A Strange sort of Peace: 2013 365 Challenge #99

Kings College Chapel, Cambridge. Photo Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

It has finally arrived. After nearly six months, hubbie went to work today. Suit, tie, the works. He looked very handsome.

It isn’t raining, I have the house to myself. The only sad bit was dropping two sobbing children at nursery and then sobbing myself in the car. I wish I knew the answer to the childcare problem. Hubbie thinks they’ll be better if we put them in three days a week again. I’m not so sure. Besides, Amber starts school in September so it’s just going to make that harder. I think I need to take them out and put them in a preschool – more days, fewer hours. Get us used to the routine shift that school will bring and have them out the house for shorter periods of time.

I’ll miss my long days (and cover during the school vacations as all preschools close when the schools close) but maybe it’s time to grow up and accept I can’t have everything (sometimes it feels anything) my way.

Happiness is a Clean Fridge

Then of course the dilemma is finding a preschool. Amber’s best friend goes to one but I don’t like it: not enough outside space. Not suitable for Aaron. So do I split them up? Send Amber somewhere she doesn’t know anyone, after four years with friends? Stick with nursery for a few more months? Take them out entirely? Put up with the tears and tantrums, knowing they don’t really hate it? Sometimes I feel like I’ve been worrying about childcare as long as I’ve had children. It wakes me at night.

The problem is choice. I have way too much choice. Nothing dictates what days, times, locations I need my childcare to fit. I prefer Mondays and Thursdays but that isn’t rigid (although we dropped Mondays for a while and I hated it, even with having to pay for bank holidays!). My main requirements are friendly staff the children warm to, good clean facilities and space for Aaron to run. Despite the large range of nurseries and preschools around us I haven’t yet found that winning combination.

Anyway, I’m trying not to think about it any more. There isn’t an answer and it just makes my soul ache. Aside from that – and the gurgling tummy of the dog lying next to me on the sofa – I’ve had a peaceful day. I’m a person who likes space and solitude and I haven’t had much of that for far too long. Even though my routine has been the same as when hubbie is here I seem to have written twice as many words today. And I’ve cleaned the fridge. Time to walk and feed the dog before her gurgling tummy drives away my new-found peace.

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Below is the next installment in my novel Two-Hundred Steps Home: written in daily posts since 1st January as part of my 2013 365 Challenge. Read about the challenge here.You can catch up by downloading the free ebook volumes on the right hand side of the blog:

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The children chased each other along the wall outside Kings, giggling and hopping on and off the grass. Claire, Fiona and Josh followed behind, sharing idle observations on all they’d seen inside King’s College, much as strangers might discuss the weather on a stranded bus. Lily kicked her legs and waved her hands from her position in a sling on Josh’s chest. The air felt too thick to breathe and the spring sunshine failed to penetrate Claire’s skin.

“So, who is hungry?” she called ahead to the children. They turned as one and hopped up and down.

“Me, me, me!”

“Come on then. I’m taking you for the tastiest Greek burger ever.” She lengthened her stride until there was space between her and the hand-holding couple. Sky stretched out her arms and jumped off the low wall into Claire’s embrace, snuggling deep into her hair. The gesture surprised Claire and she returned the hug with closed eyes.

“I love you, Auntie Claire. I’m having the best day. Thank you.” Sky flashed a toothy smile before squirming down again to play with Lucas and Sophie. Tears pricked at Claire’s eyes and she swallowed. Well, Ruth, I was never sure before, but you definitely did something right.

They lined up to cross the road. Claire glanced back but Fiona and Josh were in earnest conversation.

“Right kids, hold hands.” She looked left and right up King’s Parade, making sure there were no cars. Standing, waiting for a taxi to thunder past, she caught movement out the corner of her eye.

“Look at that dog!” Lucas yelled, dashing out in front of the oncoming car. Claire reacted instinctively, thrusting Sky and Sophie behind her and reaching out to grasp the hood of Lucas’s coat. She reached him and pulled, just as the black saloon whooshed past, raising a swirl of litter. With trembling limbs Claire swapped her hold on the hood for a clutch of a little sweaty hand.

Urgent arms took the child from her and he disappeared into a hug of hair and tears. “Lucas, what were you thinking? You know not to rush across the road like that.” Fear made the voice stern and Lucas dissolved into sobs.

“Sorry Mummy. There was a dog wearing a coat.”

Fiona stroked the boy’s hair and murmured soothing words, while Claire clutched Sky’s hand and waited for her pulse to cease its rapid beat. Josh stood jiggling Lily and shushing Sophie who had started to cry when her brother did: big wracking, gulping tears and wails of, “Don’t be mean to my brother.” Claire wondered if she had ever defended a sibling with such passion.

Eventually the tears ceased and life once more penetrated the tight group. Fiona looked up from hugging Lucas and met Claire’s eyes. Her face held a new softness and Claire realised just how beautiful the woman was. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Claire nodded, unsure what to say.

They left the narrow alleyway after their burgers, marvelling at the taste and wiping sauce from their mouths. It was early afternoon, so Claire suggested a wander along the high street, maybe followed by a coffee in the bookshop, where they could also pick up some paperbacks to ease the long journey home. She could see Sky’s eyes drooping. Another hour and hopefully she’ll sleep again in the car. It’s going to take a couple of hours to get to the hostel. Unwilling to admit it, Claire felt, nonetheless, a need to linger. To stretch out these last moments with Josh and his family, knowing they would be flying half way round the world in a few days.

All too soon, the books had been selected, the coffee drunk, the Pony magazine purchased for Sky, to keep her entertained should she not sleep in the car. They stood in the awkward silence of soon-to-be-parted friends, none wanting to start the farewells. The children chased each other round the square, running after pigeons and squealing. Lily slept in her sling, snuggled against her mum. Some unseen communication passed between Josh and Fiona, and the woman wandered away to keep an eye on the children.

Claire felt the timpani drum playing loudly in her ears as he approached: cleaner, more familiar, but with the same crooked smile she remembered from their first meeting at Kielder. It felt a lifetime ago, although she knew it was only a month, if that. She brushed her hair behind her ears and tried to meet his eyes.

“Hey, Claire.”

As he came nearer she inhaled the familiar scent of aftershave, although without the bass note of smoke. Clearly Fiona’s arrival had put a stop to that habit. Any words that might be spoken dried in her throat as he stopped in front of her and reached for her hands. She flicked a glance at Fiona, but the woman was discretely distant, marshalling a game of hide and seek amidst the empty market stalls. Josh turned to see what Claire was looking at, and misinterpreted her gaze.

“You’re going to be an amazing mother one day. You’ll make some man a lucky bastard. If you can’t see it you haven’t met the right one yet. Keep looking. If all else fails, come visit us down under. We’ll hook you up with some bonza fellas.”

She turned back at his words, a puzzled frown creasing her forehead. He dropped one of her hands and brushed her cheek, before pulling her into a crushing hug. She tensed, then melted into the embrace.

