We were settling nicely into some semblance of a new routine. The kids were happy to see their friends at school, John had calmed down considerably, even keeping his trousers on upon his return from work (thankfully) and our new anti-lockdown skincare products went into department stores on Wednesday without a hitch. It was all going so well. Too well really.
I was picking the twins up at lunchtime on Friday. The usual thing - nearly ten minutes late, hair breaking free from my crocodile clip, a light sweat breaking out on my upper lip. Victoria had kept me talking on a video conference, wittering on about sales projections and her most recent colonic irrigation. All the other parents were leaving with their kids as I was arriving. I nearly crashed into one of the yummy mummies in a massive Range Rover as she was pulling out of a space outside the school, roomy enough for at least two normal-sized cars. She glared at me, clearly furious at my audacity in expecting her to indicate and actually look before pulling out, so I gave her the middle finger. This instinctive gesture was rapidly followed by a bout of anxiety about whether she had kids in the twins' class as I legged it up the path. Hair in eyes and handbag swinging erratically, I very nearly collided with the vision of mumsiness that was Diana Whatsit, mother of the wonderful Imelda-Mae.
"Daisy!" she exclaimed. "Late again!"
"I've been at work."
She tilted her head into that God-awful fake sympathy position. "Aww. Poor you."
"Anyway, I'd better ....."
The narrow path didn't allow for social distancing unless she and Imelda-Mae stepped aside. She didn't pick up on my cue. "Have you heard the latest?"
"No. I really haven't had the chance to ......"
"Chloe Drake was whisked out of the classroom this morning. Raging temperature apparently. And coughing like mad."
"Oh."
"Apparently, according to Imelda-Mae, the Headmistress and her secretary arrived dressed in white plastic from head to toe and took her away. The children had to wait in the playground until the classroom was sterilised."
"Oh. I'm sure it was just ....."
"Well, I for one am going to go back to home-schooling Imelda-Mae next week. She's way ahead of the others in her class anyway. She's actually been reading GCSE texts these past few weeks."
"Yes. You mentioned before. When Vyshali and I saw you at the supermarket."
"Oh yes. That's right. Well, I'm going to draw out a new timetable as soon as we get in."
"Look, I don't want to be rude but I need to get in and grab my two."
"Of course," she said, with a tight-lipped little smile. "I'll probably see you in September then. Be vigilant about the virus if you're going to keep sending them into school, Daisy."
"I will."
"Although, I'd think twice about it if I were you. I can email you a copy of our home-school curriculum if you like. Marcus and Molly could be thriving like Imelda-Mae before you know it."
"I really don't have a choice, Diana," I snapped. "Some of us have to go out to work for a living. I think I'll leave it to the professionals. Unfortunately they'll just have to take their chances. Sorry, I need to get past to get my kids."
Her cheeks coloured a bit and she pursed her lips. She put a protective arm around Imelda-Mae as she stood aside. As I dashed along the path I heard her mutter, "Home-schooling is work. If you're prepared to do it properly."
My middle finger twitched but I managed to gain some control over it this time.
"Perhaps it's best if you don't mention what happened in school today to your father," I told Molly, upon hearing John's key in the door. "You know, the incident with ......"
"What the hell?" John was standing in the kitchen doorway. "Marcus just told me about that kid with Coronavirus."
"Well, I don't think ......." I began.
"We're gonna have to be vigilant, Daisy. Keep our eyes open for any signs in the kids. And what if they're carriers? Apparently kids are often symptomless carriers, capable if killing adults in their families. Well, they can't go back to school now. You're gonna have to rearrange your work schedule, Daisy."
"Me?"
Ffs! Here we go again!!!
So John was back on Covid Watch all weekend. No cough or sniff went unnoticed. If I'd have let him and if the weather had stayed dry, he'd have pitched a tent in the garden for the twins to sleep in. Every few weeks I was teased with a slightly more sane version of my husband, only to have it snatched away again by some unfortunate incident or other. Was this my life from now on? I was NEVER gonna be able to give up wine at this rate!
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