‘What can I do to get in their good books, though? They made it pretty clear that I wasn’t welcome. How could I possibly break in? What do they like? I’m not really au fait with the World of the Teenager.’
‘That brings me to my idea.’ He sits up, animated. ‘Daisy turns thirteen next week and has just announced that she wants a party.’ Joe rolls his eyes. ‘Gina’s away with work – supposedly – and I thought it might be fun if we organised a party together.’
I must look vaguely horrified.
‘I know it’s short notice, but I seriously need help,’ he confesses. ‘I haven’t a clue what to do for a teenage girl and I don’t want to let her down. I’d like it to be something cool. Gina and I are still at the stage of competitive parenting. Plus, as Gina’s away for her birthday, I genuinely want to make it feel special.’
Chewing at my lip, I say, ‘I’m not sure that party planning is my forte.’
Joe holds up his hands. ‘No pressure. It was just an idea. I thought it might be a chance for you to get to know her better.’
It could be. He’s right. If I put on the party of the century for Daisy, then she might learn to like me. The only downside is that I’m totally rubbish at this kind of stuff. This could be my big opportunity, though. Shouldn’t I give it one last chance? Needless to say, I have some sort of mental aberration and, before I can fully examine the pitfalls, say, ‘Of course. Great idea. I’d love to do it.’
His face brightens instantly. ‘Thanks, Ruby. You don’t know how much that means to me.’
‘What sort of thing does she like?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Joe admits, raking his hair. ‘Pink, girly stuff. Princesses. Usual thing.’
‘Anything more?’
He shrugs. ‘Can’t think of anything. The normal stuff.’
Very helpful. Sounds like I have my brief, though. I might be useless, but Charlie is good at this kind of thing. I’ll get her roped in too.
‘OK,’ I say. ‘I’ll give it a go.’ Already my mind is whirling with ideas. ‘How many guests?’
‘Ten, max. I don’t think I could cope with any more girls than that. Girls en masse are hell. Trust me, I’ve done this before.’
Unlike me.
‘I’ll give you carte blanche,’ he adds. ‘Buy whatever you need. I’ll pay the bill.’
‘No, no. This will be my treat to her.’ Yes, of course I’m trying to buy her friendship. What of it?
‘You’re a wonderful woman. This time, it will be better,’ he assures me.
Then he kisses me and any misgivings fly right out of my head. I should be with this man. I know it. Every ounce of my being tells me that. I’ve just got to win round his kids.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Charlie and I. Our bench. Before work.
‘I’m thinking unicorns, fairies, princesses. All of that shit,’ I tell Charlie.
‘You don’t think a Take That themed party would be spectacularly good?’
‘Charlie, I hate to disappoint you, but girls of that age don’t even know who Take That are.’
She shakes her head and says mournfully, ‘That’s because they are young and foolish and have yet to learn about the finer things in life.’
With the best will in the world, Take That are also middle-aged men, old enough to be their dads. And dads, as we know, are never cool.
‘Joe says she’s a really girly kid. Pink and all that.’
‘Aren’t they all?’
My knowledge of what goes on inside the heads of teenage girls is negligible. I wrack my brain, but can come up with nothing better. ‘Unicorns and fairies it is, then?’
‘Fab.’ Charlie nods in agreement. ‘Sounds like a plan.’
How did I manage to agree to this? I’m pooping myself already at the thought of it. ‘Do you think we can pull it off in a week?’
‘Tough call,’ she says, ‘but, with some well-aimed shopping, we’ll ace it. I’ll hit the internet. We need a Pinterest mood board too.’
Mood board? Blimey. Sounds terrifying. ‘We’re not frightened of a few hormonal teenage girls, are we?’
‘Certainly not,’ Charlie declares.
‘Actually, I think I am.’
‘Faint heart never won round a divorcee’s kids,’ my friend says.
‘You’re right.’ I still chew my nails. ‘And you’re absolutely sure that this is a good idea?’
‘None better.’
We high-five each other. It’s less than an hour later before blind panic really sets in.
Chapter Sixty-Four
At the weekend, it’s Daisy’s thirteenth birthday and we’re all set to go. With Charlie’s help, I’ve produced a full-on magical theme, embracing Joe’s somewhat vague brief – unicorns, fairies, princesses. What’s not to love? I’d like this party myself, thank you very much.
