Buyer’s Remorse Chapters 13 - 14 by Maeryn Lamonte Copyright © 2023 Still a lot of unfortunate language, but other than that, nothing to cause nightmares.

-oOo-

Chapter 13

“You can put those cigarettes out for a start,” I said, more than a little disappointed to see them both smoking.

“Whatever,” my counterpoint said tossing his on the ground and stamping it out. The man in red did the same and they pushed gently past into the living room. “Done a bit of remodelling?” My former self asked pointing at the wrecked television.

I ignored him. “What are you doing here?” I asked, directing my question at the man in red.

He removed his hat and smiled. Well, since he didn’t seem to be capable of any other facial expression, the smile broadened.

“Your, er, swap-buddy seems to think your exchange wasn’t exactly equitable. He came looking for me to sort things out.”

“I thought you said no take-backs.”

He shrugged. “My clients quite often get cold feet on the first day. The transition tends to be quite traumatic, so the no take-backs thing is kind of an incentive to commit.

“If the exchange really does turn out to be unequal, then there are a few things I can do.”

“I thought you checked beforehand to make sure that didn’t happen.”

“Sure, I check, but I’m not God you know? Sometimes I miss a thing or two.”

“So, tell me about the checks you made before this particular swap. Did you know what you were letting me in for?”

“Do you recall what you asked for?”

“Remind me.”

“You wanted to be a woman of about the same age, close to home and not unattractive. Would you say I delivered?”

“Well, not unattractive is a bit of a stretch. I mean have you seen the size of this arse?”

“Oy, I’m right here!”

“I’m sure you’ve found your driver’s license, so you know what potential that body has. You do have more self-control than its former owner, so there’s no reason you couldn’t look that good again. I can see you’ve already made a start.”

“Oy! Will you stop fucking talking about me as though I wasn’t in the fucking room?”

I did as requested. “Would you mind keeping your voice down. I have a couple of kids sleeping upstairs.”

“Yeah, and who’s fucking kids are they?”

“That’s actually a good question. I naturally assumed they were part of a package deal, along with that hideous creature you married, but maybe I’m wrong.” I looked back at the man in red.

“Why don’t you ask what he – then she – asked for?”

“Alright, what did you ask for?”

“I wanted out of my fucking life. Out of my marriage to that fucking fuck-turd and his fucking ungrateful kids. One a fucking murderous bastard and the other a fucking whinging prick. I wanted a bit of fucking independence and I wanted to never feel powerless. I didn’t fucking expect to wake up with a dick, but I don’t really mind that I suppose.”

“So not your kids then.”

“What?”

“You wanted out of this family and you have it. They’re mine now.”

“Not if he fucking switches us back, they aren’t.”

I turned back to the man in red. “You said you only switch people if they both want it. What if I said I didn’t?”

“Switching back is different. I try to avoid it where possible, but it depends on how much of an imbalance there is between your lives.”

“And how do you decide that?”

“Well naturally, I review what’s happened to both of you since the switch.”

“Once again, how?”

“Oh, like this.” He clicked his fingers and the smashed television screen mended itself, the set turned on and scenes from both our lives played out side by side. On the right a series of unfortunate events from my previous week, a large portion of which I really didn’t want to relive. From being snubbed at the football to Steven and his friends attacking Jake, to the drunken shit coming home and forcing himself on me. I focused on the left-hand side and decided I didn’t much care for what that showed either. The more or less constant stream of cakes and pastries, the almost immediate purchase and consumption of a couple of packets of cigarettes, the fateful but fortunately not fatal excursion in the car, complete with images of me juggling a slice of cold pizza, and a mobile phone while driving, the dropping of the latter and subsequent crash. There was the ludicrous confrontation at work ending up in me quitting before they could sack me, there were scenes of me swearing at my friends and alienating them. Scenes of me appearing in court and exploding with outrage at the judge’s pronouncement. Scenes of me approaching a couple of gyms to ask about a job. One of them had suggested they could do a before and after thing for advertising if I was willing to do the before shots then come back in after I’d lost a few pounds. That inevitably led to an explosion of profanity after which no-one was laughing. It all wound up about the same time.

“Hmm,” he said when all was done, “well it seems you’re right, there is something of an imbalance here.”

“So, you’ll switch is fucking back?”

If ever there was a gratuitous use of the f-bomb.

“That rather depends.”

“On what?” I didn’t like the cold sensation creeping through me.

“On whether or not you want to,” he asked me, “which I believe you’ve already answered, but I need to be sure.”

“There is no way I want him to become Michael and Steven’s mother again.”

“I could arrange for them to go into care. If you really wanted, I could even arrange for you to adopt them.”

“It wouldn’t be the same. Right now, they have a mother who cares for them and they’re doing well...”

“Well! You think putting the two of them in fucking dresses is doing fucking well? I mean Michael’s a fucking poof anyway, but...”

“Will you keep your voice down?”

“Don’t worry about it,” the man in red said. “They’ll sleep right through this no matter how much noise we make.”

“Oh, okay, but what about the neighbours?”

“I assure you, whatever passes between us in this room won’t reach beyond these walls. But let me get this straight. Your main reason for not wanting to switch back is the boys? I mean what if I offered for you to swap places with that girl in the bar last week?”

“Then she’d have this life, and how would she cope with everything that’s going on. More than that, how would she be with Michael and Steven?

“I can’t really explain it. The boys matter to me and I would do anything to make sure they don’t have to go through any more misery in life than they’ve already had to endure.”

“And the rest of it? The... well, pretty much everything?”

“Well, it’s a bit of a fixer upper, but like you say it has potential. I’d rather keep going with what I have than go back to the train wreck he’s made of my old life.”

“I’ve made of your life? You’re the fucking cunt who left me with a fucking dangerous car to drive...”

“Which passed its last MOT with flying colours and which was serviced only a couple of months ago.”

“Well, your garage is fucking crooked then. And what about that fucking fine?”

“I don’t see any point trying to argue with you. If you can’t see that what you were doing was dangerous then maybe it’s as well you had your license taken away.”

“Okay,” the man in red said in order to get our attention. His smile had slipped about as far as it could and still be called a smile. “This is how it’s going to go from here. You both were given the change you asked for, so no foul there, although I’ll admit that there is a degree of inequality in the switch...”

“Too fucking right there was.”

“The fine, the loss of the car, the loss of your job, the loss of your friends, let’s call it karma balancing out. You don’t have any ties, so you have the freedom to go and reinvent yourself any way you please, and the things you were left, like the car and the savings, they weren’t ever really any part of the deal.

“As for you,” he turned to face me, “I think karma still owes you a little something, and before you ask for something for your boys, this is for you personally. So, what would you like?”

