Maddy’s Christmas Wedding (Little Duck Pond Cafe #37)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I glanced at the clock in the kitchen as I picked up the washing basket, which was toppling over with the most enormous tower of clothes and towels. Smiling down at Liam, who was sitting on the floor eating strawberry yogurt from one of those handy pouches, I stifled a yawn. It was only ten-thirty but I felt like I’d been on the go for an entire day already (Liam and Lottie had woken at their usual five-thirty, charging into our room and leaping on the bed with yells of triumph.)

‘Are you okay there, sweetheart?’

He nodded and held up the pouch. ‘’ogurt,’ he said and my heart melted. The twins were learning new words every day. They were growing up so fast and into everything now. At least Liam would be happy for a while with his yogurt.

The peace suddenly seemed very suspicious. No sound from Lottie . . . what was she up to?

Panicking, I rushed through to the living room, leaving a trail of bibs and un-ironed T-shirts behind me, only to find her sitting quietly on the sofa looking at her new picture book. She was turning the hardboard pages slowly and periodically pushing her ash blonde hair behind her ear.

I plonked the washing basket next to the sofa and sat down beside her with a sigh, thinking maybe I’d make the most of the current peace and quiet to sort out the washing into piles that needed ironing and piles that didn’t. (Getting ahead with household jobs was very important if you didn’t want to end up feeling like you were drowning in domestic un-bliss!) And times like this, with the twins absorbed for once in their own things, were few and far between . . .

Standing up, I began swiftly sorting through the clothes and towels, folding and placing them in two piles on the sofa back, out of reach of restless little hands. I’d need to do another wash and a massive ironing session before I left for Lapland tomorrow. Rob couldn’t be trusted to colour co-ordinate the twins when he was dressing them, which made for some very odd-looking outfits, but at least they’d be clean and relatively crease-free while I was away (including Rob)!

My heart gave a tiny leap of excitement.

Tomorrow, I’d be flying away on Maddy’s hen do.

Four days and three whole nights of fun and relaxation with the girls. I honestly couldn’t wait. At first, when I’d told Rob about the planned trip, I’d been doubtful whether I could leave the three of them for that length of time. The twins were at an age where they were such fun but totally exhausting all at once. Was it really fair of me to take off like that, leaving Rob to cope alone with Lottie and Liam? I’d be having a lovely time while he was run ragged at home trying to keep the pair of them out of mischief.

But to my surprise, Rob was all for it.

‘Of course you’re going,’ he said firmly. ‘It’s exactly what you need. A bit of R & R with your friends. And you’ve always wanted to go to Lapland.’

‘I know. But I feel a bit guilty going without you and the twins.’

He laughed. ‘Well, don’t. We can take them in a year or two, when they’re old enough to really appreciate it.’ He grinned over at Liam, who’d taken off his underpants and was now wearing them like a hat and posing in the mirror. ‘Can you imagine taking them now, at this age? It would be hell on wheels.’

I laughed. ‘We’d lose them in the snow.’

‘They’d be pinching Santa’s beard and driving the elves crazy.’

‘So you’ll be okay if I go?’ I looked at him doubtfully. ‘Shall I ask Mum to come over and help?’

He grinned. ‘Hey, do you think I’m completely useless? I’m their dad. We’ll be absolutely fine, just the three of us.’

‘I know. It’s just you’re at work all day and you . . . well, you’re not used to having them on your own for any length of time. They go off to the child-minder on the few days I’m working at the café.’

‘Fen.’ He gave me a rather smug smile. ‘I managed perfectly well when you were at the hairdressers on Saturday, didn’t I?’

‘Yes, but I was only away for three hours, four at most.’

He patted my hand. ‘It’ll be a breeze. Honestly. You really don’t have to worry. I’ll just spend loads of time with them at the park and wear them out, and then they’ll sleep like logs. Easy!’

‘Right. Well, if you’re sure . . .’

‘I’m absolutely sure. Phone Maddy now and tell her you’re going.’

So I did. And I’d been looking forward to it with a huge (and rather guilty) amount of relish ever since. After the mad whirlwind my life had become ever since Lottie and Liam were born, it didn’t seem real that I’d be able to sleep as long as I wanted to, eat every meal without interruption (or indigestion from eating so fast), and put my feet up in the evenings without having to be running up and down the stairs, answering little calls from upstairs for drinks of water or another story, and Lottie complaining that Liam kept singing and playing his xylophone.

It was going to be utter bliss.

