Chapter One
February 2017
Dora
“You got married without me being there?”
I imagine you’d be able to hear the banshee style screech all the way to Australia. I know here in Rotherham I’m holding the phone a foot away from my ear.
“Yes, mother. I think you’ll find you only actually need the groom there to have the wedding. Mother’s are an optional extra and with it being a secret wedding,” I emphasised the word secret, “no-one was there. Not the kids, not Miranda, just myself, Tim, the registrar and the witnesses.”
“Strangers.” She wails. “Strangers saw my baby girl get married, but I didn’t. But never mind, it’s alright. Miranda made sure I was there for her first wedding and I’ll be centre stage at her second. She’s promised me that she would never, (there was that word emphasis again), ever, get married without me there. “I even had you there at my own wedding,” she adds for effect.
“Mother, the fact you were pregnant with me and got married super fast before you showed, does not mean I was an invited guest at your wedding.” God, she is so fucking dramatic about everything.
“Miranda is coming over on Sunday and bringing Vic with her. I’m so looking forward to meeting her fiance.”
“Oh that sounds lovely.” I lie. I’ve met Vic once when he was serving behind the counter at Waterstones and my sister has been dating him for two whole weeks.
I turn the oven timer on for one minute.
“So, will you be having a blessing?” asks my mother. “You know, for the people who didn’t get to see the ceremony.”
“No, because that would make my wedding rather pointless wouldn’t it? We might as well have had a wedding for everyone if we were going to do that.”
“Precisely.” Adds my mother. God, she’s got a good aim at sticking those knives in. She should have been in the circus.
“Cam has insisted on throwing us a wedding reception.” I inform her. “You are more than welcome to come to that.”
“Oooh, I’ll be able to buy a new outfit after all.”
“Well, don’t get too carried away,” I add, “It’s being held at Kid Zone.”
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
I don’t hear my mother’s response thanks to my beautiful kitchen timer.
“Ooh, I’ve got to go, Mum. Otherwise the buns will burn. Love you, speak soon.”
I press the red button that cancels the call, place the phone back in its holder and reach over to turn off the timer.
“I must have that disease objectophilia because I seriously real-life love you oven-timer.” I say. “Ooh and you coffee machine.” I address my Tassimo as I add a pod and press the button that will deliver me a delicious cup of nectar.
“And now I understand why you finally married me.” Tim comes walking into the kitchen. “You’ve gone completely certifiable, talking to kitchen appliances now. Do you want me to leave so as not to disturb you, wife?”
I reach up on tiptoes to kiss him. “Good morning, husband. As long as you don’t ask me which I love more, you or the coffee machine, we will have a lovely day. My phone call to my mother is done. Don’t ask.” I tell him as he opens his mouth, “and now we have the whole day to ourselves. What shall we do?”
He winks and then the coffee machine makes a whoosshing noise as it finishes. “Get your coffee first, you saddo. Then come back upstairs.”
“Oooooooooohhhh.” I yell. Then I shove Tim off me.
“Fuck, I’m in agony. Sorry, love.” I sit up and rub under my rib cage. “I will have to go to the docs because I keep having this pain and indigestion.”
“Feels like a heart attack doesn’t it, love?” Tim references his recent heart scare which turned out to be indigestion.
“No, this is under my ribs. It frikking hurts.”
“Well, get to the docs and get sorted.” He says.
I smile at him. My husband is so caring.
“Right, are you okay now?” He shoves his dick back towards me. What was I just saying?
The G.P. isn’t sympathetic either.
“It sounds like acid reflux. Quite common at your age. We’ll do some bloods though.”
“So how do I get rid of it?” I ask.
“Don’t eat too late at night and cut down on things like coffee and chocolate.”
“I might as well die.” I slump in my seat.
“Dora, we’re not getting any younger. We have to start taking better care of ourselves.”
I’m really beginning to dislike this G.P. She’s about a decade older than I am, she shouldn’t be lumping me in with her. She looks at me and pats my arm.
“Dora, you look fantastic for your age, but inside you’re getting older. You have to face facts. Now book in with the nurse to get your bloods done and we’ll take it from there.”
