The Aftermath, Gail Schimmel [sneezy the snowman read aloud .txt] 📗

sure that Max realises I’m working again.’

But that isn’t true. Laurel’s husband Max pops into our offices with lunch for her at least once a week, and he has referred two clients to us already.

‘Just appreciate the bloody man,’ I tell Laurel often. ‘Just appreciate what you have saved.’

‘Mummy,’ says Mackenzie, now in her school uniform, interrupting my thoughts as I start to get dressed.

‘Yes, baby?’

‘Tell me again why Daddy can’t live with Julia?’

‘Because Julia got really cross when Daddy met us in Mauritius. And she was quite right.’

‘Not as cross as you though.’ Mackenzie starts giggling. ‘You were so, so cross. You said all sorts of bad words. You threw the sugar bowl at Daddy’s head.’

Mackenzie loves retelling the story. I realise that’s the only reason she’s asked about Julia again – for the chance to retell the story of the flying sugar bowl. Soon she’ll be listing all the words we said.

‘Enough, Kenz,’ I say. ‘Hurry up and get ready. Concert practice, remember?’

‘You called Daddy a—’

‘Enough, Kenz,’ I say sternly. ‘I don’t want to hear those words out of your mouth again. Get ready!’

But I’m laughing as she leaves. Daniel’s face was priceless.

Daniel

I wake up and look at the ceiling. It’s still the same one. The wrong one. Or maybe it’s the right one, but with no one next to me in the bed, I don’t know any more.

I’m hoping that the fact that Julia hasn’t thrown me out of her flat means she’s picturing coming back to me when the baby is born. I’m also hoping Claire will take me back.

I reach for my phone and go onto the internet. My browser goes straight to the same-day gifting service, that’s how much I use it. I organise to send them both flowers. Sometimes I have the energy to send them different things. Not today. I send them both sweet peas. I know Claire loves sweet peas – she always says so. And surely Julia would too? I mean, who wouldn’t love sweet peas? Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like they’re going to compare notes.

I contemplate getting up. But it seems like a lot of hard work, so I roll over and close my eyes. As I drift back to sleep, I realise I have no idea what a sweet pea looks like. When I wake up, I think I’ll google it.

When I wake up, I’ll google everything.

Julia

Steve phones me as I get to work.

‘I thought we finished three weeks ago?’ I say, smiling.

Finishing the work for Steve’s company before my maternity leave became the biggest goal of my work life. Steve didn’t seem in any hurry, finding queries and wanting to double-check things, but I just ploughed right on. His boss was thrilled by our exceptional turnover time and service delivery. Gerald gaped at me like he’d never seen a person before – but that might relate to his utter discomfort with my enormous belly. Only Steve was less than thrilled. Hurt, almost. Until I told him he could still visit if he wanted to, and even take me out to lunch. What with me being hungry all the time.

‘It’s your last day,’ he says now. ‘And I knew our dear Gerald wouldn’t have done anything. So I’ve arranged a special farewell.’

‘Oh Steve, we’re not that sort of company,’ I say, appalled at the thought of a baby shower involving Gerald and his nervous secretary. ‘It will be ghastly.’

‘That’s why I’m taking you all out for lunch and Gerald is paying,’ says Steve. ‘There’ll be no jolly games or anything like that.’

‘Lunch?’

‘Yes,’ says Steve. ‘Because you really, really like lunch.’

We both laugh – my appetite has become our standing joke.

‘I do,’ I say. ‘But it’s 8 a.m.. Surely we’re not going for lunch now?’

‘Nope,’ says Steve. ‘Just telling you in case Gerald forgets.’

‘Okay,’ I say.

A thought strikes me. ‘You haven’t invited my mother to this lunch of yours, have you?’ I ask. Steve met my mother when she fetched me one day when my car was at the garage. They hit it off. He won’t believe me when I tell him that she isn’t a normal sort of mother and he mustn’t be fooled. ‘Steve?’

‘Listen, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have an actual job to go to.’

‘Oh, crap, you have.’

Steve smiles. ‘I like your mum,’ he says, like that’s an answer. ‘See you later.’ And he’s gone.

Before the door has even closed, the delivery guy steps into my office carrying a huge bouquet of sweet peas – I didn’t actually know you could fit so many in a bunch. He knows me so well by now he just hands them over without comment.

‘Thanks,’ I say. There’s an awkward pause while he waits for a tip. If I tipped him every time, I’d be broke, but it’s my last day at work so I might not see this same delivery guy again. ‘Here—’ I give him fifty rand, ‘you’ve been great.’

A smile transforms his face. ‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘And good luck. Maybe you can take flower-guy back when the baby comes.’

‘But then the flowers would stop,’ I point out.

We both laugh, and I feel good. I can’t believe I can joke about Daniel, but then there’s a lot I can’t believe about how things have changed in the four months since he left.

As if summoned by the thought, my phone beeps. It’s a text from Claire.

Sweet peas, it says. You?

Same, I type back.

Lazy arse.

The laziest, I reply.

Mackenzie might call this afternoon about taking the baby to show-and-tell after he’s born. Okay? texts Claire.

Hilarious, I answer.

She’s excited.

I suspect Claire’s lying, so I’m not really sure what to say. After a few moments I just type: xx.

Claire

I put down my phone.

When Daniel showed up in Mauritius, I knew our marriage was over. Maybe if he’d come back to me in a different way, at a different time, he could have persuaded