Confessions of a Demented Housewife Read online

  I kicked him under the table to stop him saying any more. One emotional crisis on my hands was quite enough. Now was not the time to disclose David’s sexual preferences. Especially when Mrs H has no idea that her second son dreams of donning a powdered white wig, full pancake makeup and a false beauty spot like Elton John did at his extravagant birthday bash a few years back.

  PS Joe obviously has unresolved anger about his brother’s secret sexual identity. Bit worrying.

  PPS Caught Mrs H slipping Jack an age-inappropriate boiled sweet. Am convinced she’s determined to try the Heimlich manoeuvre on someone.

  17 October

  Katie has announced she wants her entire class to attend her birthday movie treat. She went a very funny purple colour when I tried to reason with her that it would be irresponsible to take thirty children to see a Disney flick. For one thing, the cinema complex would need to increase their security staff from one spotty teenager in a baseball cap to at least ten burly security guards.

  ‘You can invite five friends, Katie,’ I said, as it dawned on me that she had misunderstood the implications of a pared-down event. ‘That’s a reasonable number.’

  ‘I don’t want a reasonable number,’ she roared. ‘I want everyone.’

  I decided to defer to Joe. I didn’t think I was adequately equipped with the necessary negotiating skills to deal with this conflict. I was also afraid I might climb down and destroy any shred of respect Katie had for me.

  Joe calculated that it would cost an eye-watering five hundred euro to bring Katie’s classmates to the cinema and for fast food afterwards.

  ‘Well, that’s it, then,’ I said, deciding he would have to break it to her. ‘We simply can’t afford it.’

  ‘Hang on, Susie,’ he said, fiddling with his calculator. ‘She’s only going to be five once. Let’s throw caution to the wind and just do it.’

  ‘But what about tough love?’ I stuttered, not sure I was hearing properly. ‘You always say I give in too easily and that I should stick to my guns.’

  I was puzzled that he was moving the childcare goalposts, but I didn’t want to say anything as I knew that taking the entire class to the movies could blow Angelica’s clam bake fiesta out of the water.

  ‘Well, maybe I’m mellowing.’ He smiled, and my heart melted. ‘I did get that big bonus for pulling off the LA deal.’

  Hugged him tightly. I really am so lucky to have such a wonderful husband. Can only hope he’s not suffering from some degenerative brain disease. Throwing caution to the wind isn’t really his style.

  PS Just had a brilliant idea! Louise should spend some more one-on-one time with Katie and Jack. It would persuade her that motherhood is full of joyful moments and is not just an endless round of wiping up vomit and trying to dislodge crayons from nasal cavities. I have decided to rope her in to help with Katie’s party. She could do with getting out a bit more now that she’s on maternity leave. Also, she’s so huge that she may come in handy as a body-blocker if any of the kids tries to escape.

  18 October

  Mum and Dad have invited us to Portugal for half-term. Can’t be sure but think they finally gave in when I mentioned our lack of plans for the millionth time.

  I decided not to accept the invitation straight away – they couldn’t expect us to drop everything and visit just because it suddenly suited them to ask us.

  But then Dad called back to force me into a decision. ‘If you don’t want to come, we’re going to invite the Glennons,’ he announced briskly, on the answering-machine, ‘so can you let us know by today, please?’

  I really must get Mum to speak to Dad about his inappropriate emotional-blackmail tendencies. May have to threaten to disown him and his five-star villa if this sort of behaviour continues.

  Did a quick check on web fares and discovered it was only going to cost us ninety-nine cents each to fly to Portugal (taxes not included, but they’re bound to be minimal). I immediately called Mum to tell her we’d be accepting their invitation. She seemed pathetically pleased that we were coming. ‘That’s wonderful, darling,’ she said. ‘We can’t wait to see you all.’

  Suspect she may be very lonely in a strange country, surrounded by people who don’t even know what real Irish tea is. Am glad we’ll be there to give her emotional support – for a while, at least.

  Joe is delighted we’re getting away.

  ‘It’ll be nice to spend some quality time together,’ he said, cuddling up behind me at the kitchen sink as I attempted to peel some potatoes without skinning my knuckles. ‘Your parents can baby-sit and we can go out for meals alone together.’

