Wednesday August 16th
9.35 a.m.I’ve just dropped Molly off for her first day at school and I’m a bit shell-shocked, to say the least. Oliver and I took her into her class, along with all the other parents who looked as nervous as we were, except for Sarah Ward-Wilson who almost mowed down the lollipop man in her 4x4 then parked in the disabled bay.‘Mornings are frantic, thank God for Pilates!’I heard her say to a mum in a duffle coat. Duffle coat woman gave her a ‘what a fucking bellend’ look behind her back and carried on helping her kid settle in. Molly was a little champ, finding her seat quickly, utterly delighted that she was sitting beside Ruby. We all said our goodbyes and shuffled out of the classroom, leaving our little people behind to start their adventure. I need a cry. Or a gin. Fuck me, this is weird.
*
10.50 a.m.I’ve calmed down a little. Oliver called when he got into work and I had a bit of a blub, insisting that she’s growing up too quickly and there must be something we can do to stop this. He doesn’t have as much faith in time reversal as I do but he listened anyway.
‘What if she misses me? What if she’s horribly unhappy and the other kids are mean to her? What if—’
‘She’ll be fine, Phoebe. She’s more prepared than you think. She’s going to kick ass, trust me.’
I know I’m being overly anxious. Fucking hell, she’s gone to school, not war. I need to get a grip.
*
3 p.m.I picked Molly up at the school gates and she zoomed down the playground eager to tell me about her first day, which involved singing, colouring, writing her name on her new books and how her new teacher Mrs Ali can play the piano ‘super good’. I was utterly relieved that it went well and utterly exhausted by the whole event. Maybe when you have more children, this stuff becomes second nature? You just launch them into the playground, leave and trust that the teachers know what they’re doing? I bet Sarah Ward-Wilson didn’t spend the entire day being a fretful prick. I’m the worst. How do I learn to enjoy these milestones in her life? It’s bullshit.
Thursday August 17th
I totally forgot Oliver is off to his Chicago office next week. Of course I’ll miss him but it’ll give me a chance to do my own thing for seven whole days! I’m sure he’s looking forward to the break too – I’m aware that I’m not a fucking delight 100% of the time. I think I’ll have Lucy and Hazel over for dinner one evening. I need my girlie fix.
Monday August 21st
Oliver left at 5 a.m. for his flight to Chicago and I couldn’t get back to sleep so I watchedBroad Cityin bed until it was time for Molly to get up for school. He doesn’t travel for work as much as he used to but it still feels weird when he goes. Mainly because he’s in charge of spiders. Exhausted, I still had to go into work and was forced to listen to Kelly go on about her forthcoming trip to London with Frank – the trip I’d turned down because being a manager here would be like admitting my life went very wrong somewhere. Maybe they’ll offer her a better job down there . . .
Tuesday August 22nd
I didn’t sleep wellagainlast night. That’s two nights in a row. For some reason my brain won’t shut the fuck up. It’s all ‘HEY! REMEMBER THAT STUPID THING YOU DID WHEN YOU WERE FOURTEEN? LET’S REVISIT THAT’ and ‘HEY! WHAT IF BETHANY WORKS IN THE CHICAGO OFFICE NOW? WOULDN’T THAT BE A HOOT?!’
I just have too much in my head right now between Oliver’s bullshit creeping back in, Molly starting school, Frank coming back. I need some quiet. Perhaps cutting back our sessions with Pam to once a month wasn’t the best idea.
I’m going to download some sleep hypnosis mp3s and see if they help. Perhaps listening to someone else’s voice will help drown out mine.
Wednesday August 23rd
I picked Molly up from school and she happily informed me that her new best friend is a boy called Adam because Adam enjoys playing with Monster High dolls as much as Molly does. I like the sound of Adam already. For dinner I made tuna pasta with sweetcorn and forced her to eat five pieces of broccoli at gunpoint. We read a book about a badger with a job and she fell asleep halfway through.
As I lay in my own bed, I realised that Oliver and I hadn’t had sex since our holiday. Perhaps I’m sexually frustrated. I realise he’s not physically here to do anything about it but we always have webcam.
Thursday August 24th
As Chicago is six hours behind the UK, I finally managed to get Oliver on video chat in his hotel at 2 a.m. so we could be long-distance perverts.
Having caught myself off-guard with my front-facing camera, I vowed toneverhold the camera at that angle, ever again. I then propped it up on the table beside me in a far more flattering perspective, where I could also watch Oliver at the same time.
‘I haven’t slept properly for ages,’ I moaned, watching him open a can of Sprite with one hand. ‘I think I have your jet lag.’
‘I’ve slept like a baby,’ he replied. ‘Truth is, I’m not even here for work, I just needed to be three thousand miles away from your snoring.’
‘I’m too tired to reply to that.’
I made him give me a quick sweep of his hotel room, showing me the amazing view he had of an alleyway and the really creepy painting of an old house that hung above the bed. It looked like Amityville.
‘If I never hear from you again, I’m going to make sure they check the windows in that painting. I guarantee they’ll see your face staring back.’
‘You’re such a ghoul,’ he replied, bouncing back on to the bed. ‘Also, please take that fucking old t-shirt off. I thought this was supposed to be a dirty call. I need flesh, dammit!’
Ten seconds later my t-shirt was on the floor and I was lying back in bed, admiring the deceptively flattering angle I’d chosen. He started to unbutton his shirt, telling me where to start touching myself.
