Authors: Sinéad Moriarty
T
here was
a knock on the door. I checked my makeup and applied some lip-gloss. I always made sure I looked my best when Jack brought Jess home. It was silly, but I wanted him to remember that I was an attractive woman and hadn’t let myself go. I’d felt I had to make an extra effort since he’d met Pippa. I knew there was no competition: I’d seen Pippa’s picture splashed all over magazines. She was younger, fitter and more beautiful than me – but I wanted to look my best so Jack wouldn’t feel sorry for me.
Sometimes he’d come in for a quick chat, but lately he’d just dropped Jess off and dashed back home. I liked it when he came in. I missed male company and Jack and I had always got on well. We had the same sense of humour and Jess liked it when we chatted.
I put on my best smile and opened the door. ‘Hi –’
My smile faded and my mouth dropped open. Jess was standing beside Pippa, who was taller, blonder and even more stunning in the flesh. Her skin was like silky caramel – I almost wanted to reach out and touch it. I was wearing dark denim jeans and a simple pink top, but when I saw her I felt old and frumpy. Pippa had that really cool boho look. She was like a younger, taller, prettier Sienna Miller.
I felt sick. I had never imagined she’d be so gorgeous. No wonder Jess had her on a pedestal. She was dazzling. I felt crushed. It was so much worse seeing her face to face. I’d never get this image out of my mind. She was one of those women whom everyone turns to stare at. I looked like her mother. I wanted to cry – no, I wanted to scream.
I pulled my stomach in and put my shoulders back. I needed to take control of the situation. I was supposed to be in charge here.
Pippa smiled, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth. ‘I’m Pippa.’ She beamed, proffering a perfectly manicured hand.
I finally found my voice. ‘Hi. Sophie.’
‘Jack’s stuck on some conference call so I said I’d drop Jess over.’
Damn Jack. Why the hell hadn’t he warned me that his girlfriend was going to turn up on my doorstep? I felt completely ambushed. I wasn’t ready for this. Meeting Pippa properly for the first time was a big deal and I’d wanted to do it on my terms, in my own way. I wasn’t prepared. I would have worn different clothes, something edgier, cooler.
‘I kind of wanted to meet you anyway,’ Pippa said. ‘I mean, we’re almost going to be related now.’
I frowned. What on earth was she talking about?
‘You know, when the baby arrives. Jess will be its sibling.’
I looked down at her almost imperceptible bump. How could she be so neat at almost seven months? ‘Right, of course. Uhm … congratulations. How are you feeling?’ Judging by her glowing skin and glossy hair, I’d say she felt pretty damn great.
Pippa smiled. ‘Not bad, thanks. I felt a bit queasy the first few weeks. I was a bit snappy to poor Jack. I felt terrible about it, but then he told me you’d been a nightmare during your first trimester so I didn’t feel so bad.’
I had not been a nightmare. How could Jack say that? I’d been a perfect wife. How dare he criticize me to
her
?
Oblivious to my fury, Pippa went on, ‘Jack said you’ve been totally cool about the baby and everything, which is great. It’s so much easier when the ex isn’t a psycho.’ She laughed. ‘My friend Jasmine is seeing this guy and his ex keeps ringing him up and crying and begging him to go back to her and she’s really rude to Jasmine.’
Was that supposed to be a compliment? ‘Well, breaking up can be a very emotional time,’ I said, trying to retain my composure. Boho Babe seemed completely unaware of anyone’s feelings but her own … and her stupid friend Jasmine’s. Was she incredibly shallow, incredibly stupid or just incredibly young? Whichever it was, it was incredibly irritating.
‘But the woman should have some pride. I’d never let a guy see me crying over him. It’s embarrassing.’ Flicking her hair, she turned to Jess and said, ‘Remember that. Don’t ever let a man see you cry. They like strong, confident women.’
I pinched my hand to stop myself shouting at her. I did not want this airhead giving my daughter advice. ‘Jess is nine. She really doesn’t need to worry about that for a while,’ I said.
Pippa shrugged. ‘To be honest, Soph, kids grow up much faster now than in your day. I had my first boyfriend when I was ten.’
Soph?
Was she seriously calling me
Soph
? Was she my best buddy now? And what the hell did she mean by in ‘your day’. I was forty-two, not eighty-two.
‘Yeah, Mum. Three of the girls in my class have already kissed boys,’ Jess said.
‘Tongues?’ Pippa asked.
What?
‘Yes,’ Jess answered.
