But instead of jumping up and down for joy as she would’ve in the past, Chloe was now eyeing me with suspicion. ‘What are you going to be doing in the meantime?’
‘Luke and I have got a script to finish,’ I assured them as flashes of naked flesh raced across my mind.
‘Yeah, right, the script,’ she scoffed and marched out the door with her rucksack.
I watched her, slack-jawed, and Emma shrugged. ‘Get used to it.’
‘Good luck, Em. And thanks. Bye, guys,’ I called out the door. ‘Mummy loves you. Don’t drive Auntie Emma crazy, behave yourselves.’
‘Yeah, yada, yada, yada,’ Chloe scoffed, getting into Em’s car. After they drove off, I closed the door with a sigh of relief. I would have to sort her out when she got back. I didn’t like her attitude at all. But for now, I finally had a moment’s peace. Time to get to work.
I looked out the window. Luke was no longer in the garden. ‘Luke?’ I called.
His voice reached me from my bedroom. ‘Up here, babe. You coming?’
I caught my breath in anticipation. I could really get used to this.
*
A couple of hours later, and still no sign of Phil, the doorbell rang as I was making parsley sauce with boiled ham for tea. Luke had never heard of it so I wanted to introduce him to England’s culinary delights. With an Italian twist, of course.
Wiping my hands on a tea towel, I made for the door, nearly tripping over Callie who followed me everywhere. She knew who her breadwinner was. Or in this case, her boiled ham-winner.
When I opened the door, there was a girl of about, oh, maybe eighteen, if that, with pink and green hair in dreadlocks and a spike running through her nose, dressed in a polka-dot dress and biker boots. She would have been very pretty, if I’d been able to distinguish her features under all her make-up.
‘Can I help you?’ I asked.
She smiled. A rather nice smile, typical of the young and full of hope and naivety.
‘Yah,’ she barked, and I noticed she was chewing on a large glob of blue gum. ‘Phil sent me to pick up the kids?’
I baulked. ‘Phil?’
‘Yah.’
‘I’m sorry, you are…?’
‘Tracy.’
‘Tracy?’
‘I’m his girlfriend. Phil can’t make it because he’s busy.’
Typical Phil. He begged me to have this day, and now he didn’t even show. ‘Busy?’ Doing what, I wondered, getting drunk on the sofa?
She nodded, pulling on her long sleeves to reveal two enormous tattoos on each forearm as she blew a huge bubble and burst it. ‘Yah. The big game’s just about to start.’
‘I see. So he sent you so he can watch a football game?’
‘No, not football. Poker. We’ve got some friends around and Phil’s preparing the drinks and snacks.’
‘I’m sorry, uhm…?’
‘Tracy.’
‘Yes, Tracy. Please tell Phil that the kids waited and waited for him to show, and in the end they went to a friend’s.’ That should teach him. Or, knowing his track record, probably not. He had the memory of a pinhead.
‘Okay. Just give me the address and I’ll go pick ’em up, then.’
Not only did she speak like Phil, she even acted and thought like him. A female clone? His dream had finally come true, then.
‘I’m sorry, Tracy, but my children are not available at the moment.’
Her face fell. ‘What, you don’t trust me then?’
‘Trust you? I don’t even know you.’
‘But Phil sent me—’
‘I’m sorry, Tracy, nothing against you personally, but I’m not in the habit of farming off my children to my ex-husband’s friends. Especially after I’ve consigned them to perfectly capable parents whom I trust.’
Her shoulders drooped. She was just a young girl, infatuated with a guy, just like I had been. ‘However nice they may be,’ I added hastily, not wanting to hurt her feelings. ‘Because I’m sure you’re very nice.’
She perked up and smiled. ‘Thank you. I’m sure you are, too, despite what Phil says.’
‘Please tell my ex-husband that if he wants to spend time with his children, he can at least make the effort to remember the scheduled dates – and find the time to pick them up personally. And if he thinks I’m going to let them sit in his flat while there are other people I don’t know, playing poker, drinking and smoking, he’s got another think coming.’
She blew a giant blue bubble that covered most of her face and burst it with her teeth. ‘He’s not gonna be happy,’ she warned me.
I smiled. ‘Oh, believe me, he never is. I’m sorry you had a wasted journey. Nice meeting you.’
She shrugged. ‘And you. Better luck next time, I guess.’
I watched her turn and get into a yellow Maserati. At least his gambling was going well. Until it wouldn’t anymore, and he threw her out into the middle of the street, too. Because for a girl of her age, Tracy had already lumbered herself down with the biggest of losers. I knew because I had done all the legwork. Like many a young woman, she had stopped at the surface of Phil’s charm and let the relationship go from there to its eventual endpoint, soon to arrive.
He may have been good-looking years ago, and, had we continued to be a couple, I’d have pushed him to eat healthily and take care of himself, but his girls didn’t care about his health. They were enthralled by his now fading but still boyish looks, thinking themselves clever for having bagged an older bloke who drove a sports car.
That it wasn’t even his was secondary. Far from them were the doubts and questions about the future, such as, is he going to love me forever? Is he going to be responsible and care for his family? Is he going to love me unconditionally, even when the kids have flown the nest and I’m old and grey?
Questions that I’d actually asked my younger self,
