As I approach my own house, I can’t help but notice that it doesn’t pack the same punch as Dylan’s. His big, beautiful house was on a nice, clean, quiet street. Unlike my house, on a street almost always abuzz with drunk people. Dylan had a Range Rover in his garden. I have a condom in mine that I cannot bring myself to move – I don’t think it’s used because the first time I noticed it, it was inflated to the size of a large marrow. Still, I’m not in a hurry to touch it.
Another significant contrast between mine and Dylan’s life is the company. The two people Dylan arrived home to entertain are very different to the two I’m about to walk in on…
‘Hello,’ I call out, closing the door behind me. I slip my coat off and hang it up on the coat rack (read: put it down on top of a pile of boxes).
‘Oh my God, look at you,’ Leo greets me. ‘Your hair is all long and blonde… You look just like we did when we first met…’
My fiancé’s jaw is practically on the floor and it makes me wish I’d got back to my old self much sooner. Still, it was a gradual process of not looking like myself – the same goes for not feeling like myself – but hopefully now I’m getting out to work and hanging out with interesting people (in theory, if it ever happens) that will change too.
‘Thank you,’ I reply, all smiles, but then I notice Leo’s face fall. ‘It’s OK, isn’t it?’
‘It’s gorgeous,’ he replies. ‘It’s just a little weird, to see the old you again. You look exactly like the old you…’
‘You fell in love with the old me,’ I remind him.
‘I did,’ he replies. ‘But she was hard work… you’re happy with how things are now, right?’
‘Of course I am,’ I insist. ‘Now, never mind how I look, why aren’t we talking about the fact that you look like that chimney sweep from the wedding. Why are your hands all black?’
‘OK, don’t freak out,’ Leo starts gently.
‘Already freaking out,’ I tell him.
I follow Leo upstairs into our bedroom, only to find our newly painted white walls covered in black smears. Sitting on the floor, all smiles, brandishing a black YSL eyeliner, is my first cousin once removed, three-year-old Angel Edwards. I don’t know which has more black on it, the wall or her face, and I don’t know which will be more expensive to replace, the white paint or the eyeliner (it’s definitely the latter).
‘What happened here?’ I ask her gently, as though as three-year-old might be able to give me a reasonable explanation.
‘I helped,’ she mumbles, in that cute way three-year-olds talk.
‘You helped?’ I ask.
‘I helped to do the house.’
Oh shit, that is an almost reasonable explanation.
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘But you’re not supposed to use make-up, that’s for your face… which, I guess you also did. But we’d better get you cleaned up.’
‘I like to look pretty like my mummy and like you. But not like my gran, she looks old,’ Angel babbles.
Those harsh words against my Auntie June almost make this worthwhile.
‘Your gran does look old, doesn’t she?’ I reply. ‘Like a baddie from a Disney film. OK, let’s get you in the bathroom.’
I usher Angel towards the bathroom.
‘Hey,’ Leo calls after me.
‘Two secs,’ I tell Angel. ‘Yeah?’
‘I thought you were going to hit the roof,’ he says. ‘I didn’t realise you were so good with kids.’
‘I’m not going to scream at a three-year-old,’ I laugh. ‘I’m going to scream at you later, for not keeping an eye on her.’
Leo laughs.
‘We’d make a good team, if we had kids, right?’ he says.
‘Oh God, don’t… I’ve already had one pregnancy scare today,’ I laugh.
‘What?’
‘Nothing, nothing. My hairdresser thought I might be pregnant…’
Leo’s eyebrows shoot up.
‘I’m not,’ I insist quickly. ‘She just took the stuff off my hair a little prematurely.’
‘Wouldn’t have been the worst news,’ he says with a smile.
‘Are you kidding me?’ I ask. ‘With the wedding coming up and my new job and the house being like it is?’
‘OK, fine, one excuse would have been enough, sorry I mentioned it,’ he says stroppily. ‘Sorry the idea bothers you so much.’
Leo and I have had several discussions about what we want for the future over the course of our relationship. I might have been a commitment-phobe before we met, but the deeper in love I fell with Leo, the faster that scared feeling faded. When he proposed to me, sure, it was a surprise, but we had talked about the idea of marriage and we both knew where we stood and that we were both happy to do it. But when it comes to kids, well… I’m just not sure. I don’t not want kids, I’m just never sure that I do. I’m not sure I’d make a very good mum – or that any of the mums in my family have turned out to be good mums, so why would I be any different? I just need a bit more time with this one.