Memories of their time on the observatory platform shouldered their way into her mind. He never really fancied me: It was all an act. I reminded him of Fiona, that’s all. She realised the thought no longer made her sad. If I hadn’t, would we be friends? Would I have had half the experiences I’ve had these last few weeks? She felt tears trickling down her cheeks, dripping onto his shoulder. Her nose began to run and she didn’t want that to be his last memory of her. Pulling away, she forced the grief deep inside and shone him her brightest smile.

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that, one day. I’m still not convinced about the mother thing, but perhaps kids aren’t as awful as I once thought. You have a safe trip home and take care of your family, they are very precious.” She leant forwards and pecked him quickly on the lips, before turning away. Without looking back she strode across the square towards Fiona and the children. Murmuring her goodbyes, and comforting a disappointed Sky, she took her niece’s hand and left the square, staring straight ahead.

***

Picking a Preschool – Toddler Learning Centers – Childcare – Daycare (everydayfamily.com)
13 Fun Activities For Preschoolers And Educational Preschool Activities Have Just Been Released On Kids Activities Blog. (prweb.com)
365: 31.03.13 #91 An Easter egg hunt (ghostwritermummy.co.uk)

Swimsuits and Spring: 2013 365 Challenge #98

Paddling Pool Fun

Despite it being only about ten degrees C outside the kids are running round in their swimsuits and playing in the paddling pool. I think they genuinely don’t feel the cold. It’s t-shirt and jeans weather at best! Who am I to argue though? They’re having the first day of summer fun in half a year and it’s wonderful to see.

As a result, hubbie and I have had a properly productive Sunday. I’ve done half a dozen loads of laundry, stripped the beds, hoovered the carpets and cooked and baked. Hubbie has emptied the garage and put stuff on ebay (a major feat, I should point out). We even made it to the pub, although after a G&T on an empty stomach I remembered why I don’t drink any more. I went through tipsy to hungover in about thirty minutes. Sad.

We spent this evening watching How to Train Your Dragon. What a marvelous movie. I wanted to see it at the cinema and never got around to it. I love dragons and Toothless has to be the most adorable dragon ever. I wish I’d seen it before I wrote Dragon Wraiths, although maybe it would have been a different kind of novel if I had! I liked the ending (I won’t give it away), I thought it a nice touch of realism.

The weather forecast is rain for the rest of the week, so I don’t think there will be much more paddling pool fun, unless I bring it in the playroom and fill it with teddies. Never mind. One step closer to summer and amen to that.

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Claire gripped Sky’s hand and watched nervously left and right. Kings College spread out behind her, stark against a blue sky. Wind whistled along King’s Parade and it was cold in the shade, despite the sun peeking over the buildings in front of them.

The hand in hers tugged and, when she looked down, a pleading face said, “Can I run along the wall, Auntie Claire?”

Claire clutched her paper coffee cup in close and shook her head. “I don’t want you falling and grazing a knee before they get here.” She resisted the urged to check her phone for the fifth time, to see if they were late or if she was still early. Maybe they won’t come. Fiona definitely wasn’t keen. Perhaps they forgot? I should have asked for his number. How did people ever meet up without mobiles?

Sky drew patterns on the pavement with her pink shoes, scooping demi-pliés like a ballerina. Distracted momentarily, Claire watched her performance while Sky used her hand as a bar.

“Do you do ballet, Sky?”

“I did, last term. Mum said we couldn’t afford it once I grew too big for my leotard.”

A worm of guilt wriggled in under Claire’s rib cage. Her sister was always quick to complain about being poor but she’d figured that was the usual moaning she heard in the office, when Account Execs complained they couldn’t afford the coveted pair of shoes or designer handbag.

“Are leotards very expensive?”

Sky shrugged and continued practising her ballet positions in the shade of King’s Parade. Something about the movements snagged at Claire’s memory and she was surprised to discover she remembered the names. First position, second, third. Her feet twitched, as if they wanted to join in.

“Did you enjoy ballet?”

Sky let go of Claire’s hand and twirled a pirouette. “Oh yes. Hannah and Jenny used to go to the same class as me. They’ll be a certificate ahead of me now.” Her pixie face pulled down in a frown, making the cold in the shade a degree cooler. How expensive can it be? The cost of an M&S sandwich and a latte for a class? When we get back I’ll arrange with Ruth to pay for her ballet classes and costumes. Every little princess should dream of being a ballerina if they want to.

“Hey Claire!”

Distracted by her niece’s impromptu performance, Claire had ceased her relentless search of the street, and the hail startled her. With her heart hammering loudly, Claire yanked her head up and she scanned the approaching faces until she located the source of the voice. Without realising it, Claire’s face broke into a wide smile. She grabbed Sky’s hand, as much to resist the urge to hurry over for a hug as to ensure the girl stayed by her side.

And then they were there, facing each other. Claire smiled awkwardly at Fiona, then beamed down at the children. Last of all, she met Josh’s smiling eyes and forgot to breathe.

“Glad you could make it. We’ve been having such fun here: This place is so old. We can’t wait to see round Kings.”

Claire waited a beat too long before nodding. “Us too. Oh, this is Sky, my niece. Sky, meet Josh, Fiona, Lily, Sophie and Lucas.” She indicated each in turn and then looked down at Sky. The girl was peeping out from behind her legs. “Shy, Sky? That’s not like you.”

Josh dropped down to his haunches and twinkled at the hidden girl. “It’s okay, we don’t bite. Are you having fun with Auntie Claire?”

Claire felt as much as saw Sky nodding. Slowly the girl came out and shone a grin at Josh. Claire looked down at her niece’s glowing face and felt a jolt in her chest.

Yes, poppet. I feel like that too.

***

The Parent I Am and the One I Aspire to be: 2013 365 Challenge #97

Amber having her face painted this morning

I don’t have many words today.

Lack of sleep and residual illness has turned me into at least four of the seven dwarfs. I’ll let you figure out which.

Instead of waffling on as usual, I’d like instead to share two thoughtful and beautiful posts about being a parent: both written as letters to a child.

One describes the parent I’d like to be, the other the parent I am far too often. Again, I’ll let you decide which.

It won’t be hard.

An Open Letter to My Son:

Like some poor, naïve fairytale mother, I’m trying to help you navigate your way through a forest that’s by turns enchanted and haunted. The path is familiar, as if I walked it once years ago, but different, too; overgrown and seemingly impassable in some parts, and unexpectedly clear in others. And as we pick our way through the undergrowth, as we do our best not to trip on twisted roots and sharp stones, I try to remember the lessons I’ve learned from all folktales I used to know.

For example, I won’t make the mistake that Sleeping Beauty’s parents did when sending out invitations to her christening. Unlike them, I’ll be sure to invite the dark fairy godmothers as well as the good ones, because I know that they’ll come anyway, slipping in through back doors and lurking in corners where you least expect them. I’ll let them give you their murky gifts in broad daylight, so that I can look them in the eye while they do so. Then I’ll smile and thank them, recognizing that I have to let life give you the bad as well as the good.

