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me from beneath lowered brows as if I were someone very nasty from the Home Office.
I tried to slip next door to put some clothes on, at which they took the bottles out and started
yelling again. Finally, I ended up dressing in the sitting room while they watched intently as if
I were a bizarre reverse striptease artist.
After forty-five minutes of Gulf War-style operation to get them, plus the prams and bags,
downstairs, we reached the street. Was very nice when we got to the swings. Harry, as Magda says,
has not mastered the
human language yet but Constance developed a very sweet, all-adults-together confidential tone
with me, saying, "I think he wants to go on the swing," when he talked gibberish, and when I
bought a packet of Minstrels saying solemnly, "I don't think we'd better tell people about this,"
Unfortunately, for some reason when we got to the front door, Harry started sneezing and a huge
web of projectile green snot seemed to fly into the air then flop back over his face like
something from Dr Who. Constance then gagged in horror and threw up on my hair and the baby
started screaming, which set the other two off. Desperately trying to calm the situation, I bent
down, wiped the snot off Harry, and put his dummy back into his mouth while beginning a soothing
rendition of 'I Will Always Love You'.
For a miraculous second, there was silence. Thrilled with my gifts as a natural mother, I launched
into a second verse, beaming into Harry's face, at which he abruptly pulled the dummy out of his
mouth and shoved it into mine.
"Hello again," said a manly voice as Harry started to scream once more. I turned round, dummy in
mouth and sick all over hair to find Mark Darcy looking extremely puzzled.
"They're Magda's," I said eventually.
"Ah, I thought it was all a bit quick. Or a very well kept secret."
"Who's that?" Constance put her hand in mine, looking up at him suspiciously.
"I'm Mark," he said. "I'm Bridget's friend."
"Oh," she said, still looking suspicious.
"She's got the same expression as you anyway," he said, looking at me in a way I couldn't fathom.
"Can I give you a hand upstairs?"
Ended up with me carrying the baby and holding Constance's hand and Mark bringing the pushchair
and holding Harry's hand. For some reason neither of us could speak, except to the children. But
then I was aware of voices on the stairs. Rounded the corner and there were two policemen emptying
the hall cupboard. They'd had a complaint from next door about the smell.
"You take the children upstairs, I'll deal with this," said Mark quietly. Felt like Maria in The
Sound of Music when they've been singing in the concert and she has to get the children into the
car while Captain Von Trapp confronts the Gestapo.
Talking in a cheery, fraudulently confident whisper, I put the Pingu video back on, gave them all
some sugar-free Ribena in their bottles and sat on the floor between them, which they seemed more
than contented about.
Then policeman appeared clutching a holdall I recognized as mine. He pulled a polythene bag of
stinking blood-smeared flesh accusingly from the zip pocket with his gloved hand and said, "Is
this yours, miss? It was in the hall cupboard. Could we ask you a few questions?"
I got up, leaving the children staring rapt at Pingu as Mark appeared in the doorway.
"As I said, I'm a lawyer," he said pleasantly to the young policemen, with just the merest steely
hint of "so you'd better watch what you're doing" in his voice.
Just then the phone rang.
"Shall I get that for you, miss?" said one, of the officers suspiciously, as if it might be my
bits-of-dead-person supplier. I just couldn't work out how blood-stained flesh had got in my bag.
The policeman put the phone to his ear, looked completely terrified for a moment, then shoved the
phone at me.
"Oh, hello, darling, who's that? Have you got a man in the house?"
Suddenly the penny dropped. The last time I used that bag was when I went to Mum and Dad's for
lunch. "Mother," I said, "when I came down for lunch, did you put anything in my bag?"
"Yes, in actual fact I did, come to mention it. Two pieces of fillet steak. And you never said
thank you. In the zip pocket. I mean as I was saying to Una, it's not cheap isn't fillet steak."
"Why didn't you tell me?" I hissed.
Finally managed to get a totally un-penitent mother to confess to the policemen. Even then they
started saying they wanted to take the fillet steak off for analysis and maybe hold me for
questioning at which Constance started crying, I picked her up, and she put her arm round my neck,
holding on to my jumper as if I were about to be wrested from her and thrown in a pit with bears.
Mark just laughed, put his hand on one of the policemen's shoulder and said, "Come on, boys. It's
a couple of pieces of fillet steak from her mother. I'm sure there's better things you could be
doing with your time."
The policemen looked at each other, and nodded, then they started closing their notebooks and
picking their helmets up. Then the main one said, "OK, Miss Jones, just keep an eye on what your
mother puts in your bag in future. Thanks for your help, sir. Have a good evening. Have a good
evening, miss."
There was a second's pause when Mark stared at the hole in the wall, looking unsure what to do,
then he suddenly said, "Enjoy Pingu," and bolted off down the stairs after the policemen.
Wednesday 21 May
9st 1, alcohol units 3 (v.g.), cigarettes 12 (excellent), calories
3,425 (off food), progress of hole in wall by Gary 0, positive thoughts about furnishing fabric as
special-occasion-wear look 0.
Jude has gone completely mad. Just went round to her house to find entire place strewn with bridal
magazines, lace swatches, gold-sprayed raspberries, tureen and grapefruit-knife brochures,
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