No-One Ever Has Sex on a Tuesday (17 page)

‘So you sit on that stool there in front of me,’ said Alison, as he approached the island where she had gathered her essential items for the cookery demonstration. ‘Then Millie can see you and you can see her.’ Alison was busy washing her hands in the shiniest sink Ben had ever seen. Not just rinsing, really washing, including attacking her nails with a scrubbing brush. After this ritual was completed she reached for an apron out of a tall cupboard and wrapped the pretty floral number, which matched the sofa, around her. She cleared her throat and placed her hands on the bench, assuming a serious expression. Ben giggled.

‘What’s so funny?’ she demanded.

‘You,’ he replied. ‘You’re taking it so seriously.’

‘Do you want me to help you or not?’ she threw back.

‘Yes, of course I do,’ he said, feeling instantly bad. ‘But . . . but we can have a bit of a laugh, can’t we?’

‘Not sure what there is to laugh about when it comes to the nutrition of your child, Ben.’

‘Of course, you’re right, Alison. From now on I will have my serious face on.’ He frowned back at her. ‘And I will not mention that the carrot you have selected for this demonstration is unusually deformed in a manner that makes it appear to be growing a penis.’

‘It’s organic,’ said Alison, without missing a beat or smiling.

‘An organic penis. I see,’ replied Ben. ‘So no supplements have been added in order promote growth?’ he enquired.

‘Do you have to be so juvenile?’ asked Alison.

‘Do you have to be so serious about
everything?’
asked Ben. ‘Who can take a carrot growing a penis seriously?’

‘I can,’ said Alison, picking up the carrot and slicing off the orange protrusion in one fell swoop. ‘Do I have your attention now?’

Ben sat with his legs pressed tightly together, screwing his face up.

‘I think so,’ he said in a very high-pitched voice.

‘So, first things first, do you have the necessary equipment?’ asked Alison.

‘I thought I had until you started waving that dangerous weapon about.’

Alison gave a big sigh and raised her eyes to the ceiling.

‘I will not continue until you take this seriously,’ she announced.

‘Sorry, sorry, I am now in the zone, I promise,’ said Ben. ‘Hit me with it.’

‘Good. So let’s start again with equipment. You will obviously need a knife and peeler, but do you have a vegetable steamer?’

‘A what?’

‘A steamer. One of these,’ she said, reaching behind her to take from the stove top what looked like a very tall saucepan.’

‘I have never seen one of those before in my life,’ he declared proudly.

‘Well, I suggest you buy one. Order one online this afternoon.’

‘Right, okay,’ he nodded.

‘Do you think you should write this down?’ she enquired.

Ben looked at her in panic. Clearly the whole carrot cooking thing was not going to be as easy as he’d envisaged. He’d need to remember stuff, domestic stuff, which had never been his forte. He stared at the steamer, trying to commit it to memory, then he came up with a brilliant idea.

‘Can I film all this on my phone? That way I won’t forget what to buy and how to use it.’ He was already reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone.

‘Er, well,’ said Alison, her hands instantaneously flying up to her hair. ‘You can, but I’ll need to just check my hair and face first.’ She was already untying her apron and dashing towards the door.

‘Really?’ exclaimed Ben. ‘No-one’s going to see it. Just me.’

Alison paused in the doorway, clearly in a quandary.

‘No, I can’t go on film looking like this,’ she decided. ‘Watch the babies,’ she yelled over her shoulder before she disappeared.

A few short minutes and Alison was back in the room complete with an embroidered clip in her hair and a dab of lipstick. She had the grace to blush slightly at her vanity as she resumed her spot behind the counter and retied
her pinny, not looking at Ben until everything was in place. Ben had no idea what was going on but decided to just go with it. If she needed to be wearing lipstick whilst being filmed cooking carrots, then so be it.

‘You may begin,’ she said, giving him a slight nod.

Luckily Ben realised she meant filming and he picked up his phone from the counter, flicked the screen a couple of times and then held it up and shouted, ‘Action.’

‘Good morning,’ said Alison with a slight nod and a smile. ‘I am about to demonstrate the most efficient way to steam and purée carrots for your newborn once you start to wean them.’

Ben fought very hard to prevent himself from cracking up. Alison was doing an unbelievably professional job; it just seemed ridiculously over the top.

