Diary of a Mummy Misfit #1 (44 page)

By the time we got home I was deflated again.  School fees due next month and we have no idea where they’re coming from.

Can’t even get ourselves to Vegas.

Monday 9
^th
March

Met at Fenella’s for coffee and (ashamed to say) fags.  Just feel too stressed to give them up at the moment.  I know we can’t afford them but I just stick them on the credit card with the weekly shop, then it doesn’t feel like I’m spending real money!

Fenella informed me that she’d volunteered our services to help at the school disco next week.

“All we have to do is supervise the kids and help dish out crisps and drinks.  The rest of the time we can boogie and ogle tasty Mr Rooney.”

I tried to sound enthusiastic but she must have seen through me because she handed me a lit Silk Cut and demanded, “OK, spill.  What’s up?”

Hadn’t meant it all to come out in such a rush but did my usual pathetic weeping and the very unattractive snorting that usually comes when I’ve reached saturation point and someone shows me sympathy.

“Oh Fenella.  Everything’s such a mess.  Ned will never find another job at this rate.  We don’t belong at Manor House and everyone knows it.  We’re just fakes trying to live a life we can’t really afford.  How many families do
you
know that don’t have next terms fees and will be sticking it on an ever dwindling credit card limit?”

“Oh, Sweedie.  I’m sure there are very many families that are living their very expensive lifestyles by tripping the light fanplastic but they wouldn’t let on.  Half of them are subsidised by the grandparents anyway.  And what do you mean, you don’t
belong
at Manor House? 
Max
is a very intelligent and well-liked boy. 
You
organised a fantastic Christmas fair and raised heaps of money for CCL  - you’ve as much right to be at the school as anyone.  OK so you don’t have the …”  Suddenly she stopped.  “
CCL
.  That’s
it
Libby.  Approach the school and let them know about your situation.  It’s only temporary and I’m sure they’d be more than happy to help you out until you get back on your feet.  They won’t want to lose a boy like Max.”

Realised it could be an option but found the snob in me coming to the surface - my boy, a charity case?  Never!

Tuesday 10
^th
March  AM

Kept Fenella’s CCL idea very much to myself.  If I mention it to Ned, he’ll say it’s worth a try and I don’t feel equal at the school as it is without then becoming known as the new subsidised family.

What was it my dad always used to say?  “Champagne taste with beer money” - well he’d certainly be right where I’m concerned.  He’s probably kicking up a storm as I write!

Spoke to Lou about our concerns and, bless her, she didn’t once throw it back in my face.  “Och Libs, I’m really sorry.  If we win the lottery we’ll send you a big fat cheque OK?”  She then went on to say that Finn was due to start nursery soon and she wasn’t happy with their security.  “Y’know, I’ve heard some nurseries have webcams so that yeh can log on and see what yer bairn’s doing.  I’m gonna hunt one of those down, I reckon.  Yeah, stuff it.  That’s ma mind made up.  I’ll talk to Cam about it tonight.  Love yeh.”

A very one sided conversation but good to hear Lou’s voice and know that at least she’s still a constant (if slightly mad) factor in my uncertain life.

PM

Rounded up final bits for cookery party tomorrow and threw together a bowl of pasta for our dinner.

Ned says we’ve just about got enough left on the credit card to meet next term’s school fees

and then we’ll have to wait and see what happens for September’s bill.

When there was a huge crack of thunder and sudden torrential rain, Ned looked confused as I said, “Yeah, thanks Dad.  I know!”

Wednesday 11
^th
March  AM

Cookery party

Was very surprised to arrive at Fenella’s for party preparations to find her sporting a very sleek and shiny
jet black
bob!

“No more Manor House mummy for me, Lib.  What do you think?”

Told her it really suited her and made her look like a glam French film star - à la Betty Blue.  Almost dropped my mixing bowl at the cost though.  Then she added, “Yes, I can feel a few favours of the most unusual variety being thrown Josh’s way for me to get away with this one!  Actually, he can just kid himself he’s doing it with another woman, can’t he?”