Charlie and I spent a whole morning on our day off scouting out the perfect location for a picnic party spot. Then I prayed all week that the good weather would hold. It did.
We found this clearing in a small wood on the outskirts of Costa del Keynes. It’s by a car park that’s better known for evening dogging activities and a good kebab van, but on a Saturday afternoon it’s all fine and dandy. I just hope we’re not overrun with dog walkers. Or the doggers don’t turn up early.
I had to beg Jay to let me have the time off work and, in the end, I’ve taken it as unpaid leave. I’m not in his best books at the moment. I wanted Charlie to help me with it, but he wouldn’t hear of us both being off together, so here I am by myself setting up Daisy’s surprise birthday bash. Joe is bringing her along at the appointed time, so he couldn’t be here either. Which is fine as I think it would have made me stress even more. I just hope that I’ve got enough time to do it singlehanded.
Loaded down with essential party goodies, I make my way along the narrow paths through the trees until I come to the well-chosen and secluded clearing. Shimmering sunlight filters through the leaves, illuminating the trees and ferns below, making it look truly magical. There’s a circle of cut tree trunks where the party guests will be able to sit.
It’s perfect. The ideal place to have a magical birthday party. I give a spin round to try it out for size. She’ll love it. I’m sure she will. What more could a teenage fairy princess want?
Time is marching on and I’m expecting ten twelve/thirteen-year-old girls in just over an hour, so I’d better get a move on. I gave eBay and my credit card a serious battering and have bought up ALL the magical party goodies that I could get my hands on. I make a couple more trips to the car and hope that there aren’t fairy-minded thieves about to pinch all the stuff I’m piling up in the clearing as I have no one to guard it.
I’ve got a huge pink picnic blanket for the centre of the circle which I lay down and scatter with sparkly silver cushions. Then I hang white, yellow and lilac paper lanterns from the lower branches of the trees, fairy bunting and a banner which says I BELIEVE IN UNICORNS. There are pink tiaras for the girls studded with blingtastic multi-coloured rhinestones and plus they’ve got a set of delicate white-and-silver fairy wings each. And a pair for me too, of course. Today, I’m going to be chief fairy, come hell or high water.
I’ve made creamy pink mocktails with strawberry milkshake and white chocolate that I’ve brought along in a cool box and will serve in jam jars with rainbow straws. I’ve bought cupcakes iced with jazzy frosting and set them all out on a picnic table that I’ve borrowed from my folks. Rushing round, I manage to get it all together in time. I’ve made a new playlist of stuff for my iPod featuring things that I think teenage girls will like and I hook it up to a portable speaker.
Standing back, I admire my handiwork. I’ve got it all ready in the nickiest-nick of time. It looks flipping amazing, even though I say it myself. Considering I’ve pulled it all together in a week, I’m so chuffed. If Mason ever gives me the sack from the pub, I could very well try my hand at event planning. I tell you, I have previously undiscovered talent
s. I can only hope now that the birthday girl loves it too.
A text comes in from Charlie. Good luck, chick! Hope it goes well! xx Plus a gazillion emoticons of unicorns, fairies, princesses and kisses. Oh, my word, I wish with all my heart that she was here with me. Charlie would know what to do. She’d make sure the party goes with a swing. With some effort and a bit of advanced contortion, I manage to put some fairy wings on myself. Yay!
Then, before I know it, I hear footsteps and I turn to see Joe behind me. He’s holding Daisy by the shoulders and she has both of her eyes covered.
‘We made it,’ Joe says. ‘Though it was a close run thing. Outfit issues.’
I stare at Daisy, horrified, and my mouth drops open. All the girly pink stuff, the embroidered sweatshirts, the skinny leggings – gone! The sequined trainers have been dispensed with, only to be replaced by footwear that look remarkably like Doc Martens. She’s wearing a white T-shirt, black biker-style jacket, black jeans and a faceful of make-up. Her curls, as unruly as her father’s, are now poker straight. You know in Grease when transformed goody two shoes Sandy turns up to meet bad boy Danny in her spray-on trousers, red lippy and looking at least thirty years old? That.
