My Not So Perfect Life(67)

And suddenly I’m aware of a disconcerting sensation. Do I feel…sorry for Demeter?

I’m so agog that I don’t even notice that someone is tugging at my sleeve.

“Excuse me? Katie?”

“Yes?” I swing round with my professional customer-service smile, to see Susie standing there. She’s a slight blond woman with bobbed hair, wearing beige shorts and a white T-shirt with Cath Kidston print sneakers. Mother of Ivo and Archie, I quickly remind myself. Heard about us by picking up a brochure in a Clapham soft-play center.

“How’s it going?” I say warmly. “Are you all enjoying the holiday?”

“Oh yes!” enthuses Susie. “We loved the willow-weaving. And now…” She hesitates. “Well, we were talking to Demeter about Vedari, and we—Nick and I—we’d love to try it.”



“I’m sorry?” I say blankly.

“Can we do some Vedari?” Susie’s face is eager and hopeful. “It sounds amazing!”

I stare at her speechlessly. She wants to do Vedari. Are you kidding me?

“Katie?” prompts Susie.

“Right.” I come to. “Well…Yes! I’m sure we can. I’ll look at the schedule. Vedari! Perfect! We’ll all do it! Why not?” I’m sounding a bit hysterical, so I add, “Excuse me for a moment,” and head out of the barn to the yard, where I give vent to my feelings by kicking a bale of hay. I don’t know what I was hoping to achieve this morning—but none of it has come out quite right.





The next morning I give myself a pep talk. Enough with the obsessing over Demeter. So she’s my ex-boss—so what? I’ve focused on her enough. Time to move on.

Except the trouble with Demeter is, she monopolizes your attention, whatever you do. She’s just that kind of person. By nine-thirty, Biddy and I are already frazzled by her breakfast demands. Almond milk…hotter coffee…Is there any cornbread?…Could my egg be five and a half minutes exactly, please?

Now the children have finally made it to the breakfast table and I’m eyeing them up as they eat. It’s weird: They looked so perfect and charming from a distance. But close up, I’m really not impressed. Coco has a permanently sulky frown, and Hal keeps winding her up.

They’re both pretty demanding too, like their mother. They ask for Nutella (not available) and pancakes (not available), and then Coco says, “Don’t you do fresh smoothies?” in a really rude way that makes me want to shake her.

As I go round refreshing water glasses, Demeter is scrolling down her phone and she suddenly flinches.



“Oh God.” She stares at the screen. “What? No.” She scrolls up, then down again. “What?”

“What’s up?” asks James, and even I feel curious. Demeter looks properly panicky, the way she did in the lift that time. It must be another of her epic screwups.

“Something at work. This…this makes no sense.” She peers at her phone, yet again. “I need to call Adrian.”

Firmly, I dampen my curiosity. I am not going to focus on Demeter anymore. I’m going to check up on the other glampers. I head outside, and Susie greets me with a smile.

“Hello!” I say. “How are you doing? Just to let you know, I’m not sure we will be able to fit in any more Vedari sessions this week.” I make a regretful face. “Maybe another time.”

“Oh.” Susie’s face falls. “It did sound so energizing.”

“But how was the willow-weaving?” I try to steer her off the subject.

“It was good! Yes. It was fun. I mean—” Susie breaks off. She’s tense, I suddenly detect. Something’s up.

“What?” I say in concern. “Is anything wrong?”

“No! It’s just…well.” She clears her throat. “I did feel that some other participants slightly monopolized the teacher—” She breaks off abruptly as another mum, Cleo, approaches us.

Cleo comes from Hampstead and is more earthy than Susie. She’s in a drifty dress and wearing an amethyst pendant on a leather thong, her feet incongruously stuffed in desert boots.

“Good morning, Cleo!” I say, trying to ignore the fact that Susie is glaring at Cleo quite openly.

“We’ve just been cooking eggs and dandelion leaves for breakfast on our fire pit,” Cleo says in her husky voice. “Sprinkled with sumac. Delicious.”



“We had Biddy’s breakfast in the farmhouse,” counters Susie. “Absolutely scrumptious.”

“And the willow-weaving yesterday!” exclaims Cleo, as though she’s not remotely interested in Susie’s breakfast. “I made three baskets. It was marvelous.”

“Marvelous for the people who swiped all the best willow,” mutters Susie under her breath.

“Oh, and Susie.” Cleo turns to her. “I do hope Hamish didn’t disturb you with his violin practice this morning. He’s gifted, unfortunately.”

“How difficult for you,” says Susie tightly. “I’m sure if you left him alone, he’d settle down to being normal.”

OK. There is definitely a vibe between Susie and Cleo. This might need monitoring. I’m wondering whether to warn the pottery teacher, when I see Demeter coming out of the kitchen. Her phone is clenched in her hand and she looks a bit stunned.