‘The equipment you will need for this is a peeler, a knife, a chopping board, a steamer like the one we have here, a food processor or hand-held blender if you have one, and finally an ice-cube tray.’

‘Carrots?’ shouted out Ben.

‘I’m sorry?’ said a flustered Alison.

‘Carrots,’ said Ben. ‘Don’t you need carrots?’

Alison smiled sweetly, directly into the phone.

‘Very funny, Ben,’ she said sarcastically. ‘So, I have chosen only to feed my children organic vegetables, as these are not grown using any harmful pesticides or fertilisers.’

‘And they grow their own penises, which improves any vegetable, in my eyes.’

‘Now, as you can see, I have chopped the penis off this particular carrot in order to be able to use the vegetable peeler and to prove a point that penises are always easily removed. Once you have peeled two or three large carrots then you can slice them so they steam quicker.’

‘Do you cut circles, Alison, or sticks when you are slicing carrots?’ Ben asked.

‘Batons, Ben,’ replied Alison, and she swiftly dealt with the carrots. ‘They are called batons. No-one cuts circles any more.’

‘But does it matter?’ asked Ben. ‘You’re going to bash them to a pulp any minute, aren’t you?’

‘Standards, Ben,’ Alison replied. ‘So, once you have sliced all your carrots you half-fill the bottom pan of the steamer with water, place the carrots in the top section then put a lid on and bring to the boil. You can then leave the pan for approximately fifteen minutes to make sure the carrots are totally soft. I recommend you use a timer so that if you get distracted by another task you don’t forget your carrots and allow the pan to boil dry. This, of course, would cause a potential hazard in the home as well as ruining your steamer. Are you with me so far?’

‘Totally.’ Ben turned the camera off and put it down. ‘I’ll start filming again when they’ve finished steaming.’

‘Good, good,’ Alison said. ‘I think I got all the essential points in. If I’d known you were going to be filming it I would have been better prepared.’

‘Alison,’ said Ben. ‘You are the most well-prepared person I have ever met. How could you be more prepared?’

‘I would have laid the equipment out differently,’ she replied, furrowing her brow and casting her eyes down towards the surface. ‘So it was all visible.’

‘Alison, that was perfect. Seriously. You explain stuff really well, like any idiot could do it. That’s a real gift. I know, I’m a teacher.’

‘Thank you,’ said Alison, flashing him a grateful smile. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. ‘We’ve just got time for a bit of a play with the babies before we purée,’ she announced. She strode over to Rebecca and scooped her up then sat down on the sofa bouncing her up and down on her knee.

‘Er, can I get you a drink or something?’ asked Ben as he copied her and picked Millie up to have a gander over his shoulder.

‘Sorry?’ said Alison, looking up.

‘Coffee? If you tell me where everything is I’ll make you one.’

‘Oh,’ she said, looking taken aback. ‘Yes, thank you. Erm, I’ll have an orange juice. There’s some in the door of the fridge and the glasses are in the cupboard over the sink.’

Ben heaved open the enormous American-style fridge and pulled out a carton of fresh juice. He poured a glass for Alison and one for himself before
returning the carton to the fridge, taking unusual care not to spill anything inside the door of the gleaming fridge.

‘There you go,’ he said, taking it over to Alison and sitting himself down next to her after he’d grabbed his.

‘Thank you.’

‘Not a problem,’ he replied, taking a long gulp. ‘Not after all this help you’re giving me.’ He felt overcome with shame. Alison in her own, very anal way was being incredibly generous to him, and he had the audacity to accept that generosity despite knowing a secret that could devastate her.

‘Matthew’s a very lucky man,’ he finally said. For all her faults, Alison was without doubt an amazing mother, and Matthew was lucky not to have lost her as part of the one-night stand fallout.

Alison ignored him, making gurgling sounds at Rebecca.

‘You must make his life so easy, having total control over all this stuff,’ he continued, sweeping his arm around the picture-perfect scene of domesticity. ‘It must be great for him to know that he doesn’t have to worry about the kids or anything.’

‘You’d think, wouldn’t you?’ she replied, raising her eyebrows.

‘I’m sure he’s delighted he can toddle off to that tax office place and not give a second thought to what’s happening here.’

‘If only,’ sighed Alison, laying Rebecca down and picking George up.

She began blowing raspberries on his tummy. Ben didn’t like to probe any further.

