Christmas Nights. Sally Wentworth

something,’ Annabel said, almost curtly, and she went to the stairs to yell at Olivia to hurry up. But when she took Olivia to the party, Annabel must have got sidetracked because she didn’t come back, so it was left to Paris to try and amuse the younger child, but as Paris had no experience and Charlotte was grumpy it didn’t work too well. Charlotte kept going to the window to look for her mother and when she didn’t come went up to her room, locked herself in, and wouldn’t come out or answer when Paris spoke to her.

      Will, meanwhile was helping Mark to unblock some gutters; or, at least, Will was up the ladder doing so while Mark, who was supposed to be holding it, kept wandering off to dig his overgrown vegetable patch or to answer the phone, although most of the callers seemed to want Annabel.

      That evening some friends had been invited to dinner, which Annabel cooked herself. She wasn’t a bad cook, but, by the time she’d given the girls their pizzas, put them to bed, done the preparations for the meal, made half a dozen phone calls and got herself ready, it was very late before they sat down to eat, and almost three in the morning before the other guests left.

      Curling tiredly up to Will, Paris said, ‘Is it always like this?’

      ‘Always,’ he said resignedly.

      The next day they were both roped in to help with the village open day, Paris helping Annabel in the tea tent and Will directing cars into the field being used as a car park, so they hardly saw one another. The main Sunday meal, to which Annabel liberally invited several neighbours, wasn’t ready until eight in the evening, and Paris found herself doing most of the clearing up, as she had that morning because Annabel had been too tired to do it the night before.

      It was midnight before they were able to drive back to London, Paris feeling more exhausted than she had when they’d arrived, and afraid that one of the blinding migraines was about to take over her head.

      ‘Are you all right?’ Will asked her when she grew silent. And when she admitted that her head ached he said angrily, ‘I’m hardly surprised after the last two days. They don’t have to live like that. They could well afford for Annabel not to work, but she insists on combining the roles of wife, mother, career woman and active villager. And tries to be perfect at everything but with the result that everything suffers.

      ‘She’s forever torn between her job, her home and her family, and most of the time the job comes first. After school and in the holidays the girls are looked after by a child-minder or are farmed out to various friends. And when Annabel is home she’s always trying to decorate the place in the latest fashion, or she’s out at some village organisation committee meeting.’

      There was disgust in his voice as well as anger, but Paris felt compelled to stand up for her sex and say, ‘I’m sure she’s doing everything for the best.’

      ‘That’s just it; her intentions might be good but she doesn’t have the sense to see that she’s achieving nothing. Her family is suffering and so is she. She just cannot manage that lifestyle.’

      ‘What does Mark think about it?’ Paris asked guardedly.

      Will shrugged. ‘He’s tried to persuade her to give up her job but she won’t. She says she won’t be fulfilled if she does.’ The disgust was heavy again in his voice. ‘If she was so wrapped up in her career she shouldn’t have gone in for a family in the first place.’

      ‘Rubbish!’ Pans said shortly. ‘A woman has every right to have both a family and a career. Men do, don’t they? And thousands of women have children and have to go out to work. Annabel isn’t very organised, that’s all.’

      Will gave a sarcastic snort. ‘She tries to be all things to all people and it doesn’t work. You saw that for yourself. And, the way I see it, bringing up children should be a full-time job; they need all the help, education and training they can to get to face today’s problems.

      ‘There wouldn’t be half the juvenile crime and adolescents with psychological problems if they’d got more attention at home. Most of them are thrust in front of the television screen to keep them quiet when they’re babies and can work a video before they can talk. They become latchkey kids as soon as they go to school, and live off junk food for the rest of their lives.’