  I didn’t like to break it to him that Mum and Dad seem to have elaborate social engagements every night of the week. Am not sure they’ll be willing to forgo them so we can have a second honeymoon.

  PS Have decided that living in the twenty-first century really is a privilege, what with all the fare wars driving down the cost of international travel and giving even ordinary people the chance to travel to far-flung destinations. Like Lagos. Wonder how I can get through to Katie and Jack that they’re lucky to be living in an era of prosperity and commercial competition. Maybe I should buy a set of encyclopedias and not make fun of the door-to-door salesman next time he calls.

  19 October

  Thought I saw Lone Father and his lover/muse Marita in the street today. It was hard to tell as they were locked in what looked like a passionate embrace, but am sure it was them. It was definitely Lone Father’s son, Rodney, circling them and whooping gleefully. I’d recognize his destructive, dysfunctional behaviour anywhere. Also, Marita was wearing her trademark hot-pink acrylic nail extensions. Could just make them out snaked through Lone Father’s dark curls.

  Think I went into shock afterwards because, before I knew it, I’d driven straight to the Centre where, in a freaky out-of-body experience, I walked robotically into Starbucks and heard myself ask for a chocolate-chip muffin with extra cream. Just as I bit into the muffin, I spotted a trim Oprah on the cover of the latest O on a nearby newsstand, mocking me. I could actually hear her lecturing me about eating my feelings as I munched. Anyway, I’m sure I did the right thing: sugar is good for shock

  PS Louise called to ask about breast pads and leaky nipples. I let her twittering wash over me. All I could think of was Lone Father and the way he used to look at me when I wore my one and only push-up bra.

  20 October

  Had a terrible dream last night: Jamie Oliver was whipping up homemade pizza and organic fruit smoothies for dozens of children, who were happily smacking a piñata around his East End loft.

  ‘Fast-food culture is at the root of society’s slide into obesity, innit?’ he shouted, putting the finishing touches to a magnificent three-tier birthday cake he had made with wholemeal flour and rosewater, while Katie greased a muffin tray and looked accusingly at me. ‘You should bring the kids on a picnic for her birthday, mate,’ he went on. ‘Have a kick-about in the park, then feed them proper food, not ground up testicles and gristle.’

  ‘But chicken nuggets have real chicken in them now,’ I yelled in desperation. ‘Haven’t you seen the new ads?’

  As Katie turned her back on me and the other kids advanced, twirling piñata sticks menacingly in their grubby little hands, I woke up and told Joe I was having second thoughts about the movie party.

  ‘Please, Susie, let’s just take them to the cinema,’ he begged, when I suggested that maybe having a mermaids-and-pirates party at home wouldn’t be complete and utter hell. ‘Let’s just spend the money.’

  He looked so desperate that I gave in. After all, it wasn’t as if Eco-mother would be there to condemn me and my bad lifestyle choices.

  Gave Angelica Katie’s birthday invitation at the school gate.

  ‘Thanks, sweetie,’ she gushed, jingling her car keys. ‘Listen, can I ask you to help me out again? Brandon’s nanny’s away tomorrow and I have another appointment. You couldn’t take him for the afternoon, could you? I
would be, like, sooo grateful.’ She took my hand and looked at me pleadingly.

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘No problem.’

  ‘Fabulous!’ she said, air-kissing my cheek, then jumping into the Range Rover Sport before I could ask if she wanted to grab a skinny decaff (which is all she drinks, according to TV Ireland Today!). ‘You’re a doll, you really are.’

  Am delighted Angelica now feels she can rely on me to step into the breach when she needs to. And I’m sure Louise won’t mind if I have to put off baby shopping with her tomorrow. It’s not as if she’s due all that soon.

  PS Katie’s party invitations have caused quite a stir at school. I definitely heard a few mutterings about over-the-top displays, so I’m bang on track to impress everyone.

  21 October

  I have discovered that Brandon may have control issues. He spent all of yesterday afternoon putting Katie’s books in alphabetical order.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to play a game, Brandon?’ I asked, as I watched him stack and restack them.

