The morning starts chaotically with me running late to drop Sienna at Nursery. Vita is in the buggy still eating her Marmite soldiers and dippy egg, unaware of the speed she is travelling across the tarmac of The Close. “Why are we always late, Mummy?” shouts Sienna trying to keep pace, carry her bag and Tiggy and Taggy, her cuddly hedgehogs.
“Come on!” I call. Sienna suddenly stops and refuses to go any farther. “I don’t want to run.” I pick her up, throw her on my back and we gallop to Nursery, Sienna giggling in my ear.
As I stroll back to the house, I can see a very pale Doctor Nick looking up at the windows of his house, pacing this way and that. He tries his front door handle and looks under the welly rack outside the door. “10 stabbings and now this,” he says kicking a terracotta plant pot. “Ow!” He hops holding his foot.
“Morning,” I say
“Nessa!” He is VERY pleased to see me. “Oh thank god.”
Me: “I wish my husband would say that.”
Nick: “Did Nanny Sara leave the keys with you?”
He looks dejected. “Been on nights,” he says looking under the doormat but there’s nothing there. “Just done 18 hours straight.” He suddenly brightens, “You have our spare key! With the Legoman In your cupboard.”
Me: “Come in and have a rummage.” I say, unlocking my front door.
He follows me into the kitchen and opens Si’s key cupboard, colour-coded and organised like a serial killer’s mind. He searches up and down the rows and then looks at me disappointedly. There’s no spare key. His eyes are like two piss holes in the snow and he is swaying a little. “I need sleep,” he moans.
Me: “Crash in our spare room. I’m in and out all day. Make yourself at home. Help your self to anything.”
Nick: “Anything? You sure?”
I rescue a wailing Vita from the buggy outside, shake the egg and toast crumbs onto the grass and bring her inside. Nick is already halfway up the stairs. “Spare room’s first on the left. Have a good one.” I say, internally congratulating myself for being so neighbourly and so grown up for being able to handle a hot man sleeping in my house, unchaperoned.
I hear the spare room door shut and I make myself another coffee. I would do anything to go back to bed too but I’ve got to get ready for ‘baby swimming’. Groan. As I pack Vita’s nappy bag and organise her swim stuff I have a flashback to Nick, sporting his yellow lycra, climbing up my ladder and pressing into me whilst I was attempting to rescue Sienna, trapped in her room. No-one looks hot in lycra – especially a neon shade of urine – however, Doctor Nick does. Or is it the outline of his willy which makes the shiny cheapness of the material and lurid colour fade into insignificance? Maybe. Definitely.
I ponder other packages on The Patch. Si has a lovely package but his is better encased in black Calvins, and navy chinos, teamed with black loafers. He has an all-in-one lycra cycling leotard. And. It. Frightens. Me.
I strip off my clothes at the bottom of the stairs to change into my swimming costume and realise it’s in my room. I jog up in my underwear, open the door and let out a scream. Doctor Nick is in our bed!!
Nick jumps out of bed with a yell. He is butt naked and I get a full-frontal eyeful.
Me: “The spare room is next door!”
Nick: “I’m dyspraxic!”
Me: “Then why did you become a trauma doctor?”
Nick: “I like a challenge.”
I hear the front door click open. Si walks in and looks straight up the stairs to see a naked doctor and his wife, sporting nothing but over-laundered peach underwear. Nick’s eyes are bulging out of their sockets. He knows how this looks. “Morning.” He says feigning nonchalance.
“Hello, Doctor!” says Si, carefully picking his way over my discarded clothing in the hallway. He greets Vita in her bouncer in the kitchen. An exhausted Doctor Nick pleads, “Can I go back to sleep?”
Me: “Yes, of course. Sorry.” I rummage in a chest of drawers, find my costume and am outta there in a flash (so to speak). As I close the door quietly, he says, “You’re a peach.”
I rush downstairs, pick up my clothes and enter the kitchen. Si is making himself a coffee. He smiles at me. I am cross he is so cool. “We could have been shagging! Why are you not angry?!”
Si: “He’s obviously come off nights and forgotten his key. Am I right?”
Me: “Yes. But..”
Si: “That annoys you?”
Me: “Because you don’t think I’ve got the magic anymore! You don’t think I’m a ‘hot piece of ass’!”
Si: “Reverse that ass over here…”
And, dear readers, while the good doctor slept soundly in our marital bed (and Vita watched Mr Tumble), we had a little tumble of our own in the kitchen, shaking the key cupboard so vigorously Mr Legoman dropped out. Oops.