Baby Be Mine

the other side of the room.
    ‘Where’s Barney?’ I ask, looking around.
    ‘Here we go,’ Mum rolls her eyes at Johnny and my dad, then says to me: ‘He’s still asleep.’
    ‘Still asleep?’ I exclaim. ‘It’s after four o’clock! He’ll never go to bed on time.’
    ‘Ooh, she’s a whip-cracker,’ my mum jokes.
    I purse my lips with annoyance.
    ‘He had a late nap,’ she explains. ‘Your dad had him in the swimming pool and he was having such a lovely time that I didn’t want to spoil it by putting him to bed.’
    ‘I’d better go and get him,’ I mutter, knowing he’s unlikely to be happy about it. He’s usually a handful when he sleeps late.
    ‘We weren’t sure if you were going to tell us off, so we’ve kept Johnny inside rather than risk him being seen by anyone,’ my dad calls after me in a stage whisper.
    ‘Oh, right,’ I reply, turning back. ‘I’m sure it’s fine to go outside.’
    ‘She says it’s fine to go outside.’ Dad points at me as he tells Johnny this information, even though Johnny heard me say it himself. ‘Ooh, you’ll like it out there. We’ve got a lovely view,’ he adds. ‘Although I’m sure you’ve seen lots of lovely views in your time.’
    ‘I’ve seen a few,’ Johnny admits. ‘But you can never get bored of a good view, can you, Geoffrey?’
    ‘I quite agree,’ my mum chips in.
    Er, hello?
    ‘Shall I get Barney?’ Mum asks, standing up before I can answer.
    ‘Um, yes, okay,’ I agree, before looking meaningfully at Johnny. ‘Can I have a word, please?’
    ‘Oh, dear,’ Mum says over her shoulder as she walks past. She knows that tone. Dad gives Johnny a sympathetic look as he climbs over my dad’s feet and out past the sofas.
    ‘In here.’ I direct him to the kitchen.
    ‘Alright?’ he asks casually.
    ‘No!’ I hiss. ‘What the hell are you doing, drinking?’
    ‘I’m not an alcoholic, Nutmeg,’ he replies, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. ‘I just have a little issue with narcotics now and again.’ He glances through to the living room to give my dad a whoops-a-daisy kind of look. Thankfully my dad doesn’t hear or see.
    ‘What you are, is in denial,’ I snap. ‘And I’m having none of it while you’re around my son – or my parents!’ I add.
    ‘Okay, chick.’ He puts his hands up and pulls a naughty-boy face at me, before pouring the rest of his red wine down the sink and opening the fridge.
    ‘Can I get you anything?’ My mum comes bustling in with Barney in her arms.
    ‘A glass of water would be lovely, Cynthia.’
    Cynthia? Geoffrey? Since when were they all on first-name terms?
    ‘Right you are,’ Mum says, passing over my son. Barney rubs at his eyes tearfully and suddenly he’s all I can think about.
    ‘Are you hungry, baby?’ I ask him.
    He snuggles into my shoulder.
    ‘Hey, there!’ Johnny says brightly, peering at his face. Barney lifts his head up to look at him for a moment before burying his head into my other shoulder, away from Johnny.
    ‘Oh,’ Johnny says, disappointed.
    ‘Here you go, Johnny,’ my mum interrupts, handing him a glass of water. ‘Don’t worry about Barney; he’s always sleepy when he wakes up,’ she adds.
    ‘Especially if he’s slept in until after four o’clock,’ I mutter.
    ‘Give it a rest, Meg,’ Mum snipes.
    Okay, so I didn’t mutter that quite quietly enough.
    ‘Shall we go out to the terrace?’ Dad calls from the living room. Mum glances at me for confirmation.
    ‘Yes, okay,’ I agree.
    ‘I’ll get us some nibbles,’ she says.
    ‘Barney won’t eat his dinner if he snacks now,’ I point out.
    ‘We won’t let him have anything, then.’
    ‘You can’t stop a child from eating if it’s right there in front of them,’ I say.
    ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ Mum replies. ‘We’ll all go hungry, in that case!’
    I take a deep breath, but can’t keep the annoyed tone from my voice. ‘Do what you like. Forget it. I’ll just give him some rice cakes now.’
    ‘There’s an idea,’ Mum says. ‘I’ll get on with the nibbles.’
    What is it about my parents that makes me revert to being a moody teenager again? I hate it. Yet here I am, living in their house. This can’t go on for much longer.
    I walk out of the kitchen. Johnny follows.
    ‘Chill out,’ he says soothingly, although it just comes across as irritating to my ears.
    ‘Don’t you start,’ I turn back and jab my finger at him.
    ‘Hey, hey!’ He puts his hands up again,