The Only Boy For Me (15 page)

‘No, and stop interrupting. I mean strong as in not clingy. And you know, it’s funny, but I’ve never met a majorly beautiful woman who wasn’t just a tiny bit vacuous and smug. And none of them are sexy. At all. Believe me.’

‘You should go into advertising, you know; you’re quite good at the old persuasive pitching. I feel much better now.’

‘Good. So have I got the job, then?’

‘Let’s just say it’s looking good, James, it’s looking good.’

‘Thank Christ for that. You had me worried for a minute. Sweet dreams, darling.’

And he puts the phone down. I wish he wouldn’t do that. Arrive back at the villa with a very stupid grin on my face. It looks like I may have got myself a new dressing gown for a little while longer.

The journey home from Spain is horrendous. A family with a small baby sits behind us on the flight, and one with a lively toddler sits in front. Both scream for the entire journey. The toddler does let up for a bit, but only to try to steal his mother’s food. She slaps him, and he starts up all over again. Think the NSPCC should do emergency training sessions on all charter flights.

Charlie is very pleased to get home, and rushes around touching all his toys and hurling duvets about, like a small animal marking out its territory. Kate rings and says the weather has been appalling, and she doesn’t want to see me until my tan fades. Mack calls and wants to see me straight away, but settles for next weekend. Then Lizzie calls.

‘So. Did she make you eat Spam?’

‘Yes.’

‘I knew it. Honestly, when is she going to get over this obsession with tinned meat?’

‘I don’t know, but it can’t come soon enough for me.’

‘Did she drive you crazy?’

‘No, she was lovely actually. We had a bit of a scene one night, when Charlie played up and she wanted to slap him. Or rather she wanted me to.’

‘Oh dear, I bet that went down well.’

‘Yes, we had a frank exchange of views, but then we had a nice cup of tea and it was fine.’

‘Oh good. Did you go anywhere interesting?’

‘Not really. We went to the volcano and it took me twenty minutes to get Mum out of the car, but really it was just a lovely lazy week. Charlie had a brilliant time, and I think Mum did too.’

‘Good. Lucky you, I’ve been driven nearly demented by those bloody people and their sodding kitchen.’

‘Oh dear. Charlie’s brought you back a really tasteful present – will that help?’

‘If it’s as tasteful as that hideous donkey you brought back from Turkey, then to be frank, no.’

It rains constantly, so my tan is fading fast. Charlie goes back to school, but the endless rain means they get no proper playtimes. All the children get very grumpy and are almost hysterical by the end of the day after being cooped up in a small classroom with the wet play box, which consists of old tattered board games and a couple of bean bags.

Mack has come up with a new plan for us to meet this weekend. He’s arranged to pick up Daisy and Alfie on Friday, and will take them home at teatime on Saturday, and then belt down the motorway and spend the rest of the weekend here. I can’t help asking how his ex-wife, Laura, feels about this. But Mack says they had a very amicable separation, which began at her instigation. She’s now doing a course in homoeopathy, which is something she always wanted to do but Mack made fun of it. She’s also found a wonderful new man, Troy, who’s a herbalist and wears sandals, even in winter. Mack thinks he’s a complete prat, but the kids like him.

Apparently Laura and Troy are rather keen to go to a lecture on Friday night, on the uses of common hedgerow plants, although I think Mack might have made this up, but it means it’s all worked out rather neatly. And if I ever need miniature doses of belladonna Mack knows just where to get them. I’m secretly hugely relieved that there’s no bitter ex-wife lurking about in the background, especially not one studying the uses of common hedgerow plants.

Charlie’s school has a church service this morning, something they do once a term. Charlie is sulking, because he says he’s a pagan. I tell him he can always stay at school and do maths worksheets with the school secretary, and he decides he might go after all. We get to the church, which is tiny and ancient and down a narrow lane surrounded by fields, which the recent rain has turned into a quagmire. Charlie steps into a huge puddle as soon as he gets out of the car. I do the best I can with a tissue, but he looks like he’s been in a mud-wrestling tournament on the way to school, and lost every round. The sun comes out, and the scene is transformed into something from a Thomas Hardy novel. I love living in the country at moments like this: it’s very beautiful and timeless and deeply relaxing. Apart from the mud.