‘It’s not the time,’ I tell him.
‘OK, but it’s a time-sensitive thing, right?’
I tilt my head inquisitively.
‘Like, women only have so much time to do these things, right?’ he continues.
I puff air out of my cheeks.
‘Can we talk about my ticking biological clock some other time, please? I need to wash Angel before her mum sees her, Instagrams it, and my auntie accuses me of putting her grandchild in blackface or something equally as ridiculous.’
Leo scratches his head.
‘Sure.’
‘Mia, Mia, come look how pretty I am,’ Angel calls from the bathroom.
As I walk in I catch Angel just in time to see her putting the finishing touches on her fringe (or what used to be her fringe) with a pair of scissors.
‘I look so pretty,’ she sings. ‘I look like a princess.’
Angel dances for herself in the mirror, singing some song I imagine is from some Disney film I haven’t seen – probably the modern kind with feminist female leads, where the princesses don’t have to rely on Prince Charming to save them from evil witches or the passage of time rendering their old ovaries useless.
‘Ohhh shit,’ I can’t help but say.
‘Swear,’ Angel ticks me off. ‘I’ll tell Mummy.’
‘That’s the least of my worries,’ I say to myself.
Leo hurries into the room to see Angel holding a pair of scissors, blonde locks on the floor all around her and a big empty space where her fringe used to be.
‘Still want kids?’ I ask him.
‘Not so much right now,’ he says, grimacing.
‘OK, Angel, let’s get you in the bath,’ I say calmly. ‘It’s all fine, it’s all going to be fine.’
‘I’ll, erm…’ Leo stares at me blankly.
‘Clean the wall, I guess?’ I suggest.
‘OK,’ he replies. ‘Got it.’
I run a bath but I’m terrified that three-year-olds aren’t allowed Lush bath bombs or water that is too hot. I lift Angel into the tepid, plain water and sit on the floor next to her.
‘Mummy gives me Frozen bubbles,’ she tells me.
‘I don’t have any, sorry,’ I reply.
‘It’s OK. Do you like my hair?’
I reach out to examine her hair, moving what is left of her fringe, trying to brush it forwards, but it’s not exactly helping. What did I think, that she was one of those dolls with retractable hair like I had when I was a kid?
‘I want a horse for Christmas,’ she tells me, splashing the water.
‘A hat might be a better idea, chick,’ I tell her, but she’s not listening.
‘A big horse that’s a girl,’ she continues.
‘Leo,’ I call out.
‘Yeah?’ he says, appearing in the doorway.
‘We’ve got two choices. We do nothing, and leave this issue for Hannah to sort out – although it will be very much our fault and we’ll be in lots of trouble… or maybe it will just be my fault, because isn’t it always?’
‘Or?’
‘Maybe your mum could help?’
Maria De Luca is a hairdresser and an all-round-lovely lady. When we were away for Belle’s wedding and a hairdresser made my hair look awful, Maria was happy to help me out. Maybe there’s something – anything – she can do, to make this look not quite so awful.
‘Good thinking,’ he says. ‘I’ll give her a call.’
‘Hey, Angel, how would you like to look even prettier?’ I ask her.
‘Like a princess?’ she asks.
‘Exactly like a princess,’ I tell her.
‘Yes!’ she says, punching the air, splashing water everywhere.
‘My mum says she’ll try and help,’ Leo says. ‘I’ll go pick her up.’
‘OK, thank you so much,’ I call after him.
‘Do you think Mummy will be mad I cut my hair?’ Angel asks.
‘Not with you, sweetheart,’ I tell her honestly.
Half an hour later Angel is clean and I’ve blow-dried her hair, just in time for Leo getting back with Maria.
Maria claps eyes on Angel and laughs gently.
‘Oh, love,’ she says as she examines my little cousin’s new ‘do.
‘Are you gonna make me look like a princess?’ Angel asks Maria.
‘I am, sweetheart. I am.’
Maria takes out her hairdressing kit, laying it flat on top of some cardboard boxes. Leo lifts Angel up and sits her down on a sturdy box that is just about the right height.
‘So…’ Maria starts. ‘I mean… it’s not ideal… but I could cut her a thicker fringe and hopefully the hair on the top will disguise the underneath while it grows?’
