She’s also, as you would say, a tree-hugger,’ Gavin told her.

To Acorn, Marian said, ‘Honey, you look like a super-model. What are you wasting your time up a tree for? Get yourself a decent name and an agent. You could be the next Bond girl.’

‘Climate change is all I care about,’ Acorn said.

‘Fuck the climate. With God-given assets like you have, you should be making millions and living a life of luxury. Do it while you’re young and your boobs can still fight gravity.’

‘How’s Greg?’ Harry asked.

‘Greg’s a wanker.’

‘Right.’ Harry took a sip of his coffee.

‘Who’s Greg?’ Acorn asked.

‘Marian’s husband.’ Gavin grinned.

‘He arrives back from his conference in Miami last night and tells me he’s worn out and needs to go straight to bed. I’ve been on my own with the kids all week, I’ve had no sleep and he wants a nap!’

‘What did you say?’ I encouraged her. I wanted Harry to hear the things Marian said to Greg: it made him think I was the best, sanest wife ever.

‘I told him if he lay down on the bed, I’d set the fucking thing on fire.’

Gavin and I roared laughing. Harry and Acorn looked shocked.

‘Bit extreme,’ Harry said.

‘In case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t do subtle.’

‘How many children do you have?’ Acorn asked.

‘Four. It’s three too many.’

‘I think it’s so cool that you both have big families,’ Acorn enthused. ‘I want to have loads of kids – maybe four of my own and adopt four more. It’d be amazing to have twins or triplets, and I definitely want to breast-feed for the first two years like my mum did.’

Before I could give Acorn some gentle advice about
never
wishing for triplets, Marian jumped in. ‘Honey, you need to listen to me very carefully. Raising one child is difficult enough. Raising three at the same time is hell. I know you see these celebrities in magazines with their five, six, seven kids looking blissfully happy. I can assure you, these women are not blissful. They are out of their minds with stress and most of them are popping Prozac like Smarties. As for breast-feeding your children for two years, unless you want to see those perky tits swinging around your ankles with toothmarks all over them, don’t even think about it.’

Acorn began waving her arms in a circle. ‘You have a very negative aura. You should try meditating. Your stress levels are dangerously high.’

‘Meditation! Do you have any idea what it’s like raising four kids on your own with no help? Most days I don’t get the chance to pee.’

‘Look how calm it is in this house. Julie and Harry seem to have it sussed,’ Acorn said.

Marian and I caught each other’s eye and laughed hysterically. ‘This house went on fire last week,’ Marian reminded her.

‘You happen to have called in during the twenty minutes we get per day when the kids watch TV at the same time without trying to kill each other. Just wait another minute or two and you’ll see it kick off,’ I put in.

As if on cue, we heard a bloodcurdling roar as Luke was shoved backwards through the TV-room door by Leo and Liam. He landed on Tom, who screeched.

‘Boys,’ Harry barely raised his voice, ‘behave yourselves. Now come and meet Gavin’s friend. Her name is Acorn.’

‘Like from a tree?’ Luke asked.

‘Exactly,’ Acorn answered.

‘Mummy said people with names like trees are silly,’ Leo piped up.

‘No, I did not,’ I spluttered.

‘Yes, you did,’ Liam reminded me. ‘Remember when Uncle Gavin changed his name to Willow and you said he was a silly-billy and that he should have got a real job after college and not live in a tree like a bloody squirrel?’

‘That’s lovely language to use in front of them.’ Harry glared at me.

‘LIAM!’ I scolded. ‘Don’t curse.’

‘I’m not. I’m just saying what you said.’

‘I can see your boobies,’ Luke said, staring at Acorn’s cleavage.

‘Dude, have some respect.’ Gavin nudged his nephew’s shoulder.

‘Marian said babies kill boobies,’ Leo said.

‘Fucking right they do,’ Marian replied.

‘Marian, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t curse in front of the kids.’ Harry frowned.

Marian stood up, holding a carton of milk. ‘Don’t worry, I’m going before I corrupt them.’ She winked at Harry. Turning to me she asked, ‘Are you around tomorrow to take the monsters to the park?’

‘Sorry, I’m meeting Sophie for a play-date.’

‘I thought she hated the boys.’

‘She doesn’t hate them, she just finds them boisterous, and her Jessica is a bit scared of them.’

‘Jess needs to toughen up – she’s afraid of her own shadow,’ Gavin said. ‘It’ll do her good to spend more time with the boys.’

‘OK, let’s do something on Tuesday. I’ll give you a buzz. Thanks for the milk.’ Marian turned back to close the door. ‘I’ll take my negative aura and my foul mouth home.’

‘She just gets madder every time I see her,’ Gavin said.

‘I don’t know how Greg puts up with her,’ Harry commented.

‘She has a very dark aura. She needs to do a negative-energy cleansing before it’s too late. You should encourage her to do some positive visualization exercises.’ Acorn looked upset: clearly Marian was a bad case.

‘I don’t know any cleansings. Can you give me one?’ I asked. I had a feeling my aura wasn’t too shiny either.

