'I'm struggling, Julie. Every day is like a fucking eternity. I have to drag myself out of bed in the morning and I spend all day looking at the clock, praying for bedtime. By the time they're asleep it's nine, and I haven't the energy to do anything but tidy up, put on another bloody wash and collapse into bed. I have no life. It's really getting me down. It's like being a hamster on one of those wheels.'

'You need a break. Why don't I take your kids while you and Greg go off for a night somewhere? It'll do you good.'

She shook her head. 'Thanks, Julie, but the last person Greg wants to go away with is me. I've been biting his head off lately. All we seem to do is fight. We used to have such fun together. I used to make him laugh he thought I was a riot. Now he thinks I'm a fucking nightmare. I dunno, I just feel crap all the time.'

I reached over to squeeze her hand. 'You've got too much on your plate. Four small kids and your mum it's a lot to deal with.'

'My mother's getting worse. She can't really look after herself any more. I need to put her into a home, but every time I bring it up, she freaks. She starts telling me that if she leaves the window, she'll miss Dad when he comes home. She's wasted her whole life waiting for that prick.'

'Can your brother help?'

'He just got dumped by his boyfriend and has buggered off to Australia to shag his way through his broken heart. He said he was sorry to leave me to deal with Mum on my own, but he needed some time out.'

'No wonder you're feeling down. Everything's falling on your shoulders. It's a huge amount of responsibility for one person.'

She exhaled deeply. 'I can tell you it feels very heavy at the moment. I think if I go on anti-depressants I'll stop drinking so much. Let's be honest here, Julie, I have my first glass of wine or brandy-coffee at lunchtime. I need to stop before it gets out of hand. And I refuse to end up like my mother, a miserable, depressed mess. I need to deal with my shit and get myself sorted.'

'Maybe you need some counselling. It'd be good for you to talk about your dad leaving and how you feel overwhelmed by everything you're dealing with.'

'Jesus, they'd never get me out of the place. I'd be in there moaning for months. If I can just lift this black cloud hanging over me, I'll be fine. If I don't do something, Greg will leave me and then I'd be totally screwed. He might drive me around the bend at times, but he's a good dad and occasionally when we're not roaring at each other I remember why I married him.'

'You should talk to your GP. Maybe he could put you on a mild anti-depressant to help you through the next few months. I'm sorry you're feeling like this. I didn't realize you were so down.'

'How the hell could you? You haven't got time to think. You're as swamped as I am. You just deal with it better. You don't hit your kids and you're not a bitch to your husband.'

'Sometimes I'm a total cow to Harry, especially if the kids have been acting up all day, or if he comes in from work in a bad mood. He's been really grumpy lately and we've been snapping at each other constantly. He's working on some new project and he's really uptight about it. The sooner it's finished, the better. I wouldn't mind if he was getting paid more for it, but he isn't.'

'Husbands are not allowed to come home in a foul mood. We've spent all day dealing with tantrums and mood swings. The last thing we need is a long face walking in the door at six o'clock. I want to see a smile. I want to get a hug. I want to be told I'm a fucking legend for having got through the day without killing one of the kids, and I want to sit down and put my feet up while he persuades Molly that green beans are not the devil's food.'

'Amen to that.'

Marian pointed to her wine. 'I'm going to give this up for a while and try to sort out my mother and my head.'

'Good for you. Let me know if I can do anything to help. I'm always here for you.'

'Thank God you moved in next door and not some fucking Stepford Wife who would make me feel really shit about myself.'

'Are you implying I'm not the perfect wife and mother?' I pretended to be offended.

'Yes, I am, and thank God for that too.'

We chuckled.

'Marian, does Brian take his willy out much?'

'Jesus, where did that come from? What do you mean?'

'The triplets are going through a phase of exposing themselves. We were in Tesco earlier and when I turned back from getting ice-cream out of the freezer, they were all standing there with their willies hanging out, giggling. There was an old man staring at them in shock.'

'No, Brian doesn't take it out in public, but he came in the other day and said, "Mummy, my willy's all excited." I didn't know where to look. Greg thought it was hilarious.'

'What are we going to do when they have wet dreams and all that stuff?'

'Steady on there.'

'Well, it's going to happen and I'll have three at the same time.'

'You'll have a lot of laundry.' Marian roared laughing.

That evening Harry came home in a better mood. He sat down and helped me feed the kids and was his old patient self. After dinner, when I was clearing up, I told him about the boys exposing themselves in Tesco. Harry, of course, thought it was very amusing.

'It's not funny, Harry. They could attract paedophiles and all kinds of weirdos with their willies out.'

'Come on, it's just a bit of fun. Sometimes a willy just needs a bit of fresh air.'

'It needs to stay in their pants. I don't see you slapping yours out in supermarkets.'