Joe, seemingly oblivious to this, gives me the thumbs-up and I nod, numbly. ‘Open your eyes, Daisy,’ he says.
When she does, Daisy stands there gaping in horror and then manages to say in a voice hoarse with shock, ‘Thank you, Daddy.’
‘It’s not down to me, Princess. Ruby has organised it all for you.’ He mouths to me. ‘Fantastic job.’
And you have no idea how grateful I am for that.
‘Wow,’ she says, but not in a good way.
‘Well, I’m off. I’m going to leave you two to have fun,’ he says. ‘I’ll be back later.’
‘Don’t go,’ I say, panic-stricken. ‘Stay.’
‘I’ve got to pick Tom up from a music rehearsal. I promise I won’t be long.’ Then he winks at me. ‘You girls have fun. Lovin’ the fairy wings, by the way.’
I am thirty-eight and I am wearing fairy wings. I think it shows that I am youthful and fun. Daisy is clearly looking at me and seeing a pathetic old hag who should know better.
Joe kisses Daisy on the head and then walks away from us.
‘I hope you like it,’ I try tentatively.
She turns to me open-mouthed.
‘I thought it would be fun. Your dad said that you love unicorns and fairies. Princesses too,’ I add, lamely.
‘That was when I was twelve,’ she replies, loftily. ‘I’m thirteen now. I’ve moved on.’
‘I can see.’ Then I sigh with resignation. This is all a terrible mistake. I should have just booked them in for manicures somewhere. They’d have been in their element. ‘Your friends will be here soon. Let’s just try to enjoy it,’ I offer. ‘Do you want a tiara or some fairy wings to wear? Maybe both? You can never have enough sparkle.’
Daisy just stands and stares at me, hands bunched into tight, cross little fists. The look she gives me is the blackest of black and I’m surprised that I don’t simply drop down dead on the spot. ‘Seriously, do you think I’m five?’
‘I’m sorry that you don’t like it, Daisy. I thought you would. It’s done now and I think we should try to make the best of it. I realise that I’ve read this all wrong.’ I feel awful that I’m actually going to ruin Daisy’s birthday party when all I did was try my very best.
She is as still as a stone, radiating fury. ‘That’s because you don’t know me. You might think you do, but you don’t know me at all. And that’s because you’re not my mother.’
I don’t point out to her that I’m here due to the fact that her mum is in Italy or Spain or somewhere with her new boyfriend, pretending to be working while they’re probably shagging each other senseless in between bouts of sightseeing. I speak as someone who knows about these things. The only thing I know is that her mother’s not bloody well here. I am.
But you don’t say that to a traumatised thirteen-year-old, do you? Instead, I say more calmly than I feel, ‘I don’t want to replace your mum, Daisy. I’m doing this because your dad asked me to and because I’d like to be your friend.’
That is clearly cutting no ice with her. She views me as her sworn enemy. The woman who is trying to steal her father’s affections away from her.
‘Your friends are due in a minute,’ I add. ‘For their sake, we’ll both have to make the best of it.’
She doesn’t say ‘fuck you’ but I can feel it emanating from her pores. I’m simply going to have to plough on and hope for the best.
On cue, ten hyperactive, giggling girls arrive and all I can do now is try to get through this without both of us dying of embarrassment.
Chapter Sixty-Five
The girls troop towards us in an excited line, escorted by a couple of the mums. I’m just feeling awful now. This is a disaster waiting to happen. These young girls all look too cool for skool. Sassy and self-assured. I’m sure I wasn’t that confident or grown-up at twelve. I’m not sure that I am now.
The mums drop them off and compliment me on my party-planning skills. I mutter some modest thanks. Little do they know that the birthday girl hates it all. Every bit of it. Daisy sits on one of the logs, still stony-faced despite my exhortations to try to enjoy it. When the mums leave, eager to get off to their retail therapy or coffee dates, and vowing to return in a couple of hours, I think that I might as well brave this out. ‘Well,’ I say, clapping my hands. ‘Let’s get this party started.’
‘OMG! Daisy, this is soooooo cool,’ one of the girls says as she takes in my magical glade. The others trill with excitement and run round, enthralled. They dance round the trees, try out the cushions, flop on the picnic blanket.
