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‘Oh. No problem,’ I say, mentally wading through my to-do list and figuring out how I can reshuffle my morning. It is a bit of a problem, if I’m honest, because Thursdays are my main get-shit-done days. But Poppy does so much for us already.
‘Shall I call Mum and see if she can help out?’ Poppy asks, concerned.
‘Honestly don’t worry, there’s nothing I can’t rearrange.’
This is what you get for smugly boasting about killing it, I think as I trip over a pair of discarded wellies in the hall in my rush to get Lila out the door on time.
‘Ready?’ I ask as Lila wriggles out of her gloves. What is it with my child and her aversion to keeping warm? ‘Let’s go.’
We walk to school, her little hand in mine as she earnestly tells me everything she knows about caterpillars, which is a surprising amount for a four-year-old. It’s only when we reach the school gates and I see Joe, the jackass from yesterday, that I am reminded about Thirsty Thursdays.
The mums look even more pristine than usual. I swear Celeste has been for a blow-dry this very morning. She has brought cupcakes decorated with dinosaurs which she definitely did not make herself, Mel’s baked a banana loaf, Frankie is apologetically explaining that she’d forgotten about the bake sale, Tally has an enormous cake in the shape of a rainbow while Joe has both a tray of cookies in his hand and the other mums swarming around him like flies on …
‘Morning!’
Mrs Flowers, Lila’s teacher who has a strong commitment to her own brand and is never not wearing florals, opens the classroom door and beckons the children inside. Just as I’m about to leave, she calls out to us all.
‘Parents and carers, could I ask a quick favour please? I need volunteers for this afternoon’s bake sale.’
I briefly calculate. I’ve not exactly got the time to spare but this could be an excellent way to get in with the mum clique and maybe even secure Lila an elusive playdate? Before you can say the words ‘but Sophie, what about your massive to-do list’ I lean in.
‘I can help.’ It’s only once I’ve spoken that I sense the collective lull around me as everyone else tries to rapidly gather excuses.
‘Mrs Flowers,’ Celeste chides. ‘This is short notice. Usually I would but I have brunch commitments with Douglas and these things do tend to go on.’
‘I’m a doctor,’ says Mel, ‘so obviously …’ She dashes off.
‘Mrs F babes, I’m way too busy,’ says Tally. ‘Got an IG live and so much sponsored content to film you would not believe.’
‘I don’t think I’d be much help with a screaming baby in tow.’ Frankie yawns.
Joe clears his throat. ‘I’ll help.’
‘Oh!’ Tally, who had turned to leave, lingers. ‘You know what? I can make it. Filming can wait.’
Wait. What?
Celeste appears to have had a change of heart, too. ‘Having said that,’ she says, eyeing Joe, ‘brunch doesn’t always drag. And it is important to put the children first. I’ll make sure I’m back in time to help.’
A domino effect ripples through the group with all the mothers suddenly finding themselves miraculously able to make the bake sale now that Joe will be there. Honestly, this lot! Only Frankie, who looks thoroughly amused at this blatant ploy, doesn’t change her mind.
Mrs Flowers looks a little overwhelmed. ‘Crikey, that’s fantastic!’
Joe now has an unreadable expression as he says, ‘Actually, I think there may be too many of us. I’ll bow out.’
He’s barely taken a couple of steps away from the group when Tally shamelessly pipes up. ‘Oh phew, me too. Takes the pressure off. Sorry, Mrs F!’
My mouth drops open as Celeste begins her own U-turn, announcing that perhaps she is giving herself too much to do after all. The domino reverses faster than you can say ‘we’re all just in it for the eye candy’.
How am I suddenly the only mum taking part, again?
The rest of them have buggered off so now it’s just Joe and me left with Mrs Flowers, who looks as bewildered as I feel.
‘Sophie, thank you,’ says Mrs Flowers, today in floral dungarees with a flowery shirt underneath. ‘With just one volunteer now, I’d better see if the teaching assistant can help out.’
I turn to give Joe a pointed look. He seems completely oblivious to the fact that he created this entire farce. When he catches my eye, he gives me an angelic smile that I find deeply annoying. Is this just my week for being surrounded by dubious men? First Joe downplaying the sheer load of single parenting, then Paul and his peen on display and now this?
‘No need, Mrs Flowers.’ Joe steps in as if he’s saving the day, smooth as you like. ‘I can still help.’