On my return home I drink four Americanos and eat three medium sized Toblerones. I inform Tim that he can go down the pub for his tea because I’m choc full. Not only that but I’m fucking buzzing. I only usually have two or three coffees a day and I’ve had four in an hour. I decide to wind my sister up.
With my calling number blocked I listen as it makes two ringing noises and then I hang up. I do this five times. Then I go on Facebook and post a picture of her when she was three and had wanted to dress up as Madonna and nicked my mum’s 40D bra. I do the drop call on her mobile phone three times and then I ignore her when she calls me back. I let her talk to the answering machine.
“Dora. Grow the fuck up. Shouldn’t you and Tim be in the honeymoon stage still? Has it gone stale already?”
Oh bugger off. She’s killing my buzz. What can I do now?
I decide to dress up in my best lingerie and wait for Tim to come home. Then I’m going to seduce him. Miranda doesn’t know what she’s talking about. We’ve always had plenty of slap and tickle. I put on the black and red lacy set that I know he likes. It’s a bit tight around my waist as I bought the 34 inch instead of the 36 inch but I only need to wear it for a while, then it’ll be removed and flung off. I send him a text to get home quick with a wink emoticon.
I pop downstairs quickly to hide the evidence of my mass Toblerone eating and on my way back from the bin I spy our wedding photo on the mantelpiece. We only have a couple of photographs with it being a secret wedding. I smile a wide smile as I look at the both of us. Not bad for our ages at all, really. I put the photo back and accidentally knock it. The photo slips out of its frame and slides behind the surround. Fuck. I reach behind the surround and wiggle my hand and fingers trying to retrieve it. All that happens is I can feel a shit load of dust. Finally, I get the photo in my grasp and I pull my hand back, but it won’t come out. My hand and wrist are stuck behind the gap in the fire surround. I keep pulling but it’s no use. I’m stuck. Thank fuck Tim is on his way home.
Tim
It’s been a fab night in the Lion. I’ve bumped into an old mate of mine, Derek. We went to school together. Not seen him for years cos Dora wasn’t keen on him. In fact I think the words she used were dumb prick. Anyway, years have passed and we’re all a lot older and it’s been great having a catch up. He’s moved down the road from us after getting divorced. I get a text notification and look at my phone.
“Oh God, what’s she done now?” I exclaim.
“The missus?” Derek asks.
I sigh. “Yes. The message says ‘come home quick’ and there’s a shocked face emoticon.”
“Best get home, mate.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah. It’s Dora though, Queen of Drama, so she’s probably broken a fingernail. Why don’t you call in with me and say hi?”
“Alright, mate. I will. It’ll be nice to catch up with the ball and chain who stole my mate.” He elbows me and we laugh.
I stick my key in the door.
“Dora?”
“In the living room, hurry up. I’m stuck.” She yells.
I look at Derek. “Come in, pal. Sounds like I might need you to give me a hand. God knows what she’s done now.”
We walk through into the living room and that’s where I discover my wife dressed in her finest, sexy, red and black lacy lingerie. One boob has escaped its moorings as she’s leaning over, and she has an arm stuck behind the fire surround.
“Tim.” She shrieks, covering her boob with her other hand.
“Dora.” I scream, running to cover her with my coat.
“Fucking hell, Dora, you’re still fit as fuck,” yells Derek, reminding me why I binned him off as a mate in the first place. Because he’s a sexist pig. “You’re making a tit of yourself right now though. Get it? Tit. Hahahaha.”
“I’ll be back in a minute, Dora. Let me just see Derek out now I know we don’t need his assistance.”
“Good to see you again, Dora.” He winks. “Saw a little more than I expected. Got to take it slow with me you know. Otherwise you come across as desperate.”
I see my wife smile sweetly at him. He’s fucked up. I don’t know when but he’s been given the look that means he will wish for death in his future. A quick death.
I see him out and return to Dora.
“Get me fucking out of here.” She screams. I’m tempted to leave her there until she learns some manners, but then I realize that she actually looks quite frightened so instead I go to get my drill and undo the screws and bolts that hold the surround up. You never know, if I’m super lovely and sympathetic to her, I might get another shag, cos I really like that undies set.
“There you go, wifey,” I announce and I help her to stand up. She clutches her wrist rubbing it and then stands up straight.
Then she grabs hold of her chest.
