what it’s like.”
“Hardest
job in the world, innit?” She raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow.
“You
know what, it really bloody is. When I was working it was hectic juggling
everything, but things seemed to just sort of work, somehow, amid the mayhem.
And my husband wasn’t working such mad hours, which helped. But how, being with
them all the time, it seems as if there’s just no let-up. Even when Darcey’s at
school and Owen’s at nursery shit just appears to fill the time and then I have
to pick them up again and I’ve got nothing done.”
“Fab
names. Darcey and Owen, lovely,” she said, and I felt a little glow of pride.
“When
I was growing up, I always said I wanted to name my daughter Darcey, after the
dancer, obviously. I changed my mind later on, but I mentioned it to Jonathan
when I was pregnant and he said he loved it and I hadn’t the heart to veto it.
Owen’s after Jonathan’s dad; he died when Jonathan was a teenager, so that one
was a given. And your daughter – Juniper?”
“I
suppose it’s pretentious as anything, but I don’t care,” she said. “It was a
chance to wind up my bitch of a mother-in-law, and I love it, and Juniper loves
it, so it works for both of us. Although Rick’s mother still
passive-aggressively refers to her as June when we talk on the phone. Which,
thankfully, doesn’t happen often. More tea?”
The
honeyed chamomile tea was actually pretty foul, but I realised I was enjoying
Zé’s company more than I’d enjoyed anyone’s for a long time.
“Yes,
please,” I said, kicking off my shoes and tucking my feet underneath me on the
yellow sofa. “You don’t mind?”
“God,
no. Shoes on, shoes off, feet on the sofa – whatever. Make yourself
comfortable.” She switched the kettle on again and opened one of the sleek
white cupboards, rummaging around a bit before producing a duck-egg blue tin of
biscuits. “Elevenses?”
It
wasn’t yet ten o’clock, but all I’d had for breakfast was half a banana off
Owen’s plate. “Yes, please,” I said.
“So
your husband works with Rick?” Zé said. “Small world. Rick went for promotion
at the same time as he did, but he didn’t get it. He’s pretending not to be
bitter about it but he so is, and it’ll mean him working even longer hours than
usual. We barely see each other as it is.”
She
didn’t sound like she minded that a bit, I thought, intrigued.
“How
did you two meet?” I asked.
“At
a dinner party,” she said. “I’d been single for ages, my mid-thirties were
slipping away and I wanted a baby. He seemed like a decent enough option.”
She
grimaced ruefully, took a second biscuit and ate it in two bites. “We’ll pay
for this tomorrow, I suppose. But now, fuck it.”
I
reached for another biscuit too, one with a chocolate coating, and caught her
eye as I bit into it. The chocolate melted against the roof of my mouth and the
buttery crumbs stuck to my lips. We exchanged a small, complicit smile, and I
knew she was feeling just the same way I was.
In
return, I told her the relatively simple, humble story of how I’d met Jonathan
when I was twenty-six and in my first job out of uni, because I’d been a mature
student, and he’d come to do the annual audit at my work. I told her how all
the women in the client service department had fancied the pants off him, and
how elated I’d been when it was me he emailed a week later to invite out for a drink.
“I
didn’t think I was even in the market for a relationship,” I said. “But there
was this whole rivalry thing going on between the other girls, and when I got
that email I was suddenly the queen of the department for a day. So I couldn’t
say no. And then he was so lovely, and made me laugh so much. And then I went
out with him again a couple of times, and suddenly we were an item, and then we
moved in together and a bit later he proposed and I said yes, and we had this
amazing wedding and two years later we had