Now, hearing Liam singing a tuneless nursery rhyme, I finished sorting – smiling with satisfaction at the two neat piles – then I went through to the kitchen to check on him.

I stopped in dismay. ‘Liam! What on earth are you doing?’

He’d been carefully squeezing strawberry yogurt onto the kitchen floor and was now thoroughly enjoying making pictures with his hands, rubbing it in all directions over the tiles.

‘That’s very naughty, Liam. Food is to eat not to play with.’ Scooping him up before he had a chance to slip in the gooey mess, I quickly washed his hands at the kitchen sink and then transported him through to the living room – where I saw to my dismay that Lottie had abandoned her book and was now leaping around the sofa, happily throwing my carefully sorted piles of clean washing in all directions.

Grabbing her before she toppled off, I managed to trap both of them, laughing and squealing, one under each arm. ‘Right. Story time! Who wants to choose a book to read?’

‘Me! Me!’

‘Okay. Well, go up to your room and bring them down.’ They both raced for the stairs and I followed, my heart in my mouth, calling to them to be careful. Lottie, who was more competitive than Liam, made it to the top first and they disappeared into their bedroom as I shut the stair gate.

I took the chance to quickly dash to the toilet, leaving the door open so I could keep tabs on them. But when I came out a few minutes later, they were no longer in their room. I found the little horrors in our bedroom. They’d opened my bedside drawer and Liam was currently emptying a box of tampons onto the floor, while Lottie was investigating my opened pack of pantyliners. She’d managed to peel one of the wings off – she must have seen me do it – and it was now stuck to Liam’s head, which was making her giggle.

‘Right. Out of there!’ I ordered. Leaving the mess behind to clear up later, I herded them back into their own room and stood over them while they chose a book each. Then we went downstairs for story time, which turned out to be fairly peaceful once we’d settled the frantic argument about whose book I would read first . . .

Later, we went to the park and they ran around and played on the swings, then we went home for lunch. And after that, to Mummy’s huge relief, it was time for a nap.

For once, there were no objections. They both curled up on their beds, snuggled under their favourite blankets, and blissful peace reigned once more.

I made myself a sandwich and a coffee and flopped down in front of daytime TV, determined to use this precious time while the twins were asleep to relax. Thoughts of the oven disaster that had happened the day before drifted into my mind, but I pushed away the memory of a pair of wilting yellow bath-time ducks and the toxic smell of melted plastic that had permeated every corner of the house. (Note to self: always check there’s nothing in the oven before turning it on.) I hadn’t dared to examine the fall-out yet but now wasn’t the time. I’d deal with the oven later when Rob got back from work.

I was just settling back and closing my eyes, thinking maybe I’d snatch forty winks while it was so quiet, when the doorbell rang.

Damn!

I heaved myself up and went to the door, glancing nervously upstairs on the way, hoping the noise hadn’t awakened the twins. But thankfully, peace seemed to be continuing uninterrupted.

It was a parcel for Rob and I had a nice chat with the delivery driver who we knew quite well by now. (Deliveries were far easier than going shopping with two whirling dervishes to control.)

It was only after he left and I shut the front door that I saw a pantyliner stuck to the wall behind me, in between two framed prints of rural scenes. Grimacing, I peeled it off. The delivery driver probably thought it was some kind of weird wall art. To be fair, Lottie (or Liam) had done a great job, climbing onto the chair and sticking it precisely in the middle of the pictures that were already there. (Maybe we had a little interior designer in the making here.)

There was a bump from upstairs as a pair of small feet hit the carpet, and then both twins were running to the stair gate and I went to help them downstairs. Apparently, my break was over.

Finally, after a chaotic afternoon, I heard Rob’s key in the lock, and Lottie and Liam cheered and ran to greet him at the door. I told him about the smeared yogurt and the washing chaos. ‘I’m convinced it was a plot they cooked up together. Liam did diversionary tactics while Lottie created a mess in the living room.’

He laughed. ‘It wouldn’t happen under my watch, would it, kids?’

I stood there with my arms folded, grinning at the three of them on the sofa, the best of pals, Rob in the middle with an arm around each, the twins shaking their heads and looking as if butter wouldn’t melt.

‘You won’t be saying that after you’ve looked after them on your own for four days!’

Rob gave me a look as if to say, What on earth are you talking about? ‘I don’t know what the fuss is about. We’ll be just fine. Won’t we, you two?’

They nodded, transformed into little angels now that Daddy was home. He was going to be in for a bit of a shock once I’d gone.

Just you wait, Rob.

Just you wait!