Page 16

Natalie

Natalie shoves another tray of sausage rolls into the oven and wonders again if there is any possible way she could get away with cancelling the party at this late hour.

She’d felt ambushed when Pete had suggested throwing a party over dinner last month, mesmerised by the glint of the diamond he had presented to her.

In all honesty, Natalie doesn’t need a diamond ring.

She needs a husband who is present and willing to help out when she feels as though she’s drowning.

She’d felt unable to say no completely to the party even though she’d tried, not when he’d spent all that money on her, and all three of them – Pete, Emily and Zadie – had been so excited at the thought of having a big celebration, not one of them stopping to consider that perhaps it might be too much for her to cope with.

Now, as she grates cheese for sandwiches and Erin grizzles in her bouncy chair, she remembers why they haven’t had anyone over for ages.

At least the rain that hammered down all night and well into the morning has finally stopped, although that was going to be her saving grace – Pete has invited too many people over for them all to fit comfortably in the house, so rain would have been the perfect excuse tocancel.

‘Cheese? Ugh, no one likes cheese sandwiches.’ Emily breezes into the chaotic kitchen, snatching the phone charger out of thewall.

‘Everyone likes cheese sandwiches,’ Natalie says as the oven timer pings and she moves to rescue this round of pastry before it burns.

‘Finish those sandwiches off, will you, while I get the next lot of food in the oven.’

‘Can’t.

Sorry.’ Emily reaches for her jacket that hangs on the back of the kitchen chair – the jacket that Natalie has been asking her to take upstairs for three days.

‘What do you mean, you can’t?

Emily, this is your party.

I could do with some help.

’ It’s only just gone lunchtime and Natalie is already exhausted.

Erin is cutting teeth and woke up what felt like a hundred times in the night.

At four o’clock this morning Natalie had given up and brought Erin downstairs, feeling a sharp bolt of resentment towards Pete as he slumbered on, oblivious.

‘I’m going to get my eyelashes done.

And anyway, this whole thing wasn’t my idea.

I would have just gone out in town with my friends.

’ Without waiting for Natalie to respond, Emily swings her bag over her shoulder and heads for the front door, leaving Natalie to silently gnash her teeth and pray to God she gets through today without losing her shit.

‘Mum. Mum. Mum .’ Zadie appears in the doorway, an old teddy that she used to sleep with under one arm.

It’s missing an eye and the faint smell of wee rises from its fur.

Natalie can’t remember the last time she washed it.

‘What is it, Zade?’

‘I feel sick.’

Natalie thinks hanging on to that ratty old bear might be part of the problem.

‘You haven’t even eaten anything yet today, have you?

’ She’d found Zadie’s soggy cereal left in the bowl when Zadie went upstairs to get dressed.

‘Do you want some toast? You can have one of these if you don’t tell Em.

’ Natalie holds out a cupcake, knowing she’s cementing herself a place in the world’s worst parent Olympics, bribing her kid to eat breakfast at lunchtime by offering her cake.

‘I don’t want toast. Or that.

I told you, I feel sick.

’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Natalie mutters under her breath.

‘You feel sick, Zadie, because you haven’t eaten anything today.

You didn’t eat your dinner last night either.

Your tummy needs food.

’

‘You gave me pasta for dinner. I don’t like pasta.

’ Zadie’s voice takes on a grating whine, and Natalie has to take a deep breath and count to five before she can speak.

‘You do like pasta. Everyone likes pasta. You liked pasta when Eve made it for you.’ Saying it out loud makes a knot form in Natalie’s stomach.

If Eve was here, she’s sure Zadie would eat whatever she served up for her, just as she’s sure Erin would stop bloody crying if Eve was here.

Natalie shakes away the memory of the animosity she’d felt as she realised on her return home from the meeting with the school that Eve had changed Erin into a sleepsuit she’d bought for her.

The same animosity and resentment that had flared when that woman had mistaken Eve for Erin’s mother at the duck pond, and again as Natalie left the doctor’s consulting room – the idea that Eve was somehow a better mother to Erin than Natalie crowding out any other thoughts.

‘Nat? Got any extra chairs in here? And I need a tablecloth for that big table outside.’ Pete waltzes into the kitchen, a huge grin on his face as he ruffles Zadie’s hair.

‘You know where things are, Pete, get them yourself,’ Natalie snaps.

‘I don’t know which tablecloth you want to use.

I don’t want to get myself in trouble.

’ Pete waggles his eyebrows at Zadie and she giggles, making Natalie’s blood bubble up.

Erin continues to cry, but Pete doesn’t seem to hear her.

‘I don’t give a shit which tablecloth you use,’ she says, slamming plates onto the worktop.

Pete dodges round Zadie, reaching out to pull Natalie towards him.

‘Come on, chill out. There’s going to be a party.

’ Pete grasps her hands and moves as though dancing with her.

Natalie pulls away, frowning.

‘Yeah, there’s going to be a party,’ Natalie says.

‘A party I didn’t even want to host, because I’m so bloody tired, and now not a single one of you is helping me, so forgive me if I’m not really in the mood.

’

Pete drops his hands and picks up one of the kitchen chairs.

‘Outside is mostly set up,’ he says, his tone sober now.

‘I just need the tablecloth and chairs, and to tie the last of the balloons up. The weather’s brightened up now, so we won’t need the marquee.

’

No, they won’t need the marquee.

But the ground will still be muddy, and dirt will probably still be tracked all through the house for Natalie to clean up in the morning.

Pete glances at the clock.

‘Where’s Em?’

‘Gone to get her eyelashes done. She’ll be back in a little while, and then she’s just got to get changed.

