The day after the night before......

Everything always seems better in the morning. Have you noticed that? I have a favourite poem by someone called Fleur Adcock about it:

Things

There are worse things than having behaved foolishly in public.
There are worse things than these miniature betrayals,
Committed or endured or suspected; there are worse things
Than not being able to sleep for thinking about them.
It is 5am. All the worse things come stalking in
And stand icily about the bed looking worse and worse and worse.

That’s how it felt last night. I was a complete slut for snogging Greg, he was a complete player and so was Chas, the blonde I saw Chas with was a complete – no, I won’t say it – I was never going to survive a day in school, avoiding looking at either Chas or Greg and I was going to have to give up my dog-walking job out of sheer embarrassment. I would then be doomed to hours spent in the garage counting cardboard coffins whilst my mother said, ‘I told you so.’

Right, so none of that happened. None of the things I was worried about turned out to be a problem. It was other things that did.

Our new au pair, for example. She’s arrived. A week early.

We were eating tea when the phone rang and I was getting pleasantly excited at the thought of my dog-walk with Greg. I’d hardly seen him at school but he was fine with me when I did. It was Dad that picked up.
‘Pardon?’ he said. ‘What? You’re where? What? I don’t believe it!’
Naturally, by this stage, we were all glued to his every word. He put his hand over the mouth-piece.
‘You will never believe this!’ he said. ‘Déjà vu or what?’
‘Déjà vu?’ said Mum. ‘Why? What’s going on?’
Dad eye-balled her impressively. ‘It’s our new au pair,’ he said. ‘She’s at Victoria station. She’s just arrived by Eurostar. I’ll have to go and get her.’
‘But she’s a week early!’ said Mum. ‘That’s far worse than Nic. He was only a day early. Where on earth are we going to put her?’
We all looked at each other in consternation while Dad told the new au pair to go and get herself something to eat – he was on his way but it would be a couple of hours before he got to London to pick her up.
‘How’s that happened?’ said Ben. ‘A whole week early?’
Mum reached for her diary and flicked through it. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It definitely says next week in here – and I’m sure I was most careful about telling her when I wanted her – after all that trouble with Nic.’
‘Maybe she is stupid,’ said Belle who doesn’t mince her words. Well, we were all thinking the same thing – we were just too British to say so.
‘Oh no,’ said Ben. ‘We’ve never had a stupid au pair before.’
‘Thank you,’ said Belle. ‘I will take this as a compliment, no?’
‘It doesn’t matter how stupid she is, we’ll have to find somewhere for her to sleep for a week,’ said Mum. ‘Anyone got any ideas?’
We stared glumly round at each other. Every inch is accounted for in this house. Even our dog, Rover, has to sleep in a puppy-crate festooned with drying nappies. He should have an ordinary dog-bed by now but Mum says the puppy-crate is far too useful to get rid of. It’s great for drying socks and pants too. You can get an awful lot hung up to dry, slotted through the wire on the top. The only downside is that occasionally Rover gets bored with his lack of view and pulls down the odd sock or pair of pants to chew. I never quite fancy wearing them again after they’ve been in Rover’s mouth for an afternoon. I know that isn’t logical – if they’re clean, they’re clean – but – well, no, I just don’t fancy it, that’s all.
‘I could sleep on the sofa,’ suggested Ben, ‘or Kate could.’
‘And what if anyone wants to watch late night TV or has friends round?’ asked Mum. ’It’d never work – not for a whole week.’
‘Kate and I could share for a week,’ said Belle.
Now that just shows what a changed character Belle is. When she first arrived, I don’t think she knew the meaning of the word ‘share’ – and I don’t mean there was a problem with her English! I smiled at her, quite flattered she was prepared to offer, but Mum squashed the idea.
‘No, this is your last last week here, Belle,’ she said. ‘You might want to have friends to stay-over yourself. And it’s not fair on either you – no, we’ll have to think of something else.’
‘Right, I’m going,’ said Dad, putting the phone down at last. His voice had got more and more clipped and irritatable as the conversation had gone on – unusual for Dad. ‘So you lot have got about four hours to come up with a bed for her, OK?’ he said.
With that, he swept out. If a pony-tail can look annoyed, his did! (Wish he’d have it cut off - it’s in beautiful condition and all that but it is a bit has-been.)
‘Maybe…’ said Ben, ‘Maybe I could go and stay with Susie for a week.’
‘Yeh, right,’ I said, ‘like her parents would allow that!’
Susie is Ben’s long-standing girlfriend and her whole family goes to the Salvation Army. You should just see what Susie can do with a tambourine! It’s called being a timbrellist and it you think she sounds like a geek, think again. You would be amazed. Anyway, her parents like Ben a lot but there is no way he is allowed to stay over at their place. I can understand why. As little brothers go he’s great – but there is a disturbingly mature glint in his eye when he’s around Susie!
‘No, that wouldn’t work,’ said Mum, slowly, ‘but I’ll tell you what would. Kate could go and stay with the Petersons. They’ve got plenty of space and it’d be no problem getting to school.’
‘What?’ I said. My jaw fell open and I dropped the spoon that I’d been using to help Hayley finish the last of her fromage frais. She wasn’t impressed – she reached out her chubby little hand and slimed me, quite deliberately, I’m sure – but I had more serious worries. ‘What?’ I said again, aghast. ‘I can’t stay there!’
‘Why on earth not?’ said Mum. ‘It’s only for a week – and it’s not as if Chas and you are going out or anything.’
Ben, Belle and I exchanged glances. You know how you can do that sort of flicker with your eye-balls that means ‘no’? I did it then. No, if Mum was too thick to realise that things weren’t quite as straightforward with Chas as she thought they were, then I didn’t want anyone explaining right now – things were just far too complicated at the moment. Better to bite the bullet and do what she suggested. Though how I was going to survive a whole week with Mrs Charming Peterson gushing at me, I didn’t know. And just what would a whole week of evenings in the same house do for my relationship with Chas? Of course, I’d be out walking the dogs for a good hour each day – gosh, I was going to be fit; I’d be cycling over to Greg’s to do that – but how was Greg going to react to the situation? He shouldn’t react at all, of course. We are not an item. The kiss was a mistake. But somehow, I just didn’t think it was going to be as simple as that.
‘Well, I need to go,’ I said, retrieving the spoon and wiping Hayley’s sticky fingers with a cloth.
‘So is that OK then, Kate?’ asked Mum. ‘I can’t think what else to do. Of course, they might say ‘no’…’
‘They won’t,’ I said. ‘You know what Chas’s mum is like – she may be irritating but she’s just about the kindest person I’ve ever met.’
‘Bet she lets you use all the fancy stuff in their bathroom,’ said Ben. ‘And you’ll have those posh towels that are so thick and fluffy, you can bounce on them.’
Belle laughed. ‘You’re not jealous, are you?’ she said, wiping Rebekah’s hands while Mum phoned.
I decided to go. I knew Mrs Peterson would say ‘yes’. So it looked like I’d be doing a late night removal to Chas’s house. I decided I’d better get the dogs walked before someone decided I wouldn’t have enough time tonight – there was no way I was going to miss it.
Really, I should have been worried about the au pair – Dad had looked extremely stressed when he got off the phone and it didn’t look like it was all about suddenly having to drive to London. Instead, I quickly got ready to go out, agonising over whether to tell Greg I was moving in with Chas for a week. As it turned out, that was the least of my worries.

