Mummy Said the F-Word Read Online Free PDF Page A

at—’
    ‘What I can’t understand,’ Martin snaps, ‘is why you had to come here today. To make a point, was it?’
    Clearly, he’s forgetting that an impressionable young person sporting six billion hair clips is drinking in his every word.
    ‘Of course it wasn’t,’ I snap back.
    ‘You really know how to make things awkward, Cait.’
    I start to protest, but he launches a second attack: ‘We could have talked, if it was that important. I never imagined you’d do this.’
    ‘Dad, we went on the big wheel,’ Jake mumbles.
    ‘That’s nice.’ Martin responds with a stretched smile.
    ‘Can
we
do that, Martin?’ Poppy whispers. ‘Can we go on the big wheel?’
    ‘Later, darling,’ he mumbles.
    Darling
now, is it?
    ‘Where’s Mummy?’ she asks.
    ‘She’s gone to get—’ He starts, glimpsing a face in the crowd and waving frantically. ‘Look – here’s Mummy now!’
    Poppy swings round, grinning delightedly as Slapper approaches.
    Daisy is smiling and clutching two hot drinks cups, but her smile wilts when she sees me.
Oh, fuck
, I can see in her eyes.
Oh, bollocks
. Her jaw has set rigid. She is wearing slim navy trousers, flat lilac pumps with bows at the front and a sheer sleeveless top patterned with tiny pink flowers. I am staring like a pervy old man.
    She wobbles a little as a child buffets her, causing liquid to splosh through the holes in the lids.
    ‘Mummy!’ Poppy cries, but all Daisy can manage is a grimace.
    I gawp at her top. It is wet and has turned virtually transparent. No jacket or sweater, in February! How very silly of her.
    ‘Hello, Caitlin,’ she says, handing a steaming cup to Martin. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’ A tremor appears beneath her left eye.
    ‘Yes, fancy,’ I say, unable to tear away my gaze from her magnificent breasts. These breasts, I notice with a plummeting heart, are unhampered by bra. They jut out like Barbie’s with no visible means of support. They are cartoon breasts, the pneumatic tits of a thirteen-year-old boy’s lurid sketch.
    They do not look real.
    ‘Why are you wet, Daisy?’ Lola asks.
    That’s my girl.
    ‘I know, stupid isn’t it?’ She laughs a little too loudly, swinging her hair, shampoo-ad-style. ‘We went on the Rumba Rapids and my coat got soaked. Thought I’d be better without it.’
    ‘But your top’s wet as well,’ Lola observes, ‘and it’s really cold today. Mummy made us wear gloves.’
    Have a fiver, fabulous daughter of mine.
    ‘Funny, isn’t it?’ I cut in. ‘We went on the Rumba Rapids too and we’re all perfectly dry. Guess we were just lucky.’
    ‘I think it depends where you sit in the boat thing,’ she says coolly.
    I realise that as well as the small blonde appendage on his shoulders, Martin also has a coat jammed under his arm. Must be Daisy’s. I can’t ever recall him carrying
my
coat.
    Harvey is regarding Daisy with an open sneer. Jake twiddles his jacket zip distractedly. Firing me a look of defiance, Daisy takes Martin’s hand. She grips it so tightly her knuckles whiten.
    ‘Well,’ Martin blusters, ‘we’re heading off for lunch in the café. Enjoy the rest of your day. I’ll see you next weekend, OK, kids? We’ll have lots of fun then. Fancy seeing what’s on at the Science Museum?’
    There’s half-hearted nodding. Jake crushes a Smarties tube with his foot.
    ‘We’ll do something really special,’ Martin concludes, and I glance down to check whether his insincerity is dripping all over the ground, forming puddles of lies.
    Then I see Sam approaching with Travis, scanning the throng for us. He spots Martin and holds back. Our eyes meet and he frowns with concern.
    ‘I’m sure they’ll look forward to that,’ I say stiffly, shepherding the children away.
    ‘Bye!’ Poppy calls after us, her ‘I am five’ badge glinting in the wintry sun.
    She’s only a kid. None of this is her fault. She didn’t choose her mother or insist that she seduced unsuspecting males in their