Chapter 11
11
Sarah felt like crap. Not that she didn’t think she was justified. The fact that Drew had stormed out and left her with the kids, despite the whole argument centring around the fact that she was always stuck with the kids, meant that she was, in her mind, 100 per cent vindicated in every comment that she had made. Unfortunately, that didn’t change how she felt. All she’d wanted was for him to sit next to her for a bit. Snuggle up maybe, without trying to get into her overly frayed, never-to-be-seen-in-public knickers. All she’d wanted was for him to make her feel like she was a bit more human after a day listening to Eva and George go endlessly at it with one another. But now, she just felt like crap. And she was fairly sure her arm still stank of it too.
A brief sigh escaped from his lips as the cold beer hit the back of his throat, although it did little to alleviate the guilt that sat heavy in his gut. Not that he had anything to feel guilty about, Drew assured himself, hands still around the glass. Not really. He had been working, for crying out loud. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the type of work Sarah thought he was doing, but as far as she was concerned, he could have been up against some extremely important deadlines. And she had attacked him for it. Although, he did feel guilty about storming out. It wasn’t his proudest moment; he would admit that much. With another sip of beer, he attempted to dilute the sensation of guilt swilling around in his stomach. Following his dramatic exit, he had actually stopped for a second outside the front door, worried that the slamming and shouting had woken up Eva and that Sarah would now have to deal with it. Then again, he had considered, she was all about playing the martyr card. It would probably suit her just fine.
With the churning continuing in his stomach, he went for his pint again, this time swallowing back a good few mouthfuls before placing the glass down in front of him and staring into the amber bubbles. He would finish this one and then go back, he told himself. Just give her a little bit of time to cool down. The truth was, he couldn’t really imagine being at home with the kids all day. Well, actually, he could. There had been one time before Sarah had found out about number three when she had gone away for two nights for a hen do. It had been Drew flying solo for a full forty-eight hours. Naturally, when Sarah returned, Drew assured her that everything had gone fine. Swimmingly. A breeze. The truth was, he had been on his knees. It wasn’t so much that the children needed entertaining; more that they needed entertaining, feeding, comforting, humouring, disciplining and nurturing, all at the same time. Every ounce of his parenting skills was drawn upon in that forty-eight-hour period. Colouring, building blocks, jigsaw puzzles – before he discovered that Eva was chewing on the edge pieces that he was putting to one side. He had even attempted to make some cupcakes so they could use up some time decorating them. Only, shortly after they went in the oven, Eva had a toilet emergency, and he was forced to act as a poop doula while the cakes burned. When Sarah came through the front door, he had his shoes on and was headed to the pub before she had even taken off her coat.
The jolt of the memory was accompanied by another roll of guilt. Maybe the book writing had made him slightly more neglectful this last week, he considered. Maybe he would have to pick up his commute word count to try and get everything done. And then, because he knew there was nothing else he could do in the situation, he picked up his phone and messaged Sarah.
I love you.
She was already in bed when her phone beeped out a message.
I love you.
Followed quickly by:
Sorry I was an idiot. Just tired.
Tossing the phone aside, she tried to maintain her surly mindset, but the phone continued to beep, and the arrival of several sad-face and heart emojis began to soften her resolve ever so slightly. She picked up her phone and considered what to reply, only to change her mind. Perhaps she had gone a bit too far. It wasn’t like Drew didn’t look after the children at all. He was as hands-on as he had time to be. A lot more hands-on than other parents she knew who worked full time, mums and dads both. Still, she would let him stew a little bit longer. Perhaps that way, it would get him off his bloody computer at night.
When he came home less than an hour later, he snaked his arms around her waist as he snuggled into her back.
‘Sorry,’ he said. His socks were still on. It was a foible she’d grown used to. ‘Can we not fight, please? I hate it. I was just busy, that’s all.’
She grunted, half to pretend she was asleep, half to show he wasn’t completely forgiven.
