Page 33 of Special Delivery
‘No, he has an off-site meeting,’ said Poppy. ‘And he only ever gets coffee around eleven-ish because he schedules client meetings beforehand.’Hmmm. She probably shouldn’t know his schedule by heart. ‘Besides,’ Poppy added, ‘you told me I had to call you urgently. What’s up?’
A pause.
‘Dan?’
‘Well …’
‘Wah!’ Maeve yelped.
‘Shit! She’s awake again. Oh, wait … okay, she’s gone back to sleep. Start again, Dan.’
‘Okay, so …’
Poppy’s phone beeped.Eek!‘Hold on, Dan! Oh, sorry, it’s not Patrick. Just the mothers’ group WhatsApp thread going off. Oh, actually …’
One of the perky girls in a P.E Nation top had collected everyone’s numbers at the last meeting and connected them in a WhatsApp group optimistically titled Mumz Gone Wild. They were meeting at The Bustle in fifteen minutes, which was just across the car park—about a two-minute walk away. The conversation would no doubt be inane, but there was a chance it would distract her from her emotional turmoil aboutPatrick’s non-responsiveness. ‘Maybe I could go and meet them for coffee …’
Dani was quiet on the end of the line.
‘Sorry, Dan, what were you saying?’
Dani sighed. ‘Nothing, it’s all good.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yep, you’re having a busy day. We’ll chat later. You go to mothers’ group, and if Darth Vader texts, make sure you call me.’ She paused before adding solemnly, ‘May the force be with you.’
Poppy adopted a Jedi voice too: ‘And also with you.’
They both convulsed into cackles.
‘Love you, Dan.’
‘Love you too, Pops.’
Still smiling, Poppy hung up and placed her AirPods back in her pocket then beelined for the checkout. As they waited in the self-service queue, Maeve opened her eyes and blinked miserably. No wonder. By this time of the day, she’d normally had a two-hour nap already. Today, by Poppy’s calculations, Maeve had only had fifteen minutes of unbroken sleep since quarter to five. Poppy began some surreptitious squats to lull her back to sleep. In front of her, baby boomers made terrible decisions: not weighing grapes correctly, not putting their reusable bags in the bagging area, choosing cash when the signs clearly saidCARD ONLY.
‘Wah!’ Maeve admonished.
Poppy checked her watch nervously and began squatting deeper, aiming for a full glute burn. Her daughter would be unhinged if she didn’t get some quality sleep. ‘Time for bed,Maevey,’ she whispered. These ignorant sexagenarians had no idea that the bomb on her chest was about to explode.
‘Waaaaaaaah!’ repeated Maeve more vociferously.
A couple of baby boomers glanced in their direction.
Hurry up!Poppy willed them. Why were they moving so slowly?!
Maeve’s body was becoming rigid on her chest. ‘WAAAAAAH!’
More grey heads swivelled towards them. Poppy flinched and checked her watch again. This was the scream of a hungry baby dragon, but Maeve wasn’t due for a feed for ages—she’d been cluster feeding all morning. Though, come to think of it, precisely nothing had gone to schedule today. Why would it start now? She was still a two-minute walk away from The Bustle, and judging from the pace of these boomers, a Jurassic period away from getting through the checkout.
‘WAAAAAH!’
Poppy cursed herself inwardly. She should have predicted this! It was the rule of three—and four and five and six and one hundred fucking million; if one bad thing happened, at least a hundred million other bad things had to happen before you had a clean slate to start again.
An empty checkout appeared behind a man in a tartan vest who was shuffling away at the speed of a comatose snail. Poppy raced over and shoved the nappies under the barcode reader and—oh no.
UNWANTED ITEM IN THE BAGGING AREA.
