Happy Families Page 17

‘Actually, I’ve eaten.’ Rob sounded apologetic. ‘Sorry. We got some food brought in during the pre-conference conference.’

  ‘Pre-conference conference?’

  ‘Didn’t I tell you about it?’ He ruffled Jack’s hair. ‘Probably got interrupted by the children as usual. The actual conference is next weekend. In Geneva.’

  ‘No you didn’t.’ Bobbie’s heart began to beat. She’d been looking forward to telling Rob about her day in the shop but now it didn’t seem so important.

  ‘The whole office is going,’ he said, as though this made it any better.

  ‘Including your secretary?’

  ‘Yes. Why do you ask?’

  ‘No reason,’ said Bobbie quickly. ‘No reason at all.’

  ‘By the way.’ He tossed a magazine at her. One of those free London give-aways. ‘Thought you might like to see this.’

  Bobbie stared in horror at the picture of her mother, gazing in adoration at a small man with a goatee beard, knitted eyebrows and a glare that would terrify any child into instant submission.

  DR KNOW FALLS FOR GLAMOROUS GRANDMA ran the headline.

  Glamorous? Actually, Mum did look rather good. She’d had her hair streaked and layered and was wearing a sparkly low-cut dress. In fact, she didn’t look like Mum at all.

  PERFECT PARENTS: SESSION FOUR

  KIDS LOVE RULES!

  PARENTS NEED BOUNDARIES TOO! E.G.:

  NO SLEEPING WITH SOMEONE ELSE’S PARTNER

  NO NICKING OTHER PEOPLE’S CAR-PARKING SPACES AT SCHOOL

  NO LYING TO THE CHILDREN

  NO STAYING LATE AT WORK TO AVOID FAMILY BATTLES

  NO TAKING SOMETHING BACK TO A SHOP WHEN IT’S BEEN USED

  NO SWIGGING WINE IN THE UTILITY ROOM

  (With special thanks to I Can’t Cope With My Parents magazine: a new sister publication to I Can’t Cope With My Kids.)

  Chapter 17

  VANESSA

  VANESSA HADN’T BEEN able to function properly since Sunshine had dropped her bombshell. ‘Scar,’ she had said, tracing the part of her body where Vanessa’s right breast used to be. ‘Nasty cut.’

  What did Sunshine mean exactly? Was Brigid a self-harmer? Had someone attacked her? Or was it just something simple; an accident where she’d cut herself by mistake, like the time her daughter had knelt on a pair of scissors at the age of nine?

  ‘What if it means something sinister?’ she asked her GP, whom she had come to see as a friend over the years. ‘Perhaps that’s why Brigid sent her here! Not just because she was an inconvenience as I’d originally thought, but to protect her from danger. I know it sounds a bit far-fetched but …’

  Her voice tailed away in distress. ‘Not at all.’ Her doctor nodded understandingly. ‘I think the best thing is for Sunshine to see someone.’

  ‘A psychologist?’

  ‘Possibly.’ She was making some notes.

  Vanessa didn’t like the sound of that. ‘Bit extreme, isn’t it?’

  ‘Nowadays art therapy is very popular. Some children find it easier to draw a picture of what they’re thinking, instead of talking about it. Let’s see what we can do, shall we?’

  Meanwhile, Sunshine seemed perfectly happy with her new life. She loved school where she was always Reader of the Week. She enjoyed playing her little flute in the orchestra and chatted away excitedly about the summer concert (would she still be here by then?). But most of all, she adored going out on her bike in the park.

  ‘Come on, Van Van,’ she’d call out, her plaits flapping in the wind. (Vanessa had taken her to the hairdresser who had managed to get rid of those awful beads that had made the other children stare at school.) ‘I’m going to beat you!’

  She’d also discovered the joys of television, which she no longer suspected of containing locked-up cartoon figures. Vanessa would sit beside her to watch sometimes, her arm around this little mite who had shaken up her world. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend that it was Brigid all over again. At other times, she kept them open and roared with laughter.

  Children’s television was so different now from her daughter’s day – some of those presenters couldn’t string two words together! – but other things, like the cartoons, had stayed exactly the same. ‘Look, Van Van,’ Sunshine would say. ‘Jerry’s escaped but Tom’s after him now!’ Then she’d squeal with excitement and jump up and down.