‘I’ll try not to bring work home,’ he continued. ‘I will. No more sitting at my computer at night unless it’s really important.’
Knowing he wasn’t going to stop until she actually replied, Sarah shifted herself around and groaned, ‘I just wanted to have a conversation, that was all. I thought it would be a nice, normal thing to do, talk about each other’s days.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry. You’re completely right.’ He hooked his fingers in hers. ‘As soon as we get through Christmas, things are going to change,’ he told her. ‘Trust me, okay? Things are going to be great.’
‘Drew, Christmas isn’t the?—’
‘Trust me,’ he said again.
And because it was easier than saying anything else, she nodded her head and said, ‘Okay.’
Morning came after a broken night’s sleep. She and Drew had stayed up a little longer, putting the world to rights the way they used to when they were younger. Back then, they had talked about travelling, renovating their dream house, or maybe even building their own. Now they talked about whether the dark patches on the skirting board were mould, or Eva induced. Not long after they had fallen asleep, Eva had woken up, and while Drew was quick on his feet to deal with her – obviously wanting to make up for the lack of parenting Sarah had commented on – it meant they had spent the rest of the night wrestling for the blanket and trying to avoid getting a black eye.
When morning came around, the thought of heading into town and finding a car parking space while working out how to cover the entire cost of Christmas without spending a penny over their typical monthly budget, sounded about as enjoyable as another episode of My Little Pony and the U-bend .
The problem was that Drew’s parents would never offer to make up the day if Sarah cancelled. It was either use their token of generosity now, at its designated time, or wait for another thirty days to roll by before she was afforded the same luxury again.
While Drew’s parents lived only four miles down the road, they were not what one would consider on-hand. They loved their grandchildren, of that there was no doubt, but every time Sarah went round, she could see her mother-in-law’s face contort and twist as the children ran their grubby fingers along the walls and pulled the neatly arranged books off the bookshelves. They were not the type of grandparents that embraced messy play, dressing up, or any one of the general arrays of emotions and characteristics their grandchildren displayed. And so, a couple of years ago, this arrangement was forged.
Once a month, Neil and Amanda took Eva, and back then, George, for the entire day, giving Sarah approximately ten hours to complete all the errands she so desperately needed to do. Amanda and Neil, meanwhile, would endure ten hours of complete and utter chaos and maintain a perfectly curated home for the remaining twenty-nine to thirty days of grandchild-free peace.
‘You can drop them off whatever time you want,’ Sarah said as she handed Eva over on the doorstep of her in-laws’ beautiful Georgian semi. ‘I’ll be home for most of the day, so just give me a ring. And George has Coding Club after school, so he won’t need picking up until four. But if that’s too much trouble, I can always get him, then come pick up Eva too.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Amanda was dressed in black trousers and a black top – a marked improvement from the beige ensemble she had worn last time. ‘We are going to have a wonderful day, aren’t we, Eva? There’s an art exhibition I thought we might go to. What do you think about that. Do you think you’d like to see an exhibition?’
‘No,’ Eva responded, walking through the door and dumping her shoes in the middle of the hallway.
‘Oh, she gets funnier by the day, doesn’t she?’ Neil laughed.
‘I did try to call you this morning,’ Amanda said, waving Neil off to go and get the discarded shoes. ‘I want to check whether she could eat avocados.’
‘You did?’ Sarah pulled out her phone and looked at the screen. ‘I’ve not got a missed call.’
‘Oh no, I tried the landline. You get a much better reception on them. I can never hear on the portable telephones.’
‘I guess Drew must have unplugged it again, as it didn’t ring.’ Sarah replied. Amanda tutted with disapproval.
It was only a small lie, really, Sarah considered. Drew had been the one to unplug the phone. It was just that she had asked him to do it. Besides Amanda and Neil, she couldn’t actually remember the last time she had received a call on it that wasn’t from someone trying to offer reduced-cost electricity or to sell them double glazing. As such, she had made the executive decision to leave it permanently unplugged.
