The Shoe Princess's Guide to the Galaxy (28 page)

       
That was, until Victoria got wind of it.

       
Mary’s brought along her work diaries from the past few years – in which she’s kept a meticulous record of all of the mums and babies that she’s seen in the clinic and on her home visits. Unfortunately, she never transferred these to her official time sheets in any consistent manner, preferring to squeeze in a few more visits ahead of sitting in the office ticking boxes – and is why she’s in this fix, of course.

       
Victoria volunteers to trawl diligently through the diaries and pull together some coherent patient data, while Mary and I do house visits to all the mums in the area and get the new-mothers’-pack breast-feeding certificates signed and backdated. We give ourselves two weeks to get it all done.

       
Millie, meanwhile, is in playgroup heaven. She’s upstairs with Allegra being looked after by the neighbourhood mums and nannies, who have all rallied around in support.

From:        Sophie (work)

To:                Jane (home)

Subject:        RE: Save Mary

Hi Jane

       
Thanks for popping around last night with the breast-feeding form. It was great to catch up with you and Millie too. Seems like years since we’ve seen each other. After recapping our holiday adventures, have made a mental note never to use the words ‘Hugh’ and ‘holiday’ in the same sentence again. (Perhaps it was my nosebleed at the same time as Hugh’s projectile vomiting and diarrhoea on the flight home that tipped us over the edge.) And I have to say that you looked amazing! Just goes to show what discipline and hard work can achieve. Trinny would be proud of your new hairstyle – very smart.

       
Have had a hellish day, already. I’ll now clear a £7 profit from my weekly pay if Rhiannon gets her way. She hit me with a pay-rise request this morning – just as I was about to walk out the door – late as usual. Looks like she’s been talking to some of the mannies in the park, who, for some bizarre reason, seem to be getting paid loads more than the current going rate. Is it me, or is there a North-west London fad at the moment for male ‘affair-proof’ nannies? I’m really torn, as up to now I’d have given her my left kidney in order to keep her – and a stable life. But now Hugh’s that much older and more independent, I’m thinking of exploring other childcare options. Forgot to tell you that I’ve just heard (all very hush-hush) that there’s a wonderful childminder near us with a vacancy coming up – twins moving to Bath. I’m going to put Hugh’s name down. Interested in putting Millie’s name down too?

       
Oh, and of course, no problem at all to eyeball whatever contracts, accounts etc of Mary’s that you and Victoria can get your hands on. You go, girls!

       
S xx

After just four days (and early evenings) of doing house visits with Mary, I’m bowled over by the sheer number of women and babies that she’s helped. Far more than one person should be expected to cope with, in my humble opinion. Unsurprisingly, Mary said that she often worked out-of-hours just to make sure everyone was seen to.

       
I’m also really enjoying meeting all the mums in the area and, in particular, catching up with those from my new-mothers’ group (since we drifted apart many months ago). Aside from the obvious thrill of seeing just how much our babies have grown (I’ll
never
cease to be amazed by the changes from birth to one), it’s been fascinating to hear what everyone’s up to – which for the majority is working full- or part-time.

       
Some mums appear to be juggling the demands of work and home better than others, it has to be said. Definitely those with more flexible employers and/or jobs are the happiest. Like the freelance journalists, hairdressers, bookkeepers and health-care workers. Along with the likes of Sophie, who was senior enough to negotiate good maternity leave and part-time packages, as well as afford high-quality childcare. Oh, and it goes without saying that partners who help out more on the home front make for more satisfied mums too. (But I don’t even want to go there right now  ...)

       
We’ve also come across a few housedads, plus a handful of couples splitting their working weeks, in varying proportions, between paid work and home parenting. Progress indeed. (It certainly seems that, while I’ve been at home ranting and raving to Tim, they’ve quietly got on with it.) I’m now further convinced that I’ve made the right decision about my trip to Milan – especially if my mum shoes are going to be my ticket back into the world of flexible paid work.

       
In light of this, I’ve also decided to take Sophie’s lead and put Millie’s name down with the childminder (for two days a week). She was delightful and so nurturing and loving towards the kids. And in all honesty, I think Millie would probably enjoy a small break from me – as she’s certainly been relishing her time at Victoria’s of late. Nothing’s confirmed yet. (And isn’t likely to be for a couple of months.) But it’s a step in the right direction, at least.

And now, the most eagerly awaited and dreaded day of my year is upon me: Friday. Millie’s first birthday.

       
Tim’s apparently caught up in meetings (or is it Alex’s web?) all day and sends a video e-greeting card to Millie first thing in the morning.

       
She claps and squeals, ‘Da, Da,’ with delight, and clearly thinks it’s the best thing she’s ever seen.

       
My heart bleeds for her, and yet I smile and clap along too.

       
To make matters worse, after the disappointment of Tim’s bombshell email, and then unexpectedly spending the week doing house visits with Mary, I haven’t had the motivation or the time to organise a party for Millie. But, of course, Victoria’s had Allegra’s big fanfare planned for
months
.

