Chapter 26
‘Listen,’ Nancy had said to Brigid at the first opportunity after her friend had walked in on her and Patricia, ‘please don’t tell anyone that Sam and I aren’t married.’ She had been worrying that Brigid might have heard Patricia’s words to that effect.
‘Blimey, Nance, what are you going on about?’
Awkwardly, Nancy explained that she and Sam weren’t legally married, although she saw him as her husband and wore a ring because otherwise it would be a bit embarrassing.
Brigid waved her hand dismissively. ‘Nonsense! Loads of people aren’t married at Puddleducks, including me and that stupid moaning cow, Sienna’s mother. But if you’re worried about it, of course I won’t mention it to anyone else.’
Meanwhile, if it wasn’t for the mosaics course to distract her, Nancy would have gone mad. At first she’d thought Patricia would only be here for a few days, but now it seemed as though she had no firm departure date in mind.
‘I can’t think why you didn’t tell me about your problems, dear,’ Patricia announced one evening after insisting on cooking Beef Wellington – a dish that the British seemed to regard as a treat, although how anyone could enjoy the combination of heavy pastry and meat, Nancy simply couldn’t understand.
Nancy, who had managed to get Danny to bed early partly because he was exhausted by pre-school, poured herself a large slug of wine to shut out Patricia’s voice. The bottle had been a sympathy present from ‘the girls’ as she now called Brigid and Annie, both of whom had been appalled by her tales of the ‘mother-in-law’ from hell.
Stand up to her, they both said. Nancy was trying. ‘Sam and I don’t have problems, Patricia.’
‘My dear child, it’s obvious! No, I won’t have one, thank you. I don’t believe in drinking. Did you know that alcohol is more dangerous than rugs?’
Drugs, Nancy wanted to say. It’s drugs.
‘Besides, you’ll be setting Danny a bad example. If children grow up watching their adults condone a habit like alcohol, they’ll do the same. It’s exactly like marriage or, as in your case, living together. If you two continue to squabble, Danny will think that all parents do this.’
Patricia paused for a sigh-breath and Nancy seized the opportunity to leap in. ‘We don’t squabble all the time, but Sam has found it difficult to adjust to parenthood.’ Simply saying the words out loud made her feel they were true. And, she reflected, weren’t British men meant to be rather reserved with their emotions?
Patricia nodded briskly. ‘Exactly like his own father. But my dear, you haven’t helped, have you? The way you fuss around that child is totally unnecessary! Always fretting when he gets a cold, or leaving messages on the phone for that nice Miss Merryfield at playgroup, to check that the security lock is working. Yes – I heard you the other day when we both went to pick up Danny. You ought to take a leaf out of her book. She’s got all those children to look after, yet never once have I seen her flap!’
Nancy drained her glass. ‘That’s because she isn’t a mother herself.’
Patricia looked peeved. ‘There’s no need to snap, dear.’
‘I’m not.’
‘I think you are, dear. I’m only trying to help. That’s why I’ve been tidying up. You haven’t happened to spot my hysterical novel, have you? I’d almost got to the last chapter and now I can’t find it.’
‘Historical,’ said Nancy tightly. ‘Don’t you mean your historical novel?’
‘That’s what I said, dear. Do pay attention. Anyway, as I was saying, I’m doing my best. That’s why I picked up Danny today so you could carry on with your muriel and that’s why I’m cooking dinner, even though I have to say that I think it might be a good idea if you have a bit of a cupboard sort-out.’
Mural! It’s a mural. Nancy’s thoughts drifted to the collection of large paving stones which she, Doug and some of the other mums were working on. The picture really was taking shape!
Annie and Brigid had been roped in too, despite their commitment to belly dancing, tai chi and photography classes. ‘We’ll find you some great pebbles during our canal walks with the kids, won’t we, Brigid!’ Annie nudged Nancy. ‘Provided we haven’t let them fall in first. Don’t worry – only joking.’
Meanwhile, they were all learning fast from Doug, who was a clear, patient teacher. ‘There are all kinds of ways to make murals,’ he explained as they crouched down on the floor, looking at the outline he had sketched on the paving slabs. ‘But I’ve found this one works well. The trick is to smooth the concrete on very lightly – great, Nancy! – and then press in your different-coloured stones and pebbles.’
It was really coming on! Of course, they couldn’t do it without Doug’s help, but already Nancy could see the outline of Puddleducks rising out of one of the slabs, and Corrybank Primary on the one next to it.
Toby, the dog dad, had created part of the park, and someone else was working on the church. Tracy’s mum, whom she’d mistakenly taken to be expecting, had glared when Nancy had invited her on to the Puddleducks mural team, saying frostily that she had other things to do.
It wasn’t easy, because murals took time and time was what none of them had. Yet somehow, partly because of non-mural parents who offered to babysit, the picture was coming together and might, with any luck, be ready for the deadline.
‘And another thing,’ snorted Patricia, bringing her back to the present. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, you’re becoming slightly obsessed with this muriel business. It’s only a competition, my dear.’
One more glass of red. And, hell, why not, maybe a third. Otherwise, how on earth was she going to get through half-term with her mother-in-law? The prospect of a whole week stretching out in front of her without Puddleducks or Gemma Merryfield, whose lovely warm smile made her feel that she wasn’t the neurotic mother that Sam and his mother thought she was, filled Nancy with panic.
‘Just one more thing, my dear.’ Again?
‘Have you considered doing a course on CBT for your problems? I’ve been doing one myself. It stands for Controlling Behaviour Therapy, you know. In fact, I do believe I have the number in my address book. I’ll just nip up and get it. By the way, is that your phone ringing?’
She picked it up. Nothing. Then it rang again and there was a brief period of silence before someone spoke.
‘Nancy?’ Sam’s voice seemed a very long way off. ‘Is that you? You sound different.’
Of course she sounded different. She’d had two glasses of wine when normally she had one a week, if that. She told Sam so.
‘Two glasses?’ She almost heard him smiling. ‘Is my mother that bad?’
‘That bad? She’s driving me nuts with her muriels and her hysterical and her search for non-existent suet and her insistence on hot-water bottles even though it’s not that cold.’
‘I get the picture.’
The sympathetic tone in his voice made her feel a bit better.
‘Listen,’ he said soothingly. ‘I know this might sound like a silly idea and I’m pretty certain you won’t leave Danny, but I just wondered. Do you fancy coming out here for a few days? My mother could babysit and it’s such an amazing place.’ His voice dropped. ‘I’ve missed you, Nancy. More than I realised, and I think I’ve been a bit unfair to you. Please don’t say no. Just think about it.’