And when I send you out into the world alone, as I know that I will someday have to, I’ll give you something more substantial than bread crumbs with which to find your way back home.

And I won’t make you go to your grandmother’s house alone until I can be sure that you can tell the difference between an old woman and a wolf in a nightgown.

…

I Wasn’t a Good Mom:

Dear Daughter,

Today, I wasn’t a good mom. The morning came too soon after a long and exhausting night. I rolled out of bed and put pants on an hour before you normally woke up. When I came into your room you were ready for me, your hair tousled and your smile crooked. “I up!” You said reaching your arms out to me. “I pay wif toys!”

I didn’t smile, not because I don’t love you, but because I just needed more sleep. And then the day came and you stuck stickers to the couch and I grumbled under my breath. You tried to play tag and kicked me in the chest and I yelled, “BE NICE TO MOM!” I realize now, I wasn’t yelling that at you. I was just yelling at the world. But how could you know that? You couldn’t, and I’m sorry.

And when I went upstairs to go to the bathroom and you said, “NO MAM GO PODDY!” And I said, “Shut up!” It wasn’t my finest hour of parenthood.

I’m sorry I cried when you ate my lunch. The lunch I bought for both of us to feed my feelings. Because my feelings needed chicken nuggets, but apparently so did you. And I’m sorry I put you in time out when you made your plate do a little dance on the table. I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you when I put you down for nap, choosing instead to run away and lay in the guest room bed and just dwell in some silence.

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These are only extracts of the posts. I encourage you to read the full version, and to follow these inspiring blogs. They get me through many hard days as a mother and a writer. I’m off now to use what words I have to give Claire some parenting challenges of her own. It’s far more fun making it happen to someone else!

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Claire swore loudly and heard movement from the passenger seat. “Damn. Idiot.”

“What is it Auntie Claire? Why are you cross? You used a naughty word. Mummy says only uneducated people use naughty words.”

Claire gritted her teeth and tried not to utter any more swear words. She suspected Ruth was unlikely to talk to her ever again after this fortnight away with Sky but there was no need to add teaching Sky four-letter words to her list of misdemeanours.

“Auntie Claire is frustrated, that’s all poppet. Nothing to worry about. I’m just trying to find a parking space within a twenty-minute walk of the hostel.”

I knew staying in Cambridge for the Easter weekend was a mistake. I didn’t want to drive far on Good Friday and all the other hostels in this area are on the bloody coast or miles away, or both. How was I to know it was going to be five degrees outside and no one in their right mind is heading to the beach? She glared, as if the weather was solely to blame for her bad humour.

Trying to keep the rage in her head was a new challenge and it seemed to make driving harder, as if the hindrance of not being able to yell at the other incompetents in their protective boxes affected her judgement. She braked suddenly to avoid a gaggle of cyclists. Damn those egotistical morons. Pay some damn road tax and then you can swoop in front of me and cut me up with the impunity of an HGV. She swerved around a woman dawdling on an old-fashioned bike, complete with wicker baskets front and rear, pedalling as if she was on a country lane.

“Where are we Claire; is this Cambridge? I’ve never been to Cambridge. Mummy says it’s full of tourists and shops and it costs too much to park. Nana was going to bring me but then Mummy got sick and now she has to take care of Mummy. Are we nearly there? I’m hungry and I need a wee.”

The blood drained from Claire’s face. Need a wee? Now? I have no idea how long it’s going to take to get parked. What is a six-year-old’s bladder control like? Is it urgent? I may not love this car but I don’t want pee on the seats, never mind getting the booster seat washed. Claire forced the brakes on her runaway thoughts, realising that her mind had taken on the urgent, rolling interrogation style favoured by her niece. As if every piece of information in the universe needed to be questioned and answered that instant or the world would fail.

Taking a deep breath, Claire tried for calm. “Not long now, sweetie. Cross your legs. We’ll get you to a toilet as soon as we can.”

Claire found herself swept back into the one-way system and cursed the Sat Nav for not keeping up. Useless box of junk. You’re quick to give me the same instruction twenty times when it’s obvious I need to bear left. Now, when I could use a hand, you’re two streets behind. The swear words built in her mouth, demanding to be freed. Claire tried to remember what stupid words Ruth used when she was irritated.

“Fumbling fiddlesticks!”

Sky giggled and the carefree sound released some of the tension in the metal box jammed in by a hundred other metal boxes. Deciding to pursue the happy accident, Claire pummelled her brain for ways to distract Sky from her need to pee and her incessant questioning.

“Did I tell you we’re going to meet friends of mine tomorrow, for a day out at Kings College?” Hmm, okay I don’t suppose Fiona counts herself a friend, but you can give a child too much truth. “They have children, too. A bit younger than you. Hopefully we’ll have some fun.”

Sky swivelled round in the seat, tearing her eyes away from a Disney advert on the bus in the next lane. “What are their names?”

“My friend is called Josh and his wife is Fiona. Their children are…” Claire paused, searching her brain for name cards. “Um, Lily, Sophie and, bugger what’s the boy called? Er Jack? No, what was the name of that dancer on Got to Dance? Lucas, that’s it.” Claire smiled, pleased at her miraculous recall.

“Auntie Claire you said another naughty word.” Sky sniggered and then covered her mouth with her hand.

Claire turned her attention to the slow moving car in front and cursed her unruly mouth. I’m going to have to get a swear-box, otherwise I’m going to have Little Miss Prim pulling me up every five minutes. She decided the best plan was to ignore Sky’s comment and continue with her conversation. “So, anyway, Lucas is the eldest – just a bit younger than you – then Sophie and then Lily is still a baby. Will you help me show them round Cambridge? They’re from Australia and this is their first visit to England.”

“Wow, do they have a pet kangaroo? Do they speak funny, like on Home and Away? Wait until Hazel finds out at school, she’s going to be pea green with envy.” Sky turned and stared out the window, lost in a world of one-upmanship.

Glad to have finally struck on something to stop Sky’s verbal diarrhoea, Claire concentrated on squeezing the Skoda into an on-street parking space two blocks from the hostel. I just have to remember to move it before 9am or I’m in trouble.

***

Sharing the Load: 2013 365 Challenge #96

Amber’s artistic photo of Daddy

Today was the last week-day with all of us at home together, hopefully for several weeks. Hubbie starts work on Monday, fingers crossed, and will be out the house from breakfast to bedtime (the children’s bedtime that is – I rarely snuggle under the duvet before midnight).

The little ones are going to miss him and – for all my moaning about space and routine – so will I. Today was a fairly typical day in our recent lives. I stayed in bed writing my blog while Daddy fetched breakfast for the kids (The lie-in was allowed because I spent last night formatting hubbie’s manuscript for Kindle).

I got up around 9am and took over child care, although I actually baked a banana cake while the kids were in the toilet, not realising 2yo was wiping 4yo’s bottom (a job I still do normally, since she got a bad infection). Poor hubbie wasn’t quick enough out the house, so ended with the clean-up job. He won’t miss doing that, I guarantee it. [Just re-read that bit: too much information. Sorry.]

