Page 2 of The Six-Week Single Dad
I was twenty-six and had a fledgling career as a superstar executive recruiter, which meant working lots of hours that reaped substantial rewards. I worked hard, I played hard. Maddy had too.
I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be a father too back then.
We had the conversation about all the options, and Maddy surprised me when she said she wanted to have the baby, if I was prepared to support her. One of her friends had recently given birth and Maddy admitted she had been hit by a massive case of broodiness. I’d never seen that side of her. Like me, she enjoyed the more lavish things in life and I honestly couldn’t see her in the mother role. However, she adapted surprisingly well and her attitude had changed over the past year or so.
The decision to take off to Paris was certainly a nod back in the direction of her party-girl lifestyle.
“Hang on a minute, why can’t your mum help out?” Maddy’s mother had always been very supportive and happy to lend a hand with babysitting duties.
“I can’t rely on her every time I need help with something.”
That wasn’t totally true. There had been plenty of times when Maddy’s mother had bailed her out of some scrape she’d gotten herself into.
“Anyway, she’s going to Spain with some girlfriends and she said she wasn’t going to cancel.”
“Right.”
Like mother, like daughter.
I drained the rest of my pint, sensing I was beaten. “Okay. Let’s go.”
Twenty minutes later, we were back at my flat in New Cross, an up-and-coming part of southeast London. I’d gotten lucky when a three-bedroom top floor flat, in a huge Victorian house, had come onto the market. It needed work, and it had taken me almost two years, but now screamed modern simplicity. It certainly wasn’t baby friendly. Yet.
It wasn’t as if Maddy hadn’t been to the flat a million times before, but the way she was looking around it now, you’d have thought it was the first time she’d seen it. She moved around the space, throwing out suggestions.
“You’ll need to turn the office into Alfie’s room.”
“That table will need to go; it’s got sharp edges and it’s at his height.”
“Those bottles can’t stay there; what if he pulls one on top of him?”
I followed her, taking mental notes, praying I’d remember everything she said. Alfie was snoring gently in his buggy, seemingly already at home. It was going to be different having him around twenty-four-seven.
I still didn’t know what I was going to do about work.
I needed help.
When Tom came over that evening, I was no closer to a solution. I had five days to sort something out.
We were in the middle of a game of FIFA, when I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer.
“I have to look after Alfie for six weeks and I have no idea how I’m going to do it and I need to have something in place by Friday.”
The controller clattered out of his hands, allowing Harry Kane to slip in and score a goal, much like in reality.
“You have to do what?” My best friend’s face was contorted in an expression I figured I would have replicated when Maddy told me the news.
“I’m going to be a full-time dad for six weeks.”
“How the hell are you going to manage that?”
It was the exact same question I’d been asking myself all afternoon, yet I was still no closer to the answer. I only hoped that Tom would have some sensible suggestions.
“Can’t you get a nanny?”
“Too expensive and too short notice, apparently.” I’d briefly searched a couple of websites that offered that sort of service, and baulked slightly at the costs for such a short time. Plus it appeared they wouldn’t be able to supply someone quickly enough because of their rigorous checks, which obviously made sense. “I guess I’m going to have to talk to HR about taking some time off.” I didn’t relish that thought.
“Guess you’ve got to try though.” Tom turned his attention back to the game and, while I wasn’t paying attention, levelled the score.