“Oh my God, the pain.” She rubs frantically and then she does the most enormous belch. It smells of Toblerone and coffee mashed together. My dick wilts. “I’ll go get you some of my tums,” I tell her.
“Why the fuck did you bring Derk the Jerk home with you?” Her face contorts with rage.
“He’s called Derek.”
“Not to me he’s not.”
“Hey, he thought he was helping. Cut him some slack.”
Dora’s eyes narrow. “The man perved over me in front of you, Tim. Does that not bother you?”
God, my wife could get very dramatic at times.
“That’s just Derek. He’s always been like that. He’s harmless. Anyway when he started getting lairy I sent him home.”
“Well we will have to agree to disagree on him being harmless. But for fuck’s sake Tim, I sent you a text that said come home with a wink emoticon. Why would you think I needed help from Derek? Are you trying to get me to have a threesome now with that fucktard? How many beers have you had cos you’re making no fucking sense.”
“What are you talking about? It was a shocked face emoticon.”
Dora grabs her phone and magnifies what she sent, thrusting it in my face. Shit.
“Get an appointment at the fucking opticians made tomorrow, Tim, before you invite anyone else home for a spot of nookie.”
“So, about that?” I say hopefully.
The look she gives me makes my dick wilt all over again. Sleep it is then.
Dora
Blokes are fucking morons. I wake up and feel the acid at my chest and back of my throat. It’s burning at me like my innards are going to dissolve. I walk into the bathroom where it promptly makes me throw up. I really did overdo the coffee and chocolate. I have to face facts. The fact is I’m getting older and I will have to embark on a life of moderation from now on.
Later, I'll go on Amazon and look up clean living books or how to cope with acid reflux tomes. In the meantime I’m off to Tyler’s and then to Kid Zone. This SEBI (Self employed Business Inspector) and BB (Baking Babe) has work to do.
My son let’s me into his home and I shrug off my shoes and walk into their living room.
“How are you, Linds?” I look at my son’s poor girlfriend. At her pale and drawn face. After a week’s respite she started throwing up again every single morning. At three and a half months pregnant the chances are it should stop any day now. I hope so because she looks miserable.
“She won’t eat her morning ginger biscuit.” Says Tyler in a scolding tone.
“I’m going to ram the next ginger biscuit you try to feed me up your arse.” Lindsay scowls, once again living up to her surname of Cross.
Tyler throws his hands up in the air. “You tell her, Mum. It’s what my followers recommend most of all. We had a poll.”
“I didn’t realise I was having a baby with Tyler and 3 million YouTube followers.” I watch as Lindsay’s hands bunch up into fists.
“Let me just update Tyler on a few business things and then I think you should come out to Kid Zone with me for a bit, Lindsay. Let’s get you out of the house. You can help me sort out the final details for the wedding reception with Cam.”
“Oh my God, yes. Get me out of this house and away from him. I’m going to get changed and brush my hair.” She says and leaves the room.
I watch my son let out a huge sigh which looks part frustration and part relief that she’s gone.
“I know it’s difficult.” I tell him. “It’s all new. Emotions run high and you can never know what the next day will be like.”
He nods. “I know, I never know what to expect when I wake up. Sometimes I feel proper teary, Mum, but I’m trying my best.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “I meant Lindsay, not you. Oh my God, Tyler. She’s growing a human being in her body, cut her some slack.”
Tyler’s lips move into a full on pout. “Why are the men left out of this? Just because the baby isn’t in my belly doesn’t mean I’m not being affected. I’m constantly stressed and on edge, worried that everything’s going alright. And I swear I’m having a sympathy pregnancy, look at my stomach,” he says, lifting up his tee shirt to show a puffy belly.
“That’s due to you eating up everything I go off, and the fact you’re not going to the gym because you’re too busy on your computer.” Lindsay walks back into the room.
“I’m hurt.” Says Tyler. “I have feelings too you know.”
“They don’t get it, men, do they?” Lindsey adds. “Did Tim still want sex a lot when you were pregnant?”
“LALALALALALALALALALALALALA” Tyler screams, with his hands across his ears. He runs from the room, tripping on the edge of the rug and landing flat on his back.