Dressing up fun

Hubbie then escaped and came in only for cake and lunch. But he was there, pressure-washing the decking and patio, where we could see him. At 5pm I legged it to the shops, having realised earlier that I had no gift for the party Amber’s going to tomorrow (blame the illness!). I tried to go earlier with the kids but they were resistant and I was weak in my still-a-bit-ill fragility. Got back from town an hour later to find the kids playing football with Daddy on the sparkling clean decking. I unloaded the shopping and left them to it, after a quick kick about, to come walk the dog.

The only downside to the day I can see is that hubbie’s clearly had too much childcare duty and is losing his sense of humour. I don’t think he’ll be sad to miss breakfast to bedtime. And once we hit our stride the kids and I will be fine too. But it’ll take some adjustment, as all routine changes do. At least the longer days mean I’ll still be able to walk the dog when hubbie gets home. Not sure what’s going to happen to Claire, when I lose my precious mornings in bed dreaming up her adventures. Certainly the quality of my writing has been badly affected by two days of illness, so I guess we’ll see.

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Claire glanced at the slumbering child in the passenger seat, and smiled. I survived my first twenty four hours with my niece out in the wild, with no A4 sheet of instructions to guide me. Honesty compelled her to add, just about.

She thought about the lunchtime battle to get Sky to eat her sandwich, which had unexpectedly resolved itself when Claire got up and left the café. She had only been aware of a need to put distance between herself and the tantrum. Standing outside the door, watching her niece turn purple in fury, was definitely a low point in the day. The outraged looks on the faces of the other customers in the tiny and crowded room had caused Claire’s face to take on a similar hue, albeit for different reasons. Their looks of condemnation prevented her re-entering the room, even when Sky stopped crying and sat – shell-shocked and alone – at the wobbly Formica table.

The quiet and contrite child who had emerged ten minutes later seemed to justify the action but Claire had been conscious of a terrible surge of guilt at her behaviour. She’s the child not me. Sky took back her angry words of hatred and declared she loved her Auntie Claire so no lasting damage seemed to have resulted from the incident.

Still, I hope it doesn’t happen again. What if we’d been in Starbucks or a restaurant instead of some tin pot coffee shop? Claire thought of the decibels of noise that had leaked through the prefab walls and shuddered.

There was more to this parenting lark than first appeared. If Sky hadn’t been an angel since lunch she would have been strongly tempted to take the girl to her Dad’s; to spend the two week Easter holiday with reinforcements. It just confirms my long-held view that I wasn’t born to be a mother. Auntie maybe, but that’s it. Michael was wrong when he said he saw maternal feelings in me. Silly deluded idiot. Unhappy memories of that night swirled around her in the car. Claire gripped the steering wheel and frowned them away. There was still an hour’s driving to the hostel she had booked them into for the night.

She turned the stereo on to Radio 3 and drove into the evening with Mozart and a peacefully sleeping girl for company.

***

Sleepy day and Stone Heart: 2013 365 Challenge #95

A gripping tale after a slow start

I spent today – my first day without the kids in a week – stuck in bed with a poorly tummy. I think it was caused by dehydration from the wind and lack of water during my day out with the kids yesterday. I can be prone to dehydration, especially when I’m writing – forgetting to eat and drink because I’m so engrossed – and I end up with a twisted gut and a sore head. Or I might just have girl flu.

Whatever it was, it floored me. I slept until 2pm, after cobbling together yesterday’s rather rubbish Claire installment, then spent the afternoon engrossed in Stone Heart by Charlie Fletcher.

I initially stopped reading the book after the first couple of chapters, as I found the writing style opaque and overly-cryptic and the main protagonist unlikeable. But when I finished Shadow Forest I ran out of things to read and picked it up again. I’m glad I persisted. It is hard to read – especially for a children’s book – but the characters are endearing and develop beautifully. It’s always a challenge when a character starts out annoying and then grows throughout the book. They have to be annoying in order to have room to grow, but it’s hard to read through the early part when you just want to give them a slap.

It turns out there’s a sequel so I shall be looking for that next time I go to the library. So far it’s two out of two for my random charity shop purchases. Just the Wendy Holden to go.

I’m still feeling ropy so my Claire installment today is likely to be a bit shaky. I’m taking her to Hamerton Zoo – it’s near where she and Sky stayed last night and I should be able to write it without any research. Hopefully normal service will resume tomorrow, although I have an obscenely early kids party so will have to get the post written before bedtime!

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Claire stared at the tiger. The massive white head faced away from her, as if ignoring her scrutiny. Then it swung round and seemed to acknowledge her gaze, before its flat eyes slid away and his attention moved on to the other side of the enclosure.

You poor old brute. What a life, sitting on a platform being watched by things you’d rather eat. Like sitting in a cake shop while the Belgium Buns take photographs. She shivered as the timeless eyes swung round to face her again. The tiger looked down his proud nose at Claire and stood, stretching like a domestic cat, before jumping silently off the platform to walk outside. On the far side of the enclosure Claire could see the orange tiger dozing in the sun. Between them was a giant red football. The sign said they spent hours knocking the ball to each other, but clearly not today. I’d give something to see that. I bet you do it when the zoo is closed right? Why perform for these strangers? You’d like us all to sod off, I bet.

“Auntie Claire?” A hand tugged at her jacket, reminding Claire she wasn’t at the zoo alone. Bugger. That’s going to take some getting used to. What if she’d wandered off, or been snatched, while I was communing with tigers? She turned and squatted down so her face was nearer Sky’s. “Yes poppet?”

“Can we go through the Tiger Tunnel? Can we, please?” She pointed through some pampas grass to a man-made tunnel that looked like it had been constructed from shipping containers.

“Sure, sweetheart. Although the tigers are here, darling.” She gestured to the specks of white and orange; all that could be seen of Blizzard and Lady-Belle.

“The map says there are sheep and goats through there though. And camels.”

Sheep and goats? We could have gone to a farm to see them, instead of this wind-swept, freezing zoo. Not camels, though, don’t remember seeing camels at any farm nearby. Claire stood up, ignoring the protesting creak in her knees and back. The hotel bed had done enough damage; she didn’t want to think about it anymore. Bad enough waking in a different bed to the one she’d gone to sleep in. As far as she could work out, Sky must have crawled in with her in the night and she’d crawled out the other side to sleep in the child’s bed.

I hope Musical Beds isn’t going to be a nightly occurrence. It’s hard enough dealing with all that chatter, without a head full of cotton wool and a broken and bruised body.

Claire let the girl drag her into the tunnel, which had been painted a vile sort of green with pictures to alleviate the metal expanse. They stopped at glass windows to search for Maned Wolves and more tigers but saw only scrubby grass and grey skies.

At the end of the tunnel, wooden gates opened into a small grassed area surrounded by animal enclosures: from reindeer on their right, past rheas, alpacas, sheep and goats, to camels far away to their left. They stood for a moment to get their bearings, when a flash of white and a bleating noise announced the arrival of a mob of miniature sheep, which flocked around their feet.

