Pieces of My Heart (4 page)

‘Oh, God, don’t even joke about it.’ I giggled.

‘Needs must!’

‘So, no action?’

‘If they’re not freaks, they’re married. I’m telling you, it’s slim pickings out there for a forty-three-year-old woman. I should have got married young like you. I’ve missed the bloody boat, train and bus. My smugly married sisters helpfully remind me on a regular basis that it’s my own fault because apparently I was too picky and fussy when I was younger and now all the good guys are gone.’

‘They don’t really say that, do they?’ I asked, pouring us both a cup of coffee.

‘Thanks.’ Sally helped herself to some milk. ‘I swear, Ava, they’re so smug with their husbands and their two-point-four children and their ridiculous four-by-four jeeps that they insist on driving to ferry their kids down the road to school and back. All I ever hear about are little Johnny’s ear infections, or the hilarious thing he said to his teacher, or the fact that Philip’s mother looks like she’s had Botox. Jesus, they’re so insular and boring.’

‘Maybe it’s because they don’t work. When the girls were small I didn’t work and I was terrified of becoming boring. The kids do become your sole focus and it’s scary. You talk about your children all the time because they’re both your job and your personal life. That’s what drove me back to work!’

‘I don’t go out and bore people about my job or my personal life.’

‘I know, but I think sometimes it’s insecurity that does it – a lot of full-time mothers feel undervalued and unappreciated.’ I took a bite of my chocolate biscuit.

‘Bullshit. It’s smugness. They don’t like successful single women. They think we all want to shag their husbands.’

‘Because they’re insecure!’

Sally threw her hands up in the air, knocking some files off the table. ‘About
what
? I’d love to be married to a millionaire and swan around all day having facials and playing tennis.’

‘No, you wouldn’t, you’d be bored silly, and you don’t like children.’

‘Whoever said anything about children? I just want the man and the money.’ She chuckled.

‘Ninety-nine per cent of women are not married to millionaires, Sally. And stay-at-home mothers do not have an easy time of it. They spend all day cooking, cleaning, washing and dealing with tantrums and melt-downs. No one ever tells them they’re doing a good job. There are no promotions, no wage hikes, no union rules. I have to be honest, as jobs go I found it thankless drudgery.’

‘Fine, but why bore everyone to death about it when they go out?’

‘Because they’re trying to justify their existence.’

‘What about single women’s existence? How do we justify ours? Apart from work, we have a pretty thankless life, too – no one to share good or bad news with, no one to snuggle up with on rainy Monday nights when we’re feeling miserable, no one to rely on financially. If we lose our jobs or get sick, we’re screwed. And as for holidays, they’re a minefield. You either go on your own or with a single friend who may be fine to go out with on a Saturday night, but not to spend two weeks sharing a hotel room with. Or your third choice, which is to latch on to one of your siblings’ family holidays where you have to be “fun” Aunt Sally and end up looking after the kids while the parents just “pop out” and come back four hours later reeking of wine.’

I sighed. There was no easy answer. ‘You’re right, that is awful. I just don’t think anyone has it easy. Please feel free to call over to me any Monday night. You can snuggle on the couch with me and Charlie. Paul’s always out, so we’d welcome the company.’ I fiddled with a paperclip.

‘So Paul hasn’t cut back on his hours, then?’ Sally asked.

‘If anything, he’s working more. But I’ve got Charlie so life is never dull.’

‘And how are the gorgeous girls?’

‘Are you sure you want to know about my kids?’

‘Come on, you know I love them. Toddlers I don’t do, but teenagers I can at least relate to. Let’s face it, I’m a teenager in an old woman’s body.’

‘Remind me again why you co-own a children’s-party-planning business?’ I laughed.

‘Because my wonderful partner deals with the children and their neurotic mothers while I deal with the money and the fathers.’

‘How come I get lumped with the kids and their psychotic mothers?’

‘Because you can handle them. I’d just be rude and that wouldn’t be good for business. So, how are the girls?’

‘Ali’s in amazing form – she’s totally in love. It’s still going strong with David.’

‘Good for Ali. Oh, to be seventeen again!’ Sally stood up to pour herself more coffee – she always drank at least four cups in the morning while I could only ever manage one.

‘I know. I’m a bit worried, though. It’s only been eight weeks and she’s completely besotted with him. You know Ali, she wears her heart on her sleeve. I just hope she doesn’t get hurt.’

