The Life Makeover Club

Chapter 14

FOURTEEN

Grandma Joy’s Words of Wisdom:

‘What is life for, if not for having a little fun?’

Cara Collins ~ My life is like a never-ending episode of Play School meets C.S.I: “Which one of you put paint on the carpet?” *Innocent expressions on all three kids* “Jacob loves playing with paint,” Lily deduced. “Wasn’t me Mummy,” he defended. “Well, it wasn’t me,” Lily replied. “And Toby’s been playing with blocks the whole time.” *Jacob looks like he’s suddenly transformed into a lightbulb* “Mummy wuvs paint too – you did it Mummy, didn’t you! Are we going to make a painting on the carpet? Can we, pweeeease?” ...Stay tuned for next week’s riveting instalment.

Cara was bubbling with excitement and nerves as she waited for students and parents to arrive at the Penguins Pre-School Art Exhibition. She was even wearing light pink lipstick for the occasion, which she’d bought from the one-dollar bargain basket at the pharmacy. Cara and Mrs Fern had made quite a good team – organising the logistics, handing out invitations, and setting up the room. But with kids involved, you could never be too sure of the outcome. If it all went to crap on the night, at least she had her night away at Harbourside Towers this Friday to look forward to, having organised it following Miranda’s advice.

At six-thirty the doors opened, and a stampede of four-year-olds entered with mums, dads, siblings, and grandparents. Smiles of accomplishment graced the faces of the children as they pointed to their very own framed piece of art. Cara glanced at Mrs Fern with a rewarding smile. Unlike the usual display of drawings and paintings tacked loosely on walls or stuck to the fridge, Cara had transformed the play room into a children’s version of The Louvre . She’d placed the fairy statue from the garden in the corner, and had pushed the toy boxes together in the middle of the room, covering them with fabric and cushions to make a bench seat. She’d made cardboard frames for each artwork, and all the kids had contributed to a group painting called ‘United’, which was to take pride of place in the entry area of the pre-school. Cara even brought in a few of her own artworks to display; one being the portrait of Jacob, another a painting of a fairy with glittery wings, and another; an abstract symphony of cool colours swirling together, entitled ‘Bliss.’

Mrs Fern took on the role of curator, leading the group around the room painting by painting, interviewing each artist as she went. Lily, and a couple of older siblings of kids in the art class who had ‘volunteered’ – ahem – been talked into being waitstaff for the night, carried around trays with meatballs on toothpicks, cubes of cheese, and carrot sticks with hummus. The children devoured the meatballs and cheese in minutes, leaving the adults to munch on the carrots like starved reindeer.

‘Before we conclude the exhibition,’ Mrs Fern said later, addressing the guests. ‘I’d like to say a special thank you to Mrs Collins for making tonight possible. Children, let’s all thank Mrs Collins.’ She gestured towards Cara.

‘Thankyou Mrs Colliiinnns!’ the children chorused.

‘In honour of your effort and contribution to tonight, and the Wednesday art class, I’d like to present you with this certificate.’ Mrs Fern signalled to little Sienna who brought forth a laminated certificate with Cara’s name on it.

Her heart leapt. She hadn’t expected anything like this. ‘Oh, thank you Sienna!’ Cara bent down and accepted the certificate, one hand over her heart in humble gratitude.

‘And we have a little gift as well ... Benjamin?’

A bunch of flowers moved towards Cara, revealing a chuffed looking Benjamin behind them as he held them out for her.

‘That’s the most beautiful bunch of flowers I’ve ever seen, thank you, Benjamin!’ Cara scooped them up, relieving the boy of his florist duties. He walked back in confidence and stood next to Sienna. Everyone clapped, and Cara’s heart did a little somersault. Pete, carrying Toby, winked at her from the corner of the room, and tears of joy welled up in her eyes. Maybe the argument on their anniversary was behind them now.

When most people had left, a few parents still chatting and ignoring their child’s attempt to drag them outside, Benjamin’s mum approached Cara.