“Look, Claire, we can feed them. Can we, please?” Sky turned her sweetest smile on Claire and she nodded, pushing through the sheep to reach the food dispenser. As she inserted a twenty-pence piece and turned the dial, another flash of colour alerted her to new arrivals. Four short, fat, black goats came leaping across the grass and, before the food was even cupped in her hand, started jumping and head-butting her legs.

Sky shrieked, as the goats shoved her so hard she fell backwards into a muddy puddle. Oh great, Claire groaned. I hope there is somewhere here we can change. Though I don’t know what I’m going to change her into. What was Mum thinking, packing dresses and tights? Did she think we were only going to do little girl things, or did she hope rich Claire would take poor little Sky shopping? Claire swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth before reaching over to scoop her niece out of the gloop and onto a bench. She worried that Sky would shirk from the boisterous goats butting at her hands, demanding food. Instead the girl giggled with glee, seized the tiny horns and pushed the heads away.

Standing there, mud dripping from her pink dress and leggings, with her once-pink coat flapping in the arctic wind and her hair flying behind her in a stream of gold, she looked like a superhero, saving the world from vicious horned beasties. Claire felt a strange sensation in the pit of her tummy as she stood watching her niece. Something warm and almost maternal; something she didn’t remember feeling for another human being before. It felt like pride.

***

Wake me, Don’t Wake me: 2013 365 Challenge #93

Meeting the Easter Bunny at the Farm

Can I start with a random aside? I think Easter Bunnies are rather creepy. I wouldn’t normally take my kids to see one but we went with friends to the Farm today and did a bunch of stuff we don’t normally do. Doesn’t the bunny here look like he’s thinking of kidnapping my children?

I read a post yesterday about why school is hard for parents as well as children:

Ten Ways School Sucks for Adults as much as Kids

It got me thinking about structure and life.

Where is the happy balance between waking up knowing what the day ahead holds and waking with the excitement of not knowing what’s happening next (or with the option of rolling over and pulling the duvet back up over my head while the kids take themselves off to play or watch TV)?

Watching TV while Mum does cleaning

Hubbie found out – today – that he won’t be starting work tomorrow after all.

IT issues apparently.

He might start next Monday, he might not. Considering he has been out of work for five months you’d think an extra few days wouldn’t matter. But we were all looking forward to at least a temporary return to routine. Now we’re back to muddling through, taking each day as it comes, making plans after breakfast, if at all. Routine seems like a holy grail that’s persistently out of reach.

On the flip side, the idea of Amber starting school this September scares me: Having to be organised five days a week, 38 weeks of the year, not just for me but for four people. And doing that for the next fifteen years (at least). In the days when I had a job, I barely managed to get myself to a desk by 8am every day. And what about days like today when the sky was finally blue and the sun shone. The Farm was the only place to be after so much cloud and snow. What if today had been a school day? Will I be like my Dad and take them anyway and sod the consequences? I’ve never been one for breaking the rules, but surely they’ll grow more as people for the odd adventure?

The thing that worries me most, though? How will I manage five days of clean, ironed uniform? 🙂

________________________________________________________________________________

“Auntie Claire!”

Claire braced for impact as a whirling dervish of blonde hair and pink net hurtled down the corridor and hugged her knees. Déjà vu. I wonder if she has any other way of greeting visitors? This time Claire didn’t feel the urge to shake off her niece. Instead she dropped to her knees and gave the narrow shoulders a tight hug.

“Hey Sky. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to collect you yesterday.” She avoided making eye contact with her mother, who had appeared behind Sky in the corridor. “Crossed wires, I’m afraid.” She looked down at the elfin face and saw a wobbling bottom lip. “Don’t cry, Sky. I’ll make it up to you.”

The jutting lip vanished and blue eyes sparkled. “Will you take me shopping? Mummy says you spend an ob… omscene… amount on clothes. I don’t know what that means, but it sounds fun.”

Blood rushed to Claire’s face but any chagrin at her niece’s repeated words vanished when she caught sight of her mother’s face. Ha, forgot your granddaughter can listen did you? I wonder what other titbits I’ll discover? It’s going to be like working with Carl again, but it will be worth it to find out what they really think of me.

“Hush now, Sky.” Madeleine pulled her granddaughter away and sent her down the corridor with a push. “Ruth’s in bed. Sky’s bag is packed so you can leave whenever you want to.”

Looking up into those blank eyes, Claire wondered when her mother had become such a cow. Then the words sank in, and she rose slowly to her feet. “I thought I was spending the night here? The hostel is booked for tomorrow.” The idea of trying to find two beds in a hostel at short notice on Easter weekend made her throat dry. She was about to remonstrate when she sensed the emotion pouring off her mother, filling the close space around them. Claire shivered. The need to grab Sky and walk back out the front door consumed her.

“Fine. We’ll find a hotel.”

She pushed past her mother and went in search of her niece.

Claire waited in the doorway until her eyes adjusted to the gloom, breathing quietly as she listened to see if Ruth was awake. At last her sister’s form materialised out of the dark and she saw the glittering light of open eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Claire whispered, walking towards the bed. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I rarely sleep. I stay in bed because Sky tends to leave me alone a little bit more. I love her to bits, but she’s a bit overpowering at the moment.”

“And me not collecting her yesterday didn’t help. I really am sorry, I was convinced you said Thursday.”

A dry chuckle turned into a hacking cough. “I probably did. I put the cheese in the breadbin and the butter in the cutlery drawer yesterday. My brain doesn’t seem to be working quite as it did.”

Her words were barely audible but they twisted like a corkscrew into Claire’s rib cage. She wanted to scoop her sister up in a hug and tell her how much she loved her. The words wouldn’t come. Instead she brushed her hand gently across Ruth’s hot forehead.

“I do stuff like that too, and I don’t have your excuse. Don’t worry about Sky. I’ll take good care of her. Hopefully two weeks of peace will allow you to recoup your strength. You’ll be back to yourself in no time.” Her voice sounded fake to her: she hoped her sister was more convinced.

Ruth reached out a hand. As Claire took it she shuddered: her sister’s bones poked through her wasted skin like broken sticks in a silk sack. I’m glad it’s dark.

Her sister squeezed, the action barely registering against Claire’s grip. “Take care of my little girl, Claire. I know she’s in good hands.”

Claire nodded, unable to speak, even though she knew her sister wouldn’t see her response in the dark. She lowered the hand to the bed and turned to go before her emotions overwhelmed her. As she reached the door, she heard Ruth call her name.

“Claire…”

She returned to the bed and bent close to catch the whispered words.

“…Thank you.”

***

the Easter Bunny is not mentally challenged (storiesformymom.wordpress.com)
Where’s the Easter Bunny? (kennydavisdesign.wordpress.com)
The waitress, the autistic girl and the broken hamburger (lissthomas.wordpress.com)
The Origin of the Easter Bunny (parkietalk.wordpress.com)
Late Easter! (designcolors.wordpress.com)

I’m Happy, You’re Happy: 2013 365 Challenge #92

If only they were always like this…

We’ve had one of those days where we fed off each other’s emotions too much.

