Temptation

Prologue

'Uh-oh' and 'I didn't mean it' are two sentences a mother hates hearing materialise from the mouth of her five-year-old child. 'Fuck' and 'Mum, I'm stuck' are another two ... but we'll talk about that another day.

Those dreaded words 'uh-oh' were only spoken moments ago by my daughter, Charlotte. And as per usual, they were spoken while I was in the middle of something I did not want to interrupt, such as what I was currently immersed in washing.

'Uh-oh what?' I shouted, while trying to balance the washing basket on my hip, inevitably freeing my other hand to shut the lid of the machine.

'Nothing, Mum,' Charlotte replied, her voice slightly hesitant. 'Nothing' was another word a mother was not fond of hearing when clearly 'nothing' always meant 'something'.

'That did not sound like nothing, Charli,' I grumbled. 'Where are you?' An intuitive dread started to bubble inside my stomach at the thought of what my daughter was obviously trying to hide, so in order to find out I made my way down the hallway toward my bedroom, where I could hear Charlotte making noises. As I was about to enter the threshold of my room, the phone rang.

'Ah, crap!' I swivelled around, careful not to squash myself between the wall and the washing basket, which was still balanced on my hip, and walked briskly to where my phone sat in its cradle on the kitchen bench. 'Hello,' I answered with little enthusiasm.

'Alexis, darling. Have I caught you at a bad time?' my mother asked. 'Umm ... no, well ... kind of, yes,' I replied, holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder. Like most women, I was quite good at securing objects with body parts other than my hands. This was a skill us stay-at-home mums excelled at, because, let's face it, our hands were always full. As I stood there in my awkward phone shoulder-hold position, I noticed the Bolognese sauce bubbling at more than a gentle simmer.

 I retrieved the wooden spoon which was sit-ting on a dish by the stove and quickly stirred the pot. 'I'm just in the middle of cooking tea and doing the washing, Mum,' I explained. 'Oh, okay. Never mind,' she replied dismissively. Burnt remnants of sauce started to make their way to the surface as I stirred, so I turned the stovetop burner down.

Shit! Crap! Balls!

'Mum, you obviously called for a reason,' I responded, a little too grumpily, stirring the burnt bits back into the sauce.

What my husband and kids don't know won't hurt them. Besides, a little charcoal adds to the flavour, right? Tat, or I'll just tell them it's spaghetti with a smoked beef Bolognese sauce — the newest craze.

Feeling a little guilty for snapping at my mother, I softened my frazzled demeanour and apologised. After all, my multi-tasking failure wasn't her fault. 'Sorry, Mum. I just have a lot to do today and nothing is going as planned.'

'Anything I can help you with?' 'no, not really ... unless you can do my washing, clean the bathroom and toilet, and sew Nate's school pants for me?'' Sorry, sweetheart. If I lived closer to you, you know that I would.'

I sighed and turned the stove burner to the lowest possible setting then hoisted the washing basket on the bench, giving my hip instant relief. 'I know, Mum. So what did you call for?' 'well ... just quickly. When you have a second, can you please send me some Bejewelled Blitz coins?' mum's request instantly had me rolling my eyes with a smile. I slapped my hand to my forehead and rested my elbow on the bench top. Unfortunately, this action resulted in me accidentally clipping the tip of the wooden spoon, catapulting it forward and sending a spray of Bolognese sauce across my face. 'Ah, shit!' I moaned. 'What?' 'Nothing.'

'That wasn't a "nothing", Alexis,' she replied, knowingly. Instantaneously, a feeling of déjà vu hit me at my mother's words and, whether I liked to admit it or not, I was more like her than I realised at times.'It's fine, Mum. I just spilled some sauce.''

Spills are easily cleaned, darling. Now, speaking of messes and things that need cleaning, where is that granddaughter of mine?' Mum's mention of Charlotte triggered my earlier unease, reminding me that before I answered the phone I was on my way to find out what she was up to. I realised I needed to end the current conversation to go find her. 'Mum, I've got to go. Talk to you later, okay?' I hung up before she could object and quickly swiped my face with the tea towel.

'Charlotte?' I called out. 'Yeah? ''don't "yeah" me, you cheeky ratbag. Come here.''Um ... okay. I'm coming.' As I turned around with the intention to hunt her down if need be, my incredibly inquisitive and it would appear, artistic — daughter rounded the corner with tentative steps and a proud smile. I couldn't help but take in her appearance and wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at what I saw. 'Charli! What have you done?' 'mummy, I'm Kiera from Barbie: The Princess & the Pop-star ,' she answered, smiling and turning in a circle while holding out her skirt.

I watched in horror and what seemed like slow motion as Charli twirled, her blonde hair streaked with purple texta marker, her eyelids densely covered in my pink eye shadow, and her lips and parts of her cheeks smeared with fire-engine red lipstick. Slowly, I became aware that my mouth was agape and my breathing hitched. So I closed my eyes and reined in the pending outburst of laughter, tears or anger or God knows what else and took some deep breaths. Just as I was able to compose myself, a knock sounded at the front door.

'Urgh! Wait here, Charli,' I huffed, annoyed at whoever was interrupting our Barbie makeover crisis. Pivoting, I quickly made my way to the front door and, before I had even a chance to open it completely, I was greeted by a young man. 'Hello, ma'am. My name is Anil, and I am from Energy Australia. How are you today?'

Oh, for the love of fuck.

My eyes uncontrollably rolled back in annoyance and irritation. The timing of these utility company representatives was bloody impeccable. The young man's expression instantly morphed from over-exaggerated enthusiasm to curiosity when he looked up to meet my frustrated scowl.

'Honestly, Anil, I'm really not in the mood for whatever it is you wish to try and sell me. I'm kind of busy.' I took a step back .'Ma'am, you —'Raising my hand to indicate he stop, I interrupted. 'Look, I don't want to be rude. I know you are only trying to do your job, but I don't want to switch electricity companies. Okay?''But, ma'am, you have —''What I have, Anil, is a good electricity rate already. I'm happy with my current situation.' 'No. You have a —''I'm sorry. What I don't have is time for this. Have a nice day,' I said quickly before closing the door.

Seriously, fuck off.

As I turned back to face my clown-like daughter, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror on the entryway wall. 'Oh, great! Could this day get any worse?' I cursed to myself, taking in the spaghetti sauce smeared across my nose, cheek and forehead. 'Mum,' Charli said tentatively, 'I have to tell you something.'

Squinting with a scrutinising glare, I took in the way she was nervously playing with her fingers. 'I promise, I didn't mean it,' she squeaked. 'Didn't. Mean. What?' 'it got stuck. It wasn't my fault.'

'What got stuck?' 'the toilet roll. It accidentally fell into the toilet and got stuck.' I laughed a little too sarcastically.

Yes, Alexis, of course your day can get worse.

Allowing my head to fall quite heavily onto the wall beside me, I closed my eyes for a brief moment in order to get a grip on the control I was very close to losing. Slumped against the entryway wall in my house, it was in that short-lived moment of time-out when I decided that after Christmas I was going back to work. I was going to rediscover the Alexis Summers I had been before motherhood had taken over my life. I was going to find my life's balance.