Wildflower Park Series. Bella Osborne

was empty and her laptop wasn’t there – she liked to take it to meetings to make herself look extremely important.

      ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ said Sophie, ‘I mean Catwoman was a feminist right? And so is Roberta so …’ She gave Anna’s arm a pat whilst she and Hudson exchanged knowing looks.

      A meeting reminder popped up, jerking her back into action. She had precisely five minutes until the big meeting. She dashed to the printer to collect her hand-outs but the printer was lit up like Las Vegas with warning lights and had not printed anything. She checked all its paper trays, she rummaged around in the middle bit and nothing appeared to have been chewed up, and as a last resort she switched it off and on again. She was now ready to give it a thorough kicking.

      ‘Is there a problem?’ asked Hudson, who must have crept up behind her.

      Anna spun around and leaned back against the printer to put a little space between them. ‘No, I’m fine.’ She tucked a piece of stray hair behind her right ear in a jerky movement. She wasn’t fine but having him see that wasn’t going to improve things.

      ‘Can I help at all?’ he asked, peering past her to the myriad flashing lights on the printer’s panel.

      ‘I doubt it,’ said Anna, before running him through all the things she had tried. She checked her watch – she needed to leave or she’d be late. Hudson leaned towards her and she wondered for a second what he was going to do. He pushed the toner door slightly and it clicked shut. The whole machine whirred into life and Hudson gave her a nonchalant rise of his shoulders. She hated it when that happened.

      ‘Thank you.’ She managed to say it without gritting her teeth. She gathered up her papers and scuttled off.

      Anna’s day proceeded to go from bad to worse; Roberta was not impressed with the photos of Maurice and had a rant at her in front of everybody over an entry on the risk log, which she clearly didn’t understand, only to apologise later in private and explain away her behaviour as a result of her imminent period. Karl was stressing about lack of data – he really did put the anal in analyst, and Hudson was being perfectly efficient, which was always irritating. She was glad to escape at the end of the day, even if the sight that greeted her was perplexing … Maurice was still asleep on her expensive cushion and appeared to have not moved all day, but the entire contents of a man-size box of tissues had been shredded and liberally scattered around the living room making it look like an indoor snowdrift.

      The fact Maurice had slept all day unfortunately meant that he was awake and meowing for most of the night; evidently he didn’t feel quite at home yet. Anna went for a jog first thing, though after very little sleep, it was like sticking her head in a washing machine during spin cycle – neither was a great idea, but at least she was out in the fresh air and enjoying the park. It was Saturday morning and she was keen to leave her work frustrations behind her. The steady rhythm of trainer on path consumed her body while her brain could focus on what was troubling her.

      Anna realised what had started out as a jog had been speeding up and her lungs were burning with effort. She slowed down and stopped near a bench, holding on to the back of it while she caught her breath, admiring the row of grand houses that circled the park. They all had gardens that gave them exclusive access to the park on their doorstep, and she could see Sophie’s house from here – or rather, her back gate. Sophie’s house had a very long garden, which led to a lovely family home, and without even realising what she was doing, Anna had given up on her run and was walking towards it. It was time for a cuppa and a serious bitching session.

      Anna wasn’t surprised to find the gate was locked but a quick phone call to Sophie had Dave sent down to let her in.

      ‘Welcome to the madhouse! You okay?’ He was his usual upbeat self. Nothing seemed to faze Dave, he bobbed along happily as the rest of life’s shit flew around him. Sometimes literally, if Petal was in a nappy-diving mood.

      ‘I’m good, thanks. Settling in to the neighbourhood.’ She felt the need to pre-empt the next question.

      ‘We knew you’d love it here. Sophie’s in the utility wrestling with sheets. Arlo was sick last night. He’d sneaked a box of Maltesers and eaten the lot.’

      As they neared the house the noise of shouting children increased. Arlo was running around the kitchen wearing a sieve on his head and waving a pirate sword, his latest obsession.

      ‘Hiya, Arlo,’ said Anna, intercepting him and the plastic sword neatly. ‘How’s school going?’

      ‘Rubbish. Willoughby Newell keeps getting me into trouble.’

      Anna mouthed the name at Dave and he shook his head. Kids who were given names like that were always going to have problems, thought Anna. ‘What does he do to get you in trouble?’ she asked.

      ‘He cries when I hit him,’ said Arlo, a deep frown burrowing across his perfect skin.

      ‘Do you think maybe if you didn’t hit him, that might help?’

      Arlo pondered this for a moment, his wavy baby blond hair swinging about his head as he shook it vehemently.

      ‘Shitake!’ Sophie’s voice came from the utility. Anna left Dave to explain the laws of cause and effect to his son.

      Anna popped her head round the door. ‘Mushrooms as swear words – that’s a new one. What’s up?’

      Sophie hugged Petal to her hip. She was surrounded by a rainbow of laundry; brightly coloured baskets overflowed with clothes all around her. ‘This,’ she said, waving her one free arm in a chaotic fashion. ‘I swear the kids get through three outfits each a day. It’s like painting the Forth Bridge but at least doing that you’d get some fresh air rather than being stuck inside all the time. Why isn’t being naked socially acceptable?’ Her eyes told Anna this was a genuine question.

      Anna studied the piles of dirty clothes. ‘How do they wear this much?’

      ‘These people are experts. They train hard. They’re at the peak of their performance. I have bred Olympic mess makers.’

      ‘Takeaway coffee and a walk round the park?’ suggested Anna with a weak smile.

      Sophie decided to bring Arlo because Dave was complaining he couldn’t do what he needed to and watch both the children.

      Arlo had found a giant stick and like an overenthusiastic Labrador was attempting to drag it along with him, but at least he’d tire himself out and Sophie might even be in for the rare treat of an undisturbed night’s sleep.

      ‘You okay?’ asked Anna, sounding tentative.

      ‘My eyes have more bags than a schoolkid with PE and Food Tech on the same day, my husband is as useful as go faster stripes on a tortoise, my children act like they’ve been raised by hyperactive wolves and I haven’t slept properly since the millennium.’

      ‘Same as usual then,’ said Anna.

      ‘You know, I actually fantasise about sleeping for a whole uninterrupted eight hours.’ Sophie stared off into the distance and sipped her coffee thoughtfully. ‘Sleep is my fantasy. It used to be Ryan Gosling, and before him it was Robert Pattinson.’

      ‘I thought it used to be David Beckham.’

      Sophie nodded. ‘Him too. Oh, who am I kidding? I couldn’t be bothered even if he turned up on my doorstep. I’d end up getting him to play with the kids while I went for a nap. Victoria Beckham’s very lucky. Her David is a real family man, he’s loaded, has world-renowned dress sense and he’s gorgeous. In life’s lottery I got my David. He’s a real ale man, all his money goes on the mortgage and bills, most homeless guys are better dressed than he is and he has the kind of face that perfectly describes the word “gormless”.’

      ‘Ouch, that’s harsh.’

      ‘I don’t mean it to be. But when you step back and examine the decisions you made that brought you to where you are now. It makes you question and compare.’ She paused.