  ‘No, thank you, Mrs Hunt,’ he said politely, his face scrunched in fevered concentration. ‘I have to get this right first.’

  Katie threw her eyes to heaven. ‘I told you he was weird,’ she said. ‘You never listen to me.’

  Felt really sorry for Brandon. Obviously the celeb life has affected him. It must be hard moving about so much – and I’m sure having paparazzi stalk you isn’t much fun, even if it looks like it is.

  Dropped him back to Angelica’s at six – she answered the door looking a little flushed and out of breath.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ I asked, alarmed by her dishevelled appearance. ‘You’re not feeling unwell, are you?’

  ‘What? No!’ Beads of sweat shone on her forehead and her eyes were a bit glassy. ‘Thanks so much for taking him – see you tomorrow.’

  Then she grabbed Brandon, hauled him inside and shut the door before I could ask if he was coming to Katie’s party. Was a little put out but am trying not to take it personally. She was probably coming down with flu and not up to socializing.

  PS Katie’s birthday tomorrow. Feel quite emotional that my baby’s turning five. Also feel quite sick that have so far received twenty-nine RSVPs from her classmates confirming attendance. Strongly suspect that some of the mothers may be taking advantage of my kind nature. The only good news is that a virulent strain of bird flu is apparently making its way to Ireland. Am hoping it gets here by tomorrow and that at least half of Katie’s friends will be in solitary confinement.

  PPS Hope Louise doesn’t get stuck in her cinema seat. Maybe I should call ahead and get them to double-check dimensions.

  22 October: Katie’s birthday

  It was an inspired decision to take Louise to Katie’s party. Not only did her hulking frame stop the boys escaping from their cinema seats and making a break for the popcorn counter, she also caused a sensation among the girls and kept them occupied throughout. Once the rumour mill got to work that she wasn’t just fat, there was a real live baby in her tummy, they were enthralled. Which was really very handy as it stopped them rampaging up and down the aisles.

  ‘That is soooooo cute,’ they sang, gathering round her and taking turns to touch her belly.

  Thought Louise would be delighted with the attention, but unfortunately she seemed a bit uncomfortable with the touching and the accompanying complicated questions.

  Once the movie was over, we spent ages rounding up the children, doing a headcount, then frogmarching them to the burger joint, where some anti-war protesters were congregating. (Obviously to refuel before hitting the streets and reminding the world that they thought George Bush was the devil in a bespoke suit, etc., etc.)

  I was getting ready to congratulate them on their good work when suddenly I heard a familiar voice call my name. I spun on my heel to see Eco-mother bearing down on me, her newly dreadlocked hair swinging in all directions.

  ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Susie Hunt,’ she shouted. ‘Haven’t you seen Supersize Me? This den of evil is one of the conglomerates responsible for the plague of obesity in the Western world. Not to talk of slaughtering rainforests worldwide.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ I stuttered, as the children looked on agog.

  ‘We’re trying to raise awareness among the community that fast food is an evil assault on our souls, as well as our bodies and minds. Do you want to sell your soul for a double bacon cheeseburger? Do you?’

  ‘She mightn’t, but I sure as hell do.’ Louise puffed herself out to her full pregnancy weight and stared evilly at Eco-mother. ‘Now, I’d advise you to step aside or things will turn really ugly.’

  Then, in a feat of pure brute force, Louise managed single-handedly to scrum the kids forward into the restaurant, where a scared-looking spotty teenager was hiding behind the counter, terrified that the protesters were about to storm the place.

  ‘Give me thirty kiddie meals and make it fast,’ Louise said, as he quaked before her. ‘Otherwise I might deliver on your floor.’

  Really admire Louise and her forward thinking sometimes, even if she did eat all of her double bacon cheeseburger and most of mine. Think her maternal instinct kicked in a bit too – she only stole a handful of the kids’ fries.

  PS Brandon was a no-show – left a voicemail for Angelica in case the date had slipped her mind but she didn’t call back. Suspect the flu has kicked in and she’s too dehydrated to chat – which is exactly the problem with being a size zero: when you’re laid low with a virus, you need a bit of body fat to fight the germs.