  The only sign that something wasn’t right was the low murmuring that came from her bedroom at night. ‘Mummy, Mummy,’ Sunshine would whimper restlessly as she tossed from one side to the other.

  ‘It breaks my heart,’ Vanessa told Brian during their phone calls. Since that scare when her granddaughter had so nearly found them in bed together she’d reluctantly told him that maybe they ought to take a break for the time being.

  ‘Poor little mite,’ Brian had said understandingly. ‘Goodness knows what she’s been through. Pity there’s such a long waiting list for this art therapy.’

  In the event, as luck would have it, there was a cancellation and within a few days, Vanessa found herself taking Sunshine to a small Portakabin, close to the hospital, where a bright, bustling young girl (why was it always young things in charge nowadays?) suggested that ‘Granny’ might like to sit next door while they made some ‘pretty pictures’.

  Sunshine had pouted, Daisy-style. ‘She’s called Van Van. And I want her there with me.’

  Vanessa couldn’t help feeling a rush of pride. ‘Perhaps I could sit at the side,’ she suggested, not wanting to get in the way. Sunshine seemed happy with this arrangement. In fact, from where she was sitting, Vanessa could see her granddaughter was really getting into her drawing: leaning over the piece of paper, pushing back one plait with impatience, bottom lip sucked in with concentration. Goodness! She was actually rather good! Mind you, Brigid had been arty too.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked the bright enthusiastic girl, pointing to something on the drawing that Vanessa couldn’t see.

  ‘The sun, silly!’

  Vanessa resisted the temptation to tell her granddaughter that it was rude to call someone ‘silly’. She’d noticed that Sunshine had picked up some expressions that she hadn’t used before, like ‘cool’ and ‘awesome’, courtesy of Bobbie’s kids.

  ‘And what about this?’

  ‘Be quiet. I’m still doing it.’

  ‘Sunshine!’ Vanessa started to say in disapproval but stopped as the girl gave her a please-don’t-talk glance.

  There were a few minutes of silence and then Sunshine leaned back in her chair with a sigh of satisfaction. ‘There!’

  ‘That looks like a person to me!’ said the girl jauntily.

  ‘It is, silly. It’s my mummy.’

  Vanessa held her breath.

  ‘What’s she doing in your picture, Sunshine?’

  ‘She’s smiling! My mummy is always smiling. She sings too and she plays tunes, just like me.’

  Instinctively, Vanessa thought of the little clay flute which was tucked into Sunshine’s pocket, as usual.

  ‘What else does your mummy do, Sunshine, when she’s not singing or playing tunes?’

  ‘She looks after me, of course! And she looks after other people’s children too.’

  Really? Vanessa tried to imagine the angry-faced teenager she’d last seen in charge of a group of children.

  ‘Does she do that in your home?’

  Sunshine was shaking her head so that her plaits flew in the air with indignation. ‘No. She does it at school.’

  Really! How long had Brigid been a teacher? Had she gone to college after all, despite those I’m-not-doing-my-A-levels arguments. How incredible! Her daughter had really made a life for herself. Vanessa’s heart was bursting with pride.

  ‘What’s that mark on your mummy’s arm, Sunshine? The big red one.’

  Silence.

  ‘Can you tell me, Sunshine?’

  ‘No.’

  Her granddaughter’s head was now bent over the sheet of paper, dr
awing something else.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Vanessa, unable to stop herself.

  ‘It’s my school!’ Sunshine beamed. ‘I’ve drawn a picture of it. Then, if Mummy sees this, she’ll know where to pick me up like all the other mummies!’

  Vanessa felt as though her heart was going to break.

  The jaunty girl had a brisk edge to her voice. ‘Would you like to come back again to do some more pictures?’

  ‘No.’

  Goodness. For a moment, that could have been Brigid speaking. ‘No, I won’t be back by midnight.’ ‘No, I won’t tell you where I’m going.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  The little head nodded firmly. Then she tucked her hand into hers. ‘Come on, Van Van. I don’t want to do any more drawing. It’s stupid. Let’s go bowling instead.’

