The Wadhams: Housing Crisis
We’re delighted to bring you the continuing adventures of Life & The Wadhams, featuring the younger members of the family. Not yet met the Wadhams? Read the background on My Weekly’s best-loved family, then come back and enjoy the next generation’s adventures as Mike and Polly Wadham’s elder grandson, Alex Clark, settles into family life with wife Natalie and toddler son William in their flat above Pretty Polly’s, the hairdressing and beauty salon which Natalie runs.
Natalie Clark stood in the middle of her small empire and looked around it with a smile.
Every mirror in the hairdressing salon gleamed with the hard-polishing she’d given them, their ornate frames showing not a speck of dust. The white basins held not a trace of hair dye, the chrome taps sparkled under the lights of the overhead chandeliers.
The chairs had been sponged down, the floor swept and polished, the magazines stacked neatly on the low table beside the two Louis Quinze chairs that invited waiting clients to rest and relax while they awaited their appointments.
The shampoo and conditioner bottles were refilled for Monday morning, the fluffy clean towels piled high.
Behind the door to the beauty treatment room, all was similarly neat and tidy.
Natalie drew a long, satisfied breath. She and assistant Iris had worked hard to restore order after the last customer of this busy Saturday had gone, and she could look forward to two days of rest and quiet tomorrow and Monday before the salon opened its doors again.
It was just as well – at over 16 weeks pregnant, with twins, Natalie was starting to feel the effects of long days spent on her feet. She knew she would not be able to carry on working up to the last minute, as she would have done with William if hairdressing salons had been allowed to open during the pandemic.
But she wanted to keep going as long as possible – not least because every penny counted more than ever.
A loud thump above her head caused her to wince and look up to check the chandeliers weren’t in danger of falling down. What was her young son up to now?
In contrast to the neat calm of the salon below, a trail of havoc greeted her at the door of the flat above the salon, the home she shared with husband Alex and two-year-old William.
“What on earth is going on?” she exclaimed, navigating her way around a procession of toy cars and lorries that snaked around and between the chairs, sofa and coffee table. On the table itself was the detritus of William’s tea. An overturned plastic cup on the floor had spilled blackcurrant juice over the rug.
Was that yogurt dripping down the front of the TV screen?
Natalie stepped forward to investigate and squealed as her foot slipped on what turned out to be a burst plastic pot of raspberry yogurt. The stuff had gone everywhere.
Of William and Alex there was no sight, although splashing and shouting from the tiny bathroom told her exactly where the menfolk in her life were to be found! William was protesting loudly at something, while Alex sounded at the end of his tether.
She closed her eyes, suddenly bone weary. She couldn’t cope with this after the busy day she’d had.
“Can’t you keep the place tidy, just once?” she yelled through the bathroom door.
Alex appeared with a wet and soapy William in his arms, indignant in his defence as a stony-faced Natalie went to fetch a cloth from the kitchen.
“It was tidy – kind of – till William tripped and dropped his yogurt.”
“Did he spill his juice at the same time?”
“No, that was me, when I jumped up to grab him before his head hit the telly! I was going to clean up once I got him cleaned up. He was covered in yogurt – I don’t know how so much of it can come from one wee pot.”
“Well, no wonder he tripped,” Natalie exclaimed. “Look at all the junk all over the place. And why were you letting him wander around with yogurt in his hands? What did you think would happen? He’s two, for goodness’ sake!”
Husband and wife glared at each other, then both spoke at the same time.
“I’m sorry – I should have taken it…”
“No, I’m sorry. It’s been such a long day…”
Alex put William down, and Natalie gathered him to her while her husband began picking up the toys.
“These will have to stay in your room, William,” he said. There just isn’t space for them out here.”
“My road!” the little boy protested. “My cars on my road!”
“The motorway’s shut,” Alex told him firmly. “And it’s time you were getting ready for bed anyway. Come on, let’s get your PJs on.”
“Paw Patrol PJs!” William demanded as he danced around the room naked.
Natalie and Alex couldn’t help but laugh at their son’s antics, but their smiles hid their anxiety. If their flat couldn’t contain one small boy, how could it contain three children?
