Chapter 9
Tomorrow the Barnaby’s Babes are helping on the school park trip which means it will be a rare appearance for Joe at the school gates on a Tuesday. I couldn’t help but think about a rebrand of Thirsty Thursdays. The uncharitable option of Tosser Tuesdays pops into my mind but that doesn’t seem entirely fair. He’s actually not all bad. This will be our first outing together with people we know since Joe and I concocted this plan and now, as I prep Lila’s uniform ready for school tomorrow, I’m starting to get anxious. How are we going to play it? I decide it’s best if we coordinate our approach so I grab my phone and send him a message.
It’s our first public engagement tomorrow …
He replies instantly.
Sounds official
Will you be wearing some kind of regal sash?
You do give off Kate Middleton vibes
Seriously
Think we might need to be a bit friendlier in front of the other mums?
Can bring 12 red roses to the playground if you like?
Or my guitar and a love song I wrote for you
Why does it not surprise me that you own a guitar and write love songs
Whatever next? Standing in the rain telling me you hadn’t noticed?
You can mock me all you like, Rogers, but I will not have Four Weddings denigrated in my presence
I would never mock Four Weddings aka the best film ever. Just you
Well well well, looks like we’ve finally found something we agree on
Who’d have thought it!
Now can we please coordinate approach for tomorrow?
Sure
If it’s a no to roses …
Will I make some smutty comments about our great sex life instead?
FFS Joe.
I’m actually snowed with work tonight but don’t worry about tomorrow, we’ll be fine. Just be cool.
I am still smarting about the “just be cool” comment and annoyed by the lack of plan by the time Tosser Tuesday rolls around. Lila’s insisting that we sing the rainbow song at the top of our voices on the walk to school, so I’m quite relieved when my phone interrupts.
‘Hey, it’s me,’ says Joe.
‘Oh good, calling to make more quips about s. e. x?’ I ask, spelling out the last word because of the little ears nearby. Alas I underestimated my daughter.
She stops in the middle of the pavement and shouts, very loudly, ‘Mummy, what’s s. e. x?’
Dear god.
‘Is that Lila?’ Joe chuckles down the line.
‘We’re on our way to school,’ I mutter. ‘Lila, look! Did you see that squirrel?’
‘Is there really a squirrel, Sophie, or are you shamelessly distracting your only daughter to avoid an awkward conversation?’ Joe asks.
‘You can pipe down,’ I say as Lila bounds over to the nearest tree on a squirrel hunt.
He chuckles again.
‘Just calling to carry on our conversation from last night. I take it you don’t want me to recount the steamy details of our sex life in front of the mums, then?’
‘Please tell me Sid isn’t having to listen to this debauchery?’ I ask, appalled.
‘We’ve not left yet, he’s upstairs searching for his favourite sock.’
‘Sock, singular?’
‘Don’t ask.’
Lila is back by my side, looking cantankerous.
‘There was no squirrel,’ she says menacingly.
‘Oh dear.’ Joe laughs, evidently enjoying this. I can picture the infuriating smile on his face and try to calm myself down.
‘Silly Mummy,’ I say to her. ‘Maybe it was a bird.’
‘Like a parrot?’ she asks, eyes wide, before bounding off down the street calling out, ‘PARROT!’
‘It won’t be a parrot!’ I shout after her, trying to manage expectations, but she doesn’t hear. ‘This is your fault,’ I say, lowering my voice into the phone.
He laughs. ‘Sid’s coming so I’d better go. But I really did enjoy that lesson in how to dig yourself into a hole with your child. Really feel I learned a lot. See you shortly!’
I am well and truly vexed by Joe as he hangs up.
Lila has been having a seismic meltdown for the past fifteen minutes thanks to a lack of parrot that I apparently promised she’d see.
‘I didn’t say there was a parrot, sweetheart,’ I attempt in my most soothing voice as we approach the school gates.
‘YOU DID. YOU LIED.’
This is not how I wanted to turn up to school today, I’ll be honest. Some parents stop and stare, some kindly pretend it’s not happening. Frankie gives me a smile and says: ‘We’ve all been there.’