‘Well done, Cara,’ she said .

‘Thanks, it turned out to be a great night.’ Cara gathered up the empty trays of food.

‘I’m glad you displayed some of your own artworks tonight, I didn’t realise what a gift you have.’

‘Oh, thanks! That’s nice of you to say.’

‘Have you got a business card?’ Benjamin’s mum asked.

Cara’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘A business card?’ What? I don’t have a business, let alone a business card! If she had one, it would probably read: ‘Cara Collins – Bachelor of Pregnancy, Childbirth, and Breastfeeding, with first class honours majoring in Housekeeping, First Aid, and Rescue Missions.’

‘Sorry, I don’t have any with me tonight. Can I ask why?’ Nice save.

‘My sister-in-law owns an art and gift shop in the Queen Victoria Building, you might have heard of it; Queen of Arts?’

‘Um, I think so.’ She hadn’t. Cara hadn’t been back to the QVB since Jacob was three, when he’d knocked over and broken a pot plant, and when they tried to escape via the elevators, he’d somehow caused a malfunction by pressing all the buttons on and off repeatedly, confusing the hell out of the electrical control system and setting off some alarm.

‘She’s on the lookout for new pieces to sell in her shop, and from what I’ve seen here, I think she’d love your work.’

Stunned, no words came out of Cara’s mouth.

‘Here, if you could write your contact details.’ She handed Cara a piece of paper. ‘I’ll pass them onto Alice.’

Filled with excitement, Cara wrote her name, home phone number, mobile phone number, email address, and home ‘business’ address as neatly as possible, not wanting to miss the opportunity to be contacted by the Queen of Arts herself. Wait, was it a mistake to write my home address? Oh well, too late. I’m sure she’s not a serial killer or anything.

‘Thanks, I’ll have her contact you to arrange a viewing.’ Benjamin’s mum placed the paper into her purse, and walked out hand in hand with her son. Cara resisted the urge to jump up and down.

‘The exhibition was a great success, honey.’ Pete kissed her cheek.

‘Thanks. I have a feeling this is only the beginning.’ She smiled and kissed him back.

‘Mum, not in public!’ Lily exclaimed through her scrunched up face.

That night when the kids were tucked up in bed – for now – Pete slid under the covers and curled up behind Cara. ‘I’m proud of you,’ he whispered.

She rolled over and rested her head on his chest. ‘Honey, I’m sorry I didn’t consider your feelings before, about having another child.’

‘Hey, let’s not get into that now, we’ve had a busy night and should get some sleep before you-know-who decides it’s time for a midnight party.’

‘I just don’t want it to cause a rift between us.’

Pete propped himself up on his elbows. ‘Nothing could ever come between us, you know that.’

Cara sat up. ‘But what if, well, you know ... we can’t agree on the issue?’

Pete looked to the ceiling and appeared to think for a moment, then looked his wife in the eye. ‘You were in your element tonight, and it made me realise how much you’ve cast aside to be a mother. I can see what you meant before; you need to do something for yourself for a change. I get that now.’

Cara smiled. ‘Thanks for understanding.’ She caressed his face with her hand, and he kissed her thumb as it trailed past his lips. ‘So, does this mean you’ve had second thoughts about wanting another child?’ It was risky, but she had to ask.

Pete drew in a deep breath. ‘I’ve realised it’s not right for you right now.’

In other words, he still wanted one.

‘Look, why don’t we revisit the topic at the end of this year, huh? I want you to enjoy making progress with your art and do whatever you feel you need to in order to be happy. We’ve forked out for this club you’re a part of, and I want you to make the most of it.’ The moonlight sneaking through the side of the curtains caught the edge of his mouth as he offered a smile.

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

‘And what if at the end of the year we still disagree?’ Cara asked.

‘Then we disagree. Married couples can’t agree on everything, and we’d just have to accept the reality of the situation as best we can and move forward.’ He lay back down and drew her onto his chest.