“Well,” I gave it some thought, “healthy lungs would be a good start.”

“Done.”

“Twenty-twenty vision?”

“Okay, keep asking.”

“A little less weight would be nice “

“You can do that yourself.”

“Alright then, maybe some friends?”

“Again, I think you’re doing well enough on that front without any help from me.”

“I don’t want George to bother us again.”

“I can help with that.”

“A decent man in my life?”

“You want a fucking man in your life? I thought you was a bloke.”

“Only ever on the outside.”

“Well, the best I can do on that front is arrange for you to bump into one or two. What follows will have to be down to you, and them. One of them at least.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Most people ask for money.”

“Money’s overrated. As long as we have enough to keep the wolf from the door, and I’m happy to earn that.”

“Then an opportunity to do that?”

“Well, I already had a job interview today.”

“How the fuck d’you manage that?”

“Well, you said you weren’t interested in working for Clark’s and Spencer’s, so I wrote to them.”

“Fuck me.”

“No offense, but you’re not my type. Besides, I’ve decided to come off the pill.”

“What? Why?”

“You saw what George did to me. I have no intention of letting him anywhere near me again. Apart from that, do you think any man would look at this and want to climb into bed with it?”

“I dunno. You don’t look that bad.”

“There’s nothing else you’d like to ask for?” the man in red interrupted us.

“I can’t think of anything, no.”

“Well, let’s say you’re still in credit then. If you think of anything else, let me know.” He handed over a business card. A red one, of course.

“What a-fucking-bout me?”

Okay maybe there were more gratuitous ways to abuse the f-word.

“You get to start over. There are a few things of value in your flat you can sell to cover your fine, then I think you should stop expecting a free ride out of life. Whether or not you believe in karma, you still get out of life as much as you’re prepared to put into it, and so far, you haven’t put a lot in.

“Come on, we’ve taken up more of your former life than we have a right to. Sandra, I’ll see you again at some stage.”

They were gone as quickly as they had come.

-oOo-

Saturday came bright and cheerful, which couldn’t be said for me. After the two visitors had left the previous night, I hadn’t wanted to go to sleep. It was exactly one week since the magical transformation that had brought me into this life and, regardless of what the man in red had said, something inside me worried that, once I fell asleep, I might not wake up in the same skin. It was long past midnight when I finally gave into my fatigue and so, quite late in the morning when I came to.

Things were different. There was a brightness to the world that had not been there before and a freshness to each breath, but my brain was not functioning well enough to make anything of it. I staggered about in an uncomprehending blur for ten minutes before I realised the reason I couldn’t see straight was because I didn’t need my glasses anymore. I took them off and the world swam into focus.

A glance at my watch told me it was half past eight, a degenerately late hour to be rousing in a household with young children. I headed upstairs to find the boys – if the name really applied – wearing their cheerleader gear and sitting in the middle of a moderately tidy room playing together.

Michael beamed up at me as I came in. “Stevie remindedid me to go to the toilet when I woke up and I was dry again.”

I shook my head and looked over at Steven, smiling self-consciously. “All right,” I said with mock severity, “who are you and what have you done with my children.”

Michael giggled and even Steven’s smile broadened a little. It was all the encouragement I needed.

“Oh no!” Perhaps my acting was a little too realistic, because they looked worried for a moment. “It can only be that I’ve left you two to starve for so long, you have brain damage. Come on, quickly! If we have breakfast soon, maybe I can save some of your brain cells.”

I ran downstairs with the two of them making zombie impressions, which they spoiled slightly by giggling.

I made pancakes from a recipe I found on the internet and served them up with fruit and yoghurt. Bananas for the boys and blackcurrants and raspberries for me. I gave them a taste of my fruit but they both preferred the sweetness of the banana.

“What's the occasion?” Steven asked through a mouth very full of carbs.

“Well,” I said, putting my fork down and finishing my own modest mouthful before continuing. “I have two wonderful children who were kind enough to play quietly and let me have a lie in this morning, and it’s the weekend. What more occasion do I need.”

“I’m not complaining. These are great.”

Michael, very much the mimic, put his fork down and swallowed before saying, “Mummy, what happened to your glasses?”

“You know, it’s a funny thing sweetheart. When I woke up this morning, I found I didn’t need them anymore.”

“That’s good, because they made you look a bit like a baby owl.”

“Did they indeed?”

“They kind of did,” Steven said after he’d finished snorting with laughter. “You do look better without them.”

“Well, I’m glad I meet with your approval. While we’re handing out compliments, can I say how much more I like you two like this? What’s made you so much more cheerful?”

“I don’t know. Just everything feels lighter somehow, like this is where I sort of belong.”

“I dreamed about you last night, Mummy. You were talking to a smiley man in a funny red suit, and you said something like I would do anything for my boys. It made me feel all gooey inside. You know, in a nice way.”

“Yeah,” Steven said quietly.

“Well, I hope you two know I really would do anything to keep you safe and happy.”

“Alright,” Steven said with mock severity. “Who are you and what have you done with our mother?”

“Oh no!” Michael exclaimed. “She must be brain damagedid.”

“I think you’re right, Mikey. I think she has some kind of selective amnesia.”

“What’s ambleesha?”

“It’s when you forget things. I don’t think she remembers what we’re really like.”

“Alright you two, enough is enough.” I couldn’t help smiling though. “Have you finished with your pancakes?”

Which was enough of a prompt to get the forks moving again. Steven finished first.

“Can we head down to the school early today, Mum? I’d rather be down there while people are arriving rather than get there and have everyone looking at us.”

“I don’t see why not. That okay with you Mikey?”

“Yeah. I want to be a cheerleader too.”

I quirked an eyebrow at Steven who shrugged and nodded.

“When do you want to get there?”

“I don’t know, I thought maybe nine-thirty or somewhere around there.”

My watch said it was already past nine.

“We’d better get going then. Can you grab something for the two of you to change into? Charlotte’s picking us up from the school. We need to go over a few things to do with future arrangements with your dad.”

“No problem.” He jumped down and dashed upstairs, returning a couple of minutes later with his sports bag over his shoulder. Meanwhile, Michael had finished his breakfast and I’d put the crockery into the sink to soak and was helping him into his shoes.

“All set?” I asked him.

“Yep.” There was something sheepish about his reply, but I was feeling good enough not to let suspicion ruin the mood.

I set the pace heading to the school with Michael especially struggling to keep up. I still felt pretty fresh by the time we arrived and paused to suck in and savour a lungful of cool air as the boys headed over to the far side of the pitch to set up.

