Love to Hate You: Three's a Crowd

Chapter Ten - Another One Bites the Dust

Isla had been learning about Elmer at nursery. The children had been using the story to focus on learning colours and animals, and the week had been capped off with an "Elmer Day", when the children – who never wore uniform on a normal day – were asked to wear as many different colours as possible, including hair, nails and face paints. Rudy had managed to concoct a suitably offensive outfit of rainbow leggings, silver light-up trainers, purple socks, pink tutu and tie-dye long-sleeved top. Vicky had a suspicion that the tie-dye top was of Rudy's own creation, because they were no longer living in the 1990's where such garments were readily available. Her daughter had looked horrible in her outfit, and so of course, the child was delighted with it. Isla would have been even more delighted had Vicky been allowed to give her face paint, but Rudy insisted that it was "dermatologically questionable" and had therefore vetoed the face paint on health grounds. She'd got away with hair chalks, by assuring him that they were "wash-in, wash-out", and that as they were applied to the ends of the hair, the chalk itself would be nowhere near Isla's scalp, and therefore of no dermatological threat.

Sadly, Rudy had taken his wife at her word, and so found himself knelt at the side of the bath, lathering a third dose of shampoo into Isla's hair, in the hopes of removing the rainbow stripes Vicky had applied that morning at breakfast.

'The bath water's pink!' Isla told him, as she dunked her shoulders beneath the water in a bid to keep warm.

'Yes,' he agreed. 'We'll have to have a quick rinse-off with the shower before we get dry. I don't think pink bath water is a good last step.' Isla didn't agree of course, because at three-years-old, pink improved everything. But Rudy was a patient man, so he scrubbed gently at Isla's hair without resentment, despite suspecting that Vicky had knowingly conned him when she'd used the term "wash-in, wash-out". It was in this calm, very focused state, that Vicky came home to her husband and child. She leant against the door jamb, arms folded across her chest, as she watched Rudy gently tend to their daughter. He's so... dreamy, she sighed, thinking – for the six-hundred-and-twenty-seven-thousandth time – that he really was a real-life Prince Charming.

'Hello,' she said softly, gazing on her two favourite people, with dewy eyes.

'Hello,' Rudy replied, glancing over his shoulder. 'Good day?'

'Yes. You?'

'It was alright until the fourth wash,' he said gently, gesturing to Isla's hair. 'I'm sorely tempted to throw those hair chalks away. It's not just the colour. A stain would be alright, but it's the texture.' He frowned at Isla's hair, rubbing the long strands between his fingers. 'It's... gummy.'

'Have you tried my shampoo? The kiddie stuff might not have the oomph to shift it,' Vicky suggested.

'I'll try it now,' he agreed, as Isla kicked her legs and splashed him quite thoroughly. Patient and reasonable as ever, he said only, 'No thank you, Isla,' before continuing as though he hadn't just been drenched. Vicky was tempted to offer to take over for him, but the doorbell rang, so she swiftly ducked from the bathroom and hurried down the stairs.

'Vee,' she said, as she opened the door to find a tense-looking mother-in-law stood before her. 'And... Carl,' Vicky finished, stepping aside to allow them entry. It wasn't that Vicky didn't like Carl – everyone liked him, in a forgettable kind of way – but he was forever working. He didn't make unscheduled social visits. His unexpected presence in her house on a Tuesday afternoon didn't bode well. She knew, because she was a former (and sort-of-still) freelance agony-aunt. She knew a crisis when she saw one almost as well as Crisis Chris. 'What's happened?' she asked, without preamble. Small talk was unnecessary, especially when two women like Verity Anderson and Vicky Fielding were conversing.