It's All About Him
Colette Caddle
For Seán
Thanks to my son Peter for his help and advice about young boys; what would I do without him? To Seán, for making me laugh and reminding me what it's all about. Thank you to my mother for her constant and solid support. And last, but by no means least, thank you to Tony for still putting up with me after all these years. I love you all.
Chapter 1
A wave of nausea swept over Dee as she read the letter. She'd been expecting it, of course. The bathroom had flooded the Sunday before last. The ancient tank had finally given up the ghost and burst, sending hot water spewing out at a frightening rate. The old floorboards couldn't take it and had buckled under the weight of water, devastating the room underneath. The fact that the room was now leased to the Happy Days crèche owned by her friend Lisa meant that, for nearly two weeks, Lisa and her assistant Martha had to crowd the eight children into one room and it was far from ideal. It had been an awful experience all round but now it had just got worse.
Dee stared in horror at the piece of paper documenting the cost of a call-out on a Sunday night, of replacing the tank and the pipes – 'they've had it, love' – and there was another bill sitting on her desk for the installation of the new bathroom floor and dining-room ceiling.
'The insurance will cover it,' her boyfriend Conor had assured her as they mopped up after the plumber had left, and she'd nodded with a pained smile. She didn't have the courage to tell him that there was no insurance; he would think she was stupid.
It was madness, of course, but Dee had allowed the policy to lapse as there simply wasn't enough money to go round. She had to have public and employer's liability insurance for the crèche and medical insurance for Sam was imperative. The house, well, the house had been standing for the last eighty years and it would probably survive another few.
'Mum? I feel sick again.'
Dee shoved the letter into her dressing-gown pocket and led her little boy back into the bathroom. He looked pale and his lips had a blue tinge but his eyes were reasonably bright. Still, she'd take him to the surgery just in case. He'd been up half the night throwing up for no apparent reason and though Dee had gone over and over in her head what he'd eaten the previous day she still couldn't figure out what might have upset him.
When Lisa arrived for work, she took one look at mother and son, sent Dee for a shower, and took the little boy down to the kitchen. After Dee had dressed in her uniform of jeans and T-shirt and twisted her long hair into a knot, she ran downstairs. Sam, clad in clean pyjamas, was curled up on the battered sofa in the corner of the kitchen, nibbling toast and watching
Pokémon
.
'Thanks,' Dee said as Lisa passed her a mug of strong tea.
'Bad night?'
Dee nodded, rolling her eyes. 'Awful.'
'Why don't you go and have a lie down? Once the other kids arrive and he's distracted he'll be fine.'
'I have to do the shopping,' Dee looked at the clock, 'and if I just go to the local supermarket I'll be back in time to take Sam to morning surgery.' Dee usually did her shopping in the wholesaler's twenty miles south on the outskirts of Dublin as it worked out a lot cheaper, but that was out of the question now.
'I'm sure it's nothing,' Lisa tried to reassure her.
'Still, I'd like Bill to check him. Do you need anything at the shops?' Dee pulled a pen and pad towards her and added another couple of items to the already long list.
'Plasters and some fish fingers, please.'
'There are two containers of my homemade fish nuggets in the freezer,' Dee reminded her.
Lisa grinned. 'Sorry, they're just not orange enough for the kids.'
Dee grunted and added the items to her list. She and Lisa chatted about the day ahead and then Lisa went through to prepare for the imminent arrival of three babies and four toddlers. 'I'll be back for Sam in a minute,' she called over her shoulder and Dee nodded her thanks and crossed the room to crouch down in front of her son.
'How are you doing?'
"kay,' Sam said, not taking his eyes off the television.
'Do you think you might be sick again?'
He shook his head.
'Great! Then let's get you dressed.'
'Ah, Mummy, do I have to?'
Dee smiled. 'No, I don't suppose so. I've got to go and do the shopping and when I get back I'll help you dress and we'll go and see Doctor Bill.'
'But Mummy, I'm fine now,' he protested.
She stood up and fluffed his thick mop of hair. 'We'll let Doctor Bill decide that. See you later, sweetheart.'
As Dee drove the short distance to the large supermarket on the outskirts of Banford, she thanked God for Lisa. To have someone on-site on days like today was a godsend and it suited Lisa, too.
Her best friend since childhood, Lisa Dunphy adored children and had trained both in childcare and Montessori. Her dream had always been to run her own crèche and it had finally occurred to Dee that she could both help her friend realize her dream
and
solve some of her own money worries at the same time.
Lisa had been thrilled with the idea and Dee had begged and pleaded with the bank for a loan so that they could carry out the necessary work that would transform the bottom of the house into Banford's most popular childcare centre. It had been the best move Dee had ever made. The dark, old house was now alive with the sound of children's voices, Sam loved having the company of the other children, and the extra income helped towards the maintenance of her family home. At least, it used to, she thought, as she remembered the bill that had arrived that morning.
She had no idea how she was going to pay it. Between her income from her catering business and Lisa's crèche she could just about manage but there was nothing in the kitty to cover events like this. She would have to go to the bank or credit union and beg for help. Either that or arrange a payment plan with the plumber and builder.