’ Natalie opens another packet of cupcakes, hastily shoving them onto a plate, before rooting through the kitchen drawer to find candles for the main attraction – a three-tier cake with extravagant icing decorations.

She looks up as she feels Pete’s eyes on her.

‘What?’

‘Well … it’s half two,’ he says.

‘Shouldn’t you be getting ready?

’

Erin’s muted grizzling dials up a notch, to that unstable place between a soft cry and full-blown yell.

Zadie moans under her breath, clutching her belly, and the oven timer pings again, signalling the next batch of beige food is cooked.

Natalie leans down and scoops Erin up, shoving her in Pete’s direction.

‘You’re dead right, Pete,’ she says.

‘I really should be getting ready.’

Upstairs, behind the safety of the closed bedroom door, Natalie stands in front of the wardrobe in her stained grey jogging pants.

She has no idea what she’s going to wear to this party.

Every day for the last eight months (or ten really, if she’s honest, ever since she went on maternity leave) she’s worn the same three pairs of jogging pants on rotation, switching them out when they get too stained and gross.

She pulls out an emerald-green dress, one that is fitted over the bust and then flares at the waist, holding it up to herself before throwing it onto the bed.

Her boobs aren’t the same since she stopped feeding Erin.

A pink sundress, one she wore religiously on their last holiday to Portugal, strains over her hips when she slips it over her head, and she feels sick as she strips it off again and looks at her body in the full-length mirror.

She had always felt quite proud of herself, before Erin.

She’d been a regular gym-goer, and even though there was a ten-year gap between Emily and Zadie, she had bounced right back to her usual size after Zadie was born.

This time, though … She stands there in her greying knickers and grasps at the handfuls of flesh either side of her waist. She doesn’t seem to have lost any of her baby weight, despite having no appetite and feeling as exhausted as if she’s run a marathon every day.

She closes her eyes briefly, blocking out the sight of the thin scar that slices across the skin above her pubic bone, a constant reminder of the traumatic day of Erin’s birth.

The image of Vanessa standing on her doorstep rises in Natalie’s mind and she swallows, not taking her eyes from the mirror.

Vanessa hadn’t been what Natalie thought she would be at all.

They must be the same age, but where Natalie is soft and rounded,Vanessa is sleek and lean.

Where Natalie’s face is pale, a cluster of three tiny spots trying to bloom at her hairline, Vanessa’s skin had been flawless, her make-up perfect, not a hint of her crimson lipstick bleeding from the confines of her lip liner.

Her hair was shiny and thick, not frizzy and dry at the ends like Natalie’s, and Natalie feels a sharp pang of envy.

When Pete had started work on the contract, Natalie had asked him what Vanessa looked like now, intrigued by this old flame of her husband’s, and Pete had just shrugged.

‘I dunno,’ he’d said.

‘Just … like Vanessa. She’s got brown hair.

She wears those stupid shoes with the red bottoms that you’re always going on about, she looks ridiculous on site in them.

Not a patch on you, babe.

’

Natalie had let him hug her, smiling into his shoulder, but now she thinks Pete must be blind not to have noticed Vanessa’s glamorous appearance.

Moving to the bathroom, Natalie hastily showers, wishing she had time to wash her hair before the guests begin to arrive, and then smears her face with moisturiser, her eyes going to the mirror as she does.

Not even the most expensive concealer can hide the dark circles and bags that line her eyes, and she looks away, her gaze going to the box of diazepam hidden behind a box of tampons.

She still hasn’t taken any yet, although the thought has crossed her mind more than once, and she still hasn’t told Pete about them.

She’s not sure why. She doesn’t think Pete would judge her, although she knows that he thinks depression can be cured by spending time outside (he’s such a dinosaur sometimes), but Natalie also thinks that if she did start taking them, Pete probably wouldn’t even notice.

Even though he’s coming home on time, and he did try and engage with her in the kitchen this morning, Natalie still can’t shake the feeling that ever since Erin was born things haven’t been right between them.

When they laid Erin on her chest and Pete cried, Natalie thought that any secret resentment he was holding towards her for carrying on with the pregnancy had disappeared, but now she thinks she was wrong about that.

He doesn’t seem to have connected with Erin at all; he claims he doesn’t hear her crying at night, leaving Natalie to get up every time her screams rip through the dark, but Natalie can’t understand how he doesn’t hear it.

He’s made more than one bitchy comment about Eve hanging around, and Natalie knows that he probably thinks she’s let herself go, but still he doesn’t step in to help out.

She reaches for her make-up bag, making a sorry attempt with the concealer and brushing mascara on to her lashes as she fights back the thought that comes to the forefront on those long, dark, lonely evenings when she’s exhausted and Erin refuses to sleep.

It’s almost as if Pete doesn’t want Erin here at all.

The terrifying thing about that thought is that somehow, sometimes, Natalie can understand that feeling.

Natalie twists her unwashed hair up into a messy bun, hoping no one will notice the greasy parts, as Pete’s voice filters up the stairs.

‘Nat! Stu and Mari are here!’

Of course they are.

Stu and Mari are always the first ones to arrive.

Pulling on the pink sundress and smoothing away the wrinkles that stick to her hips, Natalie draws in a deep breath and takes one last look in the mirror.

‘You can do this,’ she whispers, blinking back a sudden spurt of hot tears before her mascara can run.

‘The party will be over soon. Just hang in there for a few more hours.’ And then she hurries down the stairs, a wide smile on her face as she opens her arms to Stu and Mari.

‘Guys! So glad you could make it! We’ve been dying to catch up with you, it’s been way too long. ’