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looks at me like a mother at her child’s first school uniform fitting. I hug her. ‘Thank you, it’s beautiful.’
    ‘You’re very welcome. Now, how about another coffee and Real Housewives of NYC?’
    ‘Mon, my life is complete,’ I giggle, sitting back on the sofa and keeping my new jacket on so I can keep touching it.
     
    Back at home I catch up with the ‘Chore of the Day’ (my latest project to alleviate boredom, courtesy of Pinterest). Today’s exciting chore is vacuuming the house, and then I check my eBay account. I’ve not got much for sale at the moment, but I hope the weekend’s nice for trawling car boots in search of bedraggled Barbie dolls and pretty vintage pieces. My business started off as a hobby when Joe was younger. A lot of my friends had daughters at a similar time and I was secretly jealous that they got to play with dolls. I don’t think I’ve ever totally grown up. I’d got into eBaying while Niall had been nurse training. We were broke, so I’d sold anything I thought I might make some money to help pay the bills. I noticed that Barbie clothes went for a lot of money and started looking around for them at summer fairs and car boots. Then I took to buying dolls that looked like they had seen better days; washing them, brushing their hair, mending their clothes and then selling them online in the run up to Christmas. I made a few hundred pounds and earned a good reputation for selling them, so I started my little eBay shop, ‘Lauren’s pre-loved’. My obsession with all things vintage followed; pretty tea-cups, jewellery, the odd piece of clothing. It’s grown into a little part-time job that fits in perfectly around Joe, and apart from Monique, I think it’s the only thing that keeps me sane. I make a mental note to list the nine or so items in the box at the side of the desk later on tonight, and then head off to school to collect Joe.
    I always park up on one of the back streets near the school. It means a few minutes’ walk, but the main drag is full of crazy mummy maniacs who despite repeated warnings from the school and the local police, still persevere with parking on zigzags and corners of junctions. You fear for your life walking down to school as they whirl around the corners in their haste to get the nearest parking slot available at the last possible moment. I meet Tanya, one of the other school mums, at the bottom of the drive. Tall and slender, with her red hair tied in a ponytail with a huge scarf, she’s easily identifiable from some distance away. I get on well with most of the school mums and we have the odd coffee, but I keep a distance as I have Monique and that’s enough for me.
    The walk up the drive only takes a few minutes. It leads past the main school building into a playground complete with two small benches, a wooden climbing frame and a large grassed area. In the corner of the playground are two Portakabins, one of which is Joe’s classroom. We all gather nearby and await the release of our little angels. For once it’s not raining.
    ‘Did you know there’s a new boy in school? Our Billy told me.’ Tanya says.
    ‘Yep, Joe said. I think he started today.’
    ‘I’ve heard his mum’s a footballer’s wife,’ she adds.
    ‘What?’ I laugh. ‘A WAG, in Handsworth? You’ve got to be kidding; surely she wouldn’t come to live here? Not being funny, because I love living here myself, but it’s hardly chock full of McMansions is it?’
    Tanya shrugs. ‘Just saying what I heard. We’ll find out in a minute anyway, cos she’s over there.’
    We head over to the tiny woman standing sideways to us. It has to be her as she is a stereotypical WAG. Her hair is almost yellow blonde and reaches the bottom of her back in spiralled tendrils. She flicks it with her pink glitter ended nails and turns to us showing an over-tanned face. It’s either sunbed or real tan, because her skin resembles the part of my leather sofa where Niall’s bottom has