The rest of the crew turned up over the next fifteen minutes and I suspected Steven had told them to come early. They were ten minutes into a warm-up routine when Mr Gibson arrived. Mitchel had come wearing his football kit and was standing with the rest of the team making snide comments about the girly squad when the coach walked over to him and had a quiet word in his ear.

He didn't look happy and reluctantly slunk off towards the changing rooms.

The gathering of spectators, mostly parents of the players, were pointing at Steven and his friends and doing a half-hearted job of covering their smiles when, five minutes before kick-off, Steven led the group, Michael included, onto the field.

“Right, you lot,” he shouted with a bright smile on his face, “Let’s give a warm welcome to the visiting team.” Without further delay the whole group jumped through an enthusiastic routine, spelling out the name of the visiting school, all of them ending up on their knees with their arms wide and pompoms shaking.

It was a consummate performance and earned them a smattering of applause from the small crowd.

The cheerleaders ceded the pitch to the players and both teams ran onto the field, just as Mitchell appeared. Very abruptly, Steven and his friends weren’t the funniest thing on the school grounds.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, from his football boots up, he was now wearing white tights, a lurid pink, tulle tutu and a pale pink leotard. The furious red blush on his face clashed dramatically.

He ran across to the rest of the cheer squad, chased by the enthusiastic laughter and clapping of the crowd who had no idea what lay behind it all.

Steven handed him a pair of pompoms and spoke quietly into his ear. Mitchell was not happy, but accepted his instructions and, while the rest of the group ran through some quite effective routines cheering on the visiting team, he pranced about performing comical jetes in front of the rest of the group. His face remained deadpan throughout which made it all the funnier.

“Who’s the clown?” a voice asked at my elbow, so suddenly I jumped.

“Charlie! I thought you were at another match.”

“Cancelled. The other team came down with some bug or other and couldn’t make it. We win by default. Jake asked if we could come here. So, who is he?”

“He’s the kid who thought it would be fun to steal Steven’s uniform at practice last week and force him to go home in a skirt.”

“And suddenly I feel a lot less sorry for him.”

Oddly enough, I did. A week with Steven had taught me that kids – boys especially – of his age had just the wrong mix of pride and stupidity, which meant they very swiftly became their own worst enemy.

I continued to watch as the people around me kept on laughing and pointing, and the harder they laughed, the greater Mitchell’s embarrassment became, manifesting itself as an even more wooden expression and stiff movements until his attempted ballet moves looked more like something from Monty Python’s Ministry of Silly Walks.

Mercifully the whistle blew for half time and Mitchell ran for the changing rooms. I might have followed, except I doubted he’d want to hear anything I had to say to him. Besides, Steven had a set of routines prepared for the break, and my first priority was to stay back and support him. He and the group gave their performance, much to the crowd’s evident enjoyment, then with a few minutes to spare before the game resumed, he brought things to a halt and made his own way toward the changing rooms.

The game was five minutes into the second half when he reappeared with Mitchell in tow. The crowd let out an appreciative cheer and the boy ballerina added his own brand of idiocy to the somewhat tongue in cheek cheers Steven and his friends were making.

A somewhat unexpected consequence of the cheering was that the opposing goalkeeper found himself distracted just once too often and the home side, who hadn’t played an exceptional game, managed to slip one past him, giving us the win.

The final whistle blew and Steven and Michael made their way across the pitch towards me. The other cheerleader’s, Mitchel in particular, felt too self-conscious to remain out in the public eye and bolted for the changing rooms at their first opportunity.

“Hey Stevie,” a pretty young girl called as Steven approached.

“Hi Ann,” he called back. The infamous Ann Summers, I presumed. Like me, she was an unfortunate victim of incompetent parenting. I wondered how she coped with school, but I supposed being attractive enough to appear in one of the catalogues that bore her name must have helped.

“Is this your brother? He’s cute. Tell me, do all the men in your family wear dresses?”

Steven snorted. “I’m sorry. I just had an image of my dad in a dress. You really wouldn’t want to see that.

“You know this is kind of a punishment, don’t you?”

“I did hear something about that. But you really own it, you know? You look so good in that outfit. My mum would kill me if I showed so much skin.”

“I’d like to see you in this outfit.”

“I’d like to see you in some of mine. Maybe you should come round sometime.”

It came as a surprise that someone so young could be so sexually forward, but then again, with a name like hers, who knew what her home life was like. Time to be a parent.

“We’d be glad to have you over some time,” I said, interrupting them.

“Oh hi?” She offered her hand. “I’m Ann.”

“I heard. I’m Mrs Bush, Steven’s mum.” I still felt a quiet thrill when I said that.

“Yeah. Well, I’ll see you around... Stevie.”

“Did you have to, Mum?” It was more disappointment than sullen anger.

“Yes,” I said watching the girl’s retreating posterior with its very much accentuated wiggle. “I’m sorry, Steven, but I really think I did.

“What did you say to Mitchell?” If the shit’s getting deeper, change the subject.

“Oh, only what everyone but he saw, that the crowd enjoyed his clowning about, even if that’s not what he intended.”

“You’re a better friend than he deserves.”

“He’s actually alright most of the time. I think he just saw this as a chance to get my spot on the team.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because he’s wanted it since he joined the team.”

“Hey, Steven.”

“Oh, hi Jake.”

“Mum told me about the things you and your friends were being made to do because of what you did to me.”

“Is that why you came? To have a laugh?”

“No, not really. I mean, my game was cancelled, and I guess I was interested to see, but mainly I was hoping to talk to your coach.”

“Mr Gibson? Why?”

“Just, you know. Would you introduce me?”

“Sure.” Steven looked at me to check it was okay. I shrugged and nodded.

“If you’re curious, you should go listen in,” Charlotte said. “You should know this is his idea, not mine.”

Now I was curious. I tagged along close enough to listen in.

“Oh, hello Steven,” the coach said as he approached. “You look, er... Well, you look the part, I suppose. I want you to know, I don’t agree with what you and the others have been made to do, but you really rose to the challenge. Maybe not Mitchell so much, but even he wasn’t such a dead loss in the end. Er...”

“It’s alright Mr Gibson. Erm, this is Jake. He’s the boy we... Well, I mean he’s who we attacked. I don’t know if you remember, he was the other team’s goalie?”

“Yes, I do remember. You were pretty good as I recall. What are you doing here Jake?”

“I was hoping I could talk to you, sir. I understand Steven and his friends have been kicked off the team for the rest of the season?”

“That’s right. It was pretty serious what they did to you, and we need to make sure they take it seriously.”

“Yeah, except you’re also making them do this cheer leading thing, which has to be a pretty brutal punishment on its own. Especially that kid in pink. I mean what did he do to deserve that? I don’t remember him being with the kids that hit me.”

