Fiona Gibson - Mum On The Run

I glance back to check. Celeste is gazing up at Jed and fiddling with a strand of her hair. Anyone would think she’s his cute, doe-eyed girlfriend in her polka-dot skirt and sweet lemon cardi. She reaches out to pick something – a stray thread, perhaps – off Jed’s top. Grooming him, like a mating monkey. It’s sickeningly intimate. He smiles tenderly at her. Whenever I try to pick something off him, he bats me away as if I’m a wasp.

I charge on like a heifer, boiling with rage, my boobs lolloping agonisingly as I try to recall the last time Jed smiled adoringly at me. I can’t remember. It’s so horrifying to see him looking at her that way that for an instant I forget where I am. I lose my footing, skid on the muddied pitch and lurch forwards with arms outstretched, belly-flopping onto the ground with a splatter.

Dear God, kill me now.

I lie still, waiting for my life to flash before me. A lump of dirt, or possibly a live bug, has worked its way up my nose. With my eyes squeezed tightly shut, I’m poised to transcend to some heavenly Celeste-free zone, where no one is ever forced to take part in a mums’ race.

For several moments, nothing happens. There are no angels, softly strumming harps; just a dull thudding sensation in my ears. Gradually, I become aware of faint drizzle on my face, and a ripple of concerned voices around me. My eyes are still squeezed shut. ‘Laura?’ comes Jed’s voice. ‘Are you all right? Can you hear me? Jesus Christ . . .’

‘I think she’s knocked herself out,’ someone gasps.

‘Laura!’ Jed exclaims close to my ear.

‘We should call an ambulance,’ comes an urgent whisper.

Don’t move. If I lie here without flinching maybe they’ll cart me away and cremate me. Jed and the children will manage fine, as long as Grace reminds him that she has gym on Tuesdays and Fridays and he doesn’t give Finn brown bread sandwiches in his packed lunch.

‘Try to stand up,’ Jed urges. ‘You’ll be okay, we’ll get you inside . . .’

‘Is Mummy all right?’ Grace cries. My eyes ping open instantly and I stagger to my feet, aware that my nostril is still packed with mud.

‘Yes, I’m okay, love. Just slipped . . .’

‘Poor Mummy!’ Grace’s eyes are glossy with concern as she grips my hand.

‘God, Laura, that was pretty spectacular,’ Jed says, shaking his head despairingly.

‘You poor, poor thing,’ Celeste witters, craning forward as if eager to witness what kind of stunt I’ll pull off next.

‘I’m fine, thank you,’ I snap. ‘I just slipped, that’s all.’

‘Does it feel as if you’ve broken anything?’ Beth asks gently, easing her way between Jed and Celeste. As they appear to be almost surgically attached, this is a major feat.

‘I . . . don’t think so,’ I reply, wishing everyone would melt away, apart from Beth. Then I’d spill it all out – about Celeste picking something off Jed’s top and how the sight of them together made me feel sick and disorientated.

‘Are you sure?’ cuts in Miss Marshall. ‘That was a pretty serious fall.’

‘You might have sprained something,’ Beth suggests.

‘Yes,’ I blurt out, figuring that this is my only way to save face: to turn it into a medical situation . ‘My left ankle really hurts,’ I groan.

‘Let’s get her to the doctor’s,’ someone mutters.

‘No, I don’t need a doctor, I’ll be perfectly okay . . .’

‘Miss Curwin will take you to the office,’ says Miss Marshall firmly.

‘It’s fine, I’ll look after her,’ Jed says quickly.

Damn. I might have been able to feign a sprained ankle in front of the school secretary, but not with Jed. ‘What are you doing here anyway?’ I hiss as he helps me to my feet and leads me towards the school building.

‘We’re due for a meeting about this inter-schools art competition,’ he says.

‘Oh,’ I say hollowly. We . How fantastically cosy. Flanked by Jed, Celeste, Grace and Miss Curwin, I hobble towards the main entrance. Over by the goalposts, Finn and James are locked in conversation with Beth’s daughter Kira, the golden girl of his class. I pause, waiting for Finn to charge towards me, desperately concerned about my wellbeing. Nothing happens. Anyone would assume I’m some random crazy who’s blundered onto school property. Not the woman who carried him in her womb and has tended to his every need for the past eleven years.

In the office, I lower myself onto a chair. Miss Curwin produces the first aid box, extracts a bandage and starts to bind my left ankle. It’s quite a crush with everyone packed into the tiny room. So many eyes are fixed upon me that I begin to feel like something that’s been dug up from a field and put on display in a museum. ‘You’d better go back to the playing field now, Grace,’ Miss Curwin says. ‘Your mum’s going to be fine.’

‘Okay.’ She smiles unsteadily.

‘See you at home time,’ I say. ‘Don’t worry – I feel much better already.’

‘Sorry I nagged you and made you break your foot,’ she murmurs.

‘Oh, darling, it’s not your fault. It’s mine for being such a clumsy idiot.’

‘Yeah,’ Grace brightens, turning to leave. ‘No other mums fell over, did they, Dad?’

‘Er, no, love.’ Jed clears his throat, and I catch him throwing a quick look at Celeste.

‘Are you in a hurry?’ I ask sharply. ‘Because I don’t want to keep you from your meeting.’

‘Well,’ he says, ‘we are supposed to be meeting Miss Marshall . . .’

‘Oh, I can deal with that, Jed,’ Celeste insists, widening her pale blue eyes. ‘You should take Laura home. Poor thing, she must be in agony.’

‘I’m fine ,’ I say quickly, horrified now at the prospect of keeping up the bust-ankle pretence all the way home. ‘I’ll have to wait for school to finish anyway. That’s only an hour. Then I’ll pick up Toby and walk home, no problem.’ I pull myself up, gripping the edge of the desk for support.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Jed says. ‘I’ll drive you home and come back to collect the kids.’

‘That’s crazy! You don’t need to do that—’

‘Where are your shoes?’ he asks.

‘I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, they were just old things . . .’

‘Do call the surgery,’ Miss Curwin adds as we leave. ‘I’m sure they’ll give you an emergency appointment, get you checked out.’

‘Yes, I’ll do that.’

‘And get plenty of rest,’ Miss Curwin calls after us.

I nod gravely, wondering how I might possibly rest in our house, until I remember that there is nothing physically wrong with me.

Our car is parked in the next street. Jed and I don’t speak as I hobble barefoot towards it, having been unable to face prowling around the playing field to look for my sandals. As I lower myself onto the passenger seat, wincing with ‘pain’, Naomi saunters towards us, dangling my turquoise beauties by their straps. ‘I rescued these for you,’ she announces. They are smeared with mud, plus a curious slug-like substance.

‘Thanks, Naomi,’ I murmur, tossing them onto the back seat.

‘No problem.’ She touches her red winner’s rosette which she’s wearing as a jaunty hair accessory behind her left ear.

I shut the passenger door firmly. ‘Better luck next year!’ she mouths through the window before guffawing and cantering off down the street.

‘Spectacular,’ Jed grumbles, starting the engine. ‘Honestly, Laura, that really was one spectacular stunt you pulled off there.’

‘Mum broke her foot today,’ Grace announces over dinner.