2

2 Penelope homed in on Giles soon after her identity had been exploded into scattered fragments she needed someone to put her back together again he was the eighteen-year-old rugby captain of the boys' grammar school, and what a catch he was with his Heathcliff looks and championship confidence that swept lesser boys aside who wouldn't want to be floating in the orbit of Giles the Great, Tsar Giles, King Giles the 1st of York as she wrote in her diary every girl in the school had a crush on him except those who were rumoured to be sapphics Penelope became obsessed with ensnaring Giles she lurked at his bus stop every morning in order to accidentally bump into him when he disembarked, daringly slipping into long strides beside him luckily, conversation came easily between them and she became adept at cutting off other girls who tried to edge their way in, although she loved it

when his rugby mates swelled their number and they all swept in a surging wave down the hill she was the only girl among a group of sports heroes who were so full of a dashing machismo and braggadocio everyone else was cowed in their presence moved out of the way or were elbowed out by her she and Giles began to brazenly hold hands, hidden amid the multitudes of their peers in their green and white uniforms he began to kiss her au revoir when they parted at her school gate, which was thrilling before such an audience either of those crimes could have got her hauled in front of the headmistress and expelled what did she care? she was in love, she would have Giles's babies, she would create her own bloodline, she was engaged at eighteen meanwhile the other girls in her class, fretting over pimples and puppy fat, were terrified of being left on the shelf she felt sorry for them, how awful to be fat and ugly and very likely alone for the rest of their lives whereas she was the golden girl and to be honest it suited her Penelope married Giles soon after she graduated teachers' training college, he was already working as a civil engineer it was all pretty perfect, as she'd dreamed, Giles was so caring of her, enquiring as to her welfare, affectionate touches, a stroke on her cheek, a kiss at the nape of her neck, making her feel important, desired his well-paid job moved them to London, to Camberwell, to a grand house on Camberwell Grove in an otherwise poor area he gave her a free hand with the decor: William Morris wallpaper, Uniflex dining table and chairs, De Sede Modular Sofa System, padded brown leatherette kitchen walls, orange shag rugs, avocado plastic bathroom

he tolerated her cooking experiments, never complained when the results were too salty or sweet, too burnt or undercooked, too soggy or congealed, too runny or stringy, too crumbly or lumpy, or required a hammer and chisel to break up pastry bases, homemade bread, roasted meat she fell pregnant with Adam straight away, which delayed going into teaching, but there was plenty of time to build her career a year later, Sarah wriggled out after a twelve-hour labour Penelope didn't mind staying at home with the babies, not when they were newborns, she couldn't believe the love she felt for her children 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 immemorial: 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.