“Yes, well er, that was their mothers you know. Er...”

“It’s just that I wonder if you realise who else you’re punishing over this.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I mean your team is pretty good, or at least it was.”

“Excuse me?”

“Last week’s match was the toughest competition we’ve faced this season, and we really didn’t lose by much. Now that Steve and his friends are off the team, we pretty much have the trophy in the bag.”

“Isn’t that a good thing for you?”

“Not really. If we win it’ll be because you’re putting your B team out there, it’s kind of a win by default. We want to win because we’re the best.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but we won today.”

“Yeah, by a single goal. When we played these guys, we won eleven nil.”

“Eleven nil, eh? So, what exactly is it you’re saying?”

“I’m asking you to consider if getting these guys to prance about like girls isn’t punishment enough, and maybe you might let us get our revenge on them on the field.”

“I don’t like the sound of that. Deliberate fouls are not a part of the game and definitely not what we want to teach.”

“Oh, I don’t mean anything like that, sir. Beating your guys in a fair match would be revenge enough. When we take the trophy away from your best team then you’ll know you’ve been beaten by a better one, and we’ll know we earned it.”

“You’re a cocky little so-and-so, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a bit. Look, all I’m asking for is a chance at some decent competition. Would you at least consider it?”

“I’m sorry, son. You have to understand, if we allow Steven and his friends back on the team, it would be like telling them they could get away with whatever they liked.”

Jake looked pointedly at Steven in his short yellow skirt and crop top. “It doesn’t look like they got away with anything. I mean, didn’t you say this punishment is a bit over the top?”

“Well, yes, but...”

“So maybe letting them back on the team would be kind of a way of making up for the overreaction? And remember, you wouldn’t be doing it for them so much as for us, for me. And aren’t I the victim in this? Shouldn’t I have a say in what happens to them?”

“I’ll tell you what Jake. I’ll give it some thought. I’m not promising anything, but...”

“When we first came over, it sounded like you were saying you were impressed with how Steven and the others have responded to their punishment. Like they were really sorry and doing their best to own it. Isn’t that what punishment is for? To show someone what they were doing wrong and try and get them to do right instead?”

“Yes, but...”

“So, what kind of message does it send when they show they’re sorry and you keep on punishing them. Isn’t that a bit like you kicking the little guy when he’s down?”

“You’re not going to give up, are you?”

“It’s not what you do when you know you’re right. I think you know I’m right too.”

“When’s our next game against you?”

“I think it’s next week at our school.”

“Fine. I’ll have a word with the others involved. If they agree then we’ll let them back on.”

“Thank you, Mr Gibson.”

“Hey, it’s not just me who makes the decision.”

“No, of course not. But thank you all the same.”

Jake turned to Steven and led him by the arm back towards us. Charlotte had the smuggest grin about her.

“That apple didn’t fall far from the tree, did it?”

“You’d better believe it.”

“Reminds me so much of what you were like in court.”

“Hell, you ain’t seen nothin’ of what I can do yet. I was just as precocious at his age, and now I’ve got years more training and experience behind me.”

“I’m so glad you’re on my side.”

“Shall we go, or do your boys want to get changed first.”

“Can we just go?” Steven asked. “I don’t want to give Mr Gibson a chance to change his mind.” The way he was eyeing his sports bag left me wondering if he had an ulterior motive, but again I chose not to believe the worst.

Chapter 14

“Mummy, Steven packed my dress.” Michael didn’t sound upset. Far from it in fact.

I looked across at Steven standing in the doorway, looking more than a little guilty, also wearing the dress I’d bought him.

“What is this?” Charlotte asked.

“A private family matter,” I replied. “At least I thought it was.” I gave Steven a stern look which he returned with a sheepish grin. “Perhaps you’d care to explain?”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“Try.” I looked pointedly at Jake who had a distinctly worried expression.

He shrugged and sat. The gesture was unconsciously girly, holding his skirt tight so it didn’t crease under him, but then I remembered how I’d picked up my own mannerisms by observation almost without realising it. We all waited to hear what pearls of wisdom would drip from his lips.

“I don’t know if it’s possible to become someone you don’t like without trying, or if it’s possible not to notice while it’s happening, but I think it kind of happened to me.

“Last weekend when I organised for my friends to gang up on Jake... I don’t know, I think part of me knew I shouldn’t be doing it, but most of me felt like I’d come up with a cool plan that would trick my mum and cause her grief while at the same time... I don’t know. When I talk about it now it really feels like a stupid idea, but I remember feeling justified in doing it.

“Then Mum made me cut up my football shirt...”

“She what!” Jake was outraged.

“Man U strip, number seven.”

“Ronaldo! She cut up a Ronaldo shirt?”

“No. She made me do it.”

Charlotte gave me a look of renewed respect which I pretended not to notice.

“Then she told the school about everyone who was involved and got us kicked off the team.

“I was so fu... Sorry Mum. I was so angry, all I could think of was how unfair it all was. Then the other mums decided that a suitable punishment would be for us to cheer for the other side, and just so we were in no doubt that it was a punishment, that we should… well you saw us in the costumes.

“I wasn’t going to do it, but then Mum made the kit...”

“You made those? You got skills girl.”

“...and got me to try it on, and something just seemed to change.

“It was like all the anger I’ve had in me just melted away and I could see how much of a prick I’d been.

“Then Wednesday happened and being stuck outdoors in a short skirt with nobody offering to help was a pretty crappy experience. Sorry Mum, but it was, and it was weird because I didn’t get mad like usual. I kind of started thinking about all the cr... mean things I’d done to other people. Like Jake. I really am sorry, Jake.”

“Yeah, I would be too if I lost a Ronaldo shirt.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I’m really sorry we picked on you. It was not cool.

“Anyway, since I didn’t have a uniform, Mum let me pick what I wore to school, and I chose my cheerleading kit...”

“They let you in with that crop top?”

“No, it was different, like one of the others. I think Mum ran out of material when she had to make two more which is why I ended up in what I had today.

“I think I chose it as a sort of act of defiance. You know, a way of saying to the prats who were picking on me that they wouldn’t break me that way, but I ended up feeling different all day. Good different.

“While we were at school, Mum bought us these dresses from the charity shop.”

All eyes swivelled in my direction.

“I was playing a hunch,” I said, shrugging.

“Well, it was a good one, because I’ve found whenever I go back to wearing my usual clothes, I feel the old angry me coming back. I know it’s weird, but I like who I am much better when I’m wearing something like this.

“Mum asked me to pack some things for Michael and me for after the match and I kind of picked these things without letting on.”

