experience, instead of the cheaper agistment fees. I loathe it so much, yet Charlotte loves it so much. She really does and I can’t stand how upset she is over Noodle. I can’t stand to see Charlotte upset - maybe I shouldn’t have been so cross that she was on the phone to Alice.
I seem to get cross a lot lately.
I’m not going to get cross with her again, I tell myself. I remember what it was like with mum, how horrible it was when she flew into a rage and I am not doing that to Charlotte.
Calm, I tell myself.
I’m going to be calm and serene.
‘Lucy?’
I look up and I’m still wobbling in my tree position and everyone else is watching me. ‘It’s time for guided meditation.’
I hate this part.
But at least it means that the lesson is nearly done, because all of a sudden my brain tumour’s back.
We walk over and get our blankets and then back to our mats we go. Because you cool down when you relax, we cover ourselves in our blankets and fifteen grown women lie there with their eyes closed while Genna talks crap.
I remember this at nursery school.
We used to lie down and Mrs Lewis would read us a story.
I hated it then too.
All the other children would doze off.
And I’d lie there awake.
Wondering if she’d come.
‘Great lesson!’ We all chat as we shower and change and say things like - ‘wow, I so needed that,’ and ‘I just couldn’t get through the week if I didn’t have Genna on a Monday.’ They sound as if they mean it, so I say the same things too.
I mean it must be good for you, surely?
A couple of us go for a coffee after, a skinny latte, with skinny vanilla, and wow, they so needed that too!
I usually love my Mondays.
I just don’t today.
I haven’t of late, in fact.
‘Hey, baby,’ I hear when I answer my phone and it’s him. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m just on my way to the specialist.’ I think about discussing the pony again with him, but decide it’s better left till tonight and anyway, he tells me, he’s got to go into a meeting. I head off to the village and there’s a bit of a wait so I get a pedicure and my eyebrows threaded and finally I get my spray tan done. Afterwards, I put on a very loose cheesecloth dress and some sandals.
I look at my watch and Rhonda should be long gone. I concentrate extra hard on the drive home. I’ve got no knickers or bra on, so as not to mess up my spray tan, so I especially don’t want to have an accident.
And I don’t want to have Botox.
I wasn’t completely lying to him.
I do have a specialist appointment today.
Only it’s not with a doctor, it’s with a nurse. I’ve messed up my appointments, so I’ll have to get changed and I don’t want to mess up my tan. I just can’t face it today. I really do have a pounding headache.
Maybe I’ll just go to bed and read.
I slow down to let an ambulance pass and then a police car too. I’m going to cancel my appointment I decide, or just not show up. I’ll have to pay fifty quid whatever I do, because I haven’t given enough notice. It will be like bunking off – I used to do that a lot. But instead of hanging around the shops and the park like I did then, at least now I can go home. I smile at the thought, because all I want to do is go to bed and read.
It might sound as if I do nothing all day, but being his wife is a full-time job and I really want to just sign off for the afternoon.
I can’t stand the thought of needles in my face today.
As I turn into my street I slam on the brakes, not to avoid hitting someone, but because of what I see.
That ambulance and police car that I slowed to let past are outside my house. Their lights are blazing and there is my neighbour, with a prime view over the privet fence.
Why didn’t he have a word?
Why didn’t he insist that she grow it years ago?
I don’t want her watching my life.
I do remember thinking that surely the normal response would be to drive faster, to accelerate, to get there and find out what's going on, except I slammed the brakes on. I