Cara hoped it would be as easy as he made it sound, because right now, she couldn’t imagine changing her mind at all.

‘Welcome to Harbourside Towers, how can I help you?’ The young woman at reception flashed a glossy smile. Cara hoped she’d catch Miranda before her shift ended, but with the fuss the kids kicked up about Mummy Leaving, plus the time taken to clean paint from the carpet, she couldn’t get out the door till after five o’clock.

‘Hi, um, I just want to check in.’ Cara raised her heels off the floor for a moment. She’d never done this before. She’d only ever stayed in motels with the whole family, and Pete always handled the arrangements.

‘Sure, can I have your name please?’

‘Cara Collins.’

‘Oh yes, you’re Miranda’s friend. Now, I’ll just get you to fill out your details and sign here.’ She slid a form across and showed her pearly whites again.

Cara’s shoulders hunched as she leaned her forearms on the tall counter and filled out the form, aware of a strange sensation ... she felt about five kilograms lighter! With only a small overnight bag on her shoulder, she was practically naked without her entourage of bags, toys, and kids attached to her ankle or hip. It was like missing a limb, and she automatically checked to see if her left leg was still attached.

‘Here’s your room key, Mrs Collins. You’re in 614. Take the lift to level six, and your room is number fourteen. Enjoy your stay!’

‘Thanks!’ Room key? This looks like a credit card. She entered the lift when it opened with a high-pitched ping , and a woman in a sharp black suit got in at the next level, her pointy black shoes looking like they could cause serious injury.

‘Here for work?’ Cara asked the woman, then realised it was probably a silly question, unless the woman wore expensive-looking suits and shoes that compressed her toes into the shape of an arrow just for fun.

‘Yes, a three-day conference. And you?’

‘Oh, um ... I’ve got a ... meeting tomorrow.’ Which wasn’t a total lie. She was booked into the hotel spa, so it was kind of a meeting.

‘Oh, right.’ The woman nodded. ‘What type of work are you are in?’

‘Management.’ Which wasn’t a total lie either.

‘Well ... enjoy!’ The woman painted a smile on her face, and stepped out at level five.

The doors closed and Cara giggled. ‘This is going to be fun!’

After figuring out how to use the so called ‘key’ to enter the room, Cara sat on the bed and looked around, automatically surveying the room for small objects, dangling cords, or sharp corners. Lying down, she took a deep breath and tried to relax her muscles, but thoughts jumped around her mind. 5:45 pm ... Pete should be getting dinner into the kids pretty soon ... Maybe I should call to check if the kids have settled down. No, I’m supposed to be off the clock ... but what if they’re still upset and he can’t calm them down? ... Lily will be fine, but Jacob and Toby, they were both crying their hearts out!

The room’s telephone rang and she shot up from the bed, muscles clenched. ‘Oh God! Something must have happened. I bet Toby pulled the kettle off the bench again and burned himself. I knew coming here was too good to be true!’

‘Hi, Mrs Collins, it’s Linda from reception. Just checking to see if everything is to your satisfaction, and if there’s anything we can help you with?’

‘Oh, thanks. No, everything’s good,’ Cara said, the tightness that had clamped her chest now softening. ‘Oh wait, how do I order room service?’

‘Dial 9 on the phone and place your order. Anything else you need, just call us by dialling 4, or have a read of your welcome book.’

There’s a welcome book? She glanced around and noticed a black padded folder on the desk. She hung up the phone and read the book from front to back, salivating at the gourmet room service menu. She decided on the macadamia-crusted barramundi with kumara puree and fennel crisps. Twenty-five minutes after placing her order she was in food heaven. Although no one else was in the room, she couldn’t help but vocalise her enjoyment of the meal with an ‘Oh my God!’, and ‘This is absolutely amazing!’, and ‘How can I ever go back to spaghetti bolognaise now?’

