Michele Gorman - The Second Chance Café in Carlton Square

‘He’s been really over-the-top lovely lately,’ Kell says of Calvin. ‘You know, flowers and surprise dinners and stuff. Now he’s talking about meeting my parents.’ She takes a big gulp of her pint. ‘But if he meets them, then he’ll have to meet my sisters too, because they’re such twats like that. And you know they’ll just take the piss out of me till they turn him off me.’

‘No, they won’t.’ I’m just being nice. They totally will. ‘You’ll let them meet, won’t you? You can’t put it off forever.’

‘Probably. I think he might be working up to a big question,’ she says.

‘YOU’RE KIDDING! Sorry, sorry. I just mean that that’s fantastic. You’re nuts about him. You mean the big question? You’d say yes, right?’

She laughs. ‘I don’t know! I haven’t known him long.’

‘Daniel and I were engaged in six months. You’ve known Calvin that long.’

‘Nine, actually.’

‘So you’re counting. Is he still planning on Spain?’ He postponed his job abroad to help his gran, but his sister is coming to take over sometime in the summer. Calvin’s question might change his plans, though. If he’s thinking marriage, then hopefully he’s thinking of staying in London too.

My phone starts ringing before she can answer me. I snatch it out of my bag. ‘Daniel, can’t you leave me in peace for two minutes?!’

… Daniel’s voice is far away. ‘Say it, sweetheart, go on, like we said, remember?’

‘Nigh’, Mama,’ comes Grace’s little voice as Oscar giggles.

I’m a horrible mother.

‘I’ll be home in twenty minutes,’ I tell my husband, making a sorry face at Kell. At least we nearly got to finish our pints, if not our conversation.

I get home to find talc all over the bathroom floor and a knife on the side of the bathtub.

‘I’ll clean that up,’ Daniel says. ‘I was going to but then… the twins. I don’t know how you do it every day.’

‘I don’t have much choice.’ I don’t mean it to come out quite so snappy.

He pulls me into a hug, tipping my face up for a kiss. ‘I suspected it before but now I’m sure: mothers are superhumans. You’re doing an amazing job.’

This superhuman will need to pick up some more talc tomorrow. ‘Did they go down okay after their book?’

‘Book?’

He leads me by the hand into the lounge so we can cuddle on the settee. I throw my legs across his lap and he curls me into his arms. The blinds on the bay window are open to the old-fashioned streetlamp outside. It throws a gorgeous glow over us.

‘Didn’t you read to them?’ I ask, feeling myself start to tense up. I’d better check that he’s put the right clothes on them too.

‘Oh, I did. I read them about a dozen books. They kept pointing to more. They’re extortionists.’

‘They’re East Londoners, Daniel. They know a soft touch when they see one.’ I yawn. ‘Can you take the morning shift tomorrow? I’m exhausted and I’ll have to do interviews all day.’

He nods. ‘Of course, darling, I’m happy to, but do you think it might be time to talk again about getting a nanny? It would make things so much easier for you, especially now that they’re mobile.’

Not this again. Just because his parents had cooks and maids and nannies doesn’t mean that it’s right for our family. Besides, not even Mary Poppins would work for free and the last time I checked, our bank account balance doesn’t have many zeros on the end. It has, occasionally, had a minus at the start, though.

I swing my legs off his lap. ‘I’ve told you, Daniel. I don’t want to outsource our childcare. I’m just asking you to take the occasional morning. I don’t think that’s unreasonable.’

‘Of course it’s reasonable, Em, and I said I’m happy to. I loved having them to myself tonight. Don’t misunderstand me, but isn’t that still outsourcing, if I’m doing it instead of you? Next month I’ll get my raise and then I think we can just about afford to get someone in for a few hours a day. So you could have help. I mean proper help.’

My blood might actually be starting to boil. ‘How is it outsourcing to have you look after our children, Daniel? In case you’ve forgotten, the twins have two parents. Why shouldn’t it be your job as much as mine? And the only reason I don’t have proper help is because you’re so… Never mind, I’m tired. I’m going to bed. I’ll put everything they’ll need out on the table. Wake me by seven, please, if I’m not up.’

It’s not that he doesn’t try. He does. Then he thinks he’s a contender for Father of the Year because he’s changed a nappy. Meanwhile, I’m the mother every minute of every bloomin’ day and I don’t see anyone pinning a medal on me.

It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t feel like such an overworked hamster on a wheel. The twins need me and there’s no time off for good behaviour, or because Mummy might have a breakdown. My brain is mushier than the children’s strained carrots and I need an oxygen tank to ascend the dirty laundry pile. They don’t tell you that along with the high-inducing, all-consuming love comes work that just goes on and on.

The next morning, I wake with a drooly snort from a deep slumber. That hasn’t happened since before I was pregnant.

Pregnant. The twins! But I can hear them babbling away downstairs, and Daniel’s side of the bed’s empty, so either they’ve kidnapped him or he’s feeding them their breakfast.

Just two more minutes. I snuggle down into the bed. Daniel can call it outsourcing or whatever he wants to. This is bliss.

Until my phone starts ringing. ‘Hi, Philippa.’ My mother-in-law.

‘Hellair, darling!’ she says in her booming posh voice that makes everyone think she’s really stuck up when actually she’s just the opposite. ‘I just had the most amahzing idea and I knew you’d be up already with the children.’

‘Actually–’

‘Picture this, darling: live birds for your café! You could have gorgeous little cages hanging everywhere. Right, I’ve already found an exotic bird handler who can get us anything we want.’

I picture the plants in our window boxes that I kill every few months. Those birds wouldn’t stand a chance. ‘That’s an interesting idea, Philippa, but I’m not sure we should be using live birds as decorations.’

‘Of course, darling, whatever you say. It’s just an idea. I’ll keep thinking, yah? Must dash. My masseuse is due any minute.’

These calls are my fault, really. I let her have her way with a baby shower for the twins and the live storks went to her head.

So much for a lie-in.

‘Morning,’ I call to my family on my way to the kitchen for a cup of tea. A cup of tea that I might be able to finish!

If I can find the kettle, that is. It looks like a bomb’s gone off in here. There are eggshells and banana peels in the sink. Oats cover the worktop and the floor, every cabinet door is open and two of the pans are burnt on the hob. The remains of Daniel’s bloomer lies mutilated on the cutting board and as I go to the fridge for milk, my left sock becomes soaked with… I hope that’s orange juice.

‘Look, Mummy’s up!’ Daniel sings.

‘Have we been under attack?’ The twins are smeary with breakfast as usual.

‘Hmm?’ He aims a porridge-filled soup spoon at Oscar’s mouth and mashes it into his cheek when he turns away. ‘Sorry, darling.’

‘The kitchen? How many people have you been trying to feed?’

‘Right, yah, sorry, it’s a mess, I know. I wasn’t sure what they’d eat, so I tried to do a bit of everything.’

‘I don’t think he can get that ladle into his mouth.’ I dig out the colourful spoons from the cutlery drawer, but Grace is happier with her hands plunged into her porridge bowl. ‘Suit yourself,’ I tell her. She burbles at me.