No-One Ever Has Sex on a Tuesday (8 page)

‘So you all set, then?’ she asked, resisting the urge to succumb to the lump in her throat.

‘Sure, yeah,’ he said, waving a hand over Millie’s dozing head. ‘We’ll be absolutely fine. Don’t you worry about a thing.’

‘Are you sure you don’t need me to—’

‘I’ve got this,’ Ben interrupted, suddenly looking stern. ‘I can do this, okay? I may not be capable of a lot of things but I can look after my own daughter. Now go.’

‘Right,’ replied Katy, knowing she’d offended him. Not a good way to start in their new roles. ‘Well, I’m off then.’ She bent to kiss Millie’s head. She pulled away sharply as the touch of soft baby hair brushing her lips made tears suddenly spring to her eyes.

‘Bye,’ said Ben, engrossed once more in the football. ‘We’re all good here.’

‘I know,’ she murmured, and fled before she changed her mind about everything and never walked out the door again.

An hour later Ben woke with a start to the sound of Millie bawling. He was confused for a moment. His recording of
Match of the Day
must have finished, as all that remained was a blank blue screen. He sat up quickly, launching Millie onto his shoulder, and rubbed his eyes. So what should he be doing
now? He leaned forward to pick up the remote control to banish the blue then grabbed his phone to check on the time.

‘Shit,’ he gasped, dropping the phone back on the coffee table. He’d had a text from Charlene reminding him that she would save a piece of floor next to her at the Music, Mummy and Me session, which was due to begin in twenty minutes. Katy had said to him that he didn’t have to go, but he wanted to show her that he was all-in with looking after Millie. Truth be told, he was looking forward to it. His first morning and he was going to a baby class with his daughter. It had
successful stay-at-home dad
written all over it. In any case, Charlene had been texting him daily to make sure he was going. He suspected she was overexcited about being the only one who knew the novelty parent in the class, so there was no way on earth she was letting him get out of it.

R U ON UR WAY☺
came the next text as Ben leapt up, trying to work out where to put Millie whilst he got dressed. He rushed through to the bedroom and laid her on the bed, and she wailed. He spotted the bouncy chair in the corner and put her in there. She wailed. He sang her a football chant, which normally did the trick. She wailed. He began an exaggerated dance, flinging legs and arms in all manner of awkward directions. She watched, mesmerised, as Ben continued his body contortions whilst trying to put on his underpants. He fell over twice.

Clothes successfully on, he brushed his teeth, forcing him out of Millie’s sight for a few moments. She wailed. He momentarily admired his bright ginger beard. What a bonus of being a stay-at-home dad . . . no shaving. It was like a dream come true not to have to spend precious minutes of every day scraping his cheeks with an electric torture instrument. Going back to sweep Millie out of her chair, he glanced at his watch. He had ten minutes to get to the Community Centre. Piece of cake.

Five minutes later and he was still battling to get the pushchair to stay up one-handed whilst he bounced a wailing Millie on his shoulder. What on earth was wrong with her? She was never normally this upset when she was with him. He was determined to get the stupid contraption up using one hand. He’d seen Katy do it, so it couldn’t be that hard, surely. He’d left the bouncy
chair in the bedroom and he couldn’t put Millie on the floor, as it was a very hard Moroccan tile.
One more go
, he told himself.

‘Fuck!’ he screamed, as his violent shake of the contraption caused the pushchair to trap his hand. He stalked back to the bedroom to get the bouncy chair.

‘Is this where I should be for Music, Mummy and Me?’ Ben gasped as he barged through the double doors of the Community Centre.

All eyes turned to stare at the dishevelled-looking young man with a bright ginger beard marching towards the group of women sitting on the floor, clutching babies on their laps.

‘Ben!’ shrieked Charlene. ‘Sit with me, sit with me right here,’ she said, shuffling up to make room. ‘This is Ben,’ she said to the other mums, who were all agog. ‘We were in antenatal classes together. His girlfriend, you know, Katy, earns tons more money than him, so she’s gone back to work. He’s a
stay-at-home dad
.’ She completed her last sentence by raising her pencilled-on eyebrows to the top of her forehead, as if she’d just announced he was a male stripper.

‘Thanks, Charlene,’ said Ben, dumping himself down next to her with Millie.

‘Hi, Ben,’ said Abby, suddenly appearing from behind Charlene, fluttering her mascara-caked eyelashes whilst holding a phone up in front of her. ‘Good to see you again.’

