The Single Mums' Secrets - Janet Hoggarth Page 0,5

‘A dad at school. We just get on.’

‘I’m still struggling to see how this is an affair that’s contributed to you thinking you’re being punished. You’re allowed to be friends with people of the opposite sex if you’re married.’

‘It was more than friends. But now it’s all blown up because of this.’ She spread her hands out to her sides, the Peroni clutched in the left one, and shook her head. ‘I feel so so shit. More than shit. I don’t know a word for how I feel. There isn’t one. My whole body hurts. My throat feels like it’s gone into anaphylactic shock. I can just about manage a drink if I smoke beforehand.’

She started crying, big gulping sobs that rinsed off the remains of her make-up. I hugged her hard, she smelled of smoke and her usual perfume.

‘There’s so much you don’t know,’ she gasped in between weeping. Annoyingly I didn’t have a tissue on me. People skirted round us and into the road to get past rather than risk rubbing their shoulders on our black cloud.

‘You don’t have to tell me; now isn’t the time. I have some diazepam in my bag back at yours. Do you want to take some?’

She shook her head.

‘It might help you to sleep. I can do bedtime. Lindsey stayed a bit longer to help out. The kids have all been eating the beige food from the buffet. I hope that’s OK. I brought my bag for work with me and a set of clothes in case you need me to stay.’

‘Thank you. Mum and Dad are staying. They’ve been great. They have no idea about anything so please don’t say a word.’ An ambulance whooshed past behind us on the South Circular, sirens blasting, life and death carrying on like it did.

‘I think we should head back; people will have left by now. I hope so anyway. Poor Jean was acting like an Italian nonna at a Catholic funeral; all we needed was her to start ripping her clothes. You missed her wailing at your wedding photos. It must be incredibly hard to lose a child, no matter how old they are.’ Even so, it was a very un-British way of behaving. Everyone else toed the line and stuck to the British Guidelines for Funeral Etiquette. Rule number one: Do not show any emotion, especially as the coffin is paraded down the aisle. If you must cry, do it silently. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was part of those new citizen tests.

‘That’s what Jewish mothers do – they rip their clothes… Fuck, what do I do with all the photos everywhere? And his clothes? Oh God, his office, the shed?’ She started crying as we walked slowly back to the house. She rubbed her nose furiously to try and stem the stream of snot.

‘Don’t think about any of that now. Phil said he would sort Nigel’s laptop and email accounts, keep an eye on incoming messages for the next few months. Everything else can wait. Just think about trying to eat something and lying down. And the kids. They need to see you.’

I left later on once the children were in bed. Ted and Gemma had obviously been upset. But Isaac just wanted his milk and to climb in his cot with Peppa Pig. His speech was still infantile, ironically ‘Dad’ being the one word that was recognisable amid the babbling.

I parked my car on the drive when I got home. As I climbed out, Ali’s front door opened. She was dumping the recycling in the blue bin.

‘Hi!’ she called over. ‘Good day with all the hypochondriacs?’

‘It was Nigel’s funeral today.’

‘Oh, fuck, so sorry. How was it?’ She closed the recycling bin lid and walked over to my side of the street. I always admired the way she effortlessly managed to look stylish, even in shorts and flip-flops, sunglasses perched on her head, scraping her fringe back off her face. I would love to go to work in shorts and flip-flops. As senior partner, I could implement it as a choice, but knew it would go down like a parade of anti-vaxxers.

‘Pretty hideous.’ I explained about Nigel’s mum’s emotional display and Louise disappearing off. ‘I found her at the junction where Nigel knocked her off her bike eleven years ago.’

‘Is that how they met?’

I nodded.

‘Do you want to come in for a glass of wine? Grace is in bed.’ I glanced towards my house. I knew I had a Cook