Michele Gorman - The Second Chance Café in Carlton Square

But he’s not quick enough. By the time he finishes his toast I need him to change Grace while I do Oscar. Our children are messy at both ends. So the laundry will sit in a heap for another day as my award for Homemaker of the Year slips further away.

Daniel waits till he’s at the front door to break his news casually to me. He thinks it cushions the blow to kiss me when he does it. Kisses or not, it feels like an ambush.

‘I’ve got to meet with Jacob quickly after work tonight.’ He nuzzles my neck. ‘Are you wearing a new perfume? It smells so good.’

That would be the tea tree oil for the spot that’s come up on my forehead. ‘But you were out just the other night.’

‘That was last week, darling.’

‘Was it? Still, do you have to? I’ll be working at the café all day with Mum. I thought you could do tea for us tonight.’

‘Yah, I could have if you’d told me before now, but I’ve already said yes to Jacob. He says it’s rahly important, otherwise I’d cancel. I won’t be late, though. And don’t worry about supper for me. If it’s easier, I can grab a bite with Jacob while I’m out. I love you!’

Yeah, sure it’s easier. Easier for him. ‘Love you too,’ I say quietly.

And I do. I’m crazy about him. I just wish he was, I don’t know, more helpful. No, that’s not the right word, because he is almost always ready to help. It’s his follow-through that needs work.

When the twins were tiny we were such a solid team: cuddling, changing, feeding, fussing, staring for hours in wonder and bewilderment. We did it all together. Even though he hasn’t got the feeding equipment to be of much practical use, he’d sit with us while I nursed our babies so that I wasn’t the only one awake.

Now that they’re toddlers, he sleeps through the night even when we don’t. He will do what I ask of him, usually without grumbles. But I’ve become more of a lead singer to his backing vocals and the thing is, I never wanted a solo career.

Grace raises her arms and mewls for a cuddle as soon as Daniel leaves, fixing me with the same long-lashed blue-eyed stare that he has. She’s as irresistible as he is, with her golden hair and dimples. Oscar’s got my family’s red tinge, which thrills Mum. It would be nice, though, for one of my children to have my dark hair or even the cowlick at the front that I can’t do anything with. Not that one should ever wish a cowlick on their children.

There’s no time on the walk to my parents’ house for a proper grizzle about Daniel getting to go out tonight. Even walking slowly, it only takes fifteen minutes, plus time to stop for the toys, dummies and shoes the twins jettison from the pushchair along the way.

It’ll be no use whinging to Mum when I get there either. She didn’t manage to hold our family together – raising me, making ends meet and looking after Dad while working her cleaning jobs – by being soft. She’ll only be her usual sensible self and tell me that I’m overreacting. It’s not like Daniel is out every night or comes home pissed. You heard him. It’s a once-a-week thing at most. And the world won’t end because he didn’t fold our pants. I’m just overtired. Looking after the children is a lot harder than I imagined.

Says every parent in the world . Still, I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Well, maybe I would, just for half an hour so I could have a bath without an audience. I’d want them back, though, as soon as I was towelled off.

‘Good morning!’ I call into Mum and Dad’s house as I let myself in with my key. ‘You have a special delivery: two toddlers, fairly clean and ready to play!’

They’re all in their usual spots in the lounge – Mum and Auntie Rose on the settees and Dad in his old reading chair that Mum has tried to get rid of for years.

Dad’s face creases into a broad smile when he sees his grandchildren. ‘Come ’ere, me loves!’

It’s hard to unbuckle them with all the wriggling. They’re in Dad’s lap as fast as their little legs will carry them across the lounge floor. ‘There’s me angels,’ he murmurs as he kisses the tops of their heads.

‘Hah, you should have seen them at breakfast.’

‘They’re angels to me.’

He means it too. I don’t know what happened to the strict father I had to deal with growing up. He’s turned into a giant marshmallow of a man. ‘How come you never spoiled me like that?’

‘I would have if you’d smelled like biscuits,’ he says.

‘That’s not what they smelled like an hour ago.’

You’d have thought Mum and Dad had won the lottery when I asked if they’d look after the twins for a few hours a day till I can get the café ready to open. Mum had the whole house baby-proofed, including Dad. She saw her chance with his chair, reciting a litany of childhood diseases that might lurk in its nubbly striped fabric. But Dad offered to get it cleaned and she hasn’t thought up a way around that. If she ever does manage to get rid of it, I just know Dad’s going to go too.

He glances up. ‘How are you, love?’

‘Okay. Just tired, Dad.’

‘She’s burning the candle at both ends,’ Auntie Rose says. ‘It’s too much, if you ask me. Not that anybody ever does.’

Auntie Rose likes to say that, but she knows how important she is in our family. We joke that that’s why we keep her under lock and key. It’s not really the reason. It’s just nice to have a laugh about it with her. Otherwise it’s a bit sad. ‘You’re right, Auntie Rose, but I can’t stop now. Besides, it’s not for much longer. Mum and I are stripping the tables and chairs today. We’re nearly there.’

‘You’ll be just as busy after the café opens, you know,’ Mum reminds me as she goes to tidy up around Dad’s chair. She never sits still for long. ‘You keep talking like it’s all going to calm down suddenly. I just hope it’s not too much.’

Of course it’s too much, but Mum knows what it means to me to open this café. I didn’t spend five years getting my degree not to use it just because my uterus decided it suddenly wanted to play host to a couple of embryos. There’s a lot at stake. Not least of which is the wodge of my in-laws’ money that’s going into the business.

Being as rich as they are, they invest in all sorts of things, though Daniel doesn’t like to rely on them. We didn’t even accept help from them for our wedding. But that’s another story.

When they offered to loan me the money for the café officially, there was a lot of discussion about it before Daniel and I agreed. I thought it would be better to borrow money from family instead of an impersonal bank. Now I’m not so sure.

They’re not putting pressure on me or anything. I’d feel better if they did. But every time I promise to pay them back, Philippa waves me away with a cheerful ‘Don’t worry about that’, like they’ve already kissed their investment goodbye. Sometimes I think I should have risked the bad credit rating with the bank manager. At least I wouldn’t have to spend every holiday at his house worrying that he thinks I’ll never come good on the business.

I know I can do this. I’ll have to, won’t I? A year ago I wouldn’t have thought I could handle having twins and look at me now. Frazzled, exhausted and barely managing, but I haven’t screwed them up too badly yet.

When we hear the knock at the door, Auntie Rose says, ‘That’ll be Doreen.’

Mum opens it with the key from around her neck. I wasn’t kidding about the lockdown around here.

‘Where are the babies?!’ Doreen exclaims, not waiting for an invitation inside. ‘’Ere, for elevenses.’ She hands Mum a carrier bag full of biscuits. ‘They were on special, two-for-one. Ha, like these two!’