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in tow is apparently
the worst kind of faux pas imaginable. Owen’s not invited. Darcey is.”
    “They
won’t mind, surely,” Jonathan said. “Or just drop her off and take Owen out
somewhere, like we used to do.”
    “Yes,
but… it’s her first party here. She hardly knows the other children. What if
they’re horrible to her? She’ll need me to be there.”
    And,
I thought, what about me? I needed to make friends, too. If I was going to cast
my lot in with Amanda and her gang, then I needed to be there, drinking wine
and nattering with them, not turning my back and allowing them to talk about me
behind it.
    “So
what are the other mums going to do, then?”
    “Their
husbands will look after the other kid,” I said. “Or the nanny will, or
whatever. I don’t know – we’ve always sorted it out between us, before. But we
can’t do that now, can we? I’m not being unreasonable, Jonathan – if you can’t
look after Owen, Darcey and I can’t go.”
    “But
you didn’t much want to go, did you? Seventh circle of hell, you said.”
    “Darcey
will want to go. She’ll be desperate to go.”
    “She
doesn’t know she’s been invited yet, does she?”
    “No,
but she will. All the little girls will be talking about it, you watch. And
she’ll be gutted if she thinks she’s been left out. And I’ll have to deal with
the fall-out while you bugger off and play bloody golf.”
    “Laura,
it’s a work thing,” he said. “It’s not like have a choice.”
    “Yes
you do. You said you know how to play – so turn up at your work thing and play.
You don’t have to spend a Saturday afternoon working on your swing or
polishing your putting or whatever. And I bet there are going to be drinks
afterwards, and you won’t be home until stupid o’clock and I’ll have to do
bedtime on my own. Again.”
    “Laura,”
Jonathan sighed. “Okay, there are going to be drinks afterwards. But I can come
home early – I’ve hated missing putting the kids to bed, you know I have. You
get to have them all day and I get a phone call in the evenings. Do you think I
like that?”
    “Do
you think I like it?” I countered. “I’m knackered, coping with both of them on
my own with no help.”
    “I
have to go into a meeting now, Laura,” Jonathan said, and that was that.
     
    Furious,
I stomped away and crossed the road towards home. Blinded by annoyance, I
didn’t see the cyclist until it was too late – somehow, my mind just didn’t
make the connection between the ‘LOOK RIGHT’ sign on the pavement and the
possibility that there might actually be approaching traffic.
    Apparently
time is meant to go into slow motion when something like this happens, but the
reverse was true for me. Everything seemed to speed up, terrifyingly, to a
blinding jumble of primary-coloured Lycra, and my hands on the buggy, frozen,
receiving no command from my brain telling them whether to push or pull.
    He
missed me, but he ploughed into the buggy, somersaulting, and landing on the
pavement at my feet.
    To
his credit, he didn’t start shouting at me straight away. The first thing he
did, once he’d scrambled to his feet, before even surveying the buckled wheel
and scraped paintwork of his racing bicycle, was to look inside the buggy, his
face white with dread at what he might see there. But there was no child – Owen
was at nursery. My only passenger was Green Rabbit, who Owen insisted must be
allowed to come along for the ride to nursery.
    “Jesus
Christ,” he said. “What were you… You stupid fucking bitch. You didn’t even
look where you were fucking going. What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you
drunk?”
    Mute
with shock, I could only shake my head.
    “You
– I could have killed your kid. What were you doing? I could have killed your
kid because you weren’t looking where you were fucking going.”
    He
was shouting now, his face no longer pale but almost puce with rage. In the
face of his fury, I found I had nothing at all to