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

remembered what I’d said about not being an alcoholic and wanted the floor to just open up and my whole enormous self to disappear into it.

At that point, Lizette’s mild husband Stan stepped in. ‘You meant well, love,’ he said, ‘but I did tell you she might find it inappropriate.’

‘You did,’ confirmed Lizette with amazement, not at all upset. ‘And you were right. Isn’t it extraordinary? People are so strange!’ This was all directed at Stan.

‘Extraordinary,’ he echoed, and smiled at me. Life with Lizette has turned the man into the world’s most skilled diplomat – his talent is wasted in suburban Johannesburg.

So then I had to speak to Greg the rest of the night to prove that I wasn’t judging him for being an alcoholic, and he had to speak to me to prove he wasn’t upset that he’d been set up with a pregnant woman, and at the end of the night Lizette took our hands and said, ‘You see, I knew you’d get on. Inseparable.’ And we both smiled weakly and my mother started giggling.

Giggling. My mother.

Claire

Last night while Mackenzie was out having supper with Daniel, I made a few cottage pies. This morning I drop one off at Lynette next door, because she has pneumonia and I suspect she isn’t eating. One is for Liandri’s family, because Liandri has got such bad postpartum depression that she’s been hospitalised for a few days. And one is for Mackenzie and me tonight.

When I drop Mackenzie at school, Mrs Wood is waiting for me.

‘Is everything okay at home?’ she says, taking me aside.

‘It’s very well,’ I say. ‘Thank you for asking.’ I’m racking my brain for what might have triggered this. Homework done. Lunch packed. Mackenzie happy. Tick, tick, tick.

‘It’s just that Mackenzie’s told everyone she’s bringing a baby to show-and-tell. A baby brother.’

‘Well,’ I say, ‘probably not soon. But his due date is round the corner, so she might bring him when he’s old enough.’

Mrs Wood looks down at my stomach, and I laugh.

‘Oh, it’s not mine. It’s her father’s ex-girlfriend.’ I hold Mrs Wood’s eyes, keeping a smile on my face. I’m actually quite enjoying this.

‘Ah,’ says Mrs Wood. ‘Yes. And you’re okay with Mackenzie bringing him here?’

I draw myself up slightly. ‘Mrs Wood,’ I say, ‘the baby will be Mackenzie’s brother. I expect him to be greeted and talked about and celebrated as you would the birth of any other sibling in this school.’ I pause. ‘Now I know I can totally depend on you.’

‘Yes, completely. How totally sensible,’ says Mrs Wood, nodding enthusiastically, as if what I’ve just said is the point she wanted to make all along.

As I turn to leave, I remember that when Liandri had her baby, the school sent an enormous bunch of flowers. So I turn back, and scrabble in my bag for my notebook and pen.

‘Here is Julia’s name,’ I say, scribbling it on a piece of paper. ‘She’ll be having the baby at the Park Lane. I’m sure the school would like to send flowers when Mackenzie’s brother is born.’

Mrs Wood looks mystified. ‘Of course,’ she eventually says. ‘I’ll tell the PA.’

‘You’re an absolute blessing,’ I say. ‘I don’t know how any of us will cope with a different teacher next year.’

‘Ah, well,’ says Mrs Wood. ‘I do my best.’

‘And we all appreciate it,’ I say, walking away as quickly as I can.

In the car park I see Janice, who rushes across to me, ponytail bouncing and gym clothes sparkling, a stranger to sweat.

We hug each other. ‘You haven’t been to gym, you faker,’ I say to her. ‘You smell of Chanel, not sweaty socks and chlorine.’

Janice laughs and indicates a car park full of women in exercise gear. ‘Do any of them really go?’ she says. ‘And anyway, I actually am going after this.’

‘Why don’t you join that lot?’ I indicate the group of mums who use the school as the starting point for their morning run. ‘They seem very social. In fact, I think I might join them.’

‘Okay, that sounds great. We can both do that. But first can we talk about the rhinos . . . ?’

I’ve been ambushed by a Janice charity appeal, and I didn’t even see it coming. I’m getting soft in my old age.

‘The rhinos?’ I say. ‘Terrible.’

‘I know how you feel about them,’ says Janice. ‘So I thought you and Laurel would like to handle the celebrity golf day we’re setting up.’ She pauses. ‘We’ll pay you.’

I see by the laugh in her eyes that she knew I was going to say no. But paid work is different.

I smile. ‘And we will obviously give you a hugely discounted rate.’ Laurel and I have been looking for a high-profile showcase – and this could be it. ‘Give me a call later and let’s set up an appointment.’

‘Fab. Somebody just has to do something about this scourge.’

‘Exactly,’ I say, making a mental note to read up on rhino-poaching statistics before the meeting. ‘And you are always so selfless, Janice. An inspiration to us all.’

‘Lovely,’ Janice preens. ‘I’ll give you a shout later this morning . . . after I go to gym.’

I actually quite like the idea of joining the running mothers, so I walk over to speak to them. I know a few, and they quickly introduce me to the others – and it turns out they are happy for me to join them.

‘The more the merrier,’ says a large woman who seems to be the incongruous unofficial leader of the runners. ‘Just be warned that we often reward ourselves with chocolate at the end.’

‘Even better,’ I say. ‘Can’t wait.’ And we agree that I’ll join them tomorrow.

As I walk back to the car, mentally running through a checklist of the morning’s work, my phone beeps.

Daniel.

I know you’re only pretending to be happy without me. We were meant to be together. We need each other.

I actually laugh out loud. I want to type, The only thing you need is a smack, but instead I just say, Nope. Genuinely happy. And I