The Trials Of Being A Stepmum

There might have been plenty of ups and downs, but Samantha Brick cherishes her role

- Samantha Brick

In my 20s and early 30s, if anyone were to tell me by 36 I was going to be a stepmum of three, I’d have laughed (and had a little freak-out). I was the last person to cope with the round-the-clock needs of someone else’s children. I was a workaholic and loved my career in the television industry, travelling all over the world producing reality shows.

But everything changed in April 2007 when I met Pascal, then 46, while I was on a yoga holiday in south-west France. He made it clear he was attracted to me, he called and texted, and I loved that he didn’t play games. I was naive in paying scant regard to the fact he was a dad, too.

We kept in touch when I returned to the Midlands, and I arranged to visit him a month later. I arrived with my sister, Jo, then 34, in tow. Jo’s a mum and she’d offered to be there when I met Pascal’s son Antonio, then 10. For Pascal, it was important that I get to know his son.

Pascal and his ex had separated 18 months earlier and they shared custody, so Antonio lived with his dad every other week. There was no hiding from the fact Pascal took parenting seriously.

If things were to go the distance with Pascal, I needed to get along with this 10-year-old boy – because, whether I liked it or not, they came as a package.

Still, I was clueless when it came to chatting to children. The first day we met was on neutral territory in a cafe. Jo opened up the conversation by asking Antonio about his favourite computer games. He was surprisingly chatty with Jo and I followed her lead.

Becoming friends

The first week was trial by fire and ended when the four of us had lunch together at Pascal’s home. Antonio thought it was great fun to roll firecrackers under the toilet door while I was in there. Apparently it meant he liked me, although I’ll admit I was pretty horrified by his gesture.