Chuckling at the fact she’d actually been able to finish a meal without getting up once, Cara leaned back in the armchair with her hands clasped behind her head and exhaled. After a few minutes she stood, ready to clean up, when she realised she didn’t have to. She laughed and swivelled her body side to side. ‘Now, what to do next? What do normal people do when they’re having a relaxing holiday?’ She tapped her mouth with her finger then held it up in front of her. ‘A bath! That’s it, I’ll have a bath!’ Cara hadn’t had one since she was about twelve-years-old. She pushed open the door to the marble bathroom and gaped at the monstrosity that was the spa bath. ‘Oh, the kids would love this!’ It was practically a swimming pool. She turned on the taps and ducked back into the room to lay out her pyjamas, then returned to the bathroom to arrange her toiletries around the vanity sink, and noticed a sign on the wall:

TO ACTIVATE SPA, PRESS SILVER BUTTON

Silver button, silver button ... oh here it is. She pressed it and large tubes of water shot out from each of the holes in the bath, firing across the room with a thunderous whoosh. ‘Argh!’ Cara jumped backwards, drenched. She hadn’t let the water fill up enough to cover the holes. She frantically jabbed the button again, but the water shot out faster and louder. ‘Oh no! Oh no!’ The people in the room below must have thought there was an earthquake or something. Cara looked wide-eyed at the sign again. Printed in smaller font at the bottom was:

TO DEACTIVATE SPA, PRESS BLACK BUTTON.

She pressed it and with great relief, the noise stopped, except for the almost audible pounding in her chest. When that finally subsided, she collapsed with laughter onto the saturated floor. She’d never been one to waste time reading instructions fully, but maybe she should learn to from now on.

After her memorable bath experience, Cara gazed out the window at the city lights reflecting off mirrored windows of high-rise buildings, and the shimmering water in the harbour below. The Harbour Bridge stretched elegantly across the water, the Sydney Opera House glowing; its arches reaching out in all directions. Simply beautiful.

Tourists travelled from far away to see these sights, yet how was it she barely noticed them before? They were a part of her backyard; the landscape she’d grown up with, although she’d never had the pleasure of seeing everything from this magnificent view before.

Hundreds of people below were scattered around the city like ants, while the lights from cars drew on the city’s canvas in glowing lines and arcs. Inspiration beamed towards Cara. It would make an awesome painting. Blessed with a strong visual memory, she imprinted the cityscape image into her mind, knowing she’d be able to retrieve it later.

In the building opposite Harbourside Towers, many lights were still on; the illuminated squares of windows like a mosaic in the city skyline. She squinted ... people were in their offices sitting or standing by their desks, some ruffling through papers, others completely still apart from the occasional slide of their hand over the computer mouse. What were they doing? What was so important to keep them at work on a Friday night? Were they happy? Did they wish they could go home to their partners or families? Did they have partners or families? It was like a whole other incomprehensible world to her, like she’d stepped into some kind of alternate reality.

They don’t even know I’m watching them .

Cara realised she might also be watched by someone right now for all she knew, and slid the curtains closed. She hopped into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She glanced to the empty side of the bed. Why was she curled up on one edge of the huge bed? Pete wasn’t there, she could stretch out as much as she liked. And barring any emergencies, no children would disturb her tonight. She was virtually guaranteed a full night’s sleep. ‘Ha!’ she exclaimed at the miracle. Cara wriggled into the middle of the bed and extended her arms and legs, like a snow angel, and laughed at the fact that even in her fully extended state she couldn’t reach the edges of the bed! If she could be bothered, she’d post her Facebook status as: Cara Collins is in Heaven .

Turning on the television, slightly taken aback by the screen that displayed ‘Welcome, Mrs Collins!’ she browsed the in-house movies available. Hadn’t seen any of them. In fact, when was the last time she’d seen a movie rated PG or above? Opting for a romantic comedy (M rated while she had the chance), Cara grabbed an overpriced bar of chocolate and sank into the warm soft pillows. By ten o’clock her eyelids burned with tiredness and drooped closed.

‘Oh. My. God.’ Miranda’s mouth gaped when Cara opened the door to her hotel room the next day. ‘You look amazing!’