Mrs Harrison-Black seems to have appointed herself church warden for the day, and is annoying everybody by standing at the door reminding people to wipe their feet. The children all file into the pews at the front and begin to wriggle. The parents are all at the back, and I manage to sit with Kate and Roger, who says Sally has told him to keep a close eye on William because he managed to get at the biscuit tin this morning and ate a whole packet of chocolate
digestives while nobody was looking. Sure enough, he can be seen batting a small boy on the head with his hymn book. Miss Pike is oblivious, and seems to have fallen asleep, or maybe she is praying. Roger does his best with piercing glares, but to no avail. Finally he has to tiptoe to the front, lift William up out of his seat and whisk him outside before he can cause permanent brain damage.

We wait for the telltale sounds of slapping outside the church door, but thankfully Roger has gone for the Reasonable But Firm approach, and comes back in a few moments with William holding his hand, looking much calmer. He sits with us, and concentrates on swinging his legs backwards and forwards, just missing the pew in front each time. The vicar arrives, and begins a rather brave attempt at a modern child-friendly service. He asks the children what happens if we put a seed in the ground, and they all look perfectly blank, until one little boy puts his hand up and says, ‘Does it grow into a beanstalk?’ I assume he’s hoping that the text for today might turn out to be
Jack and the Beanstalk.
The vicar says very sweetly, ‘Well, sort of. But what I really meant was that from little acorns mighty oaks do grow,’ and the children all go, ‘Oh.’

The vicar then waffles on for what seems like hours about the importance of being kind, and nice, and how we should all sow the seeds today of the people we want to be tomorrow. I’m in the middle of a daydream where I find a packet of seeds which turn me into Cindy Crawford, when the children all stand up and begin ‘singing’ ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’. A very old lady has come to play the organ, and she’s not exactly zippy in her delivery, so the children finish the song about three minutes before she does.

The vicar then launches into prayers, and thanks the children for behaving so nicely in God’s house. They all look around them as if God will appear from behind the font at any moment. Then they all surge back up the aisle and cause a massive scrum by the doors in an effort to get back out into the sunshine and run around before their parents can grab them and get them into cars for the drive back to school. One dad is shouting, ‘For Christ’s sake, get into the car now,’ just as the vicar comes out of the church. Roger and I start to laugh, and Kate says she once did something similar right behind Our Vicar at the harvest festival, and was so embarrassed she went bright red from head to foot and Mrs Taylor asked her if she was feeling ill. I offer to take William and Rosie back to school so Roger can get off to work, and he gives me a look of utter devotion and practically sprints to his car. William and Charlie sit in the back saying rude things about Our Vicar, and Rosie sits in the front telling me that when she’s grown up she’s not going to have any babies at all. And if she does they will not be boys. Definitely. Because everybody knows boys are stupid. Luckily the boys are too busy libelling the vicar to hear.

I spend the rest of the morning trying to sort out a pile of bills, bank statements and various other irritating bits of paper which seem to have arrived in the last few days. Barney rings and tells me about two new scripts: both dog-food commercials, studio jobs, and from Mack’s agency.

‘Great, Barney, I could do with the work. I’ve just been looking at my bank statement.’

‘Oh, that’s a huge mistake. You should just throw them in the bin like I do.’

‘Well, if these jobs happen I won’t have to worry.’

‘Of course it probably didn’t hurt us that you’re shagging the creative director.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Oh, don’t play the innocent with me. I’m talking about you and Mack MacDonald. You know, the one that turned up on the shoot and you nearly fainted when he got out of the car. Honestly, I’m not totally blind, you know.’

‘Yes you are, Barney. Don’t you remember that job in Wales when the crew all changed clothes, and then put their coats on back to front? You were oblivious until they all put their hoods up and started falling over.’

‘That was different. Anyway, Lawrence told me.’

‘Told you what? Honestly, what is the matter with that man? Come on, tell the truth, you didn’t notice a thing.’

‘Look, don’t get stroppy with me. I’m not complaining, you know – it’s about time you found yourself someone to play with when Charlie goes to sleep.’

‘Bugger off, Barney.’

‘I was just joking, I think it’s great. Just remember to tell Mr MacDonald that calling Lawrence about a folder he’d left at the hotel was a bit obvious, even for Lawrence. You know what he’s like, he probably rang the hotel and sent forensics down.’

‘Look, it’s very early days yet; I was going to tell you when there was really something to tell. I know how much you adore agency people.’

