Growing Pains of a Hapless Househusband (16 page)

Thursday 10 April

Last night Sally and I had a big chat about our professional
futures. Now that we've got our personal and
emotional selves back on track, I thought it was right to
discuss money and her job. As soon as I brought up the
topic, her response was:

'Not this again.'

'But don't you think we should talk about it?'

Sally theatrically slumped on to the table.

'Not really, no.'

'Will there ever be a right time to talk about it?'

'No.'

'So now is as bad a time as any?'

'Yup. So go ahead.'

I said nothing for a few seconds. Sally looked up.

'Well, go on,' she said.

'There seems little point if you're not going to listen.'

'I will,' she said, her head buried in her folded arms.
'I just feel that we've been over this.'

'But can't you see that the situation has changed? I'm
going to be earning some seriously decent money now,
and you really don't need to work. Or you can move to
a less stressful job.'

Sally looked up.

'But can't you see that my job isn't about money or
whether or not it's stressful? I know you laugh at the
idea, but my job is important, Sam, really important.
I'm not saying the fate of the world rests on my
shoulders, but you must believe me when I say that what
we are doing as a team is vital.'

'But do you really have to be a member of the team?
Don't you think they could manage without you?'

'Of course they could. I'm not trying to make out I'm
indispensable, I just don't want to let the side down. I
don't think that's being arrogant, I just think that's
showing a bit of pride in what I do.'

'I accept all that,' I said. 'But you can't deny that
you're finding the job immensely tough and stressful.
I've lost count of the number of times that you've come
back absolutely wiped out.'

'I know, I know. It's just that it's been particularly
tough recently, and some bad things have happened in
our patch.'

I'm always curious about what goes on in Sally's
patch. I know it's around Tdsflkjsdistan and that neck of
the woods, but I don't know much more. Sometimes I
scour the papers and the Web to see what has been
happening over there, but I can never find much.
Occasionally I read about the odd car bomb, and I
wonder whether Sally was involved in some way. Did she
and her team order the bomb? Or was it her agents who
were being blown up by the other side, whoever they
were? Or did it have nothing to do with her at all? I
always know better than to ask, because the few times
I have, she's given me pretty short shrift.

The more I think about it, it's actually incredible how
so few people know what Sally really does. All our
friends simply think she's a civil servant (which she is,
technically) although I believe Clare has her suspicions.
My parents are completely in the dark as well, but Jane,
Sally's mother, has a very good idea, and I suspect she
probably drops heavy hints at her witches'-circle coffee
mornings.

'But don't bad things always happen in your line of
work?' I asked. 'I mean, it's not as though people in that
part of the world are suddenly going to be nice to each
other.'

'Yes, but that's not a reason to give up. We've got to
continue to make the area safer, and if we did nothing,
then it would be complete chaos.'

'Really?'

'Really.'

Sally got up and poured herself a pint glass of water.

'And there's another thing,' she said.

'What's that?'

'One of us needs a proper job.'

'But I've got a proper job now.'

'No you haven't,' she replied, smiling. 'You don't get
adverts for WonderHubbies in the backs of newspapers.'

'You don't for your job either.'

'True, but my job has security, stability, a pension, a
monthly pay cheque – all the things we need.'

'And my sort-of job pays me a shitload of cash.'

'And what happens when your "job" ends? It could
last twenty years, or until this time next year. Who
knows? At least with my job, there'll always be a demand
for it.'

'Why? Because nasty people in nasty parts of the
world will always try to be nasty to us?'

'Precisely. A very accurate summation of the Central
Asian situation.'

'I thank you,' I said, and did a mock bow.

I was relieved that this whole conversation was being
conducted in a good-humoured way, and that we
weren't having a row.

'You're not going to budge on this, are you?' I asked.

'Not for any money in the world.'

'Not even for me?'

Sally downed her water.

'Especially not for you!'

Friday 11 April

With the amount of flak I took from Emily today, I
might as well have been married to her. Secretly I was
rather hoping to be an ostrich about the whole sacking-Emily
situation, but I knew that was impossible. I
bumped into her at the village shop, and she was
gushing about the programme. When I asked her how
she had seen it, she went uncharacteristically coy before
she eventually admitted that Dom had sent her a DVD.
I did my best to look as neutral about that as possible. I
then invited her round for a coffee, which took her by
surprise, as it's normally her inviting me round.

While the children were upstairs playing, I decided to
break the bad news. Gingerly I poured out the coffee
from our cracked cafetière. (We seem to get through
two cafetières a year.)

'Emily, there's something I need to tell you.'

