Self-Discovery

The Barbie Doll and Iced Water Incident

There is no handbook for bringing up a child. The scary thing is that you are always acting on instinct; making decisions in a heartbeat. As soon as Graeme heard about Annabelle's birth, he swooped like a vulture, begging for meetings, and phone calls. I refused. I reminded him of my promise two months previously, that if he walked out, he would play no part in my daughter's life. He has a short memory.

We met up when Annabelle was five weeks old; the meeting having been postponed due to her slightly premature birth. When I received the email, I was disgusted. He was meeting me at the most expensive restaurant in town. Still being on my reduced maternity pay, I was only just coping. Graeme was on his full salary, and he wasn't afraid to flaunt it in front of his shiny new toy. Namely, Candice. 

I felt shabby in my woolly cardie, jeans, and my converses as I wheeled Annabelle's pram through the labyrinth of spindly tables and upper class diners. The waiter showed me to the very back of the restaurant, a quiet, sparse area with a large italicised sign reading 'reserved'. Clearly, Graeme expected me to make a scene - something I was not planning to let him have the satisfaction of seeing. He was sprawled in his chair, cuddling up to who I guessed was Candice - or rather, the phrase 'blonde-bimbo-with-an-unhealthy-obsession-for-Barbie-paraphernalia' would probably describe her better. She was a model - I could see that instantly from her platinum blonde hair that was hairsprayed into some kind of bouffant-thing, and by the way that her face was pasted with enough make-up to cement a house together. She was wearing a skin-tight pink leather jacket, leopard print leggings and skyscraper heeled boots with steel spikes. The smell of perfume was intoxicating. I parked Annabelle next to the table, praying she wouldn't start screaming, and sank into the seat opposite the lovebirds. Graeme signalled to a passing waiter, who sidled over with his notepad.

"What do you want, Charlotte?" Graeme asked, hooking a thumb towards the tasseled menu. "It's on me." I gazed at him steadily, before glancing at my watch. Annabelle was due for a feed. I smiled up at the waiter.

"A glass of iced water for me, and a bowl of warm water please." He nodded slowly before turning to Candice and Graeme. Graeme ordered turkish coffee, and Candice ordered a low-calorie smoothie. "So, this is what you left me for," I nodded over at Candice scornfully. "A size zero stick with an equally small number of brain cells..." Candice nearly put her spiky stiletto through my face. "... I see age is treating you well, Graeme." I sat back in my chair, enjoying the slideshow of emotions that Graeme's face was now hosting. 

"Listen, honey, I know this is really hard for you," Candice reached forwards with her neon pink talons and lightly brushed my hand. I pulled it back as though she had dipped it in acid. "I know that our relationship is causing you significant stress and worry, and it can't be easy bringing up a baby on your own." She nodded at the sleeping shadow of Annabelle, baring a sickly sacharine smile. "But you have to know that Graeme loves Anastacia very much -"

"Her name," I hissed, "Is Annabelle." The dialogue was interrupted with an awkward silence as the waiter returned with our drinks. "Graeme, I thought you were here to discuss divorce matters, not to parade your newest shiny toy." Candice threw me a look of disgust, and flicked at her peroxide waves indignantly.

"Actually, I am just like you," Candice snapped defensively. With her screwed up pampered face, mop of hair, and awful dress sense, she reminded me of an angry chihuahua. I laughed, sticking Annabelle's bottle into the dish of warm water to heat up. "Before I met Gray, I was heartbroken," she continued, wrapping herself around him like a creeper clinging to a tree. "My old boyfriend was a builder back in California. His name was Angus, and I loved him like I'd never loved anyone before." She sighed. By this point, Graeme was looking deliciously uncomfortable. "We'd been together for years, but in the end, he left me for a brunette living in Miami." She sighed. "Model work was thin on the ground, so I moved to the UK in search of new inspiration. I got great business down in Essex working in bars, and doing shoots for catalogues. It was great! Then I met Gray, and my whole outlook on men was transformed. I knew instantly that he was different. I have confidence that you'll find solace in another man soon, Charlotte." She beamed at me, flashing perfectly straight, glacier-white teeth. I surpressed a growl. Not only did she have the nerve to flaunt herself with my husband in front of me, but she was also giving me dating advice? No way, Jose!

Without a word, I got up, and very calmly removed Annabelle's bottle from the warm water, and storing it in the baby bag. I released the brake on the pram, and stood very slowly, getting great satisfaction from the sight of many chunks of ice still floating inside the near-full glass of iced water. I then picked up the glass, and with great pleasure, threw the contents over them, taking great pleasure from watching the orange and black rivulets of foundation, mascara and eyeliner trickle down Candice's perfect face. They sat, soaked, spluttering and shivering, while I calmly wheeled away the pram, calling over my shoulder, "You'll be hearing from my solicitor."

                                                                                      ***

Over the following weeks, due to lack of pay and poor funding from Graeme over the incident in the restaurant, I decided to start part-time work again. Paperwork came through the letterbox by the lorry-load, a fresh pack thudding against the doormat every morning. On the days where I was not working, I joined a mother and baby class in the local church hall called 'TinyToes' that ran everyday from ten until two. There, I began to reintegrate into society, having not really left the house since before Annabelle's birth. There, I befriended Kath, a woman in a similar situation to myself, who had just come out the end of an extremely messy divorce. She had two children; six year old George, and three month old Katie-Ann. She had found out that her husband had been cheating with multiple women at the very beginning of her pregnancy with George, and had divorced him, and following that had married French architect Olivier four years later. Kath said that she was the happiest she had ever been. 

I hoped for a similar happy ending. Surely, things couldn't get worse, after all!