‘Well, he’s all right, actually. We had a word in the car and he seemed to have a fairly good grip on things.’

‘You mean he said you were a genius.’

‘Well, yes, there is that, but that’s a sign of good taste, nothing wrong with that.’

‘So you’re not going to go on and on about it then?’

‘On the contrary, my dear, I shall whine and moan like I
always do, and if he turns up on one of my shoots and starts throwing his weight about you’re fired. But apart from that, good luck to you. Oh, and by the way, I told Lawrence I knew all about it and was delighted. He’s furious.’

‘You are brilliant, Barney. Thanks.’

‘My pleasure. When are you in next?’

‘Friday, if that’s OK?’

‘Fine. We’ve got another crap script in, for fizzy orange or something – crap idea but I might be able to do something with it. Should be a nice job, it’s got a piano going down a staircase. It’ll be a huge budget.’

‘Barney. I’ve told you, I am not doing any more jobs with you that involve stunts, and that’s final. I still have nightmares about that helicopter.’

‘Oh no, this one’s not like that. I just need to work out how to stop the piano once it’s come down the stairs, and it’ll be a piece of cake.’

I tell Mack all about my chat with Barney when he phones, and he offers to track down Lawrence and punch him on the nose. I’m sorely tempted but decline. Actually it’s a bit of a relief that Barney knows, which means the entire office knows. I won’t need to make secret phone calls, and can call on the girls for support if I need it. I’m also pleased that Mack seems totally unconcerned that Lawrence is gossiping his way round London. I ring Leila to share the news with her, and she is jubilant and says we are now officially a couple and should have a dinner party at the first opportunity. I tell her I would rather stick pins in my eyes. She says she knew I would say that.

Work on Friday turns out to be frantic, because the timing on the dog-food films has suddenly changed and they want
them as soon as possible. I spend the entire day doing budgets, and arguing with Lawrence. Get home exhausted at ten, and Edna says Charlie was such an angel tonight she promised him she would ask Mummy to take him swimming tomorrow morning, and she hopes I don’t mind but it was the only way she could get him out of the bath. We have a cup of tea and she tells me all about her son’s latest request for a loan. Apparently he wants a new car this time. Bastard.

Charlie creeps into my bed at some point during the night, and wriggles so much I get hardly any sleep. I wake up very grumpy and tell him there’s no way I am going swimming. He sulks, and I lose my temper and tell him not to be such a brat, and he bursts into tears. I spend the next half-hour reading him a boring book about badgers to make up, and then he launches into a mammoth Lego-building session which is still going on when Mack arrives. Mack is forced to build a Lego castle while I make supper, but he copes very well. He even manages to persuade Charlie to stop firing the Lego ‘cannon balls’ into the fire, which I have failed to do for most of the afternoon, by suggesting that they go into a special cage in the castle and are saved up until the invaders arrive.

I begin a long debate with Charlie as to what is the appropriate time for going to bed. I let him stay up late as a special treat – actually only an extra half an hour but he thinks it’s midnight – and then he barely makes it up the stairs before falling asleep. I come back downstairs to find Mack is also asleep, so I leave him to doze and I’m doing the washing-up when he wanders into the kitchen.

‘Sorry about that, the kids were exhausting last night.’

‘No problem, do you want some more coffee?’

‘Actually what I really want is some sleep. I don’t suppose
there’s any chance I could actually sleep in a bed, is there? I mean, with you, in a bed, waking up with you. You know the sort of thing.’

‘Alright. But don’t be surprised if Charlie bounds in at the crack of dawn.’

‘Fair enough. I’ll try to bear that in mind.’

It’s lovely settling down to sleep with him like proper grown-ups, and my newly acquired tan is a great success. Mack turns out to be not tired at all, and I fall asleep in his arms hours later, feeling very content but a little bit worried in case Charlie charges in and is shocked at the sight of Mack in my bed. As it turns out he simply pushes Mack to one side and jumps into the middle of the bed at some point just after dawn. Mack merely groans, and has obviously had previous experience of being booted in the stomach by small boys because he doesn’t even wake up. We all doze for a bit, and then Charlie suddenly sits bolt upright, shouts, ‘Cartoons,’ and rushes off downstairs, desperate not to miss a second more. I get up to make coffee, and return to find Mack is in the bath singing.