The preparations went smoothly and I set off with Charlotte to collect Max and Todd from school so that I could drop them back to Ned to babysit while we did the party - one of the few advantages of having an unemployed husband.

Found him looking despondently at the PC - another day of fruitless job searching, a silent phone and more bill juggling.

Think his spirits lifted a little when the kids decided a PS3 Mario challenge was the plan for the afternoon.

Just hope he remembers to feed them.

PM

Think the party was a hit.  Well, we got through it without murdering any of the precocious little madams so it must have been.

Had to remove a carving knife, rolling pin and a wrought iron saucepan from Fenella on several occasions before she could execute any lasting, sueable damage but, other than that, I think we behaved like professional party organisers.

To be fair, most of the girls were quite sweet and reasonably well behaved but there was the core group of Lettie, Saskia and Alicia who really pushed us to our limits.

It wasn’t too difficult to imagine them as the worst type of Manor House mothers circa 2028.  They were bitchy, competitive, loud, big-headed and
always
right.

“Have you seen Phoenix’s new hairstyle?  It sucks doesn’t it?
My
mummy would never cut off
my
lovely hair.”

“I lost a tooth last week and the tooth fairy left me this white gold Tiffany bracelet.  Look.”

“Mummy says I can take ten friends to Disneyland Paris for my birthday this year and I
might
invite
you.”

I think the closest one of them came to full decapitation was when Alicia said to Fenella, “I’m bored with sieving the flour.  Can you do it?  After all, my mummy is
paying
you.”

Discovered that a beetroot face of fury is not the greatest accompaniment to an expensive black bob.

Rewarded ourselves with much-needed wine and fags as we tidied up afterwards.

“God, Libby.  What is it with these kids?  Were we ever that monstrous?”

Said I’m sure we weren’t and added, “But then I didn’t have material things to boast about, just a decent loving family.  Guess that’s the problem with them - the parents.  They’re learning by example.”

Fenella gulped.  “Gosh I suppose you’re right.  Must start to be a bit careful with Charlotte.  Only last week she said she wanted a manicure and did I think her bottom looked big in her leggings.”

Didn’t let on that I’d heard Max playing with Lego figures in his bedroom last week and pretending one was saying to the other, “Oh, poo, more bills.  Got no more pennies left.  Have you?”

Thursday 12
^th
March  AM

Apart from a few loose ends, La Fête Parfaite is pretty quiet at the moment.  We were asked if we’d organise a ‘Beauty Queen Pageant’ but we refused on moral grounds - what is
wrong
with these women?

‘Ba’s Kitchen’ continues to go from strength to strength though and both Mrs S and Skunk have had to give up their computer course to devote more time to it.  Mr Skunk Senior pops round regularly to do Mrs S’s garden for her and Mrs Skunk is taking her to bingo one night next week.  “I am thinking what a wonderful life I am having in my twilight years.  Just one more thing would make it perfect, Libbybeta.”

Pretended to have no idea what she meant and didn’t answer her.

Had a quick chat with Olga at the school gates, under the openly disdainful scrutiny of the Meemies. 
Good heavens, we’re into our second term now and she still hasn’t cottoned on that mummies don’t fraternise with the hired help.

Olga was letting off steam again.  “Vot a life I hev Libby.  Lydia-Boss-Lady is such a puss-filled whore.  I hate her from ze heart of my bottom.  Last night she made me vosh all de floors because stupid bitch cleaner vos not doing zem properly.  I vont to shove her broom up her big fat bum-hole, I really do!”

Fenella arrived and, playing for full effect to the disapproving audience, said loudly, “Who’s got a big fat bum-hole, Olga?”  And she pointedly swished her immaculate hair and pouted her blood red lips at the coven.

They really don’t know what to make of us!

PM

Came home to miserable husband, dog sick under the table and a pile of unopened bills.

Cooked Ned’s MG fave and offered him unadulterated passion - well, I actually said we could leave the lights on and I’d put on a pair of fancy knickers.

Even that didn’t cheer him up.

Things have hit rock bottom in the Marchant household.