Read Lemonade and Lies for Free Online

beans were a BOGOF this week.
    “Right. Bedtime,” I said, when the homework books had been packed away and Millie had watched her allotted telly slot. My daughter looked at me like I was a dictator from some small African nation. I’m thinking of swapping my kids for somebody else’s.
    “Don’t see why I have to go to bed before Tom.”
    “Because it’s late and it’s a school night and because I said so.” Because I said so ? I couldn’t believe I’d resorted to that one. And I guess I could see her point. She was two years older than Tom, so to her the world probably seemed an unfair place. But I couldn’t weaken. Bedtime was bedtime, and just because Angelica Parker - mother of aforementioned child with birthday - allowed her children to stay up to some ungodly hour was hardly a reason for our household to fall apart.
    “Bet he’s sleeping over at Charlie’s after the party,” said Millie, her tone accusing. Not only would her brother get a goody bag and a Kiddie Meal and whatever current boy-toy was on offer, but he would have the excitement of a sleepover.
    “He’s not staying over, not on a school night,” I blurted out. “Mrs Parker’s dropping him back.” But was that true ? I remember Charlie’s mother saying that, don’t I? Or had I made it up? I’d had a bad day and the small grey cells may have taken a short holiday. Maybe I was supposed to pick him up. Dear God. Was my poor kid the last one in the place, waiting patiently for an absentee mother?
    In desperation, I shooed Millie to her room and went searching for the party invitation. I’d written the woman’s mobile number down, but the flimsy invite had been snowed under by bills and a load of advertising flyers that I hadn’t asked for and didn’t want.
    I found it. Relief. Tom was being brought back. But I hadn’t read it properly (I’m often in a hurry). The invitation had a picture of a pirate on the front and asked everyone to wear fancy dress, pirates preferred. Shit. Failed again .
    Tom came home in a quiet mood. What was it with my family lately? Other than the obvious having no dad and no spare cash hanging around for the latest mobile phone to keep up with their friends. I’d told them that sort of thing didn’t always make you happy, but I wasn’t expecting praise for it.
    My son’s sad face and his meek acceptance of my ‘straight to bed’ order warned me something was wrong. At first I thought it was the usual post-party blues, where real life kicks in after the excitement, and kids get surly as they have to readjust. But my internal mummy-radar said it was more serious than that. Eventually got it out of him that some little oik at the party told him his dad left because he hated both Tom and his sister.
    I spent an hour putting an emergency band aid on my poor little six-year-old’s self esteem. And then big, brave Tom - who so far hadn’t shed a tear for all the bad stuff that had happened to him - finally caved in and cried his heart out. Hallelujah! Maybe now he could be the normal, happy kid he used to be, and all that bottled up stuff wouldn’t come back to haunt him. And the nightmares would sort themselves out.
    It was only when I’d finally found time for myself and relaxed with a mug of tea that my legs started up a tattoo of their own. Some sort of memory in my nervous system from the scary events of the day. So far I’d managed to ignore the weird note, and the crank that had followed me. Was it even the same man the waitress had described? And who was the note actually meant for?
    I sipped my green tea, told myself that with perseverance, I might even come to like it. It was better for you than wine, though that had been my first choice. Luckily, I didn’t have any. My kids had enough problems and didn’t need a mother who might end up drinking Buckfast Tonic Wine - one step away from rocket fuel and fast becoming a favourite of the street alky.
    I fell asleep in the chair and was jolted