Cara twirled, showing off her new shimmery silver Lurex singlet, draping loosely around her petite figure, with slim black pants and peep-toe heels. ‘Thanks! I can’t remember the last time I wore heels. Actually, I think it was on my wedding day. I feel so much taller!’ Cara giggled. Miranda was still a good few inches taller than her.

‘And your hair’s gorgeous. Did you get it done here?’ Miranda touched the curly mop of blonde hair piled on top of Cara’s head with a clip, a few ringlets escaping and decorating her face.

‘I did, and the make-up,’ Cara replied, flitting her eyelashes. A subtle hint of something sweet and glamorous wafted in the air and Cara leaned closer to Miranda. ‘Mmm, that smells nice. I’d forgotten perfume even existed!’

Miranda popped open her purse. ‘Here, I brought my travel size bottle with me. Put some on, then we’ll be, like, perfume twins.’ She smiled .

Cara took the perfume bottle. ‘ Euphoria , huh? I’ll take anything as close to euphoria as I can get.’ She dabbed the fragrance on her wrists and eagerly rubbed them together.

‘Oh, for future reference, you’re not supposed to rub them together. It bruises the fragrance apparently,’ Miranda explained.

‘Oh. Right. Well excuse me, Miss Perfume Expert.’ She nudged Miranda with her elbow. ‘Since when does Calvin Klein do perfume anyway? Isn’t he the denim jeans guru?’

‘Oh, Cara. You must come shopping me with me sometime.’ Miranda shook her head with a smile, as though Cara had just been rescued from a deserted island and had missed the last seven years of modern life. ‘So, yummy mummy, how was your day of leisure?’

‘I had the most amazing day. The facial was sublime, and the massage ... I thought I’d died and gone to Heaven.’ She tipped her head back.

‘I told you this would be good, didn’t I?’ Miranda’s glossy red lips shone as she grinned.

‘Thanks for suggesting it, and thanks for the discreet discount you arranged.’ Cara winked. ‘I’ve been treated like a V.I.P. since I got here, even though I usually feel more like a V.U.P.’

‘A what?

‘A Very Unimportant Person.’

‘Cara!’ Miranda slapped her arm gently. ‘Don’t put yourself down like that! You’re a very important person, and everyone deserves a little luxury and glamour in their life.’

‘It must be glorious to live like this all the time.’ Cara gestured around the room. ‘Fancy hotels, facials, make-up artists, euphoric fragrances, going out on the town... ’

‘We get a fair number of women staying here who do live like that, and although they have it pretty darn good, believe me, some of them are the most stressed people I’ve seen,’ Miranda said.

‘Really? Get them to swap lives with me and then they’ll know the meaning of stress.’ Cara laughed, her curls tickling the sides of her face. ‘Anyway, enough talk, let’s go!’ She hustled Miranda out of the room, grabbing her new silver handbag on the way. It was the smallest bag she’d ever seen, but she had to buy it. There was no way she’d be going out tonight with her regular pillow-sized handbag; a brown fake leather shoulder bag with room for all the essentials: her purse, phone, Lily’s toy phone, kids drink bottles, emergency snacks, tissues, spare undies (the kids ones, not hers), eczema cream, deodorant, lip balm, paracetamol tablets, pens, notepad, colouring book, coloured pencils, and a first aid kit (Pete’s present to her after one too many bumps, falls, grazes, bruises, and the occasional dead insect lodged in a bodily orifice, on the part of their kids). Tonight, all she needed was her credit card and emergency cash, ID, lipstick, her phone, and ... what was she forgetting?

‘Cara, don’t forget your room key!’ Just before the door closed, Miranda pointed to the credit card lookalike on the table. The ‘key’ to enable Cara’s return entry to her luxury abode.

‘Gosh, thanks!’ Cara whacked the side of her head. ‘I still feel like I’m forgetting something else, I’m so used to bringing a bucket load of stuff when I go out.’

