Crappily Ever After Read Online Free

not the point!’ shouted Katie. ‘This week I gave her a lolly.’
    ‘Only because you knew the invites were going out on Thursday.’ I raised my eyebrows at her. I had her on that one. I watched as her young mind tried to think of a suitable retort. She failed, and resorted to scuffing the toes of her shoes all the way home. 
    We returned to find a sulky Henry watching the Hard Rock channel on cable.
    ‘How was your day, Henry?’ I tried to arrange my features into something resembling an interested smile – and ended up with a half grimace, half escaped mental patient look.
    ‘Hmmph.’
    ‘Lovely,’ I soothed. 
    Later, a traumatic teatime was finally over. Georgie had tipped his bowl upside down onto his head and smiled at the other two through spaghetti hair. Hysterical laughter alerted me while I was loading the tumble drier. Katie’s laughter, that is. I’m not sure Henry snorting and grunting through five octaves counts. I cleaned up without a word and spoon-fed Georgie the second batch of Spaghetti Bolognese.
    ‘Eat up please, Katie.’
    ‘Don’t like sgetti.’
    ‘You said last week it was your favourite. I made it with meatballs.’
    ‘Actually, I think you’ll find that I don’t like Bolognese.’
    ‘You obviously don’t like ice cream either, then. Since you’re not having any unless you have at least three more spoonfuls.’
    Katie reluctantly licked her fork and continued, holding her nose dramatically.
    Bath time at last. One hour until the official start of the weekend.
    ‘I’m not having a bath with that ,’ Katie informed me disdainfully, head held high and indicating at a food-covered Georgie.
    ‘Katie, it’s fine. It’s only food. He doesn’t mind that he’s running the risk of nits, worms and other school child afflictions.’
    ‘Would you like to have a bath with a doubly incontinent, slobbering mess?’ Henry asked me, pointedly. I chewed my lip and thought frantically of a suitable response. An image of my Great Aunt in her rest home sprang to mind. He had a point. 
     
    Two separate baths later and I heard the tinkling tones of Sylvia, my female boss.
    ‘How are my babies?’
    ‘Mummy!’ screamed the two youngest, thundering down the hallway.
    Two hugs and one ‘don’t touch me’ later, Sylvia opened a bottle of wine and poured herself a large glass. 
    ‘What a day, Lucy,’ she sighed. ‘You don’t know how lucky you are being here all day. Oh, you do remember you’re babysitting tonight, don’t you?’
    I looked up sharply. Never! There is no way I’d agree to a Friday night’s babysitting – or any night for that matter – unless I was really, and I mean really , broke.
    ‘Oh, Lucy,’ she said exasperatedly. ‘We arranged it weeks ago. It’s on the calendar.’ She waggled a finger knowingly at me.
    I walked to the calendar. “Friday 16 th of December. Lucy babysitting”. I felt smugness emanate from behind me and I turned to look at her.
    ‘See?’ she smiled, triumphantly.
    I ran my finger over “Lucy babysitting”. It smudged.
    ‘Oh my God! You just wrote that.’ I swung round in disbelief.
    ‘Oh Lucy, please,’ Sylvia pleaded. ‘I totally forgot we have a dinner party with Simon’s boss and he’ll kill me if I’ve forgotten to book a babysitter.’
    ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t help. I have plans for this evening.’ I put on my coat without looking at her, shouted goodbye to the kids, and left.
     
    By now, Mike is desperate to get me off the subject of my job. He confesses that he’s always wanted to work overseas in his own bar. Preferably Greece or Spain. I emphatically agree and we decide that once I have done a cookery course we will open a place together: Mike on the bar, me in the kitchen, Sam giving massages on the beach – and with my rich husband-to-be funding the whole thing. We continue chatting away amicably for the duration of the journey and swap numbers at the stop before mine for a New Year catch-up – and so