‘Er,’ Ben faltered, struggling to cross his muscular legs. ‘Hi again.’

‘I said you were coming, and she said she’d come along and give you moral support. She’s also filming me and Rocco at baby music class to put up on my Teenage Mums Facebook group page,’ said Charlene.

‘And I don’t go to college on a Monday,’ added Abby.

‘Oh,’ said Ben. He held Millie’s hand up to do a little wave at Abby then looked around, suddenly feeling awkward that everyone was staring at him.

‘I’m Linda,’ announced a woman wearing a poncho sitting in the middle of the group with a guitar rather than a baby on her lap. ‘I’m thrilled to welcome a young man to our group,’ she gushed. ‘It’s Ben, isn’t it? Charlene has been telling us all about you for weeks. Now I don’t want you to feel
intimidated just because you’re the only man. You are very welcome at Music, Mummy and Me.’

‘Thank you,’ Ben grinned back. ‘You’ll have to change the name to Music, Mummy, Daddy and Me now, though, won’t you?’ he joked.

‘He’s right, Linda,’ exclaimed Charlene. ‘You don’t want to be done for bloody discrimination, do you?’

‘Please,’ said Linda. ‘We
do
have children present.’

Ben couldn’t suppress a smirk, which didn’t go unnoticed by Abby or Linda.

‘I’m sure everyone would prefer it if profanities were not used during the class, Charlene,’ Linda added.

‘Profanities?’ Charlene queried. ‘What are they? I don’t think I’ve used one of them before.’

‘You know what profanities are, you fuckwit,’ said Abby, smirking back at Ben.

‘Pleeeease,’ shouted Linda. ‘Shall we start again?’ She coughed and shook her shoulders. ‘So, as some of you are new to this class, maybe it would be an idea to quickly review the philosophy of Music, Mummy and Me before we make a start.’

‘Fuck me,’ Ben muttered under his breath. Abby stifled a giggle.

‘Music, Mummy and Me was founded in 1992 by Mary Jane Becket in Cambridge, following a study which proved that babies who participate and interact with music with their parents, smile more, communicate better and show earlier and more sophisticated brain responses to music, including the recognition of rhythm
and
more amazingly a recognition of pitch.’

‘Wow,’ exclaimed Ben. ‘That
is
amazing.’

Linda looked at him, unsure if her latest class member was naturally enthusiastic or merely sarcastic.

‘Mary started her own group in Cambridge, and now there are over fifty classes being run in the UK every week where babies and their carers can come along and enjoy a structured programme of melodic play.’

Ben stared at Linda in stunned silence until she was forced to ask if he was okay.

‘Melodic play?’ he asked.

‘Yes, that’s right.’

Ben furrowed his brow.

‘What exactly is melodic play?’

‘It’s play involving interaction with music and sounds,’ she replied.

Ben thought for a moment.

‘A bit like singing and dancing?’ he asked.

‘Well, yes. You could put it like that.’

‘Except,’ said Ben slowly. ‘Babies can’t sing or dance.’

Linda blinked rapidly.

‘Well,’ she said eventually, after a very long silence whilst Charlene and Abby sniggered and the rest of the mums looked uncomfortable. ‘They can move and make sounds to the music, and that’s what we are encouraging them to do during this class.’ She gave him a false smile then leaned forward and flipped some laminated pages in a file in front of her.

‘And
we c
an sing and dance,’ chirped one of the other mums.

‘That’s right, Caroline,’ said Linda, beaming at her. ‘The mums, sorry,
carers
, have a wonderful time singing and bopping along, don’t you?’

Forced smiles all round. Ben gazed at them, dumbstruck.

‘Are you serious?’ he gasped. ‘You’re expecting us all to sing and dance at ten o’clock in the fucking, oops sorry, ten o’clock in the morning?’ He turned to stare at Charlene in wonder. She’d never mentioned anything about
him
having to sing and dance . . . in the morning! What was she thinking?

‘I can’t do that,’ he continued, turning back to Linda. ‘We’re talking at least four pints, some seriously loud banging tunes and a room dark enough that no-one can see where I am, never mind what I’m doing.’

There was silence around the room. Ben surveyed his co-carers, who were all looking anywhere but at him, clearly embarrassed by his outburst.

‘Why don’t we make a start,’ said Linda, ‘and then you can see actually what fun it is and you’ll get right into it.’

‘Okay,’ said Ben slowly. ‘Fine. Let’s do it.’