  ‘So,’ said Bobbie quietly as they settled into their chairs in the classroom, waiting for Judith Davies to arrive. ‘Sunshine isn’t going back to the art therapist then?’

  Vanessa shook her head. ‘She refuses to. Stubborn – just like her mother. And grandmother!’

  She hadn’t meant to confide in Bobbie but when you worked with someone, you sometimes found yourself letting down your guard. Besides, she liked this young, hard-working, harassed mum whose children ran rings round her. It reminded Vanessa of herself at that age, even though she’d only had one child and no husband. Mind you, from what Bobbie told her, this Rob wasn’t much help. A workaholic husband who constantly criticised his wife’s child-rearing skills was more of a liability than an asset, in Vanessa’s books. It almost made her glad she’d done it alone.

  ‘Who’ve you got babysitting tonight, by the way?’

  ‘My neighbour. She’s a gran like me so I’m hoping she’ll be able to cope if Sunshine wakes with one of her nightmares. What about you?’ She couldn’t resist making a joke. ‘Presumably it’s not your pot-smoking niece? Or even Dr Know. I saw an article about him the other day.’

  ‘Don’t!’ Bobbie groaned. ‘Mum must have lost her marbles.’

  ‘In my experience the older you get, the less you care about what others think.’ Vanessa gave her a little nudge. ‘Here comes teacher. Wow! Look at her left hand. That’s a whopper, isn’t it!’

  ‘Sorry I’m late!’ Judith Davies was beaming even more than usual. ‘I got a bit held up on the way.’

  ‘She must have got engaged since last week!’ whispered Vanessa with excitement. Funny really. Even though she couldn’t help feeling jaded about men and marriage, she still got that frisson whenever anyone got a ring on their finger. Maybe, despite everything, she was an old romantic after all.

  That got her thinking about Brian. Warm, cuddly, funny Brian who always had something interesting to talk about, yet also listened to what she had to say.

  ‘What do you think, Vanessa?’

  She gave a little start. ‘I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?’

  ‘How do you set boundaries with your daughter?’

  ‘Granddaughter, actually.’

  ‘Of course. I’m sorry.’

  Vanessa thought back to dinner that night when Sunshine had announced that Van Van really ought to stop eating meat because it wasn’t kind to animals. She’d found herself tucking into one of those bean things she’d been buying for her granddaughter and finding, rather to her surprise, that she liked it.

  ‘Actually, she seems to be setting boundaries for me! She’s turned me vegetarian. Well, almost.’

  There was a ripple of laughter although Judith didn’t seem so amused. ‘Compromise is important when it comes to bringing up children. But it’s important that as parents – sorry, carers – we take the lead. Now I’d like us to do some role play on house rules. Bobbie, can you be the adult?’

  ‘I don’t feel like one at the moment,’ she muttered.

  Vanessa resisted the urge to giggle. What had got into her tonight? She was here to learn, and she was picking up some good tips, but in fact it was the friendship she’d made with Bobbie that was really helping. It was so nice to run things past a younger mother: someone who was still in the thick of it, unlike her contemporaries who were well past the bringing-up-little-children stage.

  ‘See you on Wednesday in the shop,’ she said as the evening finished.

  Bobbie glowed. ’I’m looking forward to it.’

  It took Vanessa a bit longer than usual to get home that night. One of the roads was closed because of maintenance works and then her own road was chock-a-block with cars. It would be nice to have a home that had its own parking, she mused as she walked up to her door. One day maybe. But not unless – no, until! – she was reunited with Brigid. It was imperative her daughter knew where to find her, just in case she turned up one day.

  It was a dream, however foolish, that Vanessa couldn’t dismiss from her heart.

  ‘Hello,’ she called out softly. ‘I’m back.’

  That was odd! There were voices coming from the lounge. Adult voices. Rather cross ones. What on earth? Vanessa stared in disbelief at the thin, weasel-faced youth with plug earrings lounging on the sofa with his feet up. Jason! Next to him was her granddaughter. Fast asleep, thumb in mouth.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said her neighbour nervously. ‘He insisted on coming in and waiting for you. Said he was Sunshine’s father.’

  The youth grinned, making no attempt to move. ‘Hiya, Vanessa! Nice place you’ve got here. Thought I’d pay a visit to my daughter.’ He looked tenderly down at her. ‘Had to wake her up, I did. But she’s dropped off again.’