       
I phone Victoria to let her know that Millie won’t need to go over there this morning (while Mary and I do our house visits) as Mum and Dad have come down to spend the day with us. Victoria nearly has kittens when she finds out I haven’t got anything planned for Millie, and very kindly proposes that we make Allegra’s party this afternoon a joint celebration – seeing as they are almost twins. I gratefully accept her truly generous offer. (And then, of course, feel
dreadful
for every tight-lipped grievance I’ve ever muttered in her direction.)

Mum, Dad and I head off to Victoria’s with Millie, after her nap. And Kate (who’s finished work early to pay Millie a surprise visit) bumps into us halfway down the street and comes along too.

       
It’s actually a really lovely crowd Victoria’s gathered together for the party, as Mary and all the mums and babies from our new-mothers’ group are here – a sort of one-year reunion – along with most of the local nannies and au pairs and babies I know from the park.

       
We’re in the door five minutes when Dad slips rather comfortably back into Pied Piper mode and offers to supervise the animal-petting zoo in the back garden (which is squished around the recently installed timber fortress complete with multiple turrets, swings, slides and a sandpit). Kate’s reluctantly roped into assisting Philomena the very un-PC pink fairy in her toxic, scented fairy cave inside the conservatory. (The wet-weather back-up that Victoria decided to go for anyway.) And Mum’s having the time of her life down in the kitchen with Victoria – cooking up a storm, whilst comparing brands of hospital-grade cleaning products. (Millie’s absolute favourite birthday present was the Twenty-piece Girls Only Cleaning Trolley from Mum and Dad. She insisted on bringing her dustpan and brush with her to the party. Mum’s determined to get at least my daughter in a pinny, having failed with me.)

       
I’m introduced to Victoria’s husband for the first time, too. Which feels more than a little strange, seeing as though I’ve spent so much time in his home this past year. And I must say, he’s
very
different to what I’d expected. All he does is wander about sipping red wine and telling us (and in particular, Victoria) what to do or, more annoyingly, what we’re doing wrong. And she’s so meek and cowering around him, I’m finding it almost impossible to reconcile with the officious Victoria of baby-group infamy. Peculiar indeed.

       
But most importantly, the party is a huge success. And Allegra and Millie are having a wonderful, albeit mischievous, time together – I caught them just after they’d stealthily climbed up on to the party table and licked the icing off the top of an entire tray of cupcakes. The looks on their faces were priceless:
Who, me?
I found it very hard to keep a straight face myself.

Later in the evening, with everyone gone home and Millie in bed, I’m relieved that the day is over. Even though, thanks to Victoria and my family rallying by our side, it was mercifully a lot better than I’d anticipated.

       
With Tim’s return tomorrow inching ever closer (and my anxiety-levels creeping even higher) I sit down at the computer for my nightly blog-a-thon and of course to obsess over my eBay shoe sales – which are not progressing that spectacularly, I have to say. But Liz keeps telling me to hold my nerve.

       
I’m immediately intrigued by a website posted on the Shoe Princess noticeboard, which promises to help you create your own baby albums online. Spurred on by how good it looks, and of course by Allegra’s baby album, I decide to try my hand at finally getting Millie’s done (now that I’m such a techie whizz). For she may have dysfunctional parents but, my goodness, she’s going to have the best album of baby memories
ever
.

       
I spend the next few hours uploading all of her photos on to the website and can’t believe that I haven’t done this before now. I’m diligently fiddling about, editing, cropping, selecting fancy frames, fonts and backgrounds, and savouring every moment of our journey together this past year. But unfortunately, it really does seem to have been ‘our’ journey – as Tim is decidedly absent from most of the shots (especially since Alex and Bangalore took over his life). I’m pondering what Millie will make of this when she’s older, and if indeed it has harmed her in any way, when the
unthinkable
happens  ...

       
The computer screen goes
completely blank
.

       
I lose the photos. In cyberspace. Every. Single. One.

       
A fretful check of the camera confirms my worst fears – it’s empty too.

       
They’re gone.
For ever
.

       
My mind is spinning and I feel a tight band of tingly sweat round my head. I stare out of the window, frozen in disbelief. A full, heavy moon cowers in the sky, casting its critical glow across the room – illuminating the useless mother that I am.

       
And I cry.

       
I cry for Millie. Because I’ve lost the first year of her life.

       
But most of all, I just cry.

       
And once I start, I can’t stop.

www.ShoePrincess.com
 
Running ... in Spikes
 
As I always say, the sign of a truly seasoned SP is the ability to run in heels. My sources in Miami tell me that more than 100 SPs, from far and wide, took part in the annual Stiletto Sprint last weekend. An event involving a race down one section of seafront pavement, wearing a minimum stiletto-heel height of around 10 cm.
 
On behalf of all SPs I offer my warmest congratulations to the winner – aptly a local SP from Miami Beach – who received a $2,000 voucher from an upmarket department store for her stellar effort. (This should keep her in shoes for a little while to come.) I’m also assured that there was not one injury on the day – clearly a class field and not an event for the amateur SP!
 
Walk the Walk
 
Barrister SP of Auckland recently had surgery on her bunions, and made sure to take long-service leave and cancel ALL court appearances during her recovery period. As she was certain that the ‘other side’ would have ‘walked all over her’ in her monster orthopaedic sandals.
 
Footnote
 
Price stickers on the soles of shoes are never a good look.