Giles had filled the hole in her heart with his love, yet the love she felt for her children was overwhelming, limitless
she loved feeling in love with them
however
after three years of having two suckling children gorging on her engorged breasts, she began to feel sucked dry by them
it was all beginning to feel a tad vampiric, if she was honest
Sarah was still at the gurgling-dribbling stage of human evolution, while Adam had discovered (sigh) speech, and by the end of each day she was run ragged by his indecipherable chatter
she felt terrible feeling this and was eager to start teaching to counterbalance her now rather unwilling role as an earth mother, especially as she was beginning to feel quite side-lined from the greater scheme of things, what with the papers going on about the various cultural revolutions erupting globally, including the women’s liberation one
meanwhile, she was knee-deep in kiddie poo and vomit
when Giles came home from work wanting to discuss the affairs of the world, inflated with intellectual self-importance now he was reading The Times on his commute, she was so ga-ga he gave up, ate his meal in silence, retired to his study
while she put the children to bed
she raised the issue of returning to her job as a teacher with him, it’s not like we can’t afford a childminder
he replied that it was impractical to have two masters: a boss at work and a husband
was he joking? not by the look on his face
at the mothers and toddlers’ coffee mornings Penelope forced herself to attend merely to get out of the house, she and the other young women, bonded by motherhood and little else, exchanged advice on how to manage their children, husbands and cook the latest must-have new dishes doing the rounds such as quiche lorraine and spaghetti bolognese, all the while trying to control their offspring who wriggled about so incessantly everyone’s arms were frantically whirling, and their eyes were likewise darting everywhere trying to ensure their lawless charges didn’t climb the stairs and bounce back down head first or dismantle the fireguard to see what touching hot coals felt like
Penelope wrote in her diary that her brain cells were popping like stars dying off into irretrievable oblivion
when Mildred from Number 63 came up with the brainwave they organize a ‘National Vol-au-Vent Day’ to encourage more drinks parties in the neighbourhood, Penelope wanted to let out a howl to match her children’s
thankfully
she discovered Gloria, the local librarian, in the nick of time, with whom she could pass a few words of sensible conversation when borrowing and returning children’s books
Gloria had secretly, cleverly, gleefully got away with ordering six copies of Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique
she confided conspiratorially over the oak counter
was recommending it to all the well-spoken young mothers who visited the library during the weekdays, either pushing children in prams in front of them or dragging them, usually screaming, behind them
a sign, Gloria said, that these bright women are frustrated with their lot
Penelope couldn’t get enough of Ms Friedan, whom she hid in the cupboard with the brooms, hoover and ironing board – safe in the knowledge that Giles had never actually opened the door to her ‘den’, as he put it
it blew her mind to hear how America’s educated housewives were supposed to be satisfied with their roles as mothers and homemakers, but who were, in reality, simmering with a discontent they were not allowed to express, all those poor women imprisoned inside their suburban houses and consigned to cooking and cleaning instead of discovering a cure for blindness or something equally as noble
she realized then that what she’d hitherto thought personal to her was, in fact, applicable to many women, masses of them, women whose husbands forced them to stay at home when they were more than willing to put their intellect to good use in the skilled workforce, women, such as herself, who were going bonkers with boredom and banality
Penelope embarked on a campaign to lobby Giles for her return to work, who still insisted she remain at home as it was the natural order of things going back to time immemoriaclass="underline"
me hunter – you homemaker
me breadwinner – you bread-maker
me child maker – you child raiser
Giles scoffed when she expressed her resentment at the working-class women of England who were allowed to go out to work and the hundreds of millions of women in the Third World who enjoyed the fulfilment of both motherhood and job satisfaction, Giles
if it’s okay for them, why not me? she said, resuming her lobbying when she brought him his cup of tea in bed every morning, following him around the house as he got ready for work, talking at him through the door when he spent far too long on the lavatory (what are you doing in there?), continuing her freedom crusade as she prepared his breakfast of eggs on toast, and while he ate it, and while he was putting on his overcoat for work because somehow, somehow, she was going to make him change his mind
until one morning he put his fist though the glass window of the front door, shouting that she was lucky it wasn’t her face
before slamming it behind him
she got to keep the house (she’ll give him that)
easily had custody of Adam and Sarah (they were a burden for him)
she found a childminder and employment at Peckham School for Boys and Girls, a new comprehensive down the road
she met husband Number Two, Phillip, at a college friend’s wedding six weeks after the decree nisi was brought in an envelope up the garden path by the postman
signalling her official status
as available.
3
Phillip was something else, a real catch, a brilliant psychologist who charmed the French satin knickers off her at a friend’s wedding reception
where they ended up snogging on the dance floor once the music turned smoochy
continuing the party in her hotel room that night
almost as soon as she met him, the turbulent emotions Penelope felt at the dissolution of her marriage (regret, sadness, loneliness, self-loathing, fury that Giles had turned out to be such a male chauvinist pig)
dissipated
Phillip, she quickly discovered, was a Clitoris Man, and sex between them was a revelation
unlike Giles: left a bit, right a bit, up a bit, down a bit, bingo, Giles, how clever you are!
Phillip knew what it was and how to find it without her directions and what to do with it
furthermore, he was a caring, sensitive soul who wanted to help people feel better about themselves
they had a quickie wedding with only two witnesses in attendance, she didn’t want to jinx it by going the whole nine yards
Phillip rented out his large Highgate home and moved into her equally capacious four-storey house, using the front reception room for his private practice
in a sense it was quite satisfying that she was now the one leaving the house to go to work while The Husband stayed at home, albeit working
nontheless, it was symbolic
it was also a great relief when the children eventually took to him, after a few difficult months including broken nights when she rocked Sarah, in particular, who missed her father awfully, back to sleep
Phillip won them over by being tactile and affectionate (unlike Giles), talking and listening to them (unlike Giles), reading to them (unlike Giles), and helping them with their homework (unlike Giles) while she marked schoolwork
another refreshing thing about Phillip was the extent of his interest in her, he wanted to know who she was deep down inside, the real Penny beyond the pleasant, people-pleasing façade, as was her fate as a woman and mother