The Shoe Princess's Guide to the Galaxy (15 page)

       
Ben stares at the floor bashfully. He’s already boxed up his fiancée’s pretty pink mules in their crackly paper. Oh yes, Marco provides us with the icing for our cakes as well!

       
I’m still on a high when I get home. And excitedly tell everyone about Marco saying that I was the next Manolo Blahnik – OK not quite. But still  ...

       
Unfortunately, Tim is about as receptive as a damp squid to Marco’s suggestion that I make shoes – openly querying the ‘business plan’ behind such a ‘folly’. He could have at least given me twenty-four hours to bask in glory before bursting my bubble. (He’s not normally so horrid.) I suspect he’s worried I’ll slip up on my ‘house duties’, now that he’s got me manacled in apron strings.

       
Mum, of course, is hugely impressed by my efforts. And even Dad urges me not to give up on any aspirations to make some funky mum shoes.

       
Folly, indeed ... I’ll show him!

And now, to top things off, it’s 10 p.m., and I’m home alone
again
thanks to Tim taking a call from work. He’s gone in to fix a system-test failure that his boss Alex says needs to be sorted by start of play tomorrow.

       
To be honest, I’m quietly glad to see the back of him. So much for radiating inner peace and harmony.

From:                Sophie (home)

To:                Jane (home)

Subject:        RE: Saturday Night – Chickenpox Alert

Hi Jane

       
Thanks so much for letting me know about Millie – poor little darling. And poor you too with your shoe school – Murphy’s Law. Will be watching Hugh with baited breath now.

       
Feel like we didn’t get the chance to speak much last Wednesday. I seemed to be constantly chasing after Hugh or dragging him off the tops of tables – how civilised our mothers’ group used to be when they all stayed in one spot. I sometimes wonder if we’re ever going to finish a conversation again. Thank goodness for email, is all I can say.

       
I did have the unfortunate pleasure of sitting next to Victoria, though. I know Mary tells us that she means no harm. (Mary would tell us to give a convicted murderer standing with a blood-soaked axe the benefit of the doubt!) But seriously, WHAT is her story? She drove me insane, telling me how fantastic Allegra is – how she’s such an easy baby (is there such a thing?). And how she can’t wait until Allegra is old enough to bake cakes with her. All hell broke loose when she found out that I was going back to work.

       
I’m due back in a few weeks (really can’t afford to stay out of the loop too much longer). They gave me the option of 4 days per week, so I jumped at it. Must admit, I’ve been looking forward to and dreading this ‘next big step’ in equal measure. Victoria made me feel so damn guilty, though. I don’t know what her husband does, but the bills at our place certainly can’t be paid by my husband’s town-planning salary much beyond April. (Nor can my sanity stay intact much beyond then either!)

       
Have been sitting at the computer all weekend, trawling the Internet for any hints on how to choose the best nanny. Mind you, not sure it’s such a good idea, as have been totally transfixed by horror stories posted on noticeboards about nannies that steal your clothes and lock your kids in cupboards etc – have worked myself up into a real state. Have interviewed quite a few already – what an experience. Only proving that I can confidently advise board members of multinational companies, yet am reduced to a whimpering, indecisive idiot when it comes to who looks after our son.

       
Had I gone back to work earlier, would I have found it easier letting go? Who knows? I guess it’s never easy. (Am constantly having these guilt-ridden rhetorical conversations with myself.)

       
But I do know I’m being held to ransom by these nannies – all of them have ‘requested’ they be paid cash-in-hand. I’m so confused. Have fallen for the charms of the friendly and capable Oz/Kiwi/SA girls – but big drawback is their transience. I just want a simple life!

       
Can’t wait to catch up and see your bespoke shoes – you clever thing. Hope Millie’s on the mend soon

       
Sophie xx

Blimey, she sprang that one on me.

From:                Jane (home)

To:                Sophie (home)

Subject:        Sunday Night

Sophie ... you can’t leave me with Victoria ... Aaaaargh! Am starting to get a complex – as of tomorrow Tim’s spending 3 weeks out of 4 in Bangalore. (He’s been having a hellish time of it lately, ever since his new boss came on board. Sadly, no end in sight.) Can’t say I’m looking forward to yet more time flying solo with young bub at home. But we do what we have to do, I guess.

       
Am amazed, actually, at how physically shattered yet mentally invigorated I feel, just from my weekend of shoe-making – ready to tackle the demands of mothering again. Am SO proud of my creations!