“Do you want to be a girl?” Charlotte asked point blank.

“I don’t think so. I just don’t want to be, you know, the sort of selfish git who’d plan to attack another kid just because he was really good at a game I liked and nearly beat me.”

“Wearing a dress doesn’t make you kind, you know? Any more than wearing trousers makes you cruel.”

“I know, but somehow it does help. I don’t know, it makes me feel kind of vulnerable, but soft as well. I just have to figure out how to hold onto those feelings while I’m wearing boy clothes, is all.

“I didn’t really think about it being a problem, but I suppose I should have.”

“Fair enough. What do you think Jake? The way I see it, we have three options. One, we can tell this family of degenerates to get the...” she may have very briefly formed an f with her mouth before thinking better of it, “out of our house. Two, we can accept that the world is full of differences and choose to celebrate those differences, even if they do seem a bit weird to us.”

“And three?” Jake prompted.

“Three is I have a couple of dresses upstairs I think would look really good on you.”

By the smile in her eyes you could tell she didn’t mean the last one.

“I’m good,” Jake laughed nervously. “Let’s go with option two.”

“Option four is Jake could lend some of his clothes to Michael and Steven,” I said. “I’d wash them before getting them back to you.”

“I think we’re okay,” Charlotte looked for and received a nod from her son. “If Steven feels he needs this at the moment, we wouldn’t want to get in the way of it. Now, do you think we could get down to what I brought you here for?”

So, we spent the afternoon strategising in preparation for Monday. Jake found a few games that Michael could join in with and we didn’t hear a peep from them until quite late in the afternoon when a heavily laden pizza delivery boy rang the doorbell.

“I ordered for all of us, I hope that’s alright.”

It definitely was, although I had to limit myself to just the one slice. I had made some small headway in the battle of the bulge, and I was unwilling to give up my progress to something so small as an extra slice of delicious... Oh alright, maybe just one more.

We’d worked enough and the kids had played enough, so Charlotte ran us back home.

“We’re in good shape for Monday,” she said as we pulled up outside. “I’ve arranged for a conference room at the courthouse for ten-thirty. I assume you won’t have any difficulty getting there before then.”

“I shouldn’t think so. Is there anything I should bring?”

“Your marriage certificate would be useful, since your marriage is what we’re discussing. The rest we can sort out at the meeting. Enjoy the rest of your weekend and I’ll see you Monday.

It was still daylight as we stepped through the front door, but I locked it behind us even so. Recalling the previous night’s visitors, I made a mental note to call the locksmith and have some form of safety chain fitted. While I was contemplating the door, Steven had noticed something else.

“When did you get the TV fixed?”

I looked at the enormous unit on the wall. The screen was pristine, exactly as the man in red had left it.

If in doubt, go with the truth. “A couple of friends came to visit last night while you were sleeping. I don’t know how, but one of them managed to fix it for us. Tell you what, you guys could really do with a wash, so what do you say about a quick bath and change for bed? Maybe a snack if you’re hungry and a hot chocolate, then we’ll pick something to watch. Steven’s choice tonight, don’t you think, Michael?”

“Really?”

“It’ll have to be age appropriate for your brother, but otherwise yes. I’d say you’ve earned it today.”

They went thundering off to get their sleepwear while I ran the bath and put the kettle on. They were clean in record time and settled in front of the screen before I’d finished tidying up after them.

In the end I relented and allowed a twelve rated film, which was officially too old for Steven as well, but I’d watched it before and a swift mental audit told me there was nothing in it I thought inappropriate, nor was it the sort of thing that nightmares were made of. I set the film going and disappeared to make the drinks. Tea for me because I’d allowed myself way too many calories for the day.

There was a fair bit of action in it, but the scenes involving blood and guts all happened tastefully off camera. The good guys won in the end, which was the main point of importance, and it was long enough that by the time the credits started scrolling up the screen, a had two small bodies snuggled against mine with eyes half lidded.

I could have stayed like that all night, but they wouldn’t have thanked me when they woke. Besides my legs were growing cold.

I nudged Steven until he was awake enough to head off to bed – via the bathroom and his toothbrush – and I tried to lift Michael, eventually acknowledging that I would never have the same strength I’d once had and settling for hauling him to his feet and leading his zomboid form on the same short journey as his brother.

“Mum?” Steven asked muzzily once I’d tucked Michael in.

“Mm?”

“Thanks for today. It was fun.”

“You’re very welcome. I shall have to drag you along to more of my boring meetings.”

“No, I mean it. Jake's really cool and he wouldn't be my friend if not for you. And the cheerleading was a lot of fun as well, in a different way to playing football.”

“Better, or not so good?”

“Neither. Just different. For one thing it takes a bit if getting used to being dressed like a girl in public.”

“You didn’t seem to mind this afternoon.”

“That wasn’t the same. Apart from Jake and his mum, we were kind of on our own.”

“I had a thought on that. Do you think you’d feel more inclined to going back to wearing your normal clothes if you had a nightdress to sleep in?”

His face turned dreamy. “Could be worth a shot.”

“Well, that gives us something to do with some of tomorrow then. We go shopping for nightclothes.”

“Goodnight Mum.”

“Do I get a kiss goodnight?”

He put an arm around my neck and gave me a peck on the cheek. What would have felt a bit weird a week ago was, without a doubt, the best thing in the world.

“I want one too,” Michael said, and how could I say no? His hug was altogether more enthusiastic and his kiss more sloppy. It was also the best thing in the world.

I watched a little more television, catching up on the current affairs I’d been too busy to learn about lately. It was depressing though. Same old litany of wars, poverty and governmental misdeeds.

Having allowed enough time for the boys to settle, I explored some more of the TV’s capabilities, eventually finding a choice of Zumba workouts for beginners on YouTube. The ad breaks were an annoyance, but for all its gentle approach to exercise, I could feel the activity doing me good.

Fiddling with the smart TV set me wondering about WiFi and utility bills. A quick dig into the TV’s settings found me the name of the WiFi service we were using, but hunt as I could, I couldn’t locate the router. My phone used the 4G network, but could see the same service, albeit with a weaker signal than I’d have expected. I decided to let my hind-brain work on the problem.

More worrying were the other utilities. With the pittance he’d given me for housekeeping, I suspected my husband had control over things like gas and electricity, even my mobile. If he cancelled them, I’d really be up the polluted river without a means of locomotion.

I suspected the only reason he hadn’t done so was because he hadn’t thought of it yet. I could pick up a pay-as-you-go SIM on our shopping expedition tomorrow which would at least give me a backup with the phone. As for the rest, he wouldn’t be able to do anything about them till Monday, when I hoped I could get some advice from Charlotte before he had a chance to do anything more.