  23 October

  Booked flights to Portugal on-line. Total cost: €1499 including taxes, insurance and flight surcharges. Am scandalized. No wonder all the celebs have private jets – it’s probably far cheaper than flying commercial. I may investigate leasing a share in a helicopter soon. Maybe Angelica would like to go halves. Will look into it.

  Am afraid to inform Joe that the ninety-nine-cent flights were an elaborate con. Hope he’s still feeling mellow – that may mean he won’t go through the Visa bill with a permanent red marker this month and discover it’s costing us a small fortune to go away for half-term.

  Louise is not altogether pleased that we will be AWOL for a week in Portugal.

  ‘What if I go into premature labour?’ she whined, when I called to explain.

  ‘Well, if you do, ring the hospital and get yourself admitted,’ I said soothingly, trying not to antagonize her.

  I didn’t like to tell her that she’ll probably be two weeks overdue and lucky to have the baby before Christmas – her nerves are clearly frayed already. She bleated on about breastfeeding and society’s aversion to Mother Nature’s honey for ages yesterday. She really is very irritable. Obviously the piles cream I recommended is doing no good.

  PS Tesco is doing a special promotion on two-for-one depilatory creams. Found myself buying six tubes today just to get another six free. Not sure I’ll have time to use them all before we go to Portugal, though. Maybe I can offload some on Mrs H.

  24 October

  Can no longer deny that Hallowe’en is coming, for the following reasons:

  All the neighbourhood houses are draped in flashing lights and ghosts.

  Firecrackers are going off at all hours of the day and night, and the poor dog is teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

  Katie and Jack are spending hours debating what goodies they’ll receive in their trick-or-treat bags and beating each other senseless over same.

  ‘Mummy, can we have lots of lights and ghosts all over our house for Hallowe’en?’ Katie asked, as she clambered into the car after school.

  ‘That might be nice,’ I said, vaguely, trying to fob her off.

  ‘Brandon says his house will be the best,’ she went on, a murderous glint in her eye. ‘But I told him that ours was going to be better. Much better.’

  Instantly I felt nervous. Angelica had had decades of practice at creating elaborate lights displays. A half-
carved pumpkin and a string of harmless-looking ghosts flapping on the porch were definitely not going to satisfy Katie’s high expectations. Decided to drive past the Laws’ mansion to assess the display. The house was festooned from top to bottom with lights, pumpkins and ghouls. There were also dozens of flapping banners, declaring ‘Happy Hallowe’en’, draped artistically across the front porch, and a life-size witch swaying on the steps. She must have got in the professionals to decorate – there was no way she could have managed it, not in her weakened flu state.

  PS Mrs H called round for a quick cuppa. She says she no longer uses depilatory cream.

  ‘I’m converted to waxing, Susie dear,’ she claimed. ‘A good Brazilian lasts for ages – and it’s so hygienic. You should try it.’

  She took a sip of her tea and smiled in a very self-satisfied way. I sometimes wonder if Mrs H hasn’t got hidden depths. Have put all the depilatory cream under the stairs until I decide how to get rid of it.

  25 October

  Was called to one side by Jack’s playschool teacher this morning when I arrived to collect him.

  ‘How do you think Jack is settling in here at Little Angels, Mrs Hunt?’ she asked, gazing at me unflinchingly.

  ‘Em, fine?’ I ventured, feeling hot and bothered all of a sudden. It wasn’t a good sign that she was calling me Mrs Hunt.

  ‘Yeees… It’s just that he seems to have a little difficulty interacting and sharing with the other children.’ She paused meaningfully.

  ‘In what way?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, he likes to spend a lot of time pretending to be a dog.’

  ‘A dog?’ I laughed, relieved nothing serious was wrong. ‘Well, he has a very active imagination.’

  ‘Yes, and we do encourage imaginative play here at Little Angels.’ She looked stern. ‘But we also encourage more formal group activities and unfortunately Jack is proving to be… Shall we say rather disruptive? We think he may need some extra encouragement and tutoring in that area.’