  How dare he! Vanessa flew across to the sofa and scooped Sunshine into her arms. If she’d been bigger, she’d have thrown this youth out of the door. ‘You’ve no right to walk in like this. Besides, Sunshine’s not your daughter!’

  There was a sneer. ‘Thought you might say that. That’s the other reason I dropped round. Wanted to give you this in person.’

  Languidly, he got up, stretching himself, before thrusting an envelope into her hand: an official-looking envelope that made Vanessa’s throat tighten again. ‘It’s from my solicitors.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘It says I have a right to insist that Poppet here has a DNA test.’ His face softened and for a moment, Vanessa could see a young man, keen – for some reason – to prove what he really felt was his right.

  ‘You know, Vanessa, a kid needs two parents. My mother wouldn’t let me see my old man when I was growing up and it wasn’t right.’

  He looked down at Sunshine again with the same tender look she’d noticed earlier. ‘There’s no way that a kid of mine is going to miss out like what I did.’ Then his expression hardened. ‘Get it?’

  HOW TO BRING UP CHILDREN

  Set a limit of £5 for Christmas/birthday presents.

  Cut all extra-curricular activities. Kids need to get bored.

  If they won’t finish their meal, serve it up again and again. Nothing like a touch of botulism to teach them a lesson.

  Ignore brother/sister punch-ups. How else will they learn to start wars?

  Re-introduce National Service. From the age of ten.

  Extracted from How to Bring up Kids Properly by Dr H. Know.

  Chapter 18

  ANDY

  IT HAD BEEN a week since Bobbie had told him about Mel smoking cannabis. Andy’s first inclination had been to have it out immediately with his daughter. But she’d been asleep when he got back that night and the following morning, she’d left early for the school geography field trip.

  No point, he told himself, in having a row before she went. It would be better, surely, to wait until she returned: next Monday evening, just after the next parenting session which was – ironically – about setting boundaries.

  The session went quite well actually; mainly because Kieran wasn’t there for some reason. The relief made him feel quite light-headed. So much so that he had to concentrate hard on what everyone was saying.

  ‘Whenever I try to set boundaries, I end up by moving the goalposts,’ confessed Bo
hemian Mum. ‘The other day, I caught my daughter using my credit card. Turned out she’d run up a bill of over a grand.’

  There was a collective gasp. ‘What did you do?’ asked someone.

  ‘Well, I told her straight. You can’t spend more than fifty pounds at a time. Otherwise I’ll exceed my allowance.’

  ‘You allowed her to continue using your card?’ asked Audrey, aghast. ‘Even though she stole it?’

  ‘We share things in our house!’ Bohemian Mum beamed. ‘It works better that way.’

  Jilly, sitting next to her, shook her head. ‘One of my au pair girls got a caution for credit-card fraud. She said she didn’t know what she was doing because she was drunk at the time. And high too. She was only seventeen.’

  Andy listened, appalled. Credit-card theft? Drinking? Drugs? What happened to children during those teenage years? One minute, they were smiley, gappy-toothed eleven-year-olds and then suddenly – or so it seemed – they’d turned into potential criminals.

  It wasn’t as though they could even blame their background. Not in middle-class Corrywood. Andy drove back – after finishing an hour early because three of the mums were going on to a book club party – determined to have it out with Mel. He’d discuss the whole cannabis episode in a calm, reasonable fashion. Explain that he understood the pressures that teenagers were under today and that, believe it or not, he had gone through something similar himself. He knew what it was like to be pushed into doing something by friends. But that was part of growing up. You had to learn how to do the right thing, even if you made mistakes along the way.

  When he put it like that to himself, it all sounded very reasonable. But as soon as Andy put the key in the lock and heard the music blasting out, all his good intentions went out of his head. ‘Turn that down!’ he called out.

  No answer.

  He went into the kitchen, and stopped in shock as, horrified, he took in the empty wine bottles on the kitchen table; some lying on their side and dripping on to the floor. The kitchen television was blaring out – even though no one was watching – showing a late-night panel show of earnest speakers, including a man with a goatee beard, knitted eyebrows and an extremely bossy manner.