From Mum With Love

by Louise Emma Clarke

  ‘I knew they’d like it,’ Chris said, heaving himself out of bed. ‘You’ll have to type up the next letter when you get the chance. You’ve got to keep up the momentum now you’ve started!’

  And even though it was still six in the morning and she’d been disturbed by Bella in the night, Jessica felt a thrill at the thought. She couldn’t wait to sit down at her laptop in a quiet moment, open her notebook, and start typing.

  But it was Tuesday, which meant they had a busy day – once she’d tackled breakfast, dressed a squirming toddler, and packed her bag for every possible eventuality, that was.

  It was 9.45 a.m. before she finally made it out of the house that morning. She’d been ready to leave twenty minutes beforehand but had smelt something ominous as she was about to step out the door. ‘Oh, you haven’t, have you?’ she said, as she bent down to sniff the bottom of the child already strapped into her buggy. With the culprit identified, she sighed loudly, unclipped the straps, and scooped Bella into her arms.

  Ten minutes later, with Bella now dressed in her second outfit of the day, Jessica was standing by the front door again, mentally ticking off things in her head.

  Nappies? Check.

  Wipes? Check.

  Drinking cup? Check.

  Snack?

  ‘Crap!’ she said out loud, as she ran into the kitchen to cut some grapes. But spotting a stash of mini raisin boxes, she paused.

  ‘Oh, sod it,’ she thought, as she grabbed a box and threw it into her bag instead.

  Bella’s music class started at 10 a.m., and Jessica found herself walking at double her usual pace, trying to make sure she made it in time. Bella looked sleepy (not surprising, given how awake she’d been at 3 a.m. that morning) and Jessica didn’t want her to nod off just as they were arriving. Plus, getting there a few minutes early meant she could have a quick chat with the girls before the class began – and that was the bit she enjoyed the most.

  Because those girls – Mel, Deena, and Henny (and their children, Lara, Finley, and Tallulah) – had been keeping Jessica sane since she’d first rocked up to this class when Bella was six months old.

  Jessica was the first of her friends to get married and have children, and she’d been surprised at how quickly she’d slipped off everyone’s radar. The first few months of motherhood had been lonely without friends by her side, but she accepted that their lives were busy too. Amongst her school friends, Callie had moved to Southampton for work, Nicola had moved in with her boyfriend and now had a long commute to the school she taught at, and Frankie had been doing her best to squeeze in auditions between the shifts she worked as a waitress. There really wasn’t much time left for baby cuddles. And whilst Jessica had stayed in touch with some of her university friends since they’d graduated, most were still based in the North, which meant that meet-ups were sporadic even before she became a mother.

  She knew she needed to get out the house and meet people, but it hadn’t been easy walking into a church hall full of strangers back in the autumn after Bella was born. And she’d thanked her lucky stars that she found the courage ever since.

  Today, however, there was no hesitation.

  ‘Oh look, it’s the mummy blogger!’ a voice called out, as she pushed Bella’s buggy inside the wide double doors and stepped inside.

  Jessica rolled her eyes and smiled, parking the buggy at the side of the hall and unclipping Bella. And as she toddled off to join the other children in a playhouse behind her, Jessica slipped off her ballet pumps and walked towards the colourful mats in the centre of the hall to sit down with her friends.

  ‘So,’ Mel said, ‘how does it feel?’

  ‘What? You mean, the blog?’ Jessica asked, feeling her cheeks flush.

  ‘Of course!’ Mel replied. ‘Or do you have another exciting hobby you forgot to share with us?’

  Jessica laughed. ‘Honestly? Well, I’m a bit embarrassed you’re all reading it, but…’

  ‘It’s bloody good, babe!’ Henny cut in, smiling widely. Mel and Deena nodded along, until the four of them turned to the sound of wailing inside the playhouse.

  ‘Oh God, is it one of ours?’ Jessica asked, as they started to get to their feet.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s mine!’ a mum on the other side of the room shouted in their direction as she made her way over. ‘We’re having a problem with sharing at the moment!’

  The girls all smiled with sympathy, secretly relieved it wasn’t their turn - and back on the mats, the conversation resumed.

  ‘Well, I loved it, girl,’ Deena said, re-clipping her fringe out of her eyes as she spoke. ‘Are you going to write all of them as letters to Bella? I really like it. I feel like I’m getting a glimpse into something private. It feels kind of nosy.’

  ‘Ooh, that’s right,’ Henny said, nodding. ‘That’s exactly how I feel too!’

  ‘I think that’s why it works so well,’ Mel chipped in. ‘I didn’t know that’s how you met Chris, by the way. I mean, I knew the tall, dark stranger bowled you over the second you set eyes on him, but I didn’t realise you’d soaked his crotch in cheap white wine!’