You know what’s weird? I’d thought we were taking the kids to the park today but I’m not sure everyone else got the same memo. Some of the mums have come dressed for their own particular photoshoot. Celeste, resplendent in Barbour jacket, feathered hat and unsullied Hunter wellies, looks like she’s ready for a Tatler special on equestrian life. Tally has gone full mumfluencer in the wild, opting for bright orange workout leggings and a matching baseball hat, box fresh trainers and sky-blue puffer jacket. Seeing them in all their shiny-haired glory at the school gates makes me feel slightly less confident about my own outfit choice – walking boots, leggings and a khaki jacket – until Tally spots me and claps her hands together.
‘Sophie! Are they cashmere socks?’ Then she rubs her hand on my actual legs. ‘And such soft leggings, too. Tres chic!’
Rendered momentarily speechless by the compliments, I simply nod.
‘Must be Joe’s influence.’ Celeste arches an eyebrow in my direction. ‘He’s always been a good dresser.’
‘Actually,’ I say as politely as possible, ‘I had a clear-out this weekend and found a load of clothes I haven’t worn since I moved. It’s been nice to dig out some old …’ I trail off when it becomes clear that Celeste is not actually interested in my wardrobe chat.
‘You also went on a date this weekend, right?’ Frankie winks at me. I like Frankie, she seems warm and approachable but she also has this no-nonsense air to her. ‘How was it?’
‘Good,’ I say brightly, flashes of Joe and I chuckling together in that pub reminding me that he’s not always a complete peen. Maybe just ninety-nine per cent of the time.
I look round the group to see that the vultures want more.
‘Come on, Sophie! Spill the beans!’ Mel insists.
‘Oh, um. So … Joe and I just met for drinks on Saturday night.’
Tally looks dreadfully disappointed. ‘There must be more to tell! How long’s it been going on? What’s Joe like as a lover?’
‘Tally!’ Celeste protests.
‘We’re all thinking it.’ She shrugs. ‘I bet he’s got an absolutely enormous—’
‘DICK! DICKIE!’ A mum comes running past us, trailing after a small child who looks like he’s made a break for it. ‘Dickie! Come back here please.’
The absolute perfect timing of this has all the mums, me included, in hysterics.
‘She said it,’ Frankie says, wiping tears from her eyes. ‘What are we talking here, Sophie? Girthy?’
‘Girthy?’ I splutter. ‘Um, that’s kind of personal. Let’s just say that it’s early days and we make each other happy.’
Ooh good, I’m going to remember that line for any future probing. Thankfully Joe arrives to spare me any further personal and cringe-worthy questions. He’s carrying a backpack and he reaches an arm around my shoulder to give me the perfect school-gate friendly greeting.
‘Hey.’ He smiles down at me.
‘Morning.’ I beam, mentally high-fiving my new partner in crime. That was ideal. And it looks like the mums agree, given that they’re all now swooning – not just over Joe, like they used to, but over us.
I feel reassured as we walk over to the park. Despite Joe being deliberately obtuse over text, our first drop-off together worked really well, and maybe I didn’t need to be so nervous after all. When I think about it, we have already been putting the hours in. We’ve synced calendars and set up a shared folder for our photos. I’ve got Joe’s key info pretty much locked down and every time I fire him a question on my phone, he’s quick at answering correctly.
What’s my favourite food?
Lasagne for comfort and Japanese if you’re feeling fancy because Japan is your dream holiday destination, esp. in cherry blossom season.
What’smydream holiday destination?
You said Finland, right?