‘Good, good,’ said Linda, moving her hands into position on the guitar and smiling around at her audience. ‘Shall we start with the welcome song? After three. One, two, three.’

‘Welcome, welcome, welcome, everyone

Welcome, welcome to a great new day

Welcome, welcome, welcome, everyone

Welcome, welcome, let’s see who’s come our way

Welcome, welcome, here is . . . Archie

Welcome, welcome to you today

Welcome, welcome, here is Archie

Welcome, welcome, let’s see who else has come our way

Welcome, welcome, here is . . . Isobel

Welcome, welcome to you today

Welcome, welcome, here is Isobel

Welcome, welcome, let’s see who else has come our way.

Welcome, welcome, here is . . .’

Ben stared back at Linda as if she had grown two heads when she paused in the song to allow Ben to insert Millie’s name.

‘Your baby’s name?’ urged Linda.

‘Seriously!’ exclaimed Ben, his eyes wide. ‘It’s ten o’clock in the morning and you expect me to sing this? Are you having a laugh? Are you winding me up because I’m new?’

Everyone stared back at him in stunned silence.

‘You cannot honestly expect me to believe that anyone would pay to come and sit on the floor of some crusty old Community Centre, pretending to enjoy singing some pathetic, mindless tune to babies who are completely and utterly clueless as to what is going on around them.’

There were one or two gasps from the room as everyone waited for Linda to respond.

‘Look,’ she said, putting her guitar down. ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t be here if you do not think you can participate in the worthy goals and aims of this class. Although I do think if you were to consult Katy she would agree that she and Millie gained a huge amount by attending.’

‘Katy came here and sang songs about welcome, welcome, drivel, drivel, drivel?’ asked Ben incredulously. ‘In public?’ Katy, who didn’t even dare tell anyone she preferred Radio 2 to Radio 1 these days.

‘She did,’ confirmed one of the mums. ‘Along with the rest of us.’

Ben stared back at her.

‘But why?’

No-one spoke; they all just looked at one another furtively.

‘Shall I go through the Music, Mummy and Me philosophy one more time?’ Linda offered.

‘No,’ said Ben, shaking his head vigorously.

‘I come,’ said Charlene, ‘because it fills that gap after Jeremy Kyle finishes and before Toddlers, Tiaras and Tantrums start.’

‘You come because you have nothing to watch on TV?’

‘Yes,’ Charlene nodded.

Ben looked round the rest of the room.

‘I come because my husband takes the car on a Monday. I can walk here, and if I don’t come I might not have an adult conversation all day,’ ’fessed up another mum.

‘I’m a child-minder,’ said someone else. ‘I’m paid to come.’

‘Our heating’s broken,’ said another.

‘So let me get this straight,’ said Ben. ‘This is actually what you do in this class, sit on the floor and sing stupid songs?’

‘Yes,’ said Charlene.

‘But none of you actually comes for the music or the educational benefits to your child?’

‘I really must ask you to leave now,’ said Linda, standing up and pointing at the door.

‘And do any of you actually enjoy it?’ asked Ben.

There was a heavy silence as everyone looked at the floor.

‘Right, that’s enough,’ said Linda, raising her voice. ‘This is totally unacceptable. You are ruining my class.’

‘Sounds to me like the only one ruining it is you,’ said Ben.

‘How dare you?’ shouted Linda, finally losing her cool. ‘I have been doing this for eight years and you swan in here like you know it all, trying to
tell all these hard-working mums what they should be thinking. I have never in my entire professional career had a complaint. Not one. These classes are an extremely positive experience for all, and maybe it’s just because you are a man that you can’t see that. Maybe there is a very good reason why these classes are called Music,
Mummy
and Me.’

The entire class took a sharp intake of breath and turned to see Ben’s response.

‘Call yourself a professional?’ he said, getting up. ‘You’re delusional.’ He gathered Millie up in his arms. ‘I don’t need this, I don’t need you. I’m going home to play the Arctic Monkeys VERY LOUD.’

Chapter Nine

‘There’s no answer,’ Katy told Daniel as he waited patiently in her office to go with her for a late lunch. She held her phone to her ear as it continued to ring.

‘He’ll be at the pub or somewhere,’ said Daniel. ‘I don’t know what you’re worrying about.’

‘But they should be home from music by now.’ Katy put the receiver down and chewed her thumbnail. ‘Where are they? He’s not answering his mobile either.’