Her eyes widened and she grinned a little, a grin that
soon disappeared when she saw my expression.

'Yes?'

'Um, it's a little awkward, and there's no easy way to
say it, but here it is.'

'You've fallen in love with me?'

Typical Emily. Nevertheless, I still spluttered and
splattered.

'Um, er, no! No, it's nothing to do with anything, you
know, like that.'

'Oh.'

'No, it's the show.
WonderHubby
. I'm afraid you won't
be needed.'

'What?'

'Yes. We thought it was best that we hired an actress
instead.'

'What?'

I had never seen Emily so angry, except perhaps for
the time when Sally and I declined her kind offer of a
foursome with her and her ex-husband.

'I'm really sorry,' I continued, 'because I know how
much you enjoyed yourself as my, um, "wife".'

'Oh I did, did I?'

'Well, it looked like it.'

'And what makes you so confident that I won't be
needed?'

'Dom told me.'

'Did he now?'

Emily was doing her best to look as though she had
an ace up her sleeve, so I decided to snatch it away
before she could play it.

'He also told me that you and he are an item.'

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

'For what it's worth, he told me that you were a big hit
with the channel.'

Emily frowned.

'So why is he getting rid of me?'

At this point I was mightily tempted to lie. I could
have just said, 'I have no idea,' or that it had something
to do with shooting schedules, but I knew that wouldn't
cut much ice. And, absurdly enough, I thought I should
be honest.

'The reason is because I want to get rid of you.'

As soon as I said it, I reflected that I could have put it
more gently. Emily once again remained silent.

'It's basically to do with Sally,' I said. 'She doesn't
think it's right that you should play my wife.'

'Oh really?'

'Really.'

'But she's happy for an actress to play your wife.'

I nodded.

'But not me?'

'Yes.'

'Why?'

'Oh come on, Emily! You must be able to work that
one out for yourself.'

'I can't,' she insisted. 'Go on. I want you to tell me.'

'Emily! Come on. What's the point? You know
perfectly well why.'

'Is it because Sally is a teeny-weeny bit jealous?'

Emily said that in a slightly babyish voice, which I
found really condescending.

'Yes she is,' I said. 'Wouldn't you be?'

'No.'

'Well, you're different to Sally.'

'I'd say!'

'And she thinks that it isn't . . .'

'She thinks this. Sally thinks that. My wife says. Have
you ever listened to yourself, Sam? All your opinions are
entirely made up by her. Have you ever realised that?
Have you? Do you actually have a mind of your own? Or
has Sally completely emasculated you?'

'Come on Emily, that's crap.'

'Is it?'

'Yes. I'm as much my own man as the next man.'

'So that's why you're a househusband then, is it?'

'Yes it is. In a way, being a househusband requires
more masculinity than sitting in an office all day.'

'Yeah right. Doing the laundry and ironing. Hmmm.
So macho, Sam.'

'What the fuck is this?' I asked. 'You've got no right
to accuse me of anything. How Sally and I conduct our
marriage is none of your business. At least we've got a
marriage.'

'Oo! Ouch! Right below the belt, Sam, nice one.'

'What is it you want?'

'What I want is for you to admit that you've been
utterly spineless about all this, and that you've been
entirely pussywhipped by your wife into getting me
sacked from the show.'

'I'm not going to admit any of that, because it isn't
true.'

'Of course.'

'And I don't see why I should have to justify my
decision to you. It's my bloody show, my idea in the first
place.'

'That's not what Dom says.'

'Well, Dom can say what he likes to you across the
pillow. I know the truth.'

'Naturally.'

By now I was furious. This was a vicious, snide and
nasty Emily, the Emily who didn't get her own way, the
Emily who stamped and thcreamed and thcreamed
until she was thick. At that moment I wanted her to get
out, but I still retained a residue of utterly unnecessary
politeness.

'It doesn't really matter what you say,' I said. 'Because
my mind is made up, as is Dom's.'

'Hmm. So resolute. So determined the househusband.'

'OK, OK, that's enough of that.'

'Mr Househusband has his own mind. Mr Big who
does as his little wife tells him.'

'That's enough!'

'So commanding.'

'OK Emily, why don't you just fuck off?'

'All right, I will.'

As she got up she 'accidentally' knocked over her
coffee, which spilled all over the table, and seeped over
some of Peter and Daisy's drawings.

'Whoops,' she went.

'Just get out,' I said.

After she had slammed the door, I wanted to scream
with rage. I'm sick of arguing with women, and
hopefully that will be the last of it. My only fear is that
Emily will do something to fuck up the whole
WonderHubby
thing, but I can't work out what. After all,
she can't get me sacked.