I put my hand up to halt the conversation. ‘Hold on a minute. Are you telling me that three girls in your class have snogged boys? I’m sorry but I don’t believe it. I bet they’re lying.’
Pippa laughed, a sexy, throaty giggle that made me want to stab her. ‘They don’t call it snogging, Soph. It’s called “meeting” now.’ Looking at Jess, who was also laughing at me, she said, ‘You need to give your mum some lessons in modern-day lingo.’
‘She’s, like, back in the dark ages.’
I knew I was going to say something rude very soon. My temper was at boiling point. I needed to get Pippa off my doorstep. ‘Right, well, thanks for all that. Tell Jack I’ll be in touch.’
‘Mum, I want to show Pippa my bedroom,’ Jess said.
‘Not now, sweetheart.’
‘Why not? Please. It’ll only take a second.’
I really didn’t want Pippa in my apartment. It was too much. I didn’t want her in my personal space. Besides, it wasn’t tidy enough. I hadn’t been expecting anyone. But I knew Jess would freak if I said no and I didn’t want to have an argument with her in front of Pippa. ‘OK, just a quick look because we’re heading out.’
Jess took Pippa’s hand and led her through the open-plan kitchen and lounge into her bedroom.
I followed, feeling like the third wheel on a date. They were so in synch with each other and I was this out-of-date loser tagging along. Jess showed Pippa her posters of One Direction, her wardrobe, her bookshelf, her bed and her desk.
Pippa leant over to look at the photos on Jess’s cork board. There was one of me and Jack on our wedding day and another of us on holidays with a newborn Jess. ‘Wow, you look great,’ Pippa said to me. ‘You were good-looking back in the day.’
I pinned my hands to my sides so as not to hit her.
‘Mum was a top model,’ Jess said proudly. I could have kissed her.
‘Really?’ Pippa seemed very surprised. ‘Jack never said.’
‘She was gorgeous,’ Jess said.
I smiled at Jess. She was being sweet. But they were both talking about my looks in the past tense. They were making me feel ancient … a has-been … past my sell-by date. Was I that bad now? Was it over for me? Had I lost all appeal?
Pippa’s phone rang. ‘Hey, baby,’ she said. ‘I’m here with Jess and Soph.’ I could hear Jack’s voice. ‘She’s been really nice, actually.’ She winked at me. ‘I’m coming home now … I miss you, too, baby.’ She hung up.
Baby? I miss you, too?
My God, it was like being in a really bad teenage sitcom. Did Jack call her ‘baby’ as well? Did he really say, ‘I miss you,’ after they’d spent half an hour apart? What had happened to my husband? Where was the cool, suave, independent man I’d married? Was this what happened when you met someone younger? Did you end up behaving like a teenager? It seemed so ridiculous and fake. But Pippa was radiant and Jack was ‘over the moon’, so maybe I was just jealous. Old farts like me got to sit in and watch movies alone with a face mask on in the desperate hope that it would slow down the ageing process.
Pippa left in a whirl of ‘Later,
amigos
’ and hugs for Jess. I closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief that she was gone. But her presence, like her overkill perfume, lingered on.
‘Isn’t she awesome?’ Jess said. ‘Don’t you just love her?’
‘She’s very … friendly.’ I tried to be positive.
‘I’m so glad you like her. I was worried you mightn’t. She’s so much younger than you I wasn’t sure you’d click.’
‘She’s not that much younger. I’m not ninety, Jess.’ I was getting sick of being called old.
‘Well, she’s closer in age to me than she is to you,’ Jess pointed out.
‘I’d prefer not to think about that,’ I said. ‘Look, Jess, the important thing is that she’s nice to you. That’s all I care about.’
Jess beamed. ‘She’s super-nice to me. Wait until you see what she bought me.’
I can’t bloody wait, I thought darkly. Jess ran into her bedroom and came out a minute later wearing a dress that was too short, too tight and too sparkly for a nine-year-old. It had Babelicious written in pink sequins across the chest.
Jess twirled. ‘Isn’t it
soooooo
cool?’ she gushed. ‘Pippa spotted it and said I had to try it on and it fitted me perfectly.’
She looked like a miniature hooker. I wasn’t being overly critical because Pippa had bought the dress: it was just plain awful. I wasn’t one of those fuddy-duddy mothers who never allowed their daughters to wear cool clothes. I knew fashion. I worked in fashion. But this dress was totally unsuitable in every way.
‘Jess, it’s very tight and … well, it looks a bit cheap.’