‘It’ll do her the world of good to focus on men rather than school books for a while. She should be having more fun.’

‘Yeah, you’re right. When I think of myself at seventeen, sneaking out the bedroom window and cycling off to parties, I can’t believe I have a daughter who is so well behaved. Mind you, Sarah’s the other extreme.’

‘She’s not really that bad. She just likes to push the boundaries.’

‘And my buttons. She really knows how to wind me up.’

‘That might have something to do with the fact that you’re very alike.’

‘Me and Sarah?’

‘Come on, Ava, you’ve mellowed a bit over the years, but you were a live-wire in your day.’

‘I never spoke to my mother the way she speaks to me.’

‘That’s because you were too busy sneaking around behind her back. At least Sarah talks to you and tells you what she wants.’

‘I suppose that’s something. All the parenting experts say that communication with your kids is vital and she’s certainly good at communicating. Sometimes, though, I wish she’d put a sock in it.’

‘She’ll be fine, she’s just lively.’

‘That’s one way of putting it.’

‘So, what’s been happening since I’ve been away?’

‘The Brown-Kennedy party went well, but they haven’t paid the bill, so I need you to call the dad and sweet-talk the money from him.’ I handed her a Post-it with his number on it.

‘No problem, leave it to me. He’ll have a cheque in the post today.’

‘Great.’ I opened one of the files on my desk. ‘Now, we’ve got the Mallow twins’ seventh-birthday party in two weeks. They want a crocodile cake that spurts blood when you cut it. Helen reckons she can work something out with raspberry coulis for the blood. They want a small marquee decked out in jungle style. The mother wants safari outfits for the twins and their dad. She also wants an outfit for herself, but not shorts and a jacket. She wants us to source a sexy safari dress.’

‘Which is what, exactly?’

‘She’s thinking tight leopard-print minidress with a sun-visor to match.’

Sally stared at me open-mouthed. ‘But she’s fifty … and fat.’

‘Harsh.’ Mrs Mallow was actually forty-seven, and while she wasn’t fat, she definitely didn’t have the figure required for tight minidresses.

‘She looks like a transvestite,’ Sally said. ‘Look, I’m no one to slag off someone for getting work done, but she needs to stop the Botox – her eyebrows are disappearing into her hairline. If I ever get like that, tell me.’

‘OK, I will, and you must tell me when I look like a hag and need to have something done. Now, I’ve actually sourced the dress already on the Internet. There are – would you believe? – ninety-five thousand nine hundred Google results for sexy safari dresses. The one I’ve gone with is very revealing so I think she’ll like it. I’ve worked out the costs for the party, but Helen reckons the price of making the cake and the hundred chocolate snakes, lizards, scorpions and terrapins could be higher. She’ll give us a final price tomorrow.’

Sally looked at the numbers. ‘Thank God for parents with too much money and no sense! Now, show me this dress.’

I pulled it out of the bag and Sally screeched, ‘You cannot be serious – it’s obscene!’

I grinned. ‘Sally, may I remind you that the client gets whatever the client wants and this little number is what Nancy Mallow is looking for.’

‘All that money and no taste, it’s a travesty.’

I glanced at my watch. ‘I’ve got to run. I’m going to drop into Nancy later on my way to collect the girls from school.’

‘OK, see you tomorrow. I hope she likes her stripper dress.’

5

Unfortunately, Nancy Mallow didn’t like the dress I’d found because it wasn’t short enough, apparently.

‘Come on, Ava, I’m in my forties, not sixties. My legs are still in good shape so let’s show them off.’

I tried not to look as shocked as I felt. ‘OK, Nancy. I’ll try to get something shorter for you.’

‘Good. Now, about the food for the adults. I think sushi and some nice canapés will do. We’ll be spending the afternoon in the house and popping down to see how the boys are getting on every now and then. I don’t want them in my house, so please make sure they’re contained in the marquee and the garden. I’ve just had new carpets put down and I don’t want twenty-five mucky boys running about.’

‘In that case, maybe having it outside the home would be easier?’ I suggested. ‘We could hire somewhere for you.’ Clearly this woman didn’t want any children within a mile radius of her house. I was surprised her own kids were allowed to live in it.

‘I wish I could, Ava, but Dan said, “What’s the bloody point in having a big house if you can’t have a party in it?” ’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Men just don’t seem to mind mess and dirt. Now, regarding toilets, they can use the one at the back of the garage.’