checked it out btw, it looks stunning
Definitely adding to holiday bucket list
We need to stop agreeing on things Rogers or you might decide you actually like me
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now
I’ve also tapped the Barnaby’s Babes school dates into our diary. Theatre trip. Sports day. Summer Fayre. A tbc Barnaby’s Babes night out – Joe’ll love that one. I’ve even wondered about a joint birthday party for Sidney and Lila, as their birthdays are less than a week apart, which would be lovely but I don’t want to mention it to Joe just yet. He probably comes out in a rash having to make plans for next week, let alone five months’ time. I remember some other parents doing a joint bash for their children at the start of the school year and it was one of the few parties Lila got invited to. It was at a soft play centre which the kids loved. Admittedly one child puked into the ball pit and the whole floor had to be evacuated while staff did a clear up, but you can’t have it all. I remember the other parents were huddled into groups by the time I arrived with Lila and while she was happy to dive straight into the action, I felt far more reserved about my own interaction. The power mums were already in a clique, discussing which artisan bakery made the best birthday cakes, and I found myself circling around fussing over Lila rather than chatting to them. I wonder why I didn’t go over and start chatting, back then? Was it just nerves? Did I already feel like I wasn’t part of the pack? And was Joe there then? I can’t remember seeing him but the whole thing was a bit of a blur.
The children are wearing high-vis tabards as they file in twos towards the park. Lila’s been paired up with Sidney and they are bickering about how much money the tooth fairy will bring when they lose their first tooth. Sidney thinks he’s getting one thousand pounds and Lila, exasperated, is trying to explain that it’s going to be one million. I do not look forward to that day of reckoning.
Once there, we’re assigned groups to keep an eye on. I’ve been nervous about how I’d keep six kids under control when I can barely keep Lila in check at home but something about being in a school setting seems to have made the children much more compliant. I glance over at Lila’s group and she’s sat obediently in a circle as Celeste talks her huddle through the plans.
Oscar, who’s in my group, shoots a hand up.
‘Can we feed bread to the ducks?’
‘I’m afraid not, Oscar,’ I reply. ‘Bread makes their tummies poorly. Ducks like to eat special seeds.’
‘Did you bring some?’
‘No.’
‘Can we buy some from the shop?’
Persistent little thing.
‘Not today,’ I say firmly. ‘We’re going to look at all the minibeasts we can find and count them up. Who can name a minibeast?’
‘LADYBIRD,’ shouts one enthusiastic child.
‘Very good! Any others?’
Ants, earwigs and slugs are all offered up before Oscar stands up.
‘Humans can eat ants,’ he announces to the group. I remain calm and collected, even though I can see that half the children think this is a thrilling idea and are already looking for some unsuspecting insects to munch.
‘Oh YUMMY,’ cheers Sidney. ‘Can we eat some? Can we? Please?’
‘We can’t, Sid. We won’t be eating any ants today,’ I say loudly.
‘You can eat ants.’ Oscar pouts. ‘We had some in Sweden. In a restaurant.’
‘Oooh!’ chime the kids.
‘Ah, okay. Some places will serve them cooked but we can’t eat ants here today. They haven’t been cooked and they will make our tummies sore, just like if the ducks ate bread.’
‘I’m going to eat one,’ Oscar announces.
‘You can have this one,’ Frankie’s son Jack offers, holding out his left arm, which has an ant crawling up it.
I swoop in to retrieve the insect and set it free.
‘Eating ants is not allowed, Oscar and Jack,’ I say in my most resolute voice.
‘MUMMMEEEEEEEEEEEE,’ Oscar wails suddenly, his cheeks rushing to a vibrant shade of tomato in a millisecond. Celeste abandons her group and hurries over.
‘What is it, chérie?’
Chérie?Note to self: stop using French words in casual conversation with immediate effect.
Oscar’s crying now, the complete shit. ‘Lila’s mummy won’t let me eat ants.’
Celeste shoots me a look as if I’ve just told him Christmas is cancelled.
‘Oh Oscy,’ she soothes. ‘Don’t you worry about Sophie.’
‘Hang on …’ I protest.
‘No, it’s okay,’ she says, holding her hand up. ‘We ate ants at a Michelin-starred restaurant on holiday last summer.’
I take a step away from the kids and motion for Celeste to come with me.
‘It’s not okay actually, Celeste,’ I say quietly, aware that lots of little eyes are upon us. ‘Because we can’t have the children snacking on live ants at the park. There is a difference.’
She doesn’t even grace me with a reply. She just turns and calls to her inconsolable son, ‘Not everyone is as cosmopolitan as us.’ All I get is a pitying look from her. All the other parents are watching too and I sigh, counting to ten in my head. This is not how I’d expected the first parents’ trip to go! Bloody Oscar Battenberg. That entire family are going to ruin my enjoyment of the cake, I just know it.
