Read Online Other People’s Diaries by Kathy Webb - Free Book Online Page B

right?
    Sarcasm wasn’t going to help anything though, and she bit back her immediate response. Soft snores from the other side of the bed solved her dilemma. She flipped onto her other side in annoyance, grinding the earplug deeper. Why couldn’t she sleep like that? Jeremy had just as much going on as she did, but he could shelve his problems for as many peaceful hours of sleep as were available and take them up again when he woke.
    This was always the hardest time, wondering how she could possibly survive the endless stretch of hours until she was next able to put her head on the pillow. She knew it would be better once she was in the shower. Better even once her feet were on the floor. But for now, gritty eyes screwed tight, the day looked insurmountable.
    Rebecca knew from past experience that she wasn’t going to go back to sleep. Her mind jumped from one worry to another, staying with each one just long enough to set her heart beating, but not long enough to come up with a solution. Inevitably, though, it returned to today and who was going to look after Sam.
    Jeremy and Rebecca had reached an icy stalemate last night, both claiming that the next day’s work was critical. Jeremy’s last comment, delivered as she lay fuming beside him in the darkness, was that as she had chased his parents off after only one day, she should stay home to look after Sam.
    Jeremy’s parents had arrived on Tuesday morning, an hour later than arranged, making Bianca late for school and Rebecca late for work. They’d fussed over Sam, taken him out for a sugar-laden lunch (grandparents’ privilege, they’d said) and only put him down for his sleep at 3 pm. Sam hadn’t been awake long when Rebecca arrived home at five-thirty to find everyonewaiting expectantly for her to cook dinner. But as they’d forgotten to buy the things Rebecca had asked for, she’d had to go back out to the shops first. Sam had been starving, then had refused to go to bed and dinner had been a tense and stilted affair.
    Rebecca had kept telling herself just to get through it. That Jeremy’s parents were helping and she should be grateful. But then Jeremy’s mother had asked whether Rebecca perhaps thought that Sam’s speech development was suffering from Rebecca being at work so much.
    Rebecca had looked at Jeremy. She’d registered his pleading look and had known she should turn the other cheek. But she simply couldn’t.
    â€˜If you think he has speech problems, Marilyn, perhaps his father should be spending more time with him. Have you thought of that possibility?’ Rebecca had tried to soften the words with a smile, but it hadn’t worked.
    â€˜That’s not how things work, Rebecca,’ Marilyn had retorted.
    â€˜Maybe not in your generation, Marilyn, but in mine we run our lives differently.’
    â€˜Do you really, Rebecca?’ Derek had asked. ‘Then you won’t need us any longer. We’ve got things to do at home which frankly we’d rather do than be here. I think it’s better for everyone if Sam comes and stays with us sometimes.’
    They’d had their bags packed when Rebecca came downstairs the next morning and left before breakfast.
    So Rebecca had called in sick yesterday. And it seemed to be the only option for today. No nanny, no friends she could bring herself to impose upon again. But just the thought of telling work she wasn’t coming in today – again – made her head ache.
    Her boss had recently moved into the position from Sydney and had made no secret of the fact that he thought working mothers were taking jobs from people who would really earn them. He seemed to make a point of scheduling meetings at the end of the day, clearly not caring if they ran over time. At least two afternoons a week Rebecca was forced to sit, stewing, as he pontificated on whatever topic took his fancy. Finally at six o’clock she’d blurt