Sarah called her daughter back to kiss her on the cheek, before thanking her parents-in-law one more time and bolting for the car before they could change their minds.
Now she had removed the Christmas shopping trip from her to-do list, her day was, if possible, more mundane than normal. There was the tumble dryer; that was number one to be seen to. After the failed credit-card purchase and weeks of refusing to give up and rummaging through every folder and drawer in the house, she finally managed to find the manual, which included some basic instructions on maintenance. She had also got Drew to dig out every Allen key, screwdriver, and hammer they had, to ensure she was fully prepared to handle any situation. She may as well give the house a good once over too. There were so many brown patches on the carpet, she had started to forget what the original colour was, and the back of the sofa covers had begun to smell like an unwashed cat food bowl, despite the fact that they had never owned a cat. Then, of course, there was the potential mould on the skirting board.
Cuppa this afternoon?
Nelly’s message pinged up on her phone the second Sarah stepped through the front door.
Jobs to do.
Sarah typed her reply with one hand while fishing around for her house keys.
I’ll call later.
Before tackling the tumble dryer, Sarah went into the children’s room. There had been a time when it had just been the three of them: when everything was so organised. George’s clothes had been ordered not only according to type – shorts, jumpers, trousers – but according to size, colour, and season. She even had a separate drawer for things that still had the tag on so she could re-gift them if he didn’t get around to wearing them before they were too small. Now, they were ordered in two piles: clean and dirty. And currently, the dirty pile was by far overshadowing the clean. With a heavy sigh, she lowered herself down to the ground and began to pick through the pile.
When the clothes were sorted and put away or in the washing machine, and all the sheets in the bedrooms changed, Sarah decided to avoid the issue of the tumble dryer for a little longer by running the vacuum around the rest of the house. Giving the place a proper clean used to be so satisfying. Now it was just frustrating, knowing that all her hard work would be undone within fifteen minutes of the children returning home. What must it be like to have someone clean your house for you? she wondered. Even if it was just twice a year to scrub off some of the strange stains from the sofa. Once the tumble dryer and credit cards had been sorted, a cordless vacuum would be high on her list of purchases, she thought, switching her wish list to more attainable fantasies. She was sick of dragging Henry the hoover, with his smug face, around while he listlessly attempted to suck up the detritus of family life. She brushed various crumbs, dust bunnies, and other unidentifiable items into small piles before setting Henry on them, systematically cleaning the house, one corner at a time.
She was working on the living room, trying to vacuum up the most visible crumbs, when her eyes landed on something that had slid between two of the cushions.
‘Great,’ she said, pulling Drew’s phone out of the gap. ‘I guess there’s no point sending you another shopping list for this afternoon,’ she said aloud. Switching off the vacuum, she was in the process of reaching over to put the phone on the mantelpiece when the screen flashed with light. Instinctively, her eyes flicked towards the notice.
Naughty Nanny Book Nineteen is now available online. Your pre-ordered copy has been sent directly to your eBook app.
Sarah stared at the phone. Naughty Nanny? The name rang a bell, although it took a minute of staring at the screen to remember why. Naughty Nanny, of course, the geriatric woman who was earning a fortune writing dirty books. She was happy she could remember, although why Drew would have notifications about it on his phone was another matter entirely. She placed the phone on the mantelpiece and went back to the housework.
It was curiosity more than anything else, she told herself during the short deliberation that preceded picking Drew’s phone back up and typing in the passcode. After all, they had no secrets. She knew more of the passwords to Drew’s bank accounts, emails, and social media platforms than he did. She had forged his signature on enough documents over the years that even the FBI would have difficulty telling the difference. It was just curiosity, that was the reason. She was intrigued as to why he appeared to have a Naughty Nanny book on pre-order. Probably a glitch, she told herself, as she swiped open the phone and went straight to his e-books.
‘Nineteen.’ Her eyes bulged. ‘How the hell can he have nineteen of these books on his phone?’