It started out okay: I wrote my post while the kids played and hubbie dozed on the sofa. We were meant to go out shopping but the kids were playing so nicely together I didn’t want to disturb them.

Then, after lunch, they hit whine-territory, so we decided a change of scene was in order. They’re usually the kind of kids you can take shopping but at the moment it seems anytime we’re out in public they’re either hyper or sulking.

I reached breaking point in Costa when my daughter sobbed because I told her off for kicking the table and spilling coffee everywhere (it was a wobbly table but I was tired and over-reacted). Hubbie reached boiling point stuck in a stationary car with the kids, during the time it took me to return the boots we’d bought our son because he decided they were too tight.

I’m used to me breaking: it’s always a bit tougher when we both break.

Too much child-whining, too long at home all together, too little sleep and we’re all ready to run away. Problem is there is no where to run to, so we try and put a brave face on it and muddle through to bedtime hoping tomorrow will be better.

Kids Co-operating

It’s in my nature to see it as all my fault: the kids’ whining is my fault for not being a firm or consistent enough parent. Husband’s misery is my fault because of the kids’ behaviour and because I got cross/sad/broken when they had a tantrum in the coffee shop. It’s even my fault that hubbie is cleaning the kitchen right now instead of relaxing because I’m not a good enough housewife. You get the idea. I think I’ve said sorry about a zillion times today.

The problem is hubbie is even more sensitive to my moods than I am to his. So my constant apologies and taking of blame just make him more miserable. He needs me to be happy, but I find that almost impossible when my solid rock of cheerfulness and optimism is sad. I take his calmness so much for granted yet find it so difficult to be the person he needs me to be at times like this: i.e. cheerful. It’s not a natural state for me at the best of times! My Dad had the nickname Morbid Mick and I definitely take after him.

So I’m currently sitting on the landing outside a closed bathroom door listening to the kids play in the bath – because my kids don’t want me they want Daddy. I’m listening to hubbie clean the kitchen by himself because he doesn’t want me down there helping if I can’t be happy.

Sigh. When is it bedtime?

________________________________________________________________________________

“Good afternoon, Melanie Carleton speaking.”

Claire sighed in relief. “Mum, thank goodness. I was so worried. I’m at the primary school, Ruth asked me to collect Sky but she isn’t here. Did she tell me the wrong time?” Now wasn’t the time for accusations. Blaming someone with a brain tumour would do nothing but cast her as the evil sister.

“Claire, how nice of you to get in touch. Sky is fine, no thanks to you. I received a telephone call from the school yesterday, querying why my granddaughter had not been collected. I was not amused.”

“And you didn’t think to phone and make sure I was okay? I was mugged last week, you know: knocked unconscious.” The hot words were out before Claire could extinguish them.

“No, Claire. Getting bopped on the head for being a silly girl and walking home alone does not compare to having doctors remove part of your brain. Although I am beginning to wonder if someone has done the same to you. How could you let Ruth down so badly?”

Tears swamped Claire’s eyes at the unfairness of it all. I didn’t do anything wrong. She told me the wrong day. Knowing self-defence was futile against her mother, Claire swallowed and let the rant run its course.

Eventually her parent fell silent. When Claire didn’t respond, she spat out, “Well, what have you got to say? Cat got your tongue?”

Inhaling deeply so she wouldn’t choke on the words, Claire said softly, “Sorry Mum, I must have misheard Ruth’s instructions. I’m sorry you were put out and you’ve had Sky all day. I’ll be there as soon as I can. As long as you’re all okay, that’s the main thing.”

“You mean apart from one screaming in disappointment since 4pm last night and the other recovering from brain surgery and thinking her sister doesn’t give a hoot. Yes we are all okay here, as you put it.”

Claire disconnected the phone. She wasn’t sure if her mother had finished but she knew there were limits to how long she could keep her own mouth shut. It’s going to be bad enough going round there now, without antagonising Mother further. Trying to tell her the truth when she thinks she knows what’s what is like trying to find clothes in your size in the sale.

She drained the dregs of her tea and straightened her knife and fork. It was tempting to order another drink, preferably a large gin and tonic, but she thought better of it. Arriving reeking of alcohol when I’m about to be put in charge of a six-year-old for two weeks is probably not a great idea. I can’t even get a latte to go, as Stella doesn’t have cup-holders.

Looking around the calm oasis of the coffee shop, Claire wondered why she had ever found it lonely travelling by herself. With no more reasons to put it off, she squared her shoulders and strode to the door.

***

We are all broken (ahechoes.wordpress.com)

Chocolate and Cheeky Amazon: 2013 365 Challenge #91

Scattering grass seed with Daddy

I got my first five-star review today for Dragon Wraiths. And Amazon deleted it. It was left by a lovely lady who recently started following me here and on Twitter and who read the book without any prompting from me.

Unfortunately she’s also an author and apparently Amazon frowns on authors leaving reviews on other people’s books. Which is a shame because generally writers are avid readers (and eloquent reviewers) and they also know the value of reviews. I guess the system gets abused, as all things do. All I know is that five-star review might have brought me some much-needed sales.

Shadow Forest by Matt Haig

On a nicer note we had a lovely peaceful Easter Sunday. I spent the morning feverishly uploading ebooks – my Volume 3 and the ‘Story so Far’ version, which contains all the posts since the beginning of January. Even though I’d done most of the formatting and the book covers etc it still took far too long and we were nearly late for lunch. People who think self-publishers are cheeky charging for their books without paying professionals to do the editing, proof-reading, formatting etc, don’t always account for how much effort can be put into these things by the author. The Story So Far represents about 300 hours of effort. I think selling it for the price of a cappuccino is fairly reasonable, especially as you can download the separate volumes for free!

I’m all full of cold and had a welcome break at my Father-in-Law’s today as he and his partner took the children and dog for a walk. I read my book (a great MG fiction called Shadow Forest by Matt Haig) and David watched The Mummy. Again. Children were tired-whiny after our long day yesterday so it was nice for all of us to have some time apart. Now all I have to do is try and ration the copious amounts of chocolate we have accumulated despite my best efforts. Even I’m sick of the sight of chocolate and I never thought that was possible!

Anyway, time to start Volume 4 of Two-Hundred Steps Home. Blimey. How did that happen?

________________________________________________________________________________

“Excuse me, is everything alright?”

Claire looked up at the concerned face trying to peer under her shield of hair. Her eyes met two sapphires sparkling amidst a sea of wrinkles.

“The school is closed today. Were you meant to meet someone?”

The words sank in through the fog in Claire’s mind. Closed? “The school isn’t open? But I was supposed to collect my niece. Ruth – my sister – she clearly said today at 3pm. I thought I was in the wrong place. But it’s definitely here. She’s going to be so cross, and she’s ill and I’m meant to be helping.” The words tumbled out until Claire’s voice broke and she sank her head back into her hands.

