The Cows. Dawn O’Porter

whoa. I need to think about something else now they’re all in school, you know?’

      ‘It’s a great idea,’ I say, politely.

      ‘So what do you think, shall we pitch it to your company?’ she pushes.

      ‘I think it’s interesting but we have something very similar in development, so I’m not sure it will work for us right now,’ I say, giving the standard answer that I give when people pitch me ideas I kind of like. It covers my back, if I ever get around to stealing it.

      ‘Oh, OK. Well, what about my one about the women who want penises but don’t want society to see them as men?’ she says, hanging off me like a puppy that can smell lamb in my pocket.

      ‘Wait, that’s a thing?’ I say, the TV shark in me needing to know more.

      ‘Yup, I found it on the Internet.’

      ‘Jesus, what were you searching for?’

      ‘Chicks with dicks,’ she says, as if that’s normal.

      ‘Why?’

      ‘I don’t know really; I just wanted to know what it would be like to be a chick with a dick, I suppose.’

      ‘Do you want a dick?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Cool.’

      The school doors bounce open and the kids flood out like spilt oil, slowing as they reach their parents. Annie is one of the last, slower than usual. I can tell she is sad.

      ‘Annie, what’s wrong?’ I say, kneeling down and putting my face close to hers. ‘Do you feel sick?’

      She shakes her head slowly, and looks down.

      ‘Did something happen at school? Was someone mean?’

      ‘They weren’t mean. But Trudy is having a party on Saturday and said I can’t go because her mum said there wasn’t room for me.’

      ‘Why would she say that?’ I ask her, not surprised. Trudy’s mum seems like such a cow. She tutted at me for walking into the Nativity play late last Christmas. An actual tut. I’d had to leave a shoot early to get there; Adam gave me so much shit about it but I did it, I left so I didn’t let Annie down, only to be tutted at for opening the door just as the Virgin Mary (Trudy) was trying to find a room for the night. It was hardly like bursting into the middle of a performance of Macbeth at the National Theatre, was it? I stood at the back and waved at Annie, who was on stage being the greatest donkey I’d ever seen. She waved back at me and one of her ears fell off. Trudy’s mum tutted again. I didn’t care that time; I knew I’d made Annie’s night by being there whether I was late or not.

      ‘OK,’ I say, rubbing Annie’s arms. ‘Let’s see about this, shall we?’

      I take her hand, and march over to Trudy and her mum, who is giving someone else the details for Saturday’s party.

      ‘The theme is Disney,’ she says, ‘And bring your husband, the more the merrier.’ As she finishes her sentence, she sees me storming up to her and coughs, as if that will drown out the words that she has just said.

      ‘Hello,’ I say, boldly.

      ‘Hello. Come on Trudy, time to go.’ She takes Trudy’s hand and forcedly drags her away.

      ‘Hang on,’ I continue, with more welly in my tone. She stops, making the kind of strained face that suggests she doesn’t want a scene. ‘Annie tells me there is no room for her at the party, but I thought there might be a misunderstanding as Annie is such a special friend?’

      ‘Um, well,’ says Trudy’s mum, looking around, hoping someone will rescue her, ‘The house isn’t big enough to accommodate everyone. The kids, their parents …’ she says. I am racking my brains to remember her name. Verity, maybe?

      ‘I think maybe you thought she was busy?’ I say, convincingly. I’m not letting her do this to Annie, it’s really cruel.

      ‘Trudy, would you like Annie at your party?’ I ask, reaching for the big guns.

      ‘Yay!’ Trudy shouts, with pure joy on her face. Annie also lights up. I look at Trudy’s mum with persuasive eyes that leave her no choice but to cave. She leans in to me, while Trudy and Annie try to hear what she says.

      ‘I think you need to know that Annie has been saying inappropriate things to Trudy. I don’t know what goes on in your home but I do not like it when my daughter comes home and asks me what a pervert is because her friend has told her that her mummy knows one.’

      A lump forms in my throat. Annie’s being pushed out of her social group because of me? That’s a nice big mother’s guilt pill for me to choke on.

      ‘Look, she’s obviously heard me on the phone talking about a programme I’m making about sexual harassment. I can assure you there is nothing untoward happening in our house. There are no perverts. In fact, I couldn’t even tell you the last time a man came round. So, there you go, now you know about my job and my sex life. Now, Verity, can Annie come to the party or not?’

      My job has trained me to ask for what I want. You don’t get much from someone you are interviewing if you don’t ask them questions.

      Verity makes a strained ‘for God’s sake’ face as she covers Trudy’s ears in case I say anything else appalling. She then lets out a big, over-the-top huff. Annie, Trudy and I all stare at her, waiting for an answer.

      ‘Come on, Verity,’ I say. ‘I’ll speak to Annie about what she heard and I’ll be more careful with my work calls. Please, don’t take this out on her.’

      ‘Oh, OK,’ she says, buckling. ‘Disney. One till three.’ She snatches Trudy’s hand and pulls her away. ‘And my name is Amanda, not Verity.’

      Wow, I was way off. God, not even close.

      ‘There you go,’ I say, kneeling back down to Annie. ‘It’s all fine, she just didn’t realise how much you wanted to go. Happy now?’

      ‘Yes. I need a costume,’ she says, sweetly, and a little piece of me dies as I realise I now have to work out what she’s going to wear. ‘Can I be a princess?’

      I stand up and take her hand as we walk back to the car.

      ‘What did I say about girls being princesses? Remember?’

      ‘You said that little girls don’t have to be princesses.’

      ‘That’s right. That’s what all the other little girls will do, so we should do something different, right?’

      ‘Right!’

      ‘That’s my girl!’

      ‘Mummy,’ she says as I strap her into the car, ‘what’s a sex life?’

      OK, I really need to watch my mouth.

       Cam

      ‘OK, love, that’s all the shelves up,’ says Cam’s dad, coming out of her bedroom. She’s sitting in the window seat of her gorgeous new flat, wondering where to put the chaise longue she found on eBay that just got delivered. ‘Need anything else before I go?’

      ‘No thanks, Dad. That’s it.’ She looks at him lovingly. ‘It doesn’t matter how grown up I am, I’ll always need my dad to come and put my shelves up for me, won’t I?’

      ‘I hope so. Even if you don’t, you always have to pretend you still need me, OK?’ he says, going over to her for a cuddle. They both know Cam is as good at DIY as he is. Her asking him to help is always for his benefit, not hers.

      ‘I’m so proud of you, Camilla. I worked all my life and I’m not sure I ever achieved as much