My five-year-old son Jack had only been at primary school for a few weeks when we were invited to a birthday party for one of his classmates.
Though I barely knew the birthday boy’s mum – a glamorous fashion buyer I’ll call Cleo – she was warm and welcoming when we arrived at their beautiful double-fronted property in south London, spread out over four floors.
She ushered the children down to the high-tech cinema room in the basement to watch a Disney movie with popcorn and pizzas.
‘Come upstairs with me,’ she then beckoned conspiratorially to me and the other mums. ‘I’ve got some treats for us.’
I imagined coffee, or possibly a small glass of fizz to toast the birthday boy.
But once in the kitchen, she poured out huge glasses of chilled wine. Then she opened a cupboard and retrieved a plate filled with lines of cocaine and a rolled-up £20 note, issuing a breezy invitation to help ourselves with no more fuss than if it had been a tray of cupcakes.
I’d worked in publicity for years – often with celebrities – and had become blase about seeing coke on offer at grown-up gatherings. But this was the first time I’d ever encountered it at something so wholesome as a kids’ party with a bunch of wide-eyed five and six year olds just a staircase away.
She opened a cupboard and retrieved a plate filled with lines of cocaine and a rolled-up £20 note (file image)
It was a mind-boggling gamble on Cleo’s part given she didn’t know me or some of the other mums, meaning she had no clue how we might react.
There was also a potential for disaster if any of the children had come searching for their mummy and discovered her snorting white powder from a plate.
I’d say half the mums there indulged. It’s not that I disapproved as such – these weren’t women hooked on drugs, it was done more out of a sense of naughtiness and rebellion against the shackles of motherhood – But I did feel there was something tragic about a group of middle-aged women turning to Class A drugs while surrounded by little ones.
To me, it was utterly reckless that they were ceding control. What if there’d been an accident that required them to drive? I remember thinking the whole thing was madness.
When the party finished at 6pm, Cleo had to send her husband – who’d just arrived home from work – downstairs to round up the kids as nobody else was capable.
Meanwhile I called my own husband who works in IT to come and collect me and Jack, and he was incredibly disapproving of the scene of drunken women laughing and talking very loudly that greeted him.
It wasn’t until later that evening that I told him there’d been cocaine.
‘What if the kids had seen it?’ he said, incredulous. It was a fair point. Because the more wine the mums consumed, the more they forgot to put the plate of coke back in the pantry between lines.
They also started repeating themselves assuming they were fascinating (they weren’t) and a couple of them got quite shouty and aggressive. I felt out on a limb, like the square kid in school.
But I couldn’t help but think Cleo was quite fun and we became friendly to the point she then invited me to a birthday party for her older daughter, then 11, without any of my three kids in tow.
The ‘treats’ for the adults were the same. And this time I admit that I did indulge in the cocaine on offer.
At the time I was at that stage of juggling work and motherhood where I was unable to keep my eyes open past 9pm most nights and my judgment was pretty skewed as a result.
Minus my kids and husband at this particular party I felt I’d clocked off, and the lack of responsibility for a few hours made the idea of a line or two seem somehow harmless.
Taking coke just took the edge off things and made me feel part of the gang, one of the cool girls, instead of being the sensible one sipping a small amount of wine (if any at all) in the corner.
I’d never have done it if I had my kids with me. In fact, that was the only time I ever indulged at a kids’ party
I’d never have done it if I had my kids with me. In fact, that was the only time I ever indulged at a kids’ party.
Several of the others had to leave their cars and get taxis home after the party. I have a memory of some of the little girls dancing with their mums in the kitchen and momentarily thinking it was a sweet scene, before remembering these women were coked-up.
Admitting that I took drugs at a children’s party is something I’m now pretty ashamed of.
I did tell my husband later that evening, and he couldn’t believe I’d do something so ‘foolish’.
My children are all in their mid and late teens now but during those primary school years, when we hung out in middle-class circles, drugs at these bashes became as normal as tantrums and goodie bags.
On one occasion (minus my husband), we were beckoned into the garden shed where our hostess was offering bumps of cocaine off her Audi car key. I declined. It all seemed so unnecessary and a bit pathetic.
My own fun was derived from having a bitch with any other mums who refused coke about the ones who took it. We got a kick out of being judgmental about them.
But I never frog-marched my kids out mid-party, because ultimately it was none of my business if other parents chose to take drugs.
I remember one mum becoming furious after falling flat on her face thanks to half a bottle of wine and several lines, sending the contents of her handbag flying.
Her son, who was only about eight at the time, calmly bent down, put everything back in her bag and slipped the house keys into his pocket. I asked him if he was okay and he replied: ‘It’s fine, she does it all the time.’
That really stuck with me – how incredibly sad that he was having to parent her and make sure they could unlock the front door when they got home, all because she wanted to relive her 20s.
The memories of those hedonistic days of parenthood now just seem surreal. Granted, birthday parties could be tedious for the mums, but surely nothing that a strong coffee and a good gossip wouldn’t have sorted out?
I dread to imagine what the children would think if they ever found out what was going on while they were innocently playing pass the parcel and devouring sweets.
As told to Sadie Nicholas. *All names have been changed.