Jess threw herself onto the sofa. ‘I knew you’d say that. I said it to Pippa. I said, “My mum will say it’s too short and too tight.” Pippa said her mantra in life is, “If you’ve got it, flaunt it.” And she says I have it, so there!’
I threw my hands into the air in utter exasperation. ‘That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Doesn’t she realize you’re nine years of age?’
‘I’m nearly ten!’ Jess shouted. ‘And Pippa thinks I look amazing in it.’
‘Pippa is not your mother, OK?’ All attempts at remaining calm were now gone. ‘I am your mother and you will never leave this house wearing that. You are a beautiful young girl. You don’t need to wear trash like that.’
‘I hate you,’ Jess screamed. ‘You’re just a stupid boring idiot who knows nothing about fashion.’
‘Don’t speak to your mother like that.’
Jess and I spun around. Julie was standing behind us, in her coat. ‘Sorry, the door was open so I didn’t knock.’
With all the drama, I had completely forgotten that I’d arranged to take Julie shopping.
‘Julie,’ Jess said, hands on hips, ‘what do you think of this dress?’
Julie looked her up and down slowly. ‘Honestly? I don’t like the shape. I don’t think it flatters you. I also think you should listen to your mum. She has great taste. In fact, I’m here because I need her to help me buy an outfit. Will you come too?’
Jess looked at me. ‘Do I have to?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK, but I’m bringing my phone so I won’t die of boredom.’
‘Thanks for being so sweet, Jess,’ I hissed.
I
took
Julie straight to House of Fraser. While Jess sat outside the changing room, texting and playing games on her phone, I helped Julie try on some different outfits.
‘What exactly is this for?’ I asked.
‘It’s the school concert. Apparently everyone gets quite dressed up, but not too dressed up.’ Julie sighed. ‘It’s a bloody minefield. If you’re overdressed, you look like you’re trying too hard. If you’re underdressed, you look clueless.’
I smiled at her. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll find something.’
‘Thanks, Sophie. You know me, I haven’t really got a clue about clothes. I’ve never been that interested in them.’
‘I must have got your share of the fashion genes.’ I was obsessed with clothes. Less so since I’d had no money, but when Jack and I were rich, shopping was my favourite pastime. I’d had some incredible clothes back then. Although I’d sold most of them, I’d kept a few key pieces, which I used for important work meetings – my Armani suit, a Miu Miu coat, two pairs of Louboutin shoes and a Prada dress.
Julie tried on a raspberry Gerard Darel dress that skimmed her hips and fell just below her knees. It had little capped sleeves and a nice detail on the neckline.
‘It’s perfect on you,’ I said. And it was. I had specifically chosen it because it had a peplum band that hid her stomach. Julie had definitely put on weight again. She really needed to keep away from the chocolate biscuits.
‘Are you sure?’ Julie asked.
‘Positive. You look gorgeous.’
Julie tugged at the dress. ‘I’m not sure. Is it a bit much?’
I placed my hand on her arm. ‘Julie, are you OK? You seem very uptight about a school concert. Is it really that big a deal?’
Julie sat down on the changing-room bench. ‘It’s just that I want to fit in. Not with Victoria and those awful women, just with some normal mothers, if I can find any. I don’t have any friends at the school and our neighbours are very cold and unwelcoming. I miss having Marian next door to chat to. It’s a bit lonely, to be honest. The boys are happy at Castle Academy and doing really well. They’re not as wild now that they’re in an all-boys’ school playing sports half the day. They’ve slotted in so well and I want to try to do the same.’
Julie was genuinely upset. I tried to reassure her. She seemed intimidated by the school. I knew how overbearing Victoria and her gang could be and I knew Julie would never be, or want to be, friends with them. She needed to find some nice women to hang out with. The school gate could be a lonely place.
It had taken me a while to get to know the mums at Jess’s school when she’d moved from her expensive playschool to the local national school. Because I was working, I was always dashing off and didn’t have time to nurture friendships. It had been at least three months before I’d met a mum I’d felt comfortable with. Julie had more time than I did to focus on her friendships, because she didn’t work, but she was shyer than I was. I was good at small-talk. I liked to keep things light. I didn’t want a new best friend. I didn’t want to get into heavy conversations. I didn’t want to swap tales of woe. I just wanted to chit-chat and organize playdates. But Julie was the opposite. She was hopeless at small-talk. When Julie met someone new, she never talked about the weather or traffic, she’d jump right in with how difficult the triplets were to manage, or how Harry had discovered a daughter he never knew he had or how she secretly prayed that Tom would turn out to be gay so she’d have someone to hang out with.