NOW
It was my second Friday off since deciding that I had to do something about my pitiful life, rather than avoiding it by trying to fix everyone else’s on my days off. I pondered my new list, wondering whether to go for a run, do some cleaning or try searching online shops for clothes that didn’t make me look as if I were auditioning forFarmer Wants a Wife. Instead, my exhausted body decided for me, as, while still mid ponder, I ended up falling asleep.
It was almost lunchtime when I jolted awake. I tumbled off the edge of the sagging sofa onto a pile of Lego, wrestled the ringing phone from my pinafore pocket and saw with a mix of dismay and resignation that it was school. Isla had been struggling all week. Most days had been punctuated with tears, screams and even a few slaps, so this wasn’t a complete surprise.
‘Libby, are you free for a brief chat?’
It was Janet, the head teacher who’d been at Dad’s house for lunch. She’d never called me before. This couldn’t be good.
‘Is Isla okay?’ I pressed a hand against my fluttering heart. ‘I mean, I know she’s not okay. It’s been a difficult week. Her dad sprang the news about a baby on her, and?—’
‘She’s fine.’ Janet cut me off with the assertiveness of a professional woman with no time for waffling parents. ‘Relatively speaking. She’s told us all about her new baby sister, and seems very excited. What I wanted to talk about, if you don’t mind, is you.’
‘Um. Excuse me?’
‘Isla’s class have been looking at a topic called “My World and Me”. This included talking about their world, what they like about it and what they might like to change.’
‘Yes, she told me about it.’ A rock of dread began sinking to the bottom of my stomach.
‘Isla wrote a very imaginative story about how she’d like her mummy to meet a handsome prince who can take care of you all so, hang on, let me find the quote, “Mummy can stop being tired and sad and lonely because we can move into the prince’s palace.” She described wanting a bathroom that isn’t mouldy, and being able to eat proper pizza because the oven isn’t broken. Lights that work, so she doesn’t have to use a torch because she gets scared when it’s dark.’ Janet paused, as if waiting for me to reply, but I couldn’t speak.
‘Libby, is everything all right at home?’
‘Um.’ I lay back on the pile of Lego, the bricks digging into my back like a bed of nails. ‘The house needs a few repairs. Most of the lights work, actually. But I’m working on it. I’ve just been busy, with work and… everything.’
Andnothing. Because I didnothingapart from work and apparently do an abysmal job of looking after my kids.
‘What I mean to say is, areyouall right?’
‘Yes! I’m fine. Of course I get tired, I’m a single mum running a charity and a business. But why wouldn’t I be fine?’
Then I burst into tears. Years of held-back, stuffed-down-so-I-could-pretend-to-still-be-a-relentless-optimist tears.
It was not the brief chat Janet had intended. Twenty minutes later I was still sobbing. I suspected she’d stuck me on speakerphone and got on with some paperwork, but once I’d started, I couldn’t stop. I barely even said anything, just bawled.
Eventually, I managed to wrangle something of myself back together enough to apologise, weakly assure the head teacher that I was having a bad day but was honestly okay and if she asked my dad, he’d confirm that, generally speaking, I was coping fine. Isla had been reading a fairy tale about a girl living in a tumbledown shack who marries a prince, and we’d joked about someone fixing our broken oven. That was all. I was fine, really.
It would be fine.
The truth was, I realised once I’d hung up and buried my head in the sofa in mortification, it was a very long time since anyone apart from my sister or Dad had asked me how I was. It had been even longer since I’d given an honest answer.
So, what are you going to do now?Keep writing things on the new list until it’s as long as the old one, or finally do some of them?
The voice inside my head sounded disconcertingly like my mother’s. The thought of her turning up on my doorstep and finding all of this was enough to propel me into action.
I clambered up off the floor and found the new list, then wrote beneath it:
Stop ignoring your own parenting advice
Stop being a damn hypocrite
Be a good example to your kids for once
I added one more thing, that only made me cry again:
LEARN HOW TO LOVE LIBBY DONAHUE, AND THEN START ACTING LIKE IT
I arrived fifteen minutes early to my hair appointment the next day. Shanice, Hazel and the other staff were all busy with clients, so I took a seat near to Hazel’s workstation and kept my ears open.