I’ve got my group sat cross-legged in a circle drawing pictures of the minibeasts they have spotted when I notice that Celeste has once again dumped her own group of children and is prodding a startled-looking Joe for information. All of the groups of children are fairly close together, so I suppose we can all keep an eye, but still, why can’t she do what she’s been asked to do? Joe keeps shooting me help me looks and I pull a face and wave back. I probably should help, except I don’t think I should leave my group. Mostly because I suspect Oscar would grasp his opportunity to cut the worms he’s currently searching for in half.
Finn, Mel’s son, starts tugging at my jacket.
‘Miss,’ he says, which I find quite adorable. ‘Have you seen the fluffy ducky over there? I think it’s lost its mummy.’
I turn to see a baby duckling wandering in the opposite direction to its mum and baby siblings. Finn’s eyes have pooled with tears.
‘What if it’s lost?’ He sniffs.
Oscar seizes upon this and runs towards the duckling. He ends up chasing it further away from the brood.
‘Come back here please, Oscar,’ I call. I’ve stood up to try to assert some authority and I can sense the rest of the group of kids all looking up at me.
Oscar meanwhile stomps up and down.
Joe and Celeste walk over, Celeste fussing over her child again and Joe asking what’s wrong.
‘It’s fine,’ I say. I point out the lost duckling and lean in to whisper about Finn looking quite upset and the next thing I know, Joe is rolling his sleeves up. He picks up an empty cardboard box, which we’d used to carry paper and pencils to the park with us, and puts one hand on his hip.
‘I’ll deal with this,’ he says, and I can’t tell if he’s gone into saviour mode to show off or not. ‘We’re going to need to keep the children occupied and away from the duckling. If the mother duck sees what’s happening we risk her abandoning her baby.’
Celeste gasps.
Tally starts filming.
I’m a bit bemused.
Mrs Flowers pulls a bag full of snacks out of her floral print backpack, a sure-fire way to keep the kids busy.
We all watch as Joe stealthily approaches the duckling, rests the box in front of it and waits for it to waddle in. Then he scoops it up, walks back towards the pond, taking cover behind a nearby tree, and rests the box down by the water’s edge, close enough for the duckling to see its parent again.
We’re all holding our breath as we wait to see if the duckling is spotted by its mum.
‘What if the mummy doesn’t find it?’ Finn asks.
‘She will,’ I say, and realise I’ve made the obvious mistake of promising something to a child that I actually can’t.
But then the mother duck lets out a loud quack and the fluffy duckling is soon bobbing along the water in the duck’s wake alongside its siblings. A sigh of relief is emitted from all of the adults in our group. Joe returns, a complete hero, and for a man who professes not to like the mum’s attention he looks decidedly pleased with himself.
I’m relieved, and perhaps a little impressed by his quick intervention. But I still roll my eyes.
‘Oh Joe, you superstar!’ coos Celeste.
‘My followers are obsessed with this,’ announces Tally. ‘They’re all calling you hashtag Hero Dad.’
I scoff before remembering that I too should be looking adoringly at my new boyfriend.
‘Yes, well done.’ I pat him on the back. ‘Very sweet.’
Later, when the kids are safely back at school, Joe sends me a message.
We’re really going to have to work on your love language.
The fact that this reads in a slightly flirtatious way to me confirms that I have no clue about what actual flirtation must look like.
Lessons start on our next date. Fancy a film soon?
I can’t remember the last time I went to the cinema to see something other than a cartoon.
Sure! There’s a horror I’m quite keen to see
I think you might benefit more from a romcom?
You’re a pain in the ass, Joe Kitson.
How many have you actually seen?
Four Weddings?!
That can’t be it?!
Have you not seen Love Actually?
Nope.
Pretty Woman?
Nope.
You’ve Got Mail? Sleepless in Seattle? NOTTING HILL?!
Do you need to have a lie down?
Shocked and appalled
But it’s not too late
Consider this the very start of your education, Sophie Rogers