Free The Learning Curve by Melissa Nathan Page B

difficult child to manage than all the other kids at school? He was definitely not more difficult to manage than Stan Smith who could spit from the sandpit to the back of the swings and kept showing you his willy in the playground. He bet no one ever told Stan Smith’s mum that they didn’t know how she coped. So his dad just must be the most crap parent ever.
    So he stopped laughing at the bogey joke and instead tutted, huffed and pushed his plate away.
    ‘Oscar!’ cried Mark.
    ‘I hate Brussels sprouts.’
    ‘OK. No need to be so rude. I did cook them for you.’
    Oscar sort of snarled, his upper lip curling up. ‘Am I supposed to be grateful?’
    Mark sighed. He didn’t know the answer to that.
    ‘I hate them too,’ he said quietly. ‘But they’re good for you and I want you to be strong and healthy.’ He sighed. ‘Because I love you.’
    Oscar pulled the skin off the corner of his thumbnail and kicked the table leg with his foot while Mark took his plate away.
    After the girls were tucked up in bed, Claire and Nicky sat down in the kitchen with a candle flickering in the middle of the table, a celebratory bottle of wine for Nicky’s promotion and a Janis Ian CD of lilting desperation on in the background, which was doing an excellent job of bringing them both crashing down into depression just in time for Monday morning.
    ‘We should go away,’ suggested Claire suddenly. ‘Have a week’s holiday somewhere together.’
    Nicky raised her eyebrows. They’d never gone on holiday together. She was surprised – by the offer and by how touched she felt. Mind you, it would be hell.
    ‘Mm.’ She nodded eagerly. ‘Where d’you have in mind?’
    ‘Who bloody cares?’ snorted Claire. ‘Let Derek see what it’s like to do everything –
everything
– breakfast, laundry, ironing, cleaning, lunches, bath-time, night shift,’ she counted them off on her fingers, ‘completely on his own.’
    ‘Excuse me,’ said Nicky. She started counting on her fingers. ‘Swimming, lunch, cinema. All by yours truly. I believe you’ve just had seven hours to yourself today.’
    Claire’s face expanded as she prepared for more finger-counting. ‘I did the vacuuming, washing, ironing, prepared one ballet bag, one Brownie bag, three lunchboxes and two tea boxes, and arranged two play-dates. I’d hardly sat down when you got back.’
    Nicky frowned. ‘Shouldn’t you be having this conversation with Derek instead of me?’
    Claire grimaced. ‘Thanks for your sense of sisterhood.’
    ‘Exactly!’ retorted Nicky. ‘I’m your sister, not your partner.’
    They downed their celebratory wine in antagonistic silence for a while before Claire spoke. ‘Sorry. I must sound so ungrateful. To you, I mean.’
    Nicky bristled. ‘I beg your pardon?’
    ‘Well, I just, you know.’ She shrugged. ‘Here I am, with a husband and three healthy children – three healthy
daughters
– and yet I’m complaining.’
    Nicky spoke slowly and clearly. ‘I would not want to be married to Derek.’
    ‘Well, of course not!’ exploded Claire. ‘Because he’s not bloody here most of the time! And when he is he’s playing bloody golf! Of all the hobbies to take up! He has to pick the one that takes up a whole day. I said to him yesterday, “Are you just unhappy here?” And you know what he said?’
    Nicky shook her head.
    ‘He said, “No, darling, but you do get so
angry
nowadays.”’ Claire stared at Nicky. Nicky stared back. Claire let out a splurt of annoyance. Nicky blinked.
    ‘“
Angry
!”’ repeated Claire angrily. Nicky nodded. ‘“
ANGRY
!”’ she repeated again. ‘I nearly knifed him in the bloody face!’ she cried.
    Nicky looked down to hide her smile.
    ‘Ooh, how was your date last night?’ asked Claire suddenly. ‘I can’t believe I haven’t asked.’
    ‘Two.’
    ‘Out of five or ten?’
    ‘Twenty.’
    Claire’s jaw dropped. ‘Derek thought he was great.’
    ‘Really?’ asked Nicky. ‘You mean