‘He comes home and . . . and . . . well, he just does everything wrong,’ she said finally when she came up for air the third time. ‘I spend all of my time working out exactly what the best thing is for my babies then he breezes in at the end of the day and throws everything out, messes with the routine, or worse, suggests what he thinks would be a better way of doing something.’

‘He’s probably just trying to help,’ offered Ben, having been on the receiving end of Katy flying off the handle when he dared suggest something he thought might make life easier for everyone.

‘But how can he know?’ Alison turned to glare at Ben. ‘I spend every waking hour with them. I’ve read everything, watched everything, and done everything I possibly can do to make sure I’m doing what’s best for them.’

‘Perhaps he just wants to be involved,’ said Ben. ‘They are his kids too.’

‘But he doesn’t know what’s best for them,’ said Alison, shaking her head. ‘How can he? You have no idea what I put my body through for five years to get here, to get to hold my very own babies in my arms. Does he honestly think that I would put myself through all that and then not be taking the absolute best care of them?’

She pulled George into her chest and held him tight.

‘I would never let anything happen to them,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m their
mother
. If anything ever happened to them . . .’ She bit her lip and Ben could see that there were possible tears on the horizon. She was scared. No wonder she looked after her children like a military operation. It was the only way she could deal with the terrifying thought of not being the perfect mother she’d set out to be. He did the only thing he could in the face of Robo-Mum shedding tears and put a rather awkward arm around her as he tried to summon up words of empathy.

‘For fuck’s sake, Alison, don’t you realise you’re bloody brilliant at this?’ He gave her a squeeze. ‘Look at you. I mean really. You have twins, for Christ’s sake, and you still not only have time to cut carrots in the right shape but also to show a fuckwit like me how to get my shit together. Seriously, Alison, you’re like some crazy mother guru type person.’

Alison had taken a handkerchief out of her pocket and was dabbing her eyes as she clutched George to her chest. She shrugged.

Ben thrust his hand in his pocket and pulled out his phone, then reached his arm around Millie so Alison could view her carrot puréeing skills for herself.

‘Look at you,’ he urged. ‘You are the perfect mother. You know how to do all this stuff. You
care
about it.’

Alison stared at the screen, sniffing gently.

‘I told you I should have laid the equipment out so you can see it at the beginning,’ she said eventually.

‘Are you kidding?’ cried Ben. ‘This is brilliant. You do it so an idiot can understand. You should do more of this. We stay-at-home dads could really do with someone like you in our lives.’

Alison blinked up at him.

‘I’m serious,’ said Ben, seizing on the fact that she’d stopped crying. ‘You’re way better than that other bird on YouTube demonstrating the steriliser.’

‘Melissa from Minnesota?’ said Alison with half a smile.

‘She was a dog,’ Ben declared. ‘Look at you in your lipstick and your pinny. Bit of eye candy for the dads wouldn’t go amiss either.’

‘Ben! Do you have to be so . . . so . . .’

‘Right,’ offered Ben.

‘So . . . juvenile,’ Alison concluded.

Ben raised his eyebrows.

‘It was you who insisted on lipstick once you knew you were going on camera.’

‘Well, as I said earlier, it’s all about standards,’ Alison said quickly.

‘Anyway, I’m just saying that you’re good at this, and I bet there are other dads out there who would appreciate your help . . . and your lipstick,’ he said with a wink and another squeeze of her shoulders.

Alison looked away, and if Ben wasn’t mistaken she was blushing slightly, but she still looked sad.

‘We’re all terrified of doing it wrong,’ he told her. ‘You’re not alone.’

She turned and gave him a weak smile.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered. She sniffed. ‘I don’t know how Katy does it.’

‘Does what?’

‘Walk out the door and leave her baby.’

It was Ben’s turn to fall silent, then he shrugged.

‘She doesn’t have a choice, does she?’

‘Maybe not, but it must be so hard for her.’

‘She would have a choice, of course, if she’d got together with someone who could afford to let her stay at home, but she didn’t, did she?’‘ She lumbered herself with me, a poxy PE teacher, and the best I can do is tell her to go back to work and earn the big bucks whilst I make a hash of staying at home and trying to be Mum. And I can’t even do that right.’

‘A lot of men wouldn’t even contemplate what you’re doing. She’s lucky to have you.’