Megan 3 by Mary Hooper Read Free Book Online

could remember. The flat was not only a mess, it was a dump. We hadn’t had any new furniture or carpets or anything for years.
    I tried to buck up. OK, I had a spare evening, what could I do with myself? All the magazines tell you that an evening in on your own is something special, a treat. You’re supposed to have a manicure and pedicure, then put bits of cucumber on your eyelids and have a face pack, then relax in a bubble bath with scented candles. I had no money for things like face packs or nail varnish or foot lotion, though, and anyway, the bathroom had peeling wallpaper and was crammed with plastic toys and baby stuff. If I wanted a bubble bath I’d have to use washing-up liquid, andthere certainly weren’t any scented candles around. That was
that
, then.
    I closed my eyes. What would I like to be doing tonight? The answer was, I’d like to be going out somewhere for a meal, with someone I really fancied. Jon? Yes, Jon would do. I could quite easily work myself up into a Class A fancy for him. And if I wasn’t with Jon, I’d like to be going out to a club. Or to
California’s
, with Claire and without Josie. Or a disco where I could spend the entire night dancing – I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been out dancing. I’d like to go out without having to leave bottles of milk and teething stuff and careful instructions about the bye-byes blanket, and without having to get back at a certain time.
    I flicked through the TV channels again. ‘Antiques Roadshow’ was on.
Still
. It had been on for hours. All day, it seemed. I switched the set off and as I did so I heard a wail from the bedroom. I glanced at my watch disbelievingly: he’d only been in bed forty-five minutes! He’d been in a bad mood all afternoon, rubbing at his cheeks and dribbling, and though I’d been dying to get him to bed, I’d hung it out as long as possible hoping that he’d sleep right through the night. Forty-five minutes! How could he only sleepthat long when he’d been so tired?
    I turned the TV back on, found a wildlife programme and turned the sound right up. Every time there was a pause, though, I could hear Jack crying in the background. I left him about fifteen minutes, until I knew from the rattling of the bars of his cot that he’d pulled himself out of the bedclothes and was standing up.
    I opened the bedroom door a tiny bit. If he didn’t look too distressed then I’d leave him to it. He saw me first, though.
    ‘G’bye,’ he said in a little quavery voice and I immediately felt
terrible
. I picked him up and hugged him, and found he was damp right through his nighttime nappy and sleep suit, and the bottom sheet was soaked. Sighing, I tugged at the sheet to pull it out and put in the wash. Ellie had got him ready for bed and she’d obviously done up the nappy wrongly. If you didn’t get them just right then they leaked.
    I changed him and took him into the sitting room. His tears had dried by now, there was just the occasional shuddering intake of breath to remind me that I’d been a cruel mummy and left him to cry. Immediately cheered up at the sight of his toys, he found Josie’s duck and began to push it at speed upand down the room –
quack-quack-quack-quack
.
    I let him play for ten minutes or so, and then tried to take him back into the bedroom. Realising he was about to be banished, he started crying as soon as I picked him up. I carried him in, though, arranged all his toys and his piece of blanket around him and said, ‘Time to sleep. Night night!’ very firmly. This is what the health visitor had instructed. Of course, he was roaring before I’d even closed the door.
    I went into the sitting room and, to occupy myself, rang Claire. To my surprise, she was in – although she didn’t exactly sound thrilled to hear from me. ‘April brought over
Men in Black
,’ she said. ‘We were just about to start watching it.’
    ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Who’s April?’
    ‘She’s a girl in my