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As we begin the commute to the car, I’m conscious of many hovering mothers all craning their necks towards Robert and I wonder if he has thrown magic dust in the air because surely one man doesn’t hold this amount of power over women who should know better. I am so surprised I’m rendered speechless and am just content for him to take charge of a situation I wouldn’t wish on either of us in my worst nightmare.
* * *
Throughout the entirejourney to MacDonalds, I’m on high alert because two small children and cream leather in a super car should never be a thing. I am so worried that they will mark it or put their dirty feet on the leather, and I hate that the only words I speak are, ‘stop fidgeting’ and ‘perhaps you should take your shoes off.’
After a while Robert whispers, “It’s fine, Jessica, relax. They can’t hurt anything.”
Brad calls out, “This car is cool.”
Angelina calls out, “I need a wee.”
I call out, “Nearly there. Can you hold on?”
Robert calls out, “Two minutes.”
Brad shouts, “I’m hungry. Are we there yet?”
Angelina whines, “I want mummy,” and then begins to cry.
Luckily, the glorious, illuminated ‘M’ swings into view and I yell with relief, “Here we are!”
It has the desired effect, and the children shout with delight and I’m almost considering joining them as Robert swings the car into the nearest available parking space.
Like the children, I can’t get out of the car quickly enough and as we tumble through the doors of a place I usually avoid like the plague, I now understand the need for it in society as it makes all our dreams come true.
CHAPTER20
ROBERT
If anybody told me, I would be sitting at a plastic table on a plastic chair, eating a plastic burger with two small children, I would say they were on drugs. But it appears I will do anything for the slightly hysterical woman sitting beside me, looking as if she wants to die right now. It amuses me to witness her world spinning out of control because of two small humans and it’s obvious Jessica wasn’t cut out for this life, judging by her startled facial expressions and total anxiety as she struggles to do the right thing. It makes me wonder what the real story is because she appears to be dancing on a tightrope, fearful of saying the wrong thing and her continuous glances to her phone and the way she is biting her bottom lip, is concerning me — a lot.
The children appear happy with their aptly named, ‘happy meal’ and I’m quite enjoying my Big Mac meal deal and when the children head off to the ball pit, I fix her with a hard stare and growl, “Ok, time to come clean. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know what you mean. We’re just doing the school run.”
“So why are you on edge?”
A loud scream from the ball pit makes us both jump and almost immediately, she scrapes her chair back and starts running. I watch with amazement as she dives into the ball pit and separates two wrestling children who appear to be knocking the living daylights out of one another. A woman rushes forward, shouting, “Don’t you touch my kid or I’ll…”
“Or you’ll what, madam?” A furious Jessica drags two children out, who appear red faced and angry, and I can see one of them is Brad. Angelina is screaming behind him, and Jessica says furiously, “I watched the entire thing and if you are happy to let your child bully a small girl, then it appears her brother has a much better sense of protection than you have.”
“They’re only kids playing.” The woman frowns and Jessica growls, “Tell that to yourself when your child grows up and is expelled for bullying. Tell yourself he was only messing around when you’re visiting him in Pentonville for assault and battery and remember this day when you should have stepped up as a parent and taught him right from wrong.”
I jump up and step between the women with a gentle, “I think she’s got the point.”
Pushing the rather alarmed looking little boy towards his disbelieving mother, I say firmly, “Jessica’s right, never defend a bully no matter how old he is and…”
I turn to the furious woman beside me, who is holding a screaming child in her arms. “Perhaps we should leave.”
Brad pokes his tongue out at the other boy, causing me to grab his hand and pull him away for all our safety and as we exit the happy place, I wonder if scenes like this are standard practice for parents these days.
As Jessica thrusts the coveted fairy into Angelina’s hands, she stops sobbing and as we strap them into the seats, Jessica says with a worried frown, “I’m not sure we should be doing this.”
“What?”
I’m confused, and she points to Angelina’s small body in the seat. “She needs a car seat. It’s against the law for her to travel without one. Perhaps I should get the bus and leave you to return to work.”
The collective “No” makes me smile as the children appear worried. Brad shouts, “I don’t want to get the bus.”