Daisy sits looking very perplexed at their reaction.
‘Fairy wings!’ one shouts and grabs a pair, twirling round. Another girl fastens them onto the back of her T-shirt for her and then they both squeal with excitement. Suddenly, they all want them and there’s a frenzy of wing fixing.
‘Tiaras!’ a shout goes up and is greeted by giggles of glee. The girls all try them on for size and dance around in a circle together. Only Daisy is still frozen to the spot, outside of the group. My heart is in my mouth, yet perhaps I’m not the one who read this wrong.
I sidle over to Daisy. ‘It’s your party,’ I say softly to her, trying to sound encouraging, ‘and it looks as if it’s a hit with your friends. You should join in for their sake. What do you say?’
She looks up at me, clearly wondering why she’s so out of step with her chums.
‘Can I get you a strawberry mocktail?’
She nods, mutely. I hand her a jam jar of milkshake and she swallows it down. Then I give them to the rest of the girls and dish out the cupcakes too. More delighted squealing.
I turn the music up and the girls start dancing. Daisy stands, staring at her guests as if she doesn’t know them.
I try her with my box of goodies, whispering, ‘There’s a set of wings and a tiara for you too. Special ones.’
She looks down at them and there are tears in her eyes. ‘Really?’
‘Want me to pin the wings on?’
‘Yes, please.’ She takes off her new biker jacket and lays it carefully on a log before turning her back to me. Gently, I pin on the fairy wings.
‘Gorgeous,’ I tell her. ‘Plus there’s the biggest, sparkliest tiara for the birthday girl.’ I slip it onto her head and straighten it.
‘I wish we had a mirror,’ she says, touching her crown.
‘Take a selfie.’
So she pulls out her phone and, instantly, her friends crowd round to pose and pout.
‘You look sooooo cool,’ one of them says.
Daisy adjusts her tiara and starts to laugh. Soon they’re all so giddy you’d think there was neat vodka in their drinks. Actually, that might not have been a bad idea. Joking! No need to call Social Services.
I let out a breath. The first one in abou
t fifteen minutes. Now the girls don’t even need me here. They’re more than happy entertaining themselves.
‘This so totally wonderful, Daisy,’ I hear one of the girls say and my heart could burst with happiness. Who knew that the approval of teenage girls could feel so good, so gratifying and be so hard won? I’m so pleased to see that they’re happy dancing, singing, pouting, taking enough pictures to drown social media.
It’s going to be OK, I think, and get a rush of relief. It’s going to be OK.
Chapter Sixty-Six
The mums come back and collect their daughters and friends. They all seem to have had a lovely time. I just want to lie down in a dark room and recover. Maybe drink heavily too. They all get pink glittery goody bags with hand-knitted unicorns in them that I found on Etsy. Even the most sophisticated of the girls are beyond delighted and this has restored my faith in unicorns. They go home completely hyperactive and floating on air. We should all have a little more magic in our lives, whether you’re thirteen or thirty-eight. I think next time I’m sitting watching telly by myself on a Saturday night, I’m going to put a tiara on and see if it makes me feel better.
Despite being exhausted – emotionally and physically – I’m mostly relieved that it all turned out all right in the end. I snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. Go me! And it was great to see Daisy having a good time. I hope it’s a birthday that she’ll remember for a long time.
A few minutes later, Joe comes back to collect Daisy. My magical glade is totally trashed and looks like the aftermath of Glastonbury. There’s stuff everywhere. It’s going to take me an age to clear up, but I’ve got a few hours before my shift at work.
‘Did it go OK?’ he enquires anxiously.
‘You’d better ask Daisy,’ I suggest.
She meets my eye when she says, gratefully, ‘It was the best party ever, Daddy.’
‘Good.’ Joe looks relieved too. We exchange a loaded glance. Mission accomplished. He gives me a slow wink. I hope Daisy doesn’t notice. Although this was set up with an ulterior motive, I’m really pleased to have been able to do it for her. ‘Thanks, Ruby. I really appreciate it.’ We both know how much was riding on this. ‘I’ll help you to tidy up.’