Not Quite Perfect. Annie Lyons
After a morning of trying children, a nagging mother and cheery singing, Rachel is ready for something far stronger than a skinny latte. However, the coffee shop does offer the next best thing with its promise of grown-up interaction and sugar-infused treats for the children to prolong this grown-up interaction. Despite its coffee chain décor of dark wood tables, fat dark brown sofas and sepia pictures of corpulent grinning ‘roasters’ and couples enjoying the coffees of their lives, Rachel has a fondness for this place. She has come here since Will was a baby and knows most of the baristas by sight. Plus they welcome the mothers of the town and don’t balk at mashed muffin or spilt smoothie. They have circled their buggies like wagons, bought their coffees and the children are distracted with cake. Rachel is recounting the details of last night’s argument with Steve.
‘Edinburgh?’
‘I know!’
‘Wow!’
‘I know!’
‘It’s an amazing city, really beautiful.’
‘Yeah, OK but I’m wallowing in self-pity here and you’re supposed to be helping.’
‘Right, sorry. It is bloody far away too.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And the weather’s shit. Al went to uni there. He loved it but always says the weather was appalling.’
‘Precisely.’
Christa laughs. ‘You English and your weather. It’s a national passing of time, isn’t it?’
Rachel smiles. ‘I just don’t want to bring up my kids so far from my family. Sorry, Christa, that was a bit insensitive of me. You must miss your family terribly.’
‘It is OK, Rachel. To be honest, I do not really get on with my family, not since my mother’s sex change.’
Sue nearly chokes on her muffin. ‘Her what?’
‘Ja, she was name of Wilhelmina and now she is just Wilhelm.’
Rachel notices Sue ram the rest of her muffin in her mouth to stop herself from laughing.
‘Mein poor father did not see it coming. I think it was the shock das killed him.’
‘God, that’s awful Christa,’ says Rachel unsure of what else to say.
‘Ja, that and the prostitute he was with the night he died. His herz was never very strong, you see.’
Rachel doesn’t dare make eye contact with Sue and pats Christa’s arm, trying to look earnest.
‘But I’m so sorry Rachel, you were saying about moving away from your family. Are you very close?’
Rachel thinks for a moment. She adores her father, her mother interferes but means well, and Emma is, well, her baby sister.
‘We’re as close as any family and I just don’t really want my kids missing out on the chance of those relationships.’
Sue has regained her composure. ‘What does Steve say?’
‘Well, he, erm,’ Rachel says, ‘actually, I don’t know. I kind of shouted him down and didn’t really ask him.’
‘Sorry, dear friend, I’m as ready as the next militant feminist to blame men for everything from global warming to why the plughole’s always full of hair, but even I think you need to talk this one through properly.’
‘I know, I know. You’re right. What would you do then, oh wise and rational one? Would you up sticks and go?’
‘No comparison, my friend. The family is all tucked up safe and sound in the North. I’d probably jump at the chance to be honest. I mean, London’s all right, but this south-east corner isn’t exactly Hampstead and you don’t really get the benefit of living in the big smoke with kids. I mean, when was the last time you went to the cinema or a gig?’
‘2003. Duran Duran reunion gig. Bloody fantastic. Anyway, I grew up round here and it’s not that bad. I bet more people get mugged in Hampstead.’
‘Maybe. I just don’t know if I want Joe to be a teenager around here. All those knives and gangs. I say think about it. Rationally,’ says Sue with a grin.
‘You’re supposed to tell me to stay,’ says Rachel crestfallen.
‘Rach, you know I’ll probably just take the kids to the pub and the bookies if you ever leave us, but all I’m saying is think about it.’
Christa is looking wistful. ‘It must be nice to have a husband who is there and who values your opinion. My Rudi is never here.’
‘He works for a drinks company, doesn’t he?’
‘Ja, he is Russian and spends a lot of time in Moscow. I think he has a mistress.’
‘Christa, that’s terrible!’
‘Ja, but I have my boy and Rudi would never forget his responsibility to his boy.’ She ruffles Roger’s ginger mop of hair.
‘Now, let’s have another coffee and perhaps some kuchen? My treat,’ Christa smiles broadly as if she has just given them details of a lovely holiday rather than a life in turmoil.
‘That poor woman,’ whispers Rachel while Christa is ordering for them.
‘I know. Fancy have a mum with a willy, called Willy!’
Rachel explodes with laughter. ‘Susan, you are going straight to hell!’
‘Yeah, baby and you’re right behind me!’
Chapter 4
Rachel stacks the plates from lunch into the dishwasher and listens, enjoying the sweet sound of silent children enjoying the chaotic capers of a talking dog and his hippy friends. Will has declared Scooby Doo to be a ‘baby’s programme’, but Rachel has noticed how he grasps one of Lily’s hands when the janitor dressed up as a ghost tries to spook the characters. She looks in on them now; three perfect forms with wide eyes and open mouths, rapt in a state of unbridled joy at the action playing out on screen, barely aware of her presence. Lily glances round.
‘Look, Mummy, Scooby’s going to have another snack!’
‘Oh my goodness! Is he? I bet that’s his third or fourth so far!’ says Rachel.
‘Fifth actually, Mum,’ corrects Will, ever hot on his facts.
‘Well enjoy, my darlings; Mummy is just going to do something on the computer.’
‘Can Alfie look too?’ asks Alfie, his eyes not leaving the screen.
‘In a bit darling, you watch Scooby with Lils and Will.’
Rachel takes her chance and sneaks away, tragically excited about a few precious moments away from motherhood, even if it’s just to pay some bills. She feels a mild thrill as the computer starts up and she connects to the internet, her mind filling with expectation at what she might find. It reaffirms that there is still a world out there, even if she often feels disconnected from it. It seems ridiculous that her house is filled with chaos and yet she feels so lonely and detached from it, like a character watching life play out before her. Rachel stares at the glowing screen, its possibilities welcoming her, inviting her in: Do you feel lucky? Just click here, madam. Not sure what you’re after? Just punch in a couple of words and we’ll do the rest.
She is methodical however and goes straight to her e-mails. She sends her sister a message asking about the book pitch and gets a response almost immediately: ‘Cock-up of the century. Too depressed to speak. Have just eaten my own body weight in cheesecake. How’s Alf?’
Rachel grins. She considers telling Emma about the possible move to Scotland but