She turned into the supermarket car park and groaned as an ominous rattle came from under the car. 'No, not now, you bloody rust-bucket,' she growled, resolving to ask Conor to take a look at it later. Thank God she had a boyfriend who not only was attractive but also knew something about cars, too. In fact, although he was a farmer, Conor could turn his hand to most things and seemed to spend much of his free time either fixing something in her house or tinkering with the car. Sam followed him around like a lapdog and Conor always made a big deal of giving the child something to do and calling him his little helper.
'You should make an honest man of him while you have the chance,' Lisa often told her. 'Men like that don't grow on trees.'
'No, they don't,' Dee would agree.
She parked the car, grabbed a trolley and pushed it through the automatic doors, rummaging in her pocket for her extensive shopping list. 'Oh, no,' she groaned as she searched fruitlessly through all her pockets and bag, realizing that it didn't matter how much she looked, the list was at home on the kitchen table. 'Great,' she muttered, heading for the fruit and vegetable aisle, 'just great.'
She tried to remember what was on her list, then gave up and threw a bit of everything into the trolley. If she had too much it would simply mean more cooking and freezing; they couldn't afford to throw anything out. She would make a hearty soup, she decided, and freeze it in small portions for Lisa to reheat on days when Dee wasn't around. Cheered at the thought, Dee moved on to the freezer section and peered dubiously into the cabinets at the range of fish fingers. She hated buying this sort of stuff but Lisa would murder her if she came back without them. 'If you can feed them healthily four days out of five you've done an amazing job,' she'd argue and Dee knew she was right. So she relented and bought the processed food that Lisa demanded but not before agonizing over all the labels.
She was studying the tiny print on the back of a pack of waffles when a young girl appeared at her elbow.
'Hi, I'm Carrie Lambe from Forever FM, can I talk to you for a moment?'
'I'm in a bit of a hurry . . .' Dee started.
'Oh,
please
.' The girl looked at her with large, pleading eyes. 'This is my first stint as a reporter and no one will talk to me. I promise it won't take long.'
Dee glanced at her watch. She was making better time than she'd realized and, after all, everyone deserved a break. 'Okay, then.'
'You're a star, thanks a million!' Carrie switched on her tape and shoved a microphone under Dee's nose. 'We're just asking people today if they have any opinions about food labelling.'
Dee's eyes lit up. 'I have an opinion, all right; it's a bloody disgrace.'
Carrie nodded excitedly. 'Really? And why's that?'
'Do you know exactly how misleading some labels are?' Dee demanded.
'Well, yes, that's why—'
'Look.' Dee pulled a pack of chicken nuggets from the freezer. 'Read that,' she instructed.
The girl frowned. 'One hundred per cent chicken breast.'
'And what does
that
tell you?'
Carrie blinked. 'That it's made from one hundred per cent breast of chicken?'
'No!' Dee flicked over the packet and pointed at the ingredients label with its tiny writing. 'It means that the chicken in the pack is one hundred per cent chicken breast.'
'Okay,' Carrie said slowly, giving her an odd look.
'Read it,' Dee was saying.
Obediently, Carrie screwed up her eyes and studied the label. 'Chicken forty-seven per cent – huh?'
'Exactly.'
'But I don't understand. On the front it says one hundred per cent; that's a lie.'
'Not at all. It's just clever marketing,' Dee explained. 'It's telling you that the chicken in the pack is chicken breast, but what it's
not
telling you is that less than half of the product is actually chicken.'
Carrie wrinkled her nose. 'So what else is in there?'
Dee shrugged. 'God knows.'
'I had no idea.'
'Because you do what most people do and read the label and believe it. You look at one hundred per cent chicken breast and think you're buying a reasonably healthy meal.'
Carrie double-checked that her tape recorder was working and she was getting all of this invaluable information. 'Are there any other products that you feel are misrepresented?'
'Oh, yes, but I'm afraid I don't have time to go through them all now.'
'Oh, please, I won't keep you long,' Carrie promised.
Dee glanced at her watch again. 'Tell you what, let's talk about breakfast.' She pushed her trolley quickly towards the aisle with the breakfast cereals, Carrie scurrying after her. 'The best way for a kid to start the day is with a healthy cereal, right?'
'Right.'
'And cereals are sweet even before you add any sugar.'
'Well, certainly the chocolate- and sugar-coated ones are,' Carrie agreed.
'No,
all
of them,' Dee assured her. 'Almost all cereals have sugar added and something else, too.'
'What?'
'Salt.'
'Salt? In cereal?'
Dee nodded solemnly. 'Oh yes. So you'd give your little one a bowl of cereal with milk and sugar and then maybe a slice of toast?'
Carrie nodded.
'More salt. Not just in the butter or spread but in the bread, too.'
'But that's terrible.'
'So before your kids have even left for school they've probably consumed their recommended daily intake of salt. Most people don't stand a chance with this kind of labelling,' Dee continued. 'For a start, some labels talk about sodium and some about salt and they're not the same thing.'
'That's scandalous,' Carrie protested. 'How can you possibly make healthy choices unless you're a trained nutritionist or dietician or something?'
'It's hard,' Dee agreed, 'but there is a way.'
'There is?'
'Home cooking. The only way you truly know what goes into anything is if you make it yourself.'