I decide to give up on the idea of sleep at 5am, so turn on the bedside lamp and remember the link Rose sent me – to Philippa Perry’sThe Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read. I suddenly feel slightly ashamed that I’ve been devouring Reese Witherspoon’s book recommendations, instead of this sort of thing. I’ve never thought of myself as a ‘bad parent’ per se but maybe that’s because I’ve never truly been tested. My failings are certainly apparent now.
The book promises to ‘break negative cycles and patterns’, ‘handle your own child’s feelings’ and ‘learn what you can do about your own mistakes’. I can think of so many of the latter that something must shut down in my brain because after an hour or so I finally start to drift off. At which point, the alarm goes off, like the insertion of a knitting needle in my ear. And another morning unfolds in which Leo is late and ill-tempered, which consequently makesmelate and ill-tempered. Above all, I feel as if I need to get my priorities straight.
PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL
Dear Zach,
This is an excruciating email to have to write, but here goes. Could I please ask that you keep what happened on Friday night strictly between you and me? At the risk of sounding precious, I’ve worked for this company for a long time and take my reputation seriously. What happened was unprecedented and not something I plan to make a habit of.
I don’t know you well, but I very much hope that you feel the same way as me on this subject. I’d like to reassure you that, from my point of view, it will go no further. As far as I’m concerned, the matter is confidential – and now closed.
Best wishes,
Lisa
I hit send and think about it at random times throughout the day. As Andrea and I are waiting to meet a production company about a TV flower-arranging competition show – floristry’s take onThe Great British Bake-Off– I find myself scrolling through my email sent box to reread what I’ve written, praying that he’ll respond and put me out of my misery.
But, for hours, there’s nothing.
I wonder briefly if this is what it means to be ghosted, then realise I’m not sure that’s possible when I’ve aimed to give the impression I wish to never set eyes on him again. An emailonly finally arrives at the end of the day, as I’m prodding my eyebrow in front of the mirror of the ladies’, pondering whether my conflagration with Leo – and rush of blood to the head – will result in any major facial disfigurement.
Hi Darling,
Okay, I get it. I’m not the kind of guy who needs to be told twice. I wouldn’t dream of spilling this, but, for the record, that’s not because I think we did anything wrong. Consenting adults and all that. Plus, it was just a kiss. A damn good one too, as far as I’m concerned. Nevertheless, message received, loud and clear. Confidential – and closed – it is.
See you at work tomorrow.
Zach
I feel a twist of something in my stomach which I want to be relief. Oddly, though, it feels closer to disappointment.
Chapter 27
I have plenty to occupy my mind over the next couple of days, both in and out of work. Not least the PTA Bounce-a-thon. This extravaganza is the brainchild of Denise Dandy and involves the hiring of a local trampoline park at some obscure, off-peak time in order to fill it with pupils from the prep and pre-prep school.
The cost of a ticket is vastly inflated in the name of fundraising. But most people don’t mind paying an extra £6 because it offsets all their mum guilt if they’ve never quite made it to the Halloween disco to volunteer on the tuck shop dressed as a Ghostbuster.
As far as I’m concerned, it’s one of Denise’s better ideas; simple and straightforward, with little in the way of preparation. Even if, at the last PTA meeting, when nobody else offered to co-ordinate the post-event collection of 140 small, sweaty socks, I heard myself say, ‘Oh, I don’t mind doing that.’
Part of me had thought that, in my Communications Secretary role, I wouldn’t have a great deal else to do for this one. All that was required was a flyer that could be circulated on school WhatsApp groups and the weekly Principal’s newsletter. Or so I’d thought . . .
Because while whipping up a poster on Canva took only half an hour, what I hadn’t counted on was Denise appointing herself in an unofficial role of ‘Artistic Director’ to critique my handiwork.
Just a few thoughts off the top of my head @lisadarling, she begins, after I shared the electronic flyer, naively assuming my job was complete. I think it’s a nice idea overall but what happened to the school logo? Can we fix pls. Also, regarding the three little characters bouncing on the trampoline, I wonder if we should be more inclusive? Perhaps we can include a wheelchair somewhere? Finally, the expression on the little boy on the right is odd. Creepy almost. Can we alter his facial expression?
I’m biting my knuckle so hard I almost draw blood when another one pings – from some random woman I’ve never heard of.
Excellent points @denisedandy. Also – is it me or is the background a bit drab? What do others think? Maybe we could produce a few different versions and vote on which looks the best.
‘Are you fucking kidding me?’
‘Language!’ says my mother, appearing behind me in the kitchen with a gravy boat.
‘Sorry,’ I mutter, as another message pings on WhatsApp. This one has been posted by Nora, who finally caved in and joined the PTA last week.
@NoraCTennis I think it looks fabulous. To make best use of everyone’s time, wouldn’t it be better to leave jobs like this to those in the group who have experience of them? Seems counterproductive to be picky when we could focus our energies on raising more money.
I click to text Nora.