'I'd get arrested.'

'Seriously, talk to them. It's dangerous. They'll catch the wrong people's attention.'

Harry called the triplets in. 'Boys, your mum said you took your willies out in the supermarket today.'

They giggled.

'You must always keep your willies in your pants,' Harry continued.

'What about when you have to pee?' Leo asked.

'Obviously you can take them out when you need to go to the toilet,' I told them.

'But sometimes my willy gets really hot and sticks to my nut balls,' Luke complained.

'I know Daddy gets that too,' Harry sympathized, 'but when it happens you need to go to the toilet, take your pants down and give it some air.'

'But there is no toilet in the shop,' Liam said.

'In that case you have to wait until you get home,' Harry explained.

'But it was itchy,' Luke said.

'Mine was scratchy,' Leo said.

'Mine was so hot it was on fire,' Liam added.

I leant down. 'The thing is, boys, there are some bad men in the world who like to look at little boys' willies and touch them, and if you go around taking your willies out, the bad men might see you and come over to you.'

'Would they try to touch us?' Leo's eyes were round.

'They might,' I said.

'Why?' Liam asked.

'Because some men are mean and nasty and like to touch boys and girls in their private parts. If anyone ever tries to touch you or asks you to touch them, you must say, "No way," and tell Mummy immediately.'

'Should we shout, "NO WAY"?' Luke roared.

'Yes,' I said.

'Really loud, like NO WAY?' Leo screeched.

'Yes, as loud as you can. No one is allowed touch your willy, ever.'

'Not even you, Mummy?' Liam was confused.

'Mummy and Daddy can when we're washing you in the bath, but no one else.'

'Not even my brothers?' Luke wondered.

'Well, no, not really. You should just keep your willy to yourself.' They were exasperating.

'What do the bad men look like?' Leo wanted to know.

Harry sighed. 'Why did you start this?' he whispered.

'Because I want them to be aware,' I replied. 'Leo, the bad men look like Daddy or Greg next door they just look like normal guys.'

'Does Greg want to touch our willies?' Liam asked.

'No!' I said.

'Does a bad guy have scary teeth like a vampire?' Leo was peering at me from behind his fringe.

'Not necessarily. He could have normal teeth,' I answered, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

'Why does he want to touch our willies?' Luke asked.

'Because some men are very naughty and like to touch little kids.'

'But why?' Luke insisted.

'Because they're just weird.'

'Mummy, are you allowed touch Tom's willy, too?'

'Yes.'

'And Daddy's?'

'Any time she wants.' Harry grinned.

'And Greg-next-door's?'

'No!' Harry jumped in. 'Mummy most certainly is not allowed touch Greg-next-door's willy.'

'Look, boys,' I said firmly, 'just remember that no one is allowed touch your willies except Mummy and Daddy. OK?'

'Do the bad men go to the supermarkets looking for willies to touch?' Leo was relentless.

I looked at Harry. 'Help me out here.'

'I told you not to start.'

'There can be bad men anywhere. You just need to be careful.' I tried to reassure them.

'OK, boys, that's enough about willies. Who wants to watch cartoons?' Harry asked.

They all cheered and ran into the TV room. Harry came back in, smiling. 'Well, that was an interesting conversation.'

I shrugged. 'I had to try to explain it to them. But nothing is ever easy with the boys.'

'Would you like a daughter?' Harry asked, suddenly very serious. Was he suggesting we have another baby? Had he lost his mind?

'Harry, I'm nearly forty and we have four kids that we're struggling to manage, not to mention afford. There will be no more babies in this house.'

'I know but would you have liked a girl?'

'Well, yes, I suppose I would. I mean, if all my kids were as good and saintly as Jess, life would be a lot easier, but I wouldn't change the boys for anything. I love every hair on their little heads. They're my guys, my boys, my lads.'

Harry came over and hugged me. I waited. No, it was just a hug. Not a hug and a pull towards the bedroom, not a hug and a suggestive pinch on the bum, just a hug. A big bear hug. Wow! I hadn't had one of those in years. I hugged him back.

'I love this family,' he mumbled into my hair, sounding a bit choked up. I pulled back and looked at him.

'Harry, have you lost your job?' I asked.

'No, no, my job is fine. It's totally safe.'

'So why are you all emotional?' I was suspicious now: something was up.

'I just looked at you and the kids tonight and I felt lucky and I wanted to tell you. That's all. Sometimes you forget what you have and how lucky you are.'

'OK, but why are you feeling this now, tonight?'

'Jesus, Julie, you're always telling me I don't say anything nice to you and now that I tell you I love you you're quizzing me. I can't win.'

'Well, it's just ' The phone rang. Harry picked it up.

'Hello? ... Who is it? ... What? ... Oh, Louise, sorry, I couldn't hear you.'