The Other Woman!

Oh, oh, oh – why is life so complicated? I’m never going to get any sleep at this rate!
Greg rang about half an hour after I got back from the walk.
‘Soooo….’ he said. ‘Was that just to make Charming Chas jealous or am I in with a serious chance here?’
I winced. I’ve always thought of Chas’s mother as Mrs Charming Peterson – and it hasn’t exactly been complimentary. Don’t get me wrong – I’m very fond of Chas’s mum, as it happens. She’s a very kind woman – but so over the top Homes and Gardens! Charming with several capital Cs. I’m never quite sure how Chas turned out so normal. He has a dad who’s virtually an elective mute – he says more to his rare breed pigs than to his family – and a mother who could almost put Dame Edna in the shade!
Anyway…the immediate problem was how to answer the question.
‘Mmm…er…I…I…’ I managed and then gave up.
‘Doesn’t sound overwhelmingly hopeful,’ said Greg.
‘N – no,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. I should never have…you see…well, I just…’
‘You just saw them together and you were upset and I was there and it just happened.’
‘Well, you did start kissing my face!’ I said, indignantly. He didn’t need to pretend it was all my fault.
‘You were crying. I didn’t have a tissue.’
‘Yes, I know,’ I said. ‘Haven’t you heard of sleeves?’
Greg laughed. ‘Very unladylike,’ he said. ‘And wouldn’t you rather use me? You seemed to be enjoying it.’
I could feel myself blushing scarlet, embarrassed both by the idea that he now saw me as a user and because he was right, I had enjoyed it. Just thinking about it now had set my heart racing.
‘Greg, I didn’t mean it like that – I didn’t mean to use you,’ I blustered. ‘And it was….’ I paused, trying to think what I could say that sounded good but not too enthusiastic. I couldn’t think of anything. ‘Nice,’ I said, at last.
Greg laughed but it sounded hollow. ‘Nice,’ he said. ‘Damned with faint praise or what? So I didn’t manage to lure you away from Chas with my great skill as a kisser then? Even though he’d got his arm round the neck of some sexy blonde?’
‘Greg, stop it,’ I said. ‘I’ve said I’m sorry. It was a mistake, OK? I was upset and you were there and you were kissing my face and…’
‘I was nice. It’s OK. I get the picture. So that’s it with the dog-walking then, I take it? You’d prefer to go alone.’
There are all sorts of expressions for what happened to me next. My heart sank. My heart flipped. My heart turned over. What it really felt like was that an armoured hand – think ‘Knight’s Tale’ (RIP Heath Ledger) – think the awful bad guy that gorgeous Rufus Sewell plays – grabbed my heart and squeezed hard. Whatever. I knew I wanted to walk the dogs with Greg again tomorrow, whatever had happened today.
‘Oh, I don’t mind if you come,’ I said, ungraciously. I was trying not to sound too keen, too desperate. I was trying to be neutral, cool, like a friend rather than someone whose legs were quaking at the thought of having snogged him half an hour ago. Because that’s what I was, wasn’t I? A friend. Just a friend who’d got a bit carried away in a moment of upset – and who had, if I was fair to myself, followed his lead.
‘Wow, feel the enthusiasm!’ said Greg, coolly. ‘I can hardly wait!’
‘So will you come then?’ I asked, half-dreading, half-longing for his reply.
‘I’ll think about it,’ he said. ‘OK?’
‘OK.’ What else could I say? But I knew that every waking moment between now and then was going to drag.