A gentle patting on her shoulder reminded Claire that the old lady was still standing in front of her.

“There, there, my dear. Don’t cry. Have you telephoned your sister? I am sure there has been some misunderstanding. I believe there is a training day today and therefore the children finished for the Easter vacation yesterday.”

Relief washed through Claire like a spring breeze, followed by an arctic blast of anger. That’s just like Ruth to scare the hell out of me. She must have Sky home with her: why didn’t she call me?

Claire looked up and smiled ruefully at the helpful passer-by. “I’m sorry; I don’t mean to be a watering pot. It was quite a struggle to get here for 3pm through the snow – I’ve come from the Derby Dales – and now, to find…” She shook her head. No point unburdening herself to a complete stranger.

The lady raised a hand as if to brush away Claire’s apology. “I quite understand. These things happen. Why not come with me to the café? You can settle your nerves before telephoning your sister. Everything will seem better after a cup of tea.”

Pushing herself off the wall, trying to ignore the numbness in her bottom from sitting on the cold stone, Claire smiled gratefully at the woman. “Thank you, I might do that. No need to come with me, I’ll be fine. I haven’t had lunch, that’s all. As you say, I’m sure I’ll feel more the thing after some food and a hot drink.”

The woman hesitated, as if unsure whether to leave Claire alone.

What must she think? I’m a grown woman, I shouldn’t be sat sobbing outside a primary school. Grow up and stop being pathetic, girl.

“I’m fine, really. I appreciate you stopping to tell me about the school. I know where the café is – I’ve been here before – and I don’t want to hold you up any longer.”

“Well, if you are certain?” Claire nodded. “Alright then, my dear. You take care.” The lady gave a little wave and walked away.

Claire filled her lungs with freezing air and brushed the hair back from her face. She knew she should call Ruth, to confirm that her niece was safely at home, but she was still too cross. That’s just like her, to have me race across the country on a wild-goose-chase without so much as a text message. She stomped towards the coffee shop, remembering all the times Ruth had let her down or forgotten to tell her something important. Just because I’m the youngest, doesn’t mean it’s okay to leave me out all the time.

She could almost sense her bottom lip jutting out as it had done twenty-five years ago, when such behaviour was just about acceptable.

It was only when she was tucked into a window seat nursing a cup of Earl Grey that it occurred to Claire there may be another reason for Ruth’s lack of contact.

What if she’s had complications and had to go back into hospital? What if she wasn’t able to call me and Sky’s been left with Dad?

Her empty stomach twisted in fear and the blood drained away from her face until she thought she might faint. Placing the cup down on the saucer, spilling her tea in the process, Claire pulled out her phone and selected her sister’s number. She listened to the endless ringing as she waited for the phone to connect.

Come on, come on, just pick up the phone.

***

365: 31.03.13 #91 An Easter egg hunt (ghostwritermummy.co.uk)
Give a loved one a book this Easter! (sunpenny.wordpress.com)
Matt Haig: 30 things that every writer should know (telegraph.co.uk)

Good Friends and Easter Eggs: 2013 365 Challenge #90

The Easter Egg Haul

Goodness me, the end of March already.

This post will mark the 90th Day of my 2013 Challenge, producing around 72k words of first-draft novel. I have collated a volume ‘the story so far’ which will be available on Smashwords shortly, as well as Volume 3 just for the March installments. Thank you to everyone who has come along for the journey – your presence and support is the only reason I’m still going!

We had a busy day today, with a trip into town in the morning, followed by a birthday party two hours away with family friends. My little girl was a superstar during shopping: following Mummy from one shop to another while I tried to find a frame for an art commission and some all-in-one waterproofs for her and her brother.

Look at our fab new t-shirts

Failed on both counts.

The one frame that was big enough was the wrong colour, and all the shops are stocking spring clothes, despite the snow and 2C temperatures. Didn’t want to go home empty handed so I bought the kids new t-shirts and Amber some gorgeous skinny jeans like I used to wear in my twenties. How long ago that seems!

The party was brilliant. My friend’s in-laws live in a gorgeous house in Derbyshire, surrounded by hills and rivers. I stood at the kitchen sink and watched the river sparkling in the sunshine. From the lounge the hills climbed up to the sky. One day I hope we’ll live somewhere so beautiful.

Beautiful Gardens

My friends had arranged an Easter Egg hunt for the four children in the garden and the snow stopped long enough for us to find them all. The sun even came out and warmed our skin for a wee while, giving the promise of spring. The kids then disappeared off to play Families and I had a chance to sit and do nothing.

It’s a strange feeling.

We don’t have family to ‘visit’ during the holidays as ours all live close by, so we never get to stay and be taken care of. My Dad used to make me tea for me and let me have a lie-in when I visited. At my friend’s house her in-laws took care of all of us, including a lovely evening meal and endless cake. Even though it was 11pm by the time we got home and put the children to bed it still felt like a wonderful, relaxing day. My last Claire post for Volume 3 will be written in the morning though (British Summer Time starts tomorrow. Ha Ha.)

________________________________________________________________________________

The clock ticked over to 2.37pm. Claire swore and shifted down a gear. Come on car, you can do it. She eyed up the dirty rear of the lorry and tried to gauge whether she could overtake it in a car with a top speed of 75mph.

2.38pm. I don’t have any choice. If I follow this bloody lorry all the way I’m definitely going to be late. She gritted her teeth and dropped down another gear, ignoring the awful screaming from the engine that made her teeth ache. Then, praying to the Gods of motoring for the second time that day, she pressed the pedal to the floor and swung the wheel, until the Skoda leapt across to the other side of the road.

In the distance a red car sped towards her. Claire stared at it through narrowed eyes, then looked at the lorry. It was longer than she had realised. She wasn’t going to make it. Damn. With a thudding heart and a metallic taste in the back of her throat, Claire eased off the pedal and dropped in behind the lorry. She’d just turned off her indicator when the red car whooshed past.

Claire felt tears stab the corners of her eyes. I miss my Audi. I’d already be in the coffee shop round the corner, having lunch and getting myself ready for two weeks of hell. Instead I’m going to be lucky if I get there before the teachers start calling her mum, wondering why she hasn’t been collected.

A wave of dark washed over her and she gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles nearly broke through the skin. This was a stupid idea. How am I meant to keep a tiny child alive for two whole weeks if I can’t even pick her up from school on time? Face it; I’m a flake and a failure. Maybe Carl’s right to be trying to sack me. Perhaps I’ve always been useless and I just never realised it before.

Instinctively Claire slowed the car, as she saw the lorry’s brake lights in the gloom of the overcast afternoon. Oh god, not traffic too. This isn’t funny. Then she saw the indicator light and realised the lorry was pulling off. Hallelujah: Some luck, at last. As soon as the lorry was clear she pushed the pedal hard and hoped there were no traffic enforcement vans parked up to catch her out. A fine I can handle, but if they pull me over they’ll be arresting me for grievous bodily harm.