I made use of the upstairs shower to wash off the workout and changed for bed.

The morning brought a break in the clement weather, which meant our excursion into town was a little more damp and drizzly than I’d have liked. Still, no such thing as bad weather, just wrong clothing, which it turned out we had. Wrong clothing, I mean.

Apparently, between George’s tight-fists and Sandra's fiscal ineptitude, no investment had been made in decent waterproofs, and the only umbrella in the house was broken and useless.

I added to the shopping list. It wouldn’t leave much from the cash I had left in my purse, but food wise we had what we needed for a few days and my Nationwide card should be arriving any day.

We limited the shopping expedition to a small retail park five minutes’ bus ride away. Both boys elected to be boys for the day with Steven succeeding in holding onto his happier mood, possibly because of the prospect of softer nightwear.

The afternoon they spent helping me cannibalise some of the furniture their dad had wrecked in order to repair other bits he’d only ruined. I put together a chicken pasta thing for dinner, which met with universal approval, and set Steven to his homework and Michael to some reading, while I hunted out a few documents I thought would be useful for the following day.

Bedtime saw us all in new, floaty, flouncy nightdresses with both boys giggling like... well girls I suppose. I read another story from Kipling’s Jungle Book, which went down well enough, but it wasn’t as good as Rikki-Tiki-Tavi. I asked what sort of stories they might like and offered them a choice from the Project Guttenberg children’s selection. They settled on Peter Pan as a starting point, and I promised to have it ready for the following day.

Monday was still rainy, and we were glad of the new waterproofs walking to school. For once no drama, no meetings with the head, no dirty looks from the other mums, although that could have been because they were too busy hiding from the weather. No public displays of affection from the boys either, but that was okay, I understood about things like street cred.

I took the bus into town and found a coffee shop near the courthouse where I texted Charlotte my location. She promised to come find me and I occupied my time downloading an ebook reader onto my phone and adding a few titles I thought might interest the boys. I found something for myself too and was a couple of chapters into A Room With a View when my friend and lawyer’s shadow fell across me. She sat opposite and offered me one of the cups of coffee she was carrying.

“I thought you could do with a top up. Whatcha reading?”

So I told her and we chatted about literary preferences, finding a degree of common ground in the classics. That being said, the things I’d enjoyed in my old life didn’t seem to grab my attention in the same way. I’d tried E M Forster before in my old life and hadn’t much enjoyed it, but my new body seemed to have a wider and subtler response to stimuli, and I was already enjoying my reading a lot more.

I steered the topic round to utility bills and she told me not to worry about it as she’d already contacted the utility companies, and any attempt George made to close the accounts would be referred to her first so I’d have the choice of taking them on. The spare SIM was a good idea since my mobile account wasn’t protected in the same way, and she copied the new number into her phone in case I needed to switch.

Fifteen minutes before we were due in the courthouse, we headed for the ladies to take care of what was becoming progressively more urgent business following that second cup of coffee.

It was a sort of power play, being the first ones in the room as well as being better dressed – I’d elected to give my interview clothes a second outing. George had been allowed to change out of his prison clothes, but he still looked pretty rough with several day’s growth of stubble.

He kept looking at me oddly, something which disarmed his scowl, but still left me feeling nervous.

Charlotte put a hand on my arm, making me jump, then leaned in. “Relax,” she said. “He’s just noticing how good you look.”

“I don’t...”

“New dress, contacts – you do look better without glasses – you’ve dropped a few pounds. Trust me, he’s beginning to remember why he got together with you in the first place.”

“Well, I’m not about to forget why I’m getting us untogether.”

“That’s my girl. This is no time for signs of weakness.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant. I think the weakest sign I was likely to offer at that moment would have been to throw up over him. He was a truly revolting human being.

We started with the prenup. Actually, not quite. We started with both lawyers turning on expensive looking recording devices, then Mr Simmons handed a copy of the prenup to Charlotte who thanked him and checked it against my marriage certificate, a copy of which she handed over.

“Naturally, we’ll be contesting this,” she said.

“On what grounds?” Mr Simmons asked.

“On the grounds that it was signed the same day as the wedding. Prenups have to be signed at least three weeks before, as I’m sure you know.”

I wasn’t so sure he did know. Despite only knowing my husband off and on for just over a week, it felt in keeping with what I’d learned that he wouldn’t want to spend much money on a solicitor, and Mr Simmons had proven less than competent in our previous encounters.

Next came custody.

“She can keep the fucking kids,” he growled. “I want nothing to do with them.”

“That’s all very well, Mr Bush, but they are your children and even if your wife...”

“Ex wife.”

“Not yet, Mr Bush. Even if your wife assumes full responsibility for their care, they are still your children and you will be expected to provide financial support, especially if looking after the children means she is unable to find gainful employment.”

George’s menacing gaze turned on his lawyer. “You told me I wouldn’t have to pay for any of this shit.”

“I said nothing of the sort George. I did tell you the children weren’t covered by the prenuptial agreement.”

“Fine, I’ll take them then, and you can fuck off. I’ll put them in fucking boarding school and neither of us gets them.”

“Do I understand you’re contesting custody, Mr Bush?” Charlotte asked, “because if you are, we’ll be forced to bring a motion to have you declared unfit as a parent.”

“On what grounds?” he snarled.

“Breaking into the house late at night and attacking your wife in full view of your children, changing the locks on the house so one of your sons was unable to get indoors when he came home from school, making no effort to check and see they were being cared for after the separation. Oh, and that comment you just made on record won’t help much.

“You should be made aware that if we’re successful in proving this, you will be legally obliged to inform anyone with whom you may wish to cohabit in the future if they already have children.”

He fumed, then through gritted teeth, “Fine, no fucking contest.”

“You agree to cede full custody to my client and to provide adequate child support until they each reach their eighteenth birthdays?”

“That’s not what I said. I won’t contest custody, but I’ll fucking contest paying for the fuckers.”

“Mr Bush, please. As we discussed, please let me handle the negotiations.”

It went on from there. While matters were contested in the courts he would continue to pay mortgage and upkeep on the house and I would continue living in it with full tenant rights, including the right to privacy. I wouldn’t pay rent as this would count as part of his interim support. In addition, he would continue to pay me a hundred and seventy-five pounds a week housekeeping. Charlotte wanted to hold out for more, but he argued I’d made do on a hundred and fifty for fucking years. She argued inflation and managed to raise the figure slightly.

She wanted him to pay for repairs to the damaged furniture, which he said he wouldn’t do since it was his fucking stuff, and if he was letting me stay in the fucking house for free then he was going to count it as fucking unfurnished.