       
Millie is soldiering on. Just difficult stopping her from itching, and keeping her indoors for now. See you in a week or so when she’s spot-free. And good luck with the nannies!

       
Hugs to Hugh

       
Jane xx

New Year’s resolution mark two: Get a life.

www.ShoePrincess.com
 
I’d like to go out on a limb and share with you a shoe poem, sent in by SP of Dublin. If only for the sake of helping to mend a broken heart! (And as any self-respecting SP knows, there is no better remedy than a new pair of shoes.) OK, here goes  ...
 
An Ode to Shoes
 
I love you more than cherry pies,
You never betray me and go straight to my thighs,
Or leave me once you’ve had your fun,
Without explanation or so much as a so long.
(All will become clear soon  ...)
 
The smell of your new leather, cheery colour and delectable touch  ...
Your illicit purchase brings no comparable rush.
(I’m guessing cherry-red Marc Jacobs pumps?)
 
Gobshite two-timing boyfriends may come and go,
But we’ll be together for ever, I know.
Ah, how I looooove shoes!

14. Soft Shoe Shuffle

From:                Sophie (work)

To:                Jane (home)

Subject:        RE: Fallen off the Radar

Hi Jane

       
So sorry I haven’t been in touch for ages. All is good, thanks. But have just survived my first nanny crisis – a mere 4 weeks back at work. Sharelle got a severe bout of gastro and had to take a week off! Thankfully, James has a brilliant boss who let him take 2 days off work (unpaid) to look after Hugh, then Mum came down from Cheshire and covered 1 day before dashing back for a specialist’s appointment, and I took a sick day. Felt like such a fraud – but was left with no other option.

       
Then Sharelle called to say that she’d broken up with her boyfriend and was going back to NZ – the next day. Cue me taking the whole next week off work (from my holidays – who needs them) to interview more nannies and find one that could start straight away. (And I didn’t believe the agency when they said Sharelle would be the first, but definitely not the last, nanny I would ever hire.) Hence, my silence.

       
The irony of all of this is that I’m really enjoying being back at work. Although can’t believe how efficient I am these days. No after-work drinks and pats on the back – just want to get my job done and get home as fast as I can (and hopefully catch Hugh before bed). James gets home before me and helps out with meals and bathtime. Which is fantastic – their special time together. (Doesn’t mean I don’t worry or still feel guilty – but I can’t be in two places at once, right?)

       
Anyway, we’ve now got Rhiannon – who I’m happy to say is very single and very mature. She had the cleanest and most sensible shoes too – you’ve made me paranoid now about everyone’s shoes.

       
Here’s hoping that the rest of May will be hassle-free for all of us.

       
Hope to catch up soon (miss our Wednesday girlie chats) and much love to Millie

       
S xx

PS. How’s Mary and Victoria and the gang? xx

Ah, what a difference a couple of months can make. The gang has all but disbanded. Mary’s new-mothers’ group is just that – full of new mothers again. Every one of the old-timers, bar Victoria and me, has gone back to some form of work. And we were politely told to move on and arrange our own get-together.

       
Which Victoria obligingly did.

       
So now, each Wednesday, Millie and I sit on the rug with an assortment of nannies in the front room of Victoria’s massive double-fronted house overlooking Queen’s Park, while she runs her Musical Maestros group. (We had to make up numbers by placing an ad on the noticeboard at the park café.) And I must say, even though Victoria makes me feel hugely inadequate, she does a fantastic job of the group.

       
Each week she chooses a different composer and does a little spiel on why his (yes, unfortunately no females yet) music is good for infant-brain development. Usually quoting one of her notorious ‘research studies’ linking, for example, early exposure to classical music with increased spatial-reasoning abilities. (Something Victoria
assures
me Millie will need if she’s half a chance of getting into a decent school – not that I’ve thought that far ahead yet.)

       
The music group doesn’t have the same battle-scarred camaraderie as our old mums’ group, but the babies love it. And Millie and Allegra have become great friends too. Meanwhile, I think I’ve made friends with every white-van man in London – signing for an endless stream of home-delivered groceries, furniture, toys, designer shoes and chic French baby clothes for Victoria. She’s an Internet/catalogue fanatic. Call me old-fashioned, but I like to shop – the thrill of the chase and all that!

       
Outside music group, Millie and I muddle along in our own little way. Mostly involving rain-sodden jaunts around the park and trips to the high street and supermarket. (As well as a newly discovered affection for wellie boots.)