At last Claire saw the sign for her destination. She turned off and sped through the winding streets of the town, not caring for once if anyone was condemning her driving. She found a parking space behind the school –in itself was a miracle – and was out the door almost before she had her seat-belt undone. Running up the lane behind the school, Claire checked the time on her phone. 2.59pm. Phew, I’m going to make it. Thank god.

She was puffing by the time she reached the school gates, and the blood pounded loudly in her ears. Bending over to catch her breath Claire finally realised something was wrong. It was quiet. Too quiet. Aside from the whooshing in her ears and the rasps of her breathing she could hear nothing. No chattering mums, no high-pitched voices. She stood up slowly and looked at the front of the school, where a row of scooters normally stood like a racing rainbow.

Checking her phone again, Claire confirmed it was the right time and day. Oh god, don’t tell me I’ve got the wrong school. I’m positive Ruth told me she came to this school. Yes, I’m certain we drove past once and she pointed it out.

Claire felt the blood drain from her face and the hollowness in her stomach spread out until it consumed her.

Where the hell is Sky?

She slumped against the wall and gave in to the tears. Ruth is going to kill me.

***

An Easter egg with meaning (delightsbycynthia.wordpress.com)
Happy Easter (nanlevin.wordpress.com)

Weather and Whining: 2013 365 Challenge #89

Thomas the Tank Engine

Our day featured too much weather and whining.

We took the children to see Thomas the Tank Engine at our local steam railway this morning. He doesn’t run very often (he’s actually going in for an overhaul in May and will be out of action for a year or more), and he was meant to be running today, as it’s a bank holiday weekend in the UK.

Only no one told them.

We checked the website diligently, because disappointing two and four year old children is a very bad idea. And still, when we got there, Thomas was clearly just outside his shed and not hooked up to carriages. You know that sinking feeling you get as a parent when it’s all about to go pear-shaped?

Thankfully the kids took it well as we were still able to ride the steam train to the next stop, a large park near a lake. The plan was to visit the park, have lunch in the coffee shop, and catch the train back two hours later. Only the kids were in that sort of mood today: You know the one. A thousand questions a minute, usually the same question repeated over and over and over and over. Even the kindly guard got a bit wild-eyed after ten minutes of trying to answer the barrage.

Then the whining started.

Our steam train today

When we got to the station the snow was hurling down: tiny, freezing specks of misery. It’s a ten minute walk to the park and littlest Martin started crying before we left the platform.

If I’d been engaged as a parent this morning, instead of desperately writing my post after devoting yesterday to Dragon Wraiths, I would have thought to take their scooters. I didn’t. So we had the classic situation of one child wanting to do one thing and the other vociferously advocating another. One parent wanting the screaming to stop and the other one ready to hurl the kids under the next train.

Amber’s Photograph of Bunny

The problem with the steam train is it only runs three times a day. We had a choice of catching the return leg of the one we’d just vacated – a wait of half an hour – or persisting with the park plan and risking the chance of screaming children for two and a half hours. We opted for the former as the lesser of two evils, with a promised trip to a different park on the way home. A cup of tea and a biscuit later and we were all a bit calmer.

But boy they were in whinge mode.

Why is whinging directly proportional to the amount you’ve paid to do something? It cost us twenty-five quid to ride on the train for half an hour and have a cup of tea with UHT milk. We let them play in the little park at the station for a while, but it was so cold. Then little man refused to have his nappy done and even my enforced calm was starting to fray. Hubbie was holding on through gritted teeth and playing in the park to pass the time.

Before we knew it, we were in the car heading home (the promised trip to the big park cancelled due to bad behaviour) and it was only midday. Now I don’t mind spending money on a trip out with the kids but it needs to eat up more than two hours of time!

Big kids can have fun too

Anyway, sorry for the rant. There were good bits too. The kids loved bouncing on the old sprung seats of the train carriages, chatting to the friendly guard and playing in the tiny park at the railway station. There were given a pound each to spend in the shop (which only had one thing for sale for that price) and they came home with some wall stickers. So that used up an hour of time while I cooked lunch. I think next time I’ll do a bit more planning. Or check the forecast.

Auditioning for a Bond Movie

__________________________________________________________________________________

Claire pushed the pedal to the floor, remembering the expression on Fiona’s face when Josh broke the news of their planned Cambridge trip. Stella the Skoda groaned in protest and the needle swung round to 75mph. Damn you, car, I need speed. She looked at the piles of snow spilling onto the inside lane of the motorway and eased her foot back. Alright, car, you win. Just because the stupid cow looked at me like I’m a marriage wrecker, that doesn’t mean I need to wreck you too. Poor Stella.

The world outside the window spread in unrelenting grey. Sky merged into snow-covered fields until Claire felt like someone had hit select-all-erase on the world. The only splashes of colour came from cars speeding past her in the outside lane, and they were mostly silver.

The lanes and the grey and the moving cars began to blur together. Claire blinked several times and wondered who had filled her eyelids with grit. Might be time for coffee. It had taken over an hour to drive the first dozen miles from the youth hostel to Ashbourne. Although the roads had been clearer from there to Derby and on to Nottingham, it was only when she reached the M1 that she felt able to breathe. Glancing at the dashboard clock Claire was shocked to see it was past midday. Scrap that. I haven’t got time to stop. School finishes at three. If I’m late to pick up Sky, my sister is going to disown me. Or worse.

She tried to calculate how much further there was to drive and wished she’d left earlier. Funny how six hours seemed plenty of time to do a three-hour journey. Damn this damn snow to hell and back. If I hadn’t promised Ruth, I’d be driving to the airport and boarding a flight to the Maldives. Screw Carl and his stupid vendetta.

Inhaling deeply, Claire tried to untwist the ball of panic growing in her gut. Her eyes blurred and, as she blinked them back into focus, she saw the red lights of a lorry braking ahead. Crap. Don’t tell me there’s been an accident at Catthorpe. That’s all I bloody need.

The traffic slowed and gently ground to a halt. At least I don’t have to worry about over-heating. If this heap of junk starts steaming in sub-zero temperatures it deserves everything it gets. She patted the dash quickly. Sorry car; didn’t mean it. Don’t fail me now, I beg you.

Claire looked at the endless line of red lights and wondered if it was time to call her sister. Or at least Mum. Maybe Kim’s home. Sky would be thrilled if Kim picked her up from school, especially if her hair’s still tomato-red. As she pulled her phone towards her and readied a text message the traffic began to move. Like a queue of women waiting for the loo at a festival, the lines of cars fed slowly forwards. At last Claire was on the A14 and the final stretch home.

Please, no more accidents. I just need to be outside the school gates at 3pm. She raised her eyes to the god of motoring and hoped he was listening. That’s all I ask. I’ll give up Starbucks. Anything. Just make sure I’m not late.

A single ray of sunlight broke through the clouds ahead and bathed the scene in a warm glow. Claire felt her heart jolt, as if she had indeed received a message from the Gods.

Okay, I’ll take it. But, can I just, you know, cut down on my Starbucks? Rather than a complete ban. That’d be marvellous. Thanks.

***