The next topic was division of assets. He jokingly said I could keep the TV, for which I thanked him, then went on to say we could fight over the rest in court, assuming I could afford to.

It wasn’t a bad start, Charlotte assured me. She would continue to represent me pro bono because, even if Refuge refused to fund her anymore, George was just the sort of arrogant, misogynistic, selfish asshole – her pronunciation, not mine – she had trained as a lawyer to fight.

He had officially given up any rights to custody of his children, which meant he would only ever see them again if I allowed it, and the rest of it we’d duke out in the courts.

The meeting had taken up all that remained of the morning and Charlotte was treating me – yet again – to lunch when my phone buzzed.

I put my spoon down and answered.

“Hello?”

“Mrs Bush, Maximilian Andrews here. From...”

“Clark’s and Spencer’s, I remember.”

“Yes. Well, I’m very pleased to say that Mr Clark was extremely impressed with your interview on Friday and has decided to make you a probationary offer.”

“That’s wonderful news, Mr Williams.” I gave Charlotte a thumbs up in response to the genuine delight dancing in her eyes.

“Yes, we were wondering how soon you could start.”

“Well, I’m in town at present and my afternoon is free, so... half an hour?”

“Woah ho there. I like your eagerness, but why don’t we say two o’clock? We can set you up with a computer and a desk.”

“At the interview I did ask about the possibility of working from home. Is that still possible?”

“Well, we would like to keep a closer eye on you, at least at first, so...”

“I mentioned I was a single parent, if you recall. I will at least need the flexibility to take them to school and pick them up afterwards.”

“That should be possible. We can set you up part time from nine till three if that works for you.”

Just. The bus took fifteen to twenty minutes each way and the timing was right.

“That would be fine, Mr Andrews, and I’d be happy to make up the extra two hours in the evening.”

“Alright, let’s work the details out when you get here. I’ll see you at two, Mrs Bush.”

“They want me to start this afternoon!” I said as I swapped my phone for my spoon. The seafood chowder was too good to let it go cold.

“That’s great. We gotta go celebrate girl. D’you have time to go shopping before you start?”

“I have about an hour,” I said glancing at my watch.

“Easily enough time. You’ll do for today,” she said looking over my dress, “but we gotta get you some office wear.”

“They’re pretty casual about what you wear to work, I believe.”

“Don’t you believe it. I mean, I realise you ain’t never had a job, but when they say smart casual, it means something different for us girls. The guys can get away with chinos and a polo shirt, but for us the emphasis is more on the dress and less on the casual.”

“If you say so. I still don’t have my bank card though, and I’m running low on cash.”

“Don’t be dumb girlfriend. I said we were celebrating, which means I’m buying. I hate to think what you might get if you spend more time looking at the price tag than the clothes.”

“You know, if we’re not careful, people will start to talk. You keep buying me lunch, and now presents.”

“Don’t get your hopes up darlin’. I may be off men at the moment, but I ain’t ready to swing that way just yet.”

We found the perfect outfit in the first ten minutes and I rather suspected Charlie had seen it earlier and thought of me. It didn’t stop us from spending another half hour trying on other things and I resolved to come back as soon as I had easier access to the contents of my bank. I wanted to wear the new purchase out of the shop, but since I was only going to be there for an hour, I deferred to Charlotte’s better judgement.

The next hour was surreal. Being introduced to people I already knew, being given my old desk back, being given the introductory presentations, half of which I’d helped to write. We were done by three and I headed for home with a shiny new laptop slung over my shoulder.

The bus dropped me off with a couple of minutes to spare, which meant a power walk to get to the school on time. I still had the issue of bits of me wobbling out of phase with the rest of me, but I wasn’t out of breath when I reached the school.

The kids came out looking bright and cheerful, and Mrs Nullis approached me, asking if I could give her a few minutes in the morning.

I explained about the job.

“Oh, congratulations. Do you... Do you have a few minutes now? This shouldn’t take long.”

I asked Steven if he would keep an eye on Michael while I talked to his head teacher, and he agreed readily enough, only both his eyes were on Ann Summers who smiled and gave him a wave. I told Michael to stay with Steven and headed into the school.

“Let’s be brief, shall we? I’ve heard excellent reports from parents who were at the game on Saturday, saying how entertained they were with our little squad of cheerleaders.”

I smiled but let her continue.

“As you recall, the punishment was only supposed to last until they showed they’d learned their lesson, and I think they did. Even Mitchell. So, if you’re amenable, I’d like to say that part of the punishment is done. I mean, I’m aware you put a fair bit of effort into making those costumes.”

I raised my hands in protest.

“In addition, I understand Mr Gibson was approached by the young man who was attacked, and he argued quite eloquently that your son and his friends should be allowed back on the team. I don’t know how you might feel about that.”

“I was there, and I have to say I agree with most of what Jake said. I think the lesson’s been learned and would actually be reinforced if they were now rewarded for their positive response.”

“Which leaves Mitchell and Kyle. Since it was Steven who suffered at their hands, how do you think he’d feel about their being allowed back on the team?”

“Why don’t we ask him?”

So we did and, as I’d suspected, he was just as magnanimous if not quite as erudite as Jake in his forgiveness.

“There’s just one more thing then, and you can feel entirely free to say no if you like, Steven. Several of the parents were so impressed by the cheer squad, they’ve asked for a repeat performance. As I say, don’t feel any pressure, and I will be asking each one of your friends individually, but would you be prepared to exchange your football kit for a pair of pompoms every now and again?”

Ann, who had been standing close by, said, “I’d be happy to join any cheer squad you were leading, Stevie, and I could name a bunch of other girls who would too.”

Steven grinned. “Then I have to do it, Mrs Nullis. Mitchell can play right wing.”

Back home it came as no surprise when Steven changed into his charity shop dress. I shook my head in mock despair, but I understood, at least in part. A bit of me worried that I’d directed him down a path he would struggle to come back from, but his was a new generation, and gender fluidity had a certain coolness factor in some circles. If Ann Summers happened to be in that particular orbit, then maybe it would be for the best.

“Do you know where your dad hid the WiFi router?” I asked.

He looked at me oddly. “We don’t have WiFi,” he said.

“Then what’s the TV connected to? Things like Netflix and Amazon Prime need the Internet, and the TV does have a wireless link.”

“That’ll be next door,” he said pointing to our neighbours to the right – that is to the right if you faced our house from the street. “Do you remember, he did some work for them last year? That was about when he bought the TV, and he was actually in a good mood for a couple of weeks.

“It was one of the few times I had more curiosity than common sense. I asked him about it, and he laughed and told me he’d taken a picture of the login details for their router while he was in there fixing their pipes. He got serious then and told me never to breathe a fuc... I mean a word. Sorry Mum.”

