Page 96 of The Bad Mother's Diary

He ranted about Nick and what a ‘nasty piece of work’ he was.

The whole village thinks so, apparently.

Dr Slaughter said, ‘If it makes you feel any better, Nick was in here three weeks ago and his blood pressure was through the roof.’

Then he ranted about Mum ‘not respecting’ her diabetes – apparently he saw her in Tesco’s with ‘a trolley full of sugary 2 for 1s’.

I asked Doctor Slaughter whether he’d seen Sadie recently.

He said no. Her family are paying for private care.

I hope she gets varicose veins. And haemorrhoids. Really massive haemorrhoids.

Saturday September 26th

Daisy’s toes are poking holes through her baby gros.

Nick really does need to start contributing to his daughter.

I left a humiliating message on his answer machine asking for cash.

Half hour later, I got a call from Penny Castle (his solicitor) asking me to ‘desist any financial requests until after the maintenance hearing.’

Penny lives in the Great Oakley too. In a three-storey townhouse with two white cats. She shouts at the kids in legal speak, ‘Please REMOVE your ball from the perimeter of my property …’

I told her that I couldn’t stop Daisy growing while we waited for the hearing. ‘She needs clothes now,’ I said. ‘Not in six months’ time.’

She said, ‘Perhaps you could borrow the money from a family member. I’m sure your solicitor would be happy to draw up a loan contract.’

I asked her what the legal speak for ‘fuck off’ was. Then I hung up.

Didn’t really want to do Oxford Street shopping on my own, but Laura was studying and Brandi was doing her manicure exam.

Getting the tube with a pram was no fun at all. No one helps you on the steps like they do in the village.

In Great Oakley, you can hardly walk down the street without someone sticking their head in the pram and cooing over your baby. But in London, it’s like everyone is annoyed with you.

I probably shouldn’t have used the big Silver Cross baby carriage with the massive wheels.

It was Mum’s idea. She told me I’d have more room for the shopping.

She was right. But it’s been in the garage since Brandi was a baby. So it was full of spider’s egg sacs and the wheels squeaked.

Mum said, ‘No one will get in your way pushingthatbeast along,’ adding that it was ‘the Rolls-Royce’ of prams, and could ‘fit four babies and a pound of potatoes’.

I tried Mothercare first, but there was nothing on sale. And I need to economise.

So I went to Primark.

I’ve always wondered why half the clothes in Primark are on the floor.

Now I know.

It’s because women with ridiculously huge Silver Cross prams push their way through the aisles and knock everything off the hangers.

They didn’t have anything in Daisy’s size – it had all sold out.

So I decided to go back to Mothercare.

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