I'm sure it's Saturday and I just forgot to cancel the alarm. I lie still for a second and try and work back through yesterday and last night. I can remember another dull day at the office with Tina Murray taking me into one of the interview rooms and ripping into me because of my attitude. I remember the gig and the fight and running away from the venue. Christ, what exactly did happen there last night? Doesn't matter now. All that's important is that it's Saturday and I don't have to get up and go to work.
I roll over onto my side and put my arm around Lizzie. She seemed happier yesterday than she has been for a while. It did us both good to get out and spend some time together. Shame it had to end the way it did. When we got back to the flat I had to drive Harry home. After that we opened a couple of cans of beer and sat in front of the TV watching a dumb action film, numbing our brains.
I shuffle a little closer to Liz and then wait for her to react. When she doesn't respond I move a little closer again and press myself up tight against her. We never seem to have chance to be intimate these days. Long gone are the times when we could be free and jump into bed at the drop of a hat. These days there's always something do or someone to look after first. Having kids has changed everything. I wish I'd been allowed to borrow someone else's for a while before we had our own. I never appreciated just how much having children can screw up your previously simple and uncomplicated life.
I can feel Lizzie's skin through the cloth of her pyjamas. She feels beautifully soft and warm. If it wasn't so early I might take a chance and try and slip my hand inside her top. Sometimes, if I'm careful and gentle enough, a move like that might start something. At this time of the day, though, she's more likely to kick me than caress me. But I can remember a time a couple of weeks back when we were both in the kitchen. She'd brushed up against me while I was standing at the sink doing the washing up. I stopped and turned around and she just looked at me like she does sometimes. I kissed her and I couldn't help myself. I grabbed her with wet hands and pushed her back onto the table. She took off her top and…
'I want my breakfast, Daddy,' Ellis pipes up from somewhere in the darkness at the side of the bed. Christ, she scared me half to death. I had no idea she was there. My suddenly semi-formed erection quickly droops back down to nothing.
'It's too early,' I mumble. 'Go back to bed.'
'I'm hungry, Daddy,' she says, undeterred.
'In a bit.'
'I'm hungry now. I can't wait.'
'Later.'
'Now,' she demands with more force and insistence in her voice than I would ever have expected from a four-and-a-half year old. She's not going anywhere. I'll have to try a different tack.
'Why don't you get into bed with Mummy and me for a while, sweetheart,' I suggest hopefully, quickly giving up all thoughts of sex. 'We'll get up and get your breakfast in a few minutes.' An hour or so with Ellis in the bed seems a much better option than getting up now. I expect a little resistance but, to my surprise, she agrees. She drags herself up onto the bed, steps over my head and then wriggles between Lizzie and I. Christ her feet are cold. Lizzie angrily mumbles something unintelligible when they touch her.
Thirty seconds of silence and she starts on me again.
'I want toast please, Daddy,' she says. I have to give her her due, she might be irritating but at least she's polite.
'In a minute,' I yawn, rolling over onto my side again, grabbing back some duvet and twisting and contorting my body to avoid contact with her icy feet. 'Let's just stay in bed for a little longer, shall we…?'
She agrees but she talks. And she talks. And she keeps talking. I screw my eyes shut and pull the duvet over my head.
I managed to last another twenty minutes with Ellis in bed before admitting defeat and getting up. I'm in the kitchen now waiting for the kettle to boil. We're both dressed and Ellis has had her breakfast but she's still talking non-stop about nothing in particular. Lizzie's still in bed. She could sleep through anything. Wish I could.
It's freezing cold in here. This flat is impossible to heat. I think it's so cold because the rest of the building is virtually empty. We're on the left hand side of the ground floor and all the warmth that our old-fashioned heating system generates just rises up and disappears into the empty flats above us. I've even thought about trying to get us moved upstairs to see if that makes any difference.
I grab my drink and a bowl of cereal and sit down in front of the TV. There's nothing on worth watching; crappy cartoons, cookery and lifestyle programmes and loud, intelligence-insulting kids shows are all I can find. I settle on the news but even the headlines are boring this morning (an outbreak of violence in the capital, a sex scandal involving a politician and his nephew, more warnings about climate change and a celebrity death). I'll wait for the sports headlines. They're usually on just before the hour.
Christ, all the kids are out of bed now. Why do they have to get up so early? We have to drag them out of their beds when it's a school day. They've only been up for a couple of minutes and I can already hear Ed and Josh fighting over something. I close my eyes and wait for them to start on me. It's only a matter of time…
'I want to watch Channel 22,' Ed says as he storms into the room. Does his entire life revolve around TV?
'I'm watching this,' I answer quickly, annoyed that I've been disturbed.
'With your eyes shut?' he sneers in an irritating tone which makes me want to slap him.
'Yes, with my eyes shut,' I sneer back. 'I'm waiting to watch something.'
'I really need to watch Channel 22, Dad,' he whines.
'Watch it in your room,' I suggest sensibly. We bought Ed a TV last Christmas. He hardly uses the damn thing.
'I can't get Channel 22 in there.'
'Sorry, son, I'm watching this. You can turn over when it's finished.'
'That's not fair,' he yells at me, 'I never get to watch any of my programmes.'
Little shit. He seems to spend all of his time in front of the box. How often do I get a turn? It's my TV and I can watch what I like, when I like. I don't know why but I find myself trying to justify watching a five minute programme to my eight year old son.
'You're always watching TV. It's all I ever see you do.'
'No it isn't. It's not fair, you never let me watch what I want.'
I can hear the sports bulletin theme music playing. I open my eyes. Ed's standing directly between me and the TV screen.
'Look, this is only on for five minutes. Let me watch it then you can have your channel on.'
'It's my turn to choose,' Ellis pipes up. I didn't even know she was in here. That's twice she's done that to me today.
'No it isn't,' Ed shouts. 'I'm watching my channel next.'
'But you've got your own telly. I haven't got one. That's not fair, is it Daddy?'
'It's just tough. I asked first.'
'I asked Mummy last night. She said I could watch what I wanted to this morning. She said that…'
'Will you both just shut up!' I yell, loud enough for the people in the flat on the top floor to hear. I hold my head in my hands in despair. Through the gaps between my fingers I can see the TV screen. The sports reporter is in full flow but I can't hear a damn word she's saying.
'Tell her, Dad,' Ed barks again, not about to let it drop. 'I'm watching my channel next.'
'No you're not. Mummy said that I could…'
'I don't care, Dad said that...'
'Shut up!' I snap. 'For crying out loud, will you both just shut up.'
'She started it,' Ed whines.
'No, he started it,' Ellis whines back, and so it goes on...
That's it. The brief sports bulletin is over. Waste of bloody time. Less than five minutes was all I wanted. Was that too much to ask? I get up and switch off the television and for a single blissful moment the flat is completely silent.
'If I can't watch it, no-one can,' I tell them both.