To ease Cara’s mind, Miranda peeked in the silver handbag, promptly closing it with a pop. ‘You have everything you need in here, now let’s go, girl!’

They approached a hip establishment a five-minute walk from the hotel, which Miranda said had The Best gourmet pizzas, along with a bar, live music, and dance floor.

‘I’ll need to see your ID,’ said a burly man with arms too muscular to sit flat against the side of his body, as though he had small pillows wedged under his armpits. Handbags even.

‘Seriously?’ Cara opened her bag. ‘I’m twenty-six and have three kids, I’m sure I must look older than eighteen.’

‘Just kidding, love, in you go.’ He tapped the side of her arm, and winked.

‘Oh. Right.’ Cara walked in, slightly disappointed that she didn’t really look like an eighteen-year-old out for her usual Saturday night clubbing adventure. She tucked curly tendrils of hair behind her ears then clutched her bag. She felt like an alien, as if all eyes were on her. She almost expected her kids to pop out from under the tables and say ‘Surprise!’, while Pete approached her with a ‘tsk, tsk’ to say: ‘You didn’t really think you could have a weekend off, did you?’

I don’t belong here! What was I thinking?

‘Just relax.’ Miranda nudged her, as though sensing her thoughts.

‘Wait, what does that mean again?’

‘C’mon.’ Miranda threaded her arm through Cara’s and they walked towards the tables. ‘Let’s eat first.’

They were about to sit at a table in the middle when a good-looking man and an even better-looking woman approached them. ‘Miranda, long time no see.’ The man winked at Miranda.

‘Hi, David,’ Miranda said coldly. ‘Uh, this is my friend, Cara. Cara, this is David, he’s a concierge at the hotel.’

‘Lovely to meet you, Cara.’ David took Cara’s hand in his. ‘I’d like you both to meet Martini.’ He put his arm around the woman next to him who jutted out her boobs.

‘Martina, is it?’ Miranda shook her hand.

‘No, Martini, with an ‘i’,’ she corrected with her husky voice, before turning to shake Cara’s hand.

‘Are you ladies here for dinner? Why don’t you join us?’ David ushered them over to a large round table where another couple were seated.

‘Oh, that’s okay, we’ll just sit over there.’ Miranda tugged at Cara’s arm and began walking, before David stepped in her way.

‘Don’t be silly, we’d love to have your company, we can all share some pizza.’ He was already pulling out chairs for Miranda and Cara and introducing them to his friends before they could object again.

‘So, what are we having, everyone? Supreme with the lot?’ David picked up the menu. Everyone nodded in agreement, except Miranda.

‘As long as there’s no pineapple.’

‘No pineapple? That’s the best bit!’ David exclaimed. His friends agreed, looking at her like she’d asked for a sandwich without the bread. ‘What about you Cara, yay or nay to pineapple?’

‘Why don’t you all share a large supreme, and Miranda and I will share a medium supreme with no pineapple. Deal?’ She raised her eyebrows. Cara was used to negotiating. She glanced at Miranda, who mouthed ‘thank you’ before taking something discreetly from her bag.

‘Sounds like a plan.’ David ordered for them. ‘So, Miranda, are you a qualified beauty therapist yet?’

‘Huh?’ A distracted Miranda quickly put a mini notepad and pen back in her bag. ‘Soon. Only a couple of months to go.’

‘Martini is a model, and a talented actress.’ David hooked his arm around his date. Martini smiled and flicked her hair to one side.

‘Oh wow! What have you been in?’ Cara asked. She looks like the woman from the Angel Sanitary Pads commercial.

‘I’m still studying acting in between modelling jobs, but I’ve done a few television commercials so far.’

She ‘is’ the woman from the Angel Sanitary Pads commercial!

‘Great!’ Cara replied, trying to block out the cheesy image of her delicately cradling a menstrual pad in her hands, while flying through the clouds with her own pair of ‘wings’.

‘What do you do, Cara?’ Martini asked, leaning forward on the table.