I was surprised she wasn’t going to make them pee in the bushes – it would have been in keeping with the jungle theme.

‘I hope you have lots of activities planned for them. I want them kept busy so we adults can have a few drinks in peace.’

Why do people like this have children? I wondered. As if on cue, the twins came charging into the kitchen and proceeded to have a wrestling match.

‘Stop it, you two, you’re going to break something,’ Nancy snapped.

They stuck their tongues out at her and continued to beat each other up until one of them fell against the dresser, knocking over a large bowl that smashed on the floor.

‘GET OUT!’ screamed Nancy, and the boys fled. I bent down to help her clear up the mess. ‘That was a wedding present from my godmother.’ She shook her head. ‘Do you have children, Ava?’

‘Two girls, but they’re teenagers now.’

‘God, I wish I’d had girls. Boys are a nightmare – I just can’t understand them. I had three sisters and we never behaved like that. All they do is fight and break things. I have no control over them at all. They never listen to me and their father is away all week. When he gets back he just wants to be a “fun” dad so he wrestles with them. Honestly, I feel as if I have three sons, not two.’

‘As the saying goes, girls wreck your head and boys wreck your house.’

‘Well, I can tell you, Ava, boys wreck your house
and
your head.’

‘They’ll probably calm down soon. I think seven is supposed to be a turning-point,’ I lied.

‘The day they leave home will be a turning-point,’ she said wearily. She shook the remnants of her wedding bowl into the bin.

Her desire not to have the party inside the house now seemed wise and sensible.

On my way to pick up the girls from school, Paul rang. ‘How did today go? Good to have Sally back?’ he asked.

‘Brilliant. I appreciate her more every time she takes a holiday.’

‘You make a good team.’

‘You’re not going to believe what Charlie did.’

‘Nothing would surprise me.’

‘He sexually assaulted Magda and she broke his nose.’

‘Jesus Christ! He must be desperate – Magda looks like a bloke.’

‘Don’t be mean about her. She’s wonderful.’

‘Poor old Charlie just needs a good shag. He’s got six years of pent-up sexual frustration, and that’s not healthy.’

‘OK, OK, let’s stop talking about my father’s sexual needs, please.’

‘Fair enough. Listen, I’m going to be late tonight. We’re installing the new surveillance equipment – apparently it takes a while – so don’t wait up for me.’

‘Do you really think you need it?’

‘These cameras are top of the range. They’ll give me a crystal-clear picture of the cash register from twenty feet away so none of the staff can steal from me.’

‘I don’t understand why people would steal from their employers.’

‘Everyone wants more, especially when things are good and our figures are up twenty per cent. This is exactly the time when staff get greedy. Anyway, don’t you worry about it – that’s my job. Sorry to miss dinner.’

‘Again.’

‘Come on, Ava, don’t start.’

‘Paul, you haven’t been home before midnight in two weeks. I’m fed up.’

‘The business is going well, you should be happy. Besides, once this security equipment is in place, I’ll be able to watch everything from my laptop, so I can be home more.’

Great, I thought. When he can access the pub from home, he’ll never switch off and unwind. He’ll be glued to the bloody laptop. I didn’t feel like a fight right now, though. ‘I’m pleased that things are going well, but I’d like to see you once in a while, and so would the girls.’

‘I’ll be home for dinner tomorrow. Besides, I see the girls every morning at breakfast. I don’t see why –’ A female voice called him in the background. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I have to go, Ava, I’ll see you later.’ He hung up.

I flung my mobile onto the passenger seat. Of course I was pleased the pub was doing so well, but with both of us working long hours and looking after the girls and now Charlie, Paul and I hardly had any quality time together any more. What was the point in working so hard and making money if we never got to enjoy it?

When the girls were small and we were living in a sleep-deprived haze, we used to fantasize about the trips we’d take when they were older – long weekends in Berlin, New York, Barcelona, Milan … Then when we’d had that scare eight years ago, we reiterated our commitment to living more and working less. But instead of doing things with me, Paul had taken up surfing, become completely obsessed with it, and spent all his spare time chasing waves. And then Happy Dayz had taken off and suddenly here we were, still working hard and too busy to enjoy it all. We hadn’t done any of the things we’d planned. In fact, we saw less of each other now than we had when the girls were babies.