Sunday, 1st January

New Year.

A time to take stock.

Last January, I was living with Nick in London.

We were engaged.

Things weren’t perfect.

Nick’s mum was always letting herself into the apartment, criticising my parenting and eating fishy salads at the breakfast bar. Nick was drunk half the time, and panicky when left alone with Daisy.

Also, getting Daisy’s pram into the tiny executive lift was a nightmare.

But I honestly thought Daisy would grow up with two parents living together.

I was wrong.

Now I’m staying at my parent’s pub in Great Oakley, with Daisy in a travel cot, while Nick plays happy families with my former best friend, who will give birth to their child any day now.

Last year, Nick and Sadie’s affair felt awful. I wallowed. But then I got on with it. I even ran a marathon. Now I’m stronger. I’ve learned that life doesn’t end because your ex-boyfriend and ex-best friend are shitheads.

And now Alex and I … well things are looking up.

Can’t stop thinking about the Dalton Ball.

What a night.

Nick was SO shocked when Alex and I headed upstairs together.

‘Julesy. Babe. Please. You can’t leave with him. Come on. We have a baby together.’

Hilarious that after getting my best friend pregnant, Nick thinks he can have a say in my love life.

Nick STILL hasn’t paid any maintenance for Daisy.

And it’s been six months since we split up.

BLOODY Nick.

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.

Everyone warned me not to settle down with a charming, bit-part actor. But pre-Daisy I was young and stupid.

In my early twenties, Nick’s puppy-dog eyes and charismatic personality felt romantic. Then Daisy came along, and I realised charm means nothing. Responsibility is everything.

Nick’s new baby is due any day, so it’s not a great time to talk finances. But that’s not Daisy’s fault.

Sent Nick a text message:

Hope you are well. We need to sort out maintenance. If you keep sidestepping this, I’ll have to take you to court. Sorry.

The text message wasn’t strictly true. I don’t hope he’s well, and I won’t be sorry to take him to court. But social nicety is hard-wired into me.

Nick hasn’t replied yet.

Knowing him, he probably won’t answer.

Denial is his favourite way of dealing with problems.