‘Oh, could you do that, please,’ I reply.
‘Will her mum be OK with that?’ Maria asks.
I pull a face. ‘More so than this.’
Maria looks at Angel again, her cheeky little face smiling widely, still looking adorable even though her hair looks awful.
My heart is in my mouth as Maria snips away, but I trust she knows what she’s going.
‘Leo tells me you have a new job, Mia,’ she says.
‘Yeah, ghostwriting an autobiography for a singer,’ I say. ‘Although I turned up for my first day today and he was… indisposed.’
‘I suppose you’re used to that, having worked in the movie business,’ she replies.
She’s not wrong. I’ve worked with celebrities, made friends with some of them and even dated one or two. I only have one ex, if we can really call him that, who everyone has heard of and that’s actor Jimmy Menzel. I met Jimmy when we were shooting a movie I’d written on location in New York. The director was an absolute nightmare, constantly demanding changes, so in the end I flew to New York for the duration of filming, and enjoyed a fleeting romance with Jimmy. I suppose, given that he couldn’t even remember his assistant’s name, the fact he made a point of remembering mine is quite a big deal, but he was selfish, childish, impatient – and possibly a drug addict, I realised towards the end of our time together. So I suppose, when it comes to Dylan, I’ll expect that, and if he’s a better person than Jimmy, then I’ll only be pleasantly surprised.
‘Yeah, I’ll soon get him under control,’ I laugh.
‘And the wedding planning… how’s that going?’ she asks.
‘Yeah, good,’ I lie. I look over at Leo who has his eyebrows raised. ‘Well, I mean, I’ll be starting soon. Just as soon as I get this job started. We both want to plan it together and we’re having a bit of trouble coordinating at the moment.’
‘OK,’ Maria replies. God, I wish I could tell what she’s thinking right now. She’s got this look on her face, like she’s thinking something…
‘I’m bored,’ Angel whines.
‘Your mummy will be here for you any minute,’ Leo tells her. ‘Don’t you want to look your best for her?
‘OK, fiiiine,’ she replies.
A few more snips and Maria is done.
‘There. What do we think?’
‘I want to see, I want to see,’ Angel begs.
Maria takes a mirror from her bag and hands it to Angel.
‘Wow, I look so cool,’ Angel chirps.
‘You do. And normal,’ I add, breathing a huge sigh of relief. ‘Maria, thank you so much.’
‘What’s family for?’ she asks.
Right on time, there’s a knock at the door.
‘That will be Hannah,’ Leo says, hurrying for the door.
Hannah is only through the door thirty seconds when she notices Maria.
‘You have to call in the cavalry?’ she laughs. ‘Oh, wow, Angel, look at you… Why does my daughter have a Zooey Deschanel fringe?’
‘OK, don’t freak out,’ I start, ushering Hannah to one side. ‘But Angel sort of found some scissors and cut her fringe quite short…’
‘Oh sh… ugar,’ Hannah replies. ‘You know, one of my mum’s friends made her this beautiful ragdoll, and she cut its hair. She’s obsessed with making everyone and everything look like a princess, but for some reason, in her head, princesses look like they’ve got their head stuck in a blender.’
I laugh.
‘So you’re not mad at me?’ I ask.
‘It was gonna happen sooner or later,’ Hannah says with a shrug of her shoulders. ‘I think she looks cute.’
‘Ah, thank God. I thought you were going to kill me – or your mum was, at least.’
‘We don’t have to mention it to her,’ Hannah says. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
I grab my cousin for a hug.
‘You’re my favourite.’
‘You too,’ she laughs. ‘Don’t tell Belle.’
It’s late now, and everyone has gone home. Leo and I are sitting at the edge of our bed, admiring Angel’s handy work.
‘Who knew eyeliner was so hard to get off?’ Leo says.
‘Me. Every night,’ I joke. ‘I’m guessing we’re going to have to repaint in here?’
‘Let’s not worry about it tonight, let’s just go to sleep,’ he says, squeezing me hand.
‘You want that conversation about having kids now?’ I laugh.
‘Maybe in a few years, when I’ve forgotten about this,’ he replies. ‘You too tired for a dress rehearsal?’
Leo wiggles his eyebrows.
‘Never too tired for that,’ I reply.