Memoirs of a Wild Child Read Online Free

glass of water and sits next to me on the sofa. A worn out Holly is in bed, fast asleep and I’m in desperate need of a wind-down. “I’ve never heard her scream like that.”
    Ben pats the cushion on his lap, encouraging me to lift my feet up; I do, and he starts to rub them gently.
    “She’s fine though; all kids get cuts and bruises, babe.” He tries to reassure me, but I know he was terrified too. If he’d have felt as cool, calm and collected as he’s now trying to appear, when I called him earlier, he would have stayed at work, but then, she is his girl.
    I sip my drink and look at him, I’m tense, I have a headache, and there’s only one thing that gets rid of my headaches. I give Ben the look, a sort of sultry, intense stare combined with a deep breath in through my teeth, he knows it well. He smiles, leans forward to take my glass and then stands, holding out his hands to pull me up, and lead me to the bedroom.
     
    ***
     
    For one reason or another, I’ve been neglecting Vinnie, it’s been months since I have written a thing. In all fairness, it isn’t my fault, there’s been a lot going on. Holly eventually got to start school, a few days later than planned, but her wound gave her plenty to talk to the other children about. Rafe and his husband Matthew invited us down to their new house in Cornwall for her first half term holiday, to try to relax a bit before the baby comes.
    Unfortunately, Ben fell and broke his ankle while rock pooling and my blood pressure shot through the roof. Neither of which are exactly ideal when you’re six-and-a-bit months pregnant and the parents of a four-year-old, crazy person.
    I needed to be admitted to the hospital for a couple of nights while we were there. Once I was out, Rafe wouldn’t let us travel home right away because I’d be the one having to run around after Holly while Ben was out of action. Given that Holly was born just a couple of weeks after this point in my last pregnancy; to say we were all on tenterhooks was an understatement. I was thoroughly wrapped in cotton wool, and it wasn’t worth arguing the point.
    So we made ourselves comfy in the guest room and from the balcony, we watched Holly run around like a wild animal on the beach below. With Matthew and his and Rafe’s daughter, Etta, chasing her. The screams of joy were audible even from up so high on the hill. Thank god we had an Indian summer and the kids were actually able to get outside to play. If we’d all been cooped up inside while it rained, or whatever else autumn in Britain can bring, we’d have had cabin fever in a day or two.
    Holly was devastated when we finally packed up to go home. Her crying and my constantly having to pull over to piss or just stretch my legs made the drive home unbearable. If Ben had been able to drive, I’d have just sat in the back with the girl and played with her until we both fell asleep. But with his leg in a cast, Ben was unable to drive, so I had to.
    Since we got home, it’s been absolutely crazy. Running around after a little firecracker when you’re the size of a small country is exhausting. To his credit, Ben tries to help me out, but he can’t keep up with her with his leg in plaster, and my God, does she know it.
    Today though, thank goodness, the cast is coming off. I’m seven and a half months pregnant, so it can’t come soon enough. I need help.
    My friend Peta has taken Ben to the hospital so that I can stay home and watch Holly. She’s had a fever for a couple of days, so I didn’t fancy dragging her there to the hospital with us, and I don’t really like other people watching her when she’s ill. Instead, we’ve been snuggled on the sofa watching Toy Story with some Heinz Tomato soup and a bottle of Calpol… the wonder drug. Now she’s out cold, and I can breathe easy.
    When your baby is sick, it’s torture. All you can do is hold them and hope the medicine either eases the pain, or sends them to sleep so they can’t feel