And yet, how could they afford to move, when Natalie would soon have to give up work again? Yes, she owned the salon, but she’d have to pay Iris as a manager, and hire another hairdresser to keep the business running smoothly.
It was a dilemma she and Alex gone round in circles discussing till both were heartily sick of the subject. And they were no nearer a solution.
With William finally settled, Alex and Natalie were just sitting down to enjoy their evening meal in peace when her phone rang.
“It’s Dad,” she said, picking it up. “What on earth can he want at this time on a Saturday evening?”
Natalie’s father was a sporadic caller – he’d decamped when Natalie was young for a new life with a new family in Glasgow – and only usually called for something important.
Natalie listened intently as he spoke, only interjecting softly once in a while.
“Oh no.”
“Oh, Dad, I’m so sorry.”
“So you’ll be down Monday? OK, I’ll see you then.”
Alex looked at her quizzically as she put the phone down and gazed into the distance, her eyes soft with approaching tears.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
“My grandad has had a heart attack. He’s died. Granny just phoned Dad to let him know. Dad can’t get down till Monday, so he wants me to go and see Granny tomorrow, to check how she is.”
“Oh, Natalie, how awful.” Alex took her in his arms and she buried her face in his shoulders for a moment.
“Is it awful that I’m not devastated?” she asked in a muffled tone.
“No.” Alex shook his head. “They weren’t really like grandparents after all. Not like mine.”
He thought of his grandpa Mike and grandma Polly, who adored all their grandchildren in equal measure and were loved back wholeheartedly.
Natalie’s paternal grandparents, by contrast, had cut themselves off from their daughter-in-law after the divorce, taking their son’s side, and having very little to do with their granddaughter.
Alex himself had only met them a couple of times – they hadn’t even considered inviting them to the wedding, though they might have done if number hadn’t been restricted by Covid. And they’d never met William.
Still, they were Natalie’s grandparents.
“We’ll go over first thing tomorrow,” he said. “And see what we can do. We’ll drop William at my mum’s on the way.”
“Poor Granny.” Natalie wiped her eyes, more in sympathy for her grandmother than sorrow for herself. “She must be devastated.”
But Julia Jameson looked more irritated than devastated when she opened the door to her granddaughter and grandson-in-law the following morning.
“Natalie.” She proferred a cold cheek for her granddaughter to kiss. “How good of you to come. But really, I told your father there was no need. I am perfectly fine.”
“But, Granny, it must have been such a shock,” Natalie protested. “You can’t possibly be all right.”
“I’ve been expecting this for some time,” Julia said. “Your grandfather was told repeatedly by the doctors to change his diet and stop drinking so heavily, but he point blank refused. I’m just surprised he didn’t go sooner.”
Alex raised his eyebrows at Natalie as the older woman turned and led them through the hall to her sitting-room. The huge room was as chilly as Julia’s eyes as she expounded on her husband’s folly in not looking after his health better.
Really, he couldn’t blame old Robert for drinking himself to death. He would have wanted to escape, too.
Their Georgian house with its many rooms might be large and luxurious. But it sounded as if there was little love to be had there, as Natalie spoke to her grandmother about making arrangements for her father’s visit, and for the funeral which would take place some time in the next week or two.
Back in the car, a scarce half hour later, he voiced his thoughts to Natalie.
“Your granny’s one cold old dear. Looks like she doesn’t need you, or your dad, at all.”
“She’d like you to think so.” Natalie shook her head. “But I think she’s more affected than even she realises.”
She thought about Julia’s trembling hand as she handed over the teacups, the sidelong glance she gave to the photograph of her husband on the sideboard.
“She may say she doesn’t need help, but she does – and I’m her only relative here. I’ll have to come back tomorrow.
“I’ll bring William along, too – he might help thaw her out a bit.”
Or finish her off, with a bit of luck, Alex thought uncharitably, then gave himself an internal talking to.
If his wife wanted forgive her grandparent for years of neglect, he would support her all the way.
But thank goodness they were returning to a home bursting at the seams not just with toys, but with warmth and love.
He wouldn’t swap that for anything!
