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In Your Dreams: Chapter 1

Page 2 of 8 - first draft

I nodded with a wry smile - we were a family of chocoholics - and told my witch and skeleton to stay by the Lucky Dip if they'd taken their turn before I came back. Then I joined the surging crowd of children, parents and villagers to fight my way across the Year 2 classroom, past tables where local craftspeople were selling homemade greeting cards, handmade soaps, jewellery, hats, handbags and other gifts perfect for Christmas. (This was really a Christmas bazaar wearing a Halloween disguise.) Seeing my bump looming towards them helped to part the crowds a bit, but I still had to wait for a lull in the surging tide at the classroom double doors before I could leave the room and make my way down the corridor past children queued up for face painting, hair braiding and tattoo transfers. I waddled past vampires and werewolves, witches and fairies, ghosts and Ninja turtles who obviously felt that their costumes needed a little extra something.

I needed a little extra something too. A cooling drink. The hallway was a stuffy and hot as the classroom had been. And I felt the weariness that's a permanent feature of late pregnancy dragging me down. Normally at this time of night, I'd be tucking Rosie and Alfie in bed, and looking forward to calling it a night myself. Instead I was off on a mission to procure yet more sugar for my darling kids, which would probably mean a very hyperactive, as well as late, bedtime. With no Huw around tonight to help me out, it was not going to be a lot of fun.

Now which way was it to the cake stall? I stopped for a moment and stood feeling like a large boulder in the middle of a rushing river. Excited children shouting to each other, children crying, children wheedling, parents trying to stand their ground against a tide of requests. I suddenly felt buffeted by all the sound, by all the pantomimes of childhood and parenthood enacting themselves around me. In the time that was B.C. - Before Children - I would have run a mile rather than attend one of these hurly-burly school events. Now I was one of the stalwart parents on the PTA who organised these events. But all I wanted to do at that minute was escape it all. Turn my pregnant bulk and make for the nearest exit at full waddle. Fresh air, space, no children, peace, even just for only five minutes. A breather. A moment to rest.

The baby, who always stirred whenever I was still, kicked me under the ribs, as though trying to kick-start me into action again. Ruefully, I was reminded that even if I did manage to slip out an emergency exit and find a moment's peace, I still wouldn't be alone. One child would continue to weigh me down. A sudden rush of tears was inevitable; pregnancy hormones ensured it. But I fought back, blinking furiously. There was no way I was going to let the emotional rollercoaster of pregnancy take me on a whirlwind ride right now in front of everyone, especially the PTA chairperson, who was tacking her way through the crowd towards me, grinning like a maniac. Her grin could only mean one thing: there was something I'd forgotten to do. Actually, if it was only one thing, then I'd got off surprisingly lightly. This pregnancy had turned me into the Queen of Absentmindedness, the Princess of Malapropism and the Mother of All Mislaid Things.

"Val." I forced a smile and quickly swept forefingers under my eyes to get rid of any telltale tears. "It looks like the Bizarre is going a storm."

Valerie Lampard nodded vigorously as she squeezed my arm, making me cringe inside. Don't get me wrong. I like Valerie. She's a genuinely nice person. And, I'd like to add in my defence, that I'm a very affectionate person with close friends, my husband and children. But Valerie's touchy-feely gestures of incredible sincerity - combined with her Amazon size and deep Northern voice - often left me feeling as though I'd been pawed by a giant teddy bear hailing from Hull.