“God, yes. They have no idea about how tired you are. First, they don’t want it because they think their cock is that large it will somehow poke the baby and then once they know its okay, they can’t leave you alone. Especially because boobs get bigger.” I tell her.
“I’ve told him straight I’m not in the mood right now,” says Lindsay, glaring at my son who is still lying across the floor with his eyes squeezed shut and his hands still over his ears.
“Tyler, get up you moron.” She shouts. Bless her, she’ll be a great mum after dealing with my son for all these years.
“I told Ty, we needed to baby proof the house.” Adds Linds. “I said rugs were a trip hazard. Tyler said I was already being overprotective of a baby that wasn’t even here yet.” She looks at Tyler pointedly.
“What do you think about it now, Tyler?”
He opens his eyes and rolls onto his side. “Stop picking on me for making mistakes. I’ve read every book, every magazine and I’m prepared. Theory prepared. But practice? I don’t know anybody who has a baby. It’s not like you can borrow one is it? What if I fuck up?”
“Oh God, I think he’s having a panic attack.” I tell Lindsay and we sit watching my son getting paler by the minute. Then he sits up quickly.
“Mum. Could you organise me a fake baby? One of those that acts like a real one? I can practice then.”
Lindsay rolls her eyes. “Tyler. We don’t need a pretend baby. Seriously, we’ll have a real one soon enough.”
“I can do a great edit on it for the channel, and maybe a TV interview about it? Or magazine article?”
“Tyler.” Lindsey bellows. “This is our baby, our real life baby, not a subject for your YouTube. Do you hear me?”
Tyler nods at her. “You’re right. Sorry, Linds.”
“I’m going for a pee. Yet again this bugger is sitting on my bladder.” Says Linds, and she leaves the room.
“I’ll sort it.” I whisper to Tyler, he probably could do with the practice. If nothing else it might give him more confidence.
“I’m sure Lindsey will come around to the idea when she’s feeling a bit better.”
“Thanks, Mum.” He tells me. “Could you also help me to fold up this rug?”
I drive us to Kid Zone and I sit at my usual table, Lindsay taking a seat to my right. Cam comes to sit with us. She seems so much better since she got her staff organised. A lot happier and with the constant forehead crease she displayed now gone.
“Okay, Mum. We’re all set for the evening of Saturday 25 March. I know it’s a few weeks away, but I didn’t have any birthday parties booked for the Saturday or Sunday so I’m going to close early on the Saturday and close Sunday too.”
I’m actually shocked. My career girl is closing for the day. My face must tell all because my daughter laughs at me.
“I won’t be doing it again for a while. It’s not good for business, but I want to get rat-arsed and if I don’t close there are always the risk of staffing issues meaning I have to come in. It’s not happening. There’s no way I’m staying sober so I’ll need a lie in.”
Lindsay groans. “I’d kill for a lie in. The minute I wake up, I throw up.”
Cam pats her arm. “You poor thing. And you can’t drink either. Tell you what, I’ll get some fake alcoholic drinks for the party.”
“You're okay, I’ll just have water. I’m usually okay in an evening but I’ll stick to that to be on the safe side.”
“I’ll go and get you a bottle now. Coffee or tea, Mum?”
Fuck, moderation Dora.
“No, I’ll have a bottle of water too, please.”
“Oh-kay. Do not ask. Do not ask.” She mutters to herself as she walks away.
“Acid reflux,” I tell Lindsay. “It’s killing me. I’ve got to cut down on coffee and chocolate.”
“I have that.” Lindsay tells me. “I swear by Gaviscon. It doesn’t get rid of it but it helps.”
And we sit there bonding over heartburn until Beth flies through the door.
Her long hair is straightened, her make up on. She glides in to Kid Zone with a beaming smile across her face.
“Hey guys. Fantastic day isn’t it?”
“How are you feeling?” Cam asks her. Beth is pregnant with her second child and about a month behind Lindsay, so about eight or nine weeks along.
“I feel amazing. No tiredness, sickness. If it wasn’t for the tests and my stomach immediately pooching out a little, I’d question whether I was even pregnant. Right, off to check the empire.”
She continues her happy walk into the kitchen and I look at Lindsay.
“If I wasn’t needing to go puke before, I do now.” She growls. “That’s so fucking unfair. I haven’t even brushed my hair today.”