Page 139 of The Bad Mother's Diary

I thought he was going to moan about the credit card. But actually, he wanted to talk ‘about us’. Nick goes months without checking his statements.

I’m going to meet up with him.

He’s still Daisy’s dad.

And if I’m totally honest, I’m enjoying him chasing after me. I feel I should be allowed to milk it for a little bit.

Especially since Alex hasn’t called or messaged.

Afternoon

Just been to the Christmas cake sale at Callum’s school.

Nothing cost more than 20p, so I bought a chocolate sponge, six mince pies and a jar of iced shortbread biscuits all for £2. Result!

Callum won a prize for his ‘technical bake’ – a pile of biscuits and squirty cream made to look like a snowman.

Evening

Callum’s nativity play at the school.

Brandi is very proud, because Callum got the part of God.

Seeing him perform, it’s fair to say he can project his voice. Some of the old ladies were wincing and covering their ears when he shouted down from heaven.

Luckily Daisy slept soundly in the pram, even when Callum beat the drum so hard it had to be taken off him by the teacher.

Saturday December 19th

Very weird day.

Met Nick at ‘Vodka!’ this afternoon – a swanky bar full of men with neckerchiefs and women with shiny leather boots and tasselled handbags.

It was like the bar that Christmas forgot. There were no decorations, and everyone looked serious and miserable.

They didn’t do Diet Coke, so I had to have some perfumed lemon drink that tasted like bath water.

Nick was late of course.

So I spend half an hour trying to stop Daisy smashing the glass coasters.

While we were waiting, this drunk guy from Manchester started talking to me. He was so drunk, he could only manage one word in three.

‘You … lovely-looking girl … on Saturday? Nice … lager tops … and then the policeman said … not my broken glass, mate …’

When Nick finally showed up, he had that wet-eyed smiley look that told me he’d already had a few drinks.

He did a double take when he saw me and said, ‘Wow. You look amazing.’

I was wearing a silk dress, cashmere coat and suede knee-high boots. And I did look nice, even if I do say so myself.

I didn’t tell Nick that he’d paid for my outfit.

Nick ordered a double Monkey Shoulder on the rocks, then slurred at me about how fantastic the other night had been.

I told him off for being late. Daisy was getting near shitty hour and would soon be crying inconsolably.

She’d already started grizzling like a fire alarm running out of batteries.

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