“You’re doing alright sweetheart. Just keep working on it. If you’ll excuse me, I should have a word with our neighbours. That side you say?” I pointed.

“I think so. They don’t like us much mum.”

“They will probably like us less in a few minutes, but let’s see what a little honesty can buy?”

There was no bell, so I knocked.

“What do you want?” Like Steven said, not that happy to talk to me.

“I was hoping to have a word with you about my husband.”

“Cheating fat slob. What’s the bastard done now?”

“It’s actually something he did quite a while ago. This would be easier if we weren’t shouting through a door.”

“I don’t care.”

“Alright, I’ll come back when you’re feeling a little more reasonable.” I turned away from the door and heard it unlock behind me.

“What did the arsehole do?” He was an elderly man with thin grey hair and a wrinkled face set in a permanent scowl, though it could as easily have been thoughts of dealing with that family next door.

“Is this the name of your WiFi?” I showed him a picture on my phone I’d taken of the TV settings.

“I knew it! I knew he’d been using my connection. It was since he did that work for me wasn’t it?”

“I think so. In any case, I’ve disconnected the TV now.” I showed him another photograph of the TV showing no WiFi connection. “He’s gone, hopefully for good, and only he knew the password, so you don’t have to worry about us doing it anymore. I’m really sorry about this.”

“Well, you’re better off without him if you don’t mind me saying. There’s something different about you too. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“I suppose it goes without saying I’m a lot less stressed now that he’s gone.”

“A little more polite too. Well, thank you for letting me know. I suppose I can forget it, you know, since you’ve disconnected now. But if you’re trying to trick me...”

“I’m not, sir. This won’t happen again. Tell me, do you like cottage pie?”

“Eh?”

“Cottage pie? Mince, carrots, mashed potato?”

“I know what cottage pie is, young lady.”

“I was planning on making it for the boys tonight. I wondered if I might bring you some, as a sort of apology.”

“Well... That would be very kind. I haven’t had a home cooked meal for a while now. Not since...” He sniffed. “I have to go now. Thank you for calling.”

He closed the door leaving me with enough jigsaw pieces to put together half a picture. I suspected I’d be making more than just one peace offering.

It also meant I was going to have to sort out my own broadband. I set up the TV to work with my mobile acting as a hotspot just to see how well it would work, then disconnected. I didn’t know what mobile package I had and if I ended up stinging George with too much of a data charge, it would most likely convince him to cancel my contract. Besides, however much I disliked the man, it wasn’t reason enough to compromise my own principles.

Next, I put tea together while Steven worked through his homework. I looked over his shoulder and pointed out a few mistakes he’d made. English was easy. I loved our language and knew a lot about it. Maths was okay and I’d felt my numeracy returning to its old levels over the past week. The rest was a bit of a mixed bag, but year seven stuff shouldn’t challenge most parents, and Steven was no scholar anyway.

While I was serving the food up, I asked Michael to take the extra plate, which I’d covered with a large bowl, next door.

He was back a couple of minutes later.

“He’s a funny man,” Michael said cheerfully. “He said thank you, but he was crying. Why was he crying, Mummy?”

“I think he misses his wife,” I said.

“Will you miss Daddy like that?”

“Oh, I doubt it. What about you guys? Will you miss him?”

“Well, he’s not dead,” Steven said, “So it’ll just be like he’s not here, as usual.”

“Only less scary,” Michael added. “I didn’t like it when Daddy got angry.”

“Well, you do know Daddy and I are getting a divorce, don’t you?”

Steven nodded. Michael wanted to know what a divorce was.

“It means that he will only ever be allowed to see you two if I allow it, and I will only allow it if you say you want to see him, and I think it’ll be safe. Which, since I don’t think that’s ever likely to happen, means that it’s just the three of us from here on. Would that be okay with you?”

“As long as you keep on being nice Mummy, I think it will be wonderful.”

“Yeah, I’m good with it,” Steven agreed.

“Nice Mummy is likely to stay as long as you two keep giving me reasons to be proud of you, like you have these last few days.”

“Will you ever get married again, Mummy?”

“You know, I’d really like to say yes to that, but he’d have to be the right man, and you’d have to like him, and he’d have to like you too, so you know, that narrows down the options a bit.

“Right now, you two are the only men I want in my life. It’ll probably take a while after things are sorted out with your dad before I’ll even think about other men.”

“Will we have to move?” Steven asked. “I mean, this is Dad’s house, isn’t it?”

“It’s in Dad’s name, but it’s our house. He may have earned the money to pay for it, but I looked after it and you while he was doing so, so I’ve as much invested in it as him.

“We’ll have to see what’s decided in court. It is possible we’ll have to move, but if it does come to that, I’ll try to stay close so you can keep going to the same school. I wouldn’t want you to have to say goodbye to your friends.”

The tension visibly eased from his shoulders.

“Please don’t be shy about asking questions. I mean, I know sometimes there are going to be things you don’t really feel like you can talk to me about, but if anything worries you, please let me know and we’ll figure out how to deal with it.”

“Thanks Mum. This is good by the way.” He scooped in his last mouthful.

“There’s more if you want.”

“No, I’m full. Can we watch something before bed?”

“You’ve finished your homework?”

“Nearly.”

“Get that done first. Michael, please go and get changed for bed.”

“Can I try without pull-ups tonight?”

“Well, it’s been, what three nights since you had an accident?”

“Four.”

“Then I think it’s definitely worth a try.”

I washed up and tidied while Steven finished the last of his homework, then signed his diary while he ran upstairs to change, reappearing moments later in his nightdress. Michael had chosen to wear pyjamas, the novelty of pretending to be a girl something of a yesterday’s thing.

“Just a short thing tonight as it’s a school night.” And I was concerned about the amount of data my phone would use. They didn’t know what to choose, so I picked Porco Rosso as it was a favourite of mine from Studio Ghibli, and we watched it to about halfway through with me promising they could watch the rest the next day.

I then used the mobile hotspot on my phone to connect my laptop to the work server and download a couple of pieces of work. Once I had them, I was able to go offline and get on with doing my job.

I stopped around eleven and put things together for the next day. Breakfast sorted, lunches sorted, a quick check on the kids showed them out for the count. Michael’s clothes were still thrown anywhere, but Steven’s, I noted with approval, were neatly folded on the end of his bed.

I picked out fresh underwear and removed the dirties, which I added to the washing basket. A quick shower, toothbrush and moisturise and I was in bed before half past.

I didn’t get halfway through the night before I was woken by the sounds of movement in the room next-door.