‘Sure. Visualize yourself in a shower of light, and watch it pouring down to you from the sun. Let the rays wash over you, cleansing all the negative energy around you. Then visualize that light pouring into your body through the top of your head, cleansing you of any negative energy. See the negative energy pouring out of you through the soles of your feet into the Earth, where it will be transformed into love. It’s the same way that trees transform carbon dioxide into oxygen.’

‘I’ll be sure to tell her that.’ I’d try it myself tomorrow before I went to Sophie’s to see if it worked.

The next day, as I stood in the shower, I closed my eyes and visualized the light shining through me. But just as I was getting to the part where the bad stuff goes out through my feet I heard a crash. I grabbed a towel and ran to the kitchen. The triplets were nowhere to be seen. They had somehow managed to push the heavy wooden kitchen table on to its side and all the breakfast dishes – glasses, cups and plates – lay smashed on the floor. Tom was sitting in the middle of the mess, looking bewildered. I picked him up, made sure he wasn’t cut or hurt, and roared, ‘GET OUT HERE NOW!’

The triplets shuffled out of their hiding place, heads down.

‘Sorry, Mummy, it was an accident,’ Luke said.

‘How could pushing the table over be an accident?’

‘We were trying to see who was the strongest of us and none of us could push it over. When we all did it together, it worked,’ Leo admitted.

‘You’ve broken everything!’ I knelt down to pick up the pieces of my delft and tried not to cry. ‘I’ve told you a million times not to push things over or break things. I’m so sick of this shit.’

‘Don’t say “shit”,’ Liam reminded me.

‘SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!’ I shouted, like a petulant child, and stormed off to get the Hoover.

I had arranged to meet Sophie in the park near her house. It had a good section for older kids and a toddler area, too. We were going to let the children play there and then take them for an early tea in the Italian restaurant behind the park. But five minutes after we arrived it began to rain.

‘The weather in this stupid country is a joke. Let’s go. My boots are going to get ruined,’ Sophie complained. They were grey suede with high heels.

‘You should have worn something more practical to the park.’

‘They match my outfit. In any case, I don’t want my hair to get wet – Jack’s taking me out later.’

‘Where do you want to go?’ The obvious place was Sophie’s house, which was close by, but I knew she wouldn’t want my boys running around her perfect home.

The rain got heavier. Sophie put Jess’s hat on, pulled her grey-suede jacket over her head and cursed. ‘I suppose we’ll just have to go back to my place until it stops. It can’t last long.’

When we got to her front door, she ordered everyone, including me, to take our wet shoes off. She didn’t want mud on her cream Italian marble tiles. I noticed she didn’t take her own shoes off. She wiped them on the mat and led us into the kitchen. When we were all inside, she locked the door to the hall and the one to the pantry. The children were now contained in the kitchen and the playroom.

‘Now, boys, I want you to play nicely with Jessica and don’t be rough with her or her toys or I’ll be very cross. OK?’ Sophie said.

The boys seemed a bit frightened. ‘OK.’

‘Promise?’

‘We promise.’

‘All right. Now off you go and play.’

‘Can we have a treat?’ Leo asked.

‘No. Treats make you hyper. Just go and play,’ Sophie told him.

‘If you’re good, I’ll get you a treat on the way home,’ I promised him.

‘Can we have Maltesers?’ Luke asked.

‘Maybe.’

‘Can we have Rolos?’ Leo asked.

‘We’ll see.’

‘I want crisps,’ Liam told me.

‘Fine. Just go and play and we’ll talk about it later.’

‘You’re not really going to give them all that junk, are you?’ Sophie asked.

I shrugged. ‘I know you’re into all your organic stuff, but sweets are the only bribe that works for me, so don’t give me a hard time about it.’

‘You’re just making more trouble for yourself. Sugary foods make them even harder to manage. You should reward them with unsalted popcorn or yoghurt-covered rice cakes.’

‘Jessica is a saint. I can’t believe those are her treats. The boys would freak if I gave them rice cakes.’

‘I’ve never offered her sweets, so she doesn’t ask for them.’

‘Well, she’s obviously got her mother’s self-control.’

‘I hope so. Latte?’ Sophie asked.

‘Love one.’

‘Skimmed milk OK?’

‘Sure.’ I didn’t like lattes with skimmed milk, but Sophie thought full-fat milk was the devil’s juice.

The kitchen was like something you’d see in a magazine. There was nothing on the surfaces. No post, newspapers, socks, toys, bottles, beakers, vitamin jars, crumbs, half-eaten crackers … The only things you could see were a state-of-the-art kettle and a coffee machine.

‘I’m thirsty,’ Luke said, as they all trooped back into the kitchen.

‘Ask Sophie nicely for a drink,’ I told him.

‘Auntie Sophie, can I have a drink?’ he asked.

‘I’ve got goat’s milk or water.’

‘Yuck.’

‘Do you have any apple juice?’ I asked.

She shook her head. ‘It’s full of sugar and rots kids’ teeth.’

‘Smoothies?’ I tried.

‘God, no, they’re just as bad. Fruit juice is full of sugar. You shouldn’t let the boys drink it.’

‘I hate water,’ Luke grumbled.