The Single Mums' Secrets - Janet Hoggarth Page 0,129

to the sound of nonstop crying.’ Though he was now peacefully snoozing and had been for ten minutes, no doubt worn out by the effort it took keeping two adults and three children balanced on a knife-edge.

‘I’ve got a proposition for you… It might make you feel better.’

43

Louise

‘I think it’s a positive move,’ Winnie said. ‘I told you the spare room would be free sooner than you thought. She needs to be near Carl, even if she won’t admit it yet.’

‘I know,’ Louise exhaled slowly. It was Winnie’s day off and she’d come round bringing with her a coffee cake. It was Louise’s forty-first birthday. ‘I’m trying to embrace it, but I’ve loved having them here and always knew she would eventually move on. I just didn’t think it would be so soon. It’s a great opportunity for Christa taking on Ali’s house when she moves in with Nick. The Mews isn’t far away, and I know I’ll see them all the time. I’m at home with Isaac and pootling around all the time, aren’t I?’

‘Open your present!’ Winnie shoved a neatly wrapped yellow spotty parcel towards her across the kitchen table. Christa was out on errands walking with the pram.

Louise tore the paper revealing a vintage fifties framed print of a red-haired woman in an old-fashioned nurse’s uniform, winking saucily at the camera. It made Louise smile. There was a manila envelope taped to the frame, and Louise opened it, pulling out a sheaf of papers.

‘What’s this?’

‘I looked up all the requirements for return to practice and printed them out at work. Read through it all when you have time. I know it comes across as bullying you into it, but sometimes, we just need a push in the right direction.’

‘Thank you. Do you have any information on live-in nannies too?’

Louise’s phone rang, interrupting Winnie before she could speak.

‘Happy birthday!’ Phil said. ‘I hope you’re having a nice day. Got any plans?’

‘Thanks, Phil. Yes, Christa booked me a massage for later and then Mum and Dad are coming up for dinner. My friend Winnie is here just now and we’re having cake.’

‘Oh good. Well, I hope you have a lovely time.’

‘You’re very welcome to join us later on.’

‘No, I just wanted to wish you happy birthday. I won’t keep you from your cake. See you soon.’

‘Who was that?’ Winnie asked, a shrewd smile playing across her lips.

‘Just Nigel’s brother.’

‘Just Nigel’s brother…’

‘Winnie! Ewwww, no!’

‘Well, you didn’t see the look on your face.’

‘It would be wrong! I don’t even fancy him. I don’t fancy anyone!’ And Louise registered that that was a good thing for the first time in her life. She was officially free of the laborious responsibility of keeping the flame alive for a deflective crush. A small victory in an otherwise sea of shit.

Winnie laughed.

44

Back in the Hood

This wasn’t what I’d expected. Valentine was bellowing for his next feed from his bouncy chair in the living room while we were surrounded by all my possessions I’d hauled over from Louise’s as well as the storage unit in Forest Hill that had housed the few items from my life with Tom. Ali had left her beautiful magenta fleur-de-lis sofa and a double bed for me. The armchair that I’d once had sex on with Tom had now been peppered with several breast-milk-filled pukes. The mid-century wooden sideboard that we’d picked up from a flea market in Wapping fitted snugly by the front window. I think that was possibly the only piece of furniture we hadn’t shagged on, simply because it was at an odd height and Tom had believed the spindly legs would snap.

We’d been like dogs on heat marking territory in those early days. Striding along the open road of a shared life had felt like an adventure into the unknown as we collected possessions and joint experiences, weaving a story our future selves would reminisce about. I wondered when he now sat on the leather sofa if he remembered christening that too and getting his foot stuck down the side mid thrust. Or banging our heads on the pull-down spotlight above the dining room table while ripping off my knickers. The most romantic shag was the spare bed (at the bitter end it became my bed), which had been in my favourite room because the light hit it in the morning, enticing you gently out of sleep. Tom had said we set the bar high for all other occupants with our synchronised climax. I bet he’d boxed