After I’d put the phone down, I tried to get on with my work but I was horribly distracted. I felt so confused. Chas is so important to me. We’ve been friends for so long. If things are bad between us, it’s unbearable. And I’d reacted so strongly at seeing him touch that strange girl – I’d cried, for goodness sake! So I must really care about him. And yet kissing Greg has been so exciting – I’d never felt anything like it before. My entire guts seemed to melt and go quivery.
What on earth was going on?
‘Dear God,’ I said out loud. Sometimes, when I’m really confused, it helps to pray out loud. It clarifies things for me and helps me concentrate – and I really say it, if you know what I mean. It’s not just half-sentences mangled around in my head. It’s the whole works. Sometimes I really give God a tough time that way. I did today.
‘Dear God, this is ridiculous,’ I said. ‘I am so confused. I don’t know if I love Chas but don’t fancy him - or if I fancy Greg but don’t love him - or what – or both! Actually, God, both would make sense – but then what am I supposed to do about it? Should I be going out with one of them – or neither? I can’t exactly go out with both, can I?’
When Christians are stuck, they often get told to ask, ‘What would Jesus do?’ You can even get little WWJD bracelets to remind you. Well, it’s all very well, but nine times out of ten, I can’t work out what Jesus would do because I can’t see him in that situation. I mean, as far as we know, Jesus never even had a girlfriend, unless Dan Brown is right in that stupid book ‘The DaVinci Code’ and I don’t think he is for a minute.
But it was worth asking the question, all the same. ‘OK, God,’ I said. ‘What would Jesus do?’
No thunderbolts or mysterious writing appearing on the wall. Instead my mobile began to ring.
I glanced at the display. Chas. Now what? Suddenly, there was that chilly jealous dread making the inside of my stomach crawl. What would Jesus do? I had to really hold onto the fact that he would pick up the phone and be pleasant. You didn’t see Jesus going round being a jealous cow, did you? Not that he had anything much to be jealous about – well, except of course, of other people’s lives! His was a bit cut short, after all. If I was going to be crucified, I think I’d be pretty jealous of the people who weren’t! Anyway, he wouldn’t be rude to Chas when Chas hadn’t actually done anything to justify being rude about. So I answered the phone.
‘So how did the dog-walking go?’ he said. ‘Was it OK with Greg?’
So he can’t have seen Greg and me snogging. Phew! I drew a great big inward sigh of relief. You see, I’m not as bad as I thought I was. I hadn’t wanted to make him jealous – it was all down to wretched Greg kissing my tears away. But I thought I’d drop a hint and see what happened.
‘Yeh, it was fine,’ I said. ‘We had to go to the postbox and then to the park. We’d rather have gone in the fields but his mum had some stuff she wanted posting.’
‘Oh – I didn’t see you down there,’ said Chas. ‘That’s what I was ringing to tell you about, as well.’
‘What?’ I said, curious to know what explanation he was going to come up with.
‘Just that we had this family over for dinner – some big business associate of my dad’s – there’s talk of them working together over marketing pork products. His wife and daughter came too.’
‘Oh. Were they nice?’ I asked.
‘Yeh, yeh, they were OK. I took the girl for a walk – showed her round a bit. They’re going to be moving here soon, apparently. They’re coming to look at properties at the weekend – to rent, I think, at the moment. The girl doesn’t want to be dragged round all day so I suggested she hung out with me – well, us – for part of the time. Is that OK?’
‘What’s her name?’ I said, desperately trying to cover the tremble in my voice.
‘Felicity – but she prefers to be called Fliss.’
‘Oh, OK, then,’ I said as calmly as I could. ‘I’ll look forward to meeting her then.’
A few minutes later, I hung up. Then I flung myself on my bed and thumped my pillow in a frenzy. I thought I’d got the better of my jealousy for good. Obviously not. And what was I jealous for anyway? I wasn’t even sure how I felt about Chas at the moment – not now I’d gone and confused everything by snogging Greg!