Sunday 13 April

We had Jane and Derek round today. I had pleaded
with Sally not to invite them, but she said we couldn't
spend the rest of our lives avoiding her mother. I can't
see why not, and just before they arrived I was tempted
to pretend that I had been called up to London on
urgent
WonderHubby
business, but I knew that would
earn me the grandmother of all bollockings from Sally.

Jane was on her habitually fine form.

'So, Sam,' she said as she made a great play of carefully
inspecting her morsel of lamb, 'Sally tells me that
you are making a television programme.'

She said 'television programme' as though it were
some kind of STD.

'That's right, Jane,' I said politely. 'It's all about
bringing up children.'

Jane faux-choked on her morsel.

'Bringing up children?'

'That's right.'

'And what qualifications do you have?'

I glanced at Sally, who looked back at me in a way that
said, 'Don't be rude, please don't be rude.'

'I don't have any qualifications, Jane. That's kind of
the whole point.'

'I do wish you wouldn't keep calling me Jane like
that. You make yourself sound like a salesman.'

'Sorry.'

'But if you don't have any qualifications, how are you
qualified to make this programme?'

'Because I'll be bringing my experience of
management consultancy to bear.'

Another little pretend choke.

'But what, pray, does management consultancy have
to do with childcare?'

'There are lots of similarities,
Jane
, far too many to go
into here.'

'How convenient. Besides, I thought you were a failed
management consultant.'

I felt my fingers tighten their grip on the shaft of the
carving knife. If the children hadn't been there, I'd
have been enormously tempted to plunge it into the
side of her neck and leave her to drip dry. I even
imagined sitting down afterwards and eating lunch as
normal. I don't think Derek would have minded too
much, although I can imagine Sally might have been a
bit upset, especially about the carpet.

'If you remember, Jane, I was offered my job back.
The only reason I was sacked was because two of my
colleagues were on the fiddle.'

Jane chewed her way through this.

'Anyway, I understand that you are
not
looking after
your children during the filming of this "programme".'

'That's right, Jane. We've got this marvellous woman
called Halet who comes in during the week.'

'We love Halet,' said Peter.

''alet! 'alet!' went Daisy.

Really, they were like Moonies about her.

'Well,' said Jane. 'She at least seems to know what she
is doing. Peter and Daisy are far better behaved now
than when they were under your "care".'

After that, I just got pissed.

Wednesday 16 April

Just got back from a very drunken lunch with Dave
Waldman and Dom. Dave seems terrifically excited
about the whole thing, just as Dom said he would
be.

'Listen man,' he went. 'We are going to make you
into a huge star.'

'I bet you say that to all the girls,' I said.

Thankfully, Dave found it funny.

'Dig, dig,' he said, clacking his fingers.

We spoke about some of the nuts and bolts of the
programme, and Dom said they had already made great
progress tracking down suitable families.

'Let's make sure we get a good mixture,' said Dave.
'We don't want them all to be chav scum like that last
lot.'

'I agree,' said Dom, scratching under his collar. He
had clearly been trawling for the most ghastly people he
could find.

'The thing is, Domingo,' Dave continued, 'that we
need some nice middle-class people in the mix. Dig?
Otherwise it's just a pleb-hammerer like
Denaff Your
Life
.'

'Dig,' said Dom. 'But we do need a few oiks though,
don't we?'

'Sure. I loved the pilot's oiks. They were great. I
might use them on another show.'

'Which one?' asked Dom.

'
Sell Your Kids
.'

'
Sell Your Kids?
'

'Yeah, it's great. We find families who've got some
really frightful children, and then we find other families
who need some children and then we auction them off.'

'But . . . but that's awful,' I said.

'Dig,' said Dave.

'Dig,' said Dom.

'It's completely awful,' said Dave. 'That's the whole
point. We're really pushing the boundaries on this one.
And the great thing about it is that we've got a
premium-rate phone-in, in which viewers can bid live
for one of the kids.'

'It's like slavery,' I said.

'Yep,' said Dave.

The waiter arrived.

'Any desserts?' he asked.

'Yes please,' I went.

Dom and Dave looked at me and then shook their
fingers.

'Celebrities NEVER eat dessert,' said Dave.

'Dig,' said Dom.

And as a result, I had to watch them eat the most
fantastic crème brûlées I had ever seen.

'But celebrities are allowed to order another bottle of
wine?' I asked.

'Too fucking right. Let's get some shampoo.'