Discomfort squirmed in her belly. She hated this obligatory question. No matter how many times she rehearsed an intelligent answer, she always ended up saying the same thing. ‘Oh, I’m just a Mum.’ Miranda kicked her gently under the table.

‘Uh-huh...’ Martini said. ‘And?’ Her raised and perfectly sculpted eyebrows awaited a response.

‘And, that’s it. I have three kids, and they’re a full-time job.’ She plumped her lips together into an awkward smile.

‘Three kids?’ David spluttered after sipping his beer. ‘Wow, you look amazing!’ He eyed her up and down, tipping his head subtly to get a glimpse of her legs under the table. Martini glared at him.

‘Er, thanks!’ Cara lowered her face. She couldn’t remember the last time a man said she looked amazing. Pete’s adoration extended only to: ‘You look fine. Now, let’s hurry up before we’re late again!’

‘So, what do you do during the day, I mean, some of your kids must be at school, right?’ Martini asked.

‘I have one at school, one at pre-school a couple of days a week, and the youngest at home.’ She counted them off on her fingers. ‘Believe me, running the household and being a mother keeps me very busy.’ She nodded slowly with a heavy expression that said ‘motherhood is the hardest job in the world’. She thought of going into detail and bringing up puke-worthy topics such as diarrhoea, dead insects, and cleaning up regurgitated food caught in the crevices of wooden floorboards, but thought it best not to spoil their appetites.

They ate, talked, and laughed, and even Miranda who seemed reluctant to share a table with them at first, seemed to enjoy herself. It was only after the meal was finished that Cara realised it was the first conversation she’d shared in a long time that didn’t revolve around discussing sleep (or lack thereof), toilet training, eczema, bodily fluids, and The Wiggles concert dates. For an hour, she virtually forgot she had a husband and children at home.

When everyone finished eating, Cara and Miranda excused themselves and strutted to the ladies room. Cara wobbled momentarily, losing balance on her high heels. ‘I have to ask, Miranda, what on earth were you writing down on that little notepad of yours?’

‘Must prefer pizza without pineapple,’ Miranda said.

‘What?’

‘Must prefer pizza without pineapple. You know, the list of my ideal man’s qualities that Liz said I had to carry with me at all times. ’

‘So, you just whip it out whenever an idea strikes?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Geez, you’re dedicated!’ Cara said. ‘I have enough trouble keeping up with my daughter’s homework let alone my own. How many items are on The List so far?’

‘Fifty-seven.’

Cara laughed and shook her head, pushing open the door to the ladies room. ‘David’s charming, Miranda. Why didn’t you snatch him up before that Martini woman?’

‘Charming is the right word. Too charming.’ Miranda rolled her eyes.

‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘What’s wrong, is that he goes after anything that moves. We went out together years ago, but he cheated on me.’

‘Oh, Miranda! Why didn’t you say so? If I’d known, I wouldn’t have let them talk us into sitting with them.’ Cara put her hand on Miranda’s back.

‘It doesn’t matter. It’s history now, and anyway, we need to get used to being around each other. I do have to work with the guy, after all.’

‘Well, it’s his loss. You’re a much better catch than that alcoholic beverage with legs.’

Miranda doubled over and burst out laughing. Cara joined in, stopping abruptly when the alcoholic beverage parked her legs in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes like lasers targeting them for the kill. Cara and Miranda escaped to a cubicle each, hiding until they heard the flush and the slap of the door closing.

‘I don’t know why,’ Miranda said, as they emerged to wash their hands, ‘but a lot of embarrassing things seem to happen to me in bathrooms.’

‘Then let’s get out of here before you cause another!’ They exited and discreetly wandered to the bar, Cara smiling at the fact that not only was she having a fun night, but she’d made a new friend too. A friend without children, someone she could talk to about topics unrelated to parenthood for a change.

‘What’ll it be?’ asked the bartender.

Miranda leaned her forearms on the bar and smiled cheekily. ‘Two Martinis, thanks.’