Confessions of a Reluctant Recessionista

pouring myself another glass of wine. As I replaced the bottle on the table, Celia picked it up and put the cork back in.
    ‘That’s probably enough for tonight – don’t want to be hungover tomorrow, do we?’
    Unused to being sent to bed at ten thirty in the evening on a Friday night, I hung around downstairs once Celia had gone up to bed, retrieved the bottle of red wine from its hiding place and rang Ali.
    ‘Where did you disappear to last night?’ I asked her when she picked up.
    ‘I went home.’
    ‘No, you did not. I saw you with that French guy again. What’s going on?’
    She laughed throatily. ‘Oh, it’s nothing really,’ she said.
    ‘It didn’t look like nothing.’
    ‘Well, maybe it’s something. I’ve been … seeing him on and off for a little while now.’
    ‘You kept that quiet. Is that because he’s married?’
    ‘Oh, don’t, Cass. It’s not like I’m trying to get him to leave his wife. He’s French – you know what they’re like. They all have a bit on the side. The wife probably does, too.’
    ‘And you’re OK with that?’
    ‘I’m great with that. Suits me down to the ground. Clandestine meetings, amazing sex and no relationship hassle. No meeting of the parents, no hanging out with his boring friends, no emotional dramas … You should try it. It’s bloody fantastic.’
    I was woken the following morning by Tom demanding that I play football with him immediately. I looked at my phone. Seven fifteen.
    ‘Too early, Tommy. Let Auntie Cass sleep just a bit longer and then we’ll play football, I promise.’
    ‘But I want to play now ,’ he wheedled, pulling the duvet off the bed. I grabbed it back. Our tug-of-war was interrupted by Celia.
    ‘Tom, what are doing in here? Leave Auntie Cassie alone and go downstairs to have your breakfast.’
    ‘But I want to play football ,’ Tom insisted.
    ‘Cassie doesn’t have time for football, Tom. She’s going to be busy with me today.’ All of a sudden a kickabout in the garden with Tom was sounding rather attractive. Tom started to whimper. Celia ignored him. ‘Better jump in the shower, Cass, before Mike gets in there. We’ve got loads to do this morning.’
    I looked at my phone again. No missed calls, no text messages. I’d called Dan four times the previous evening and sent two texts telling him I loved him. He was officially ignoring me.
    Why I had to be dragged out of bed at half past seven I have no idea, since we didn’t actually get going until after nine. I think Celia just cannot stand the idea that I am lying in bed doing nothing when she is making breakfast, supervising baths, brushing hair and selecting outfits. In any case, I was showered and dressed and just helping myself to a second piece of toast when Mike emerged wearing a ridiculous pair of green and brown checked trousers and a brown sweater.
    ‘All right, Cass?’ he said, giving me a peck on the cheek. ‘You made it then?’
    ‘I did indeed. How are you?’
    ‘Oh, not so bad, not so bad. Bit of a sore head this morning, you know how it is. Off to play eighteen holes at the club with a couple of chaps from work. How’s your job going, by the way? You still got one? Hamilton Churchill’s not gone under yet?’ he enquired cheerily.
    ‘It’s going fine, Mike,’ I said, gritting my teeth.
    ‘Even so, you might want to start looking around, you know, keep an eye out for other opportunities. Just to be safe. Because from what I hear, there are going to be a lot of jobs going in your sector.’
    I chewed my toast and clamped my mouth shut. Fortunately, we were interrupted by Rosie who came tearing into the room and flung herself across my lap.
    ‘Lucy’s got a party dress on,’ Rosie announced proudly, showing me her doll, which had been draped in sparkly silver wrapping paper.
    ‘And doesn’t she look lovely?’ I replied, thinking, wrapping paper . Oh, shit. A gift. I had completely forgotten to get my parents a gift. Shit, shit, shit.
    Since Mike was golfing all day and therefore unable to either help out with party preparations or look after the children, Celia had arranged for Rosie and Monty to spend the day with Jo, her best friend who has kids of similar ages. After Jo’s we drove Tom to his karate lesson, then into town to buy balloons and glittery, sparkly things which Celia said were for sprinkling over tables. We picked up the cake, a rather boring white square with ‘ Congratulations! ’ written on it in blue icing