Page 106 of The Bad Mother's Diary

It poured with rain today, so I took Daisy to the village library.

They were doing a ‘Reading is Fun!’ event, and loads of the village kids were there – including Jemima Dalton.

She is such a sweet, polite little girl. She said, ‘So nice to see you again,’ then helped Daisy find a book to chew.

Jemima couldn’t take part in the reading event because she’d already read all the books in the library.

I apologised for rushing off the other day, and asked her to thank Alex again for the afternoon tea. And also for Jeremy.

She said, ‘Thank him yourself, he’s right behind you.’

I jumped out of my skin, and Jemima laughed and said, ‘Only joking. But he’ll be coming soon. You like him, don’t you?’

Bloody perceptive children.

I said, ‘He’s a very nice man.’

She gave me a knowing smile.

I pretended I needed to change Daisy’s nappy, then sprinted to the toilet, splashed a load of water on my face and wiped yesterday’s mascara from under my eyes.

I sauntered casually back into the library and carried on reading to Daisy. But I kept checking the door to see if Alex was coming.

A few minutes later, Alex arrived.

I pretended to be surprised to see him.

Jemima said, ‘But I just told you he was coming.’

I went all red.

Alex did that half-smile of his.

God. Why does the floor seem to suck me down when he looks at me?

He knelt down to blow a raspberry on Daisy’s stomach, then asked me if Jeremy Samuels had been in touch.

I said I’d been meaning to thank him and told him he was right about me needing good representation.

Alex said, ‘I usually am right about things.’ Then he said he’d seen me running around the village and that my form was improving.

I wanted to ask which day he’d seen me.

Was it Monday, when I’d been wearing Laura’s sleek, black running gear and powering along swigging from a runner’s water bottle?

Or Wednesday, when I was staggering along in stained elephant trousers, panting like an old horse and muttering, ‘I fucking hate running’?

I told Alex that the colder the weather, the less faith I had in myself to finish the marathon.

Alex said, ‘Isn’t it about time I started training you again?’

I felt myself nodding vigorously.

Alex gave me that wry smile of his, and said he’d come by the pub at 8pm tomorrow.

I said, ‘Are you sure you don’t mind? Coming right into the village … away from the posh bit.’

Alex said, ‘Perhaps I’m not as posh as you think.’

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