  ‘Oi, what makes you think it was cheap?’ Jessica asked, raising her eyebrows and laughing. ‘The worst bit was that I grabbed a towel on the bar next to us and tried repeatedly to mop it up myself…’

  As Jessica put her head in her hands at the memory, Mel, Deena, and Henny laughed loudly.

  ‘But thanks girls, I really appreciate your support on the blogging thing,’ Jess continued, trying to compose herself. ‘It’ll probably end up being just you lot and my family reading it, but that’s OK. I’ll keep going anyway.’

  ‘Well, no,’ Henny said. ‘I clicked onto the social media page before I left home and you’ve got loads of followers already.’

  Jessica felt herself blushing. ‘Thanks, Hen, but I had a look earlier and it’s only my friends and family. Everyone is just being supportive as it’s early days, but that’s fine…’

  ‘My neighbour Cathy has followed it. You don’t know her, do you?’ Deena cut in.

  ‘No,’ Jessica replied quickly, looking up. ‘Well I haven’t looked since first thing this morning, but I had 81 followers and I’m sure…’

  ‘81?’ Henny interrupted, laughing. ‘No way, babe! It was over 200 when I left the house.’

  Jessica could feel her jaw drop. ‘No,’ she eventually managed to mutter. ‘Your phone must be doing funny things. Hang on, I’ll check…’

  She stood up to make her way to her bag to find her phone but was stopped in her tracks by a voice at the back of the hall. ‘RIGHT LADIES AND BABIES! SHALL WE START? WHO’S READY TO HAVE SOME FUN?’ And with that, she turned back, scooped Bella up from beside the playhouse, and sat back down with her friends.

  *

  The class passed slowly for Jessica that morning – though her body was present, dancing around to tribal music and drumming as per the day’s theme, her mind was somewhere else entirely. How was it possible that she could have so many followers already?

  When the class finally came to an end and Bella was safely strapped in her buggy and happily munching away on her box of raisins, Jessica grabbed her phone and clicked her way quickly onto her page stats to have a look.

  266 followers.

  ‘Holy shit!’ she said out loud, searching for the girls in the crowd of mummies, toddlers, and buggies leaving the hall.

  Henny appeared out of the crowd, with Tallulah struggling under her arm. ‘You OK?’ she asked, looking concerned.

  ‘Yep sorry,’ Jess replied, bending down to pick up a couple of stray raisins on the floor. ‘It’s my social media page,’ she said, gesturing to her phone. ‘I mean, who are these people? And why do they want to read my blog?’

  Just like every Tuesday morning, the four friends strolled over to Mel’s house after class to chat, drink coffee, and let the toddlers play. It was only a five-minute walk from the church hall, and they made their way two abreast on the pavement, with Jessica, H
enny and Mel pushing buggies and Deena carrying Finley in a carrier on her back.

  Deena was the youngest of the group at twenty-seven years old. Originally from Sri Lanka, she had arrived in London as a teen and now lived with her partner Ian and their son Finley on the outskirts of Greenwich, managing an Italian restaurant in the evenings. Today she was wearing her dark fringe pinned back, a floaty maxi dress in swirls of purple, and a black leather jacket.

  Then there was Henny; thirty-five years old, blonde, bubbly, originally from Cardiff. By chance, she lived on the road behind Jessica with her children, Thomas and Tallulah, and her husband Dan. A stay-at-home mum, Henny lived in leggings, long tops, and cardigans – all styled with flip-flops and a braid in her hair.

  Mel was the eldest of the group, in her early forties with shoulder-length dark hair. Naturally slim, she was wearing a grey jersey T-shirt, skinny jeans, neon pink lipstick, and metallic sandals showing off her perfectly pedicured toes. A lawyer by trade, she’d lived in this part of London her entire life, but had only called her beautiful, three-storey house ‘home’ since she’d married Steven a few years beforehand.

  And the house really was beautiful. As they pushed their buggies through the front gate and towards the front door, Jessica looked up and admired the white climbing roses across the façade. At three stories high, the house was big too – especially when it was usually just Mel and Lara filling it, given the long hours Steven worked in the city.

  ‘Everyone for coffee?’ Mel asked, as she released Lara from her buggy in the hallway and watched her toddle into the lounge.

  ‘Is the Pope Catholic?’ Deena replied, unclipping Finley from her back.

  ‘On it,’ Mel laughed, as she strolled into the kitchen

  One by one, the girls followed. As Mel started scooping, pouring, and plunging to make coffee in a large rose-gold cafetière, the four friends chatted away. There was a large bright breakfast room to their right, complete with a giant wooden table and eight modern white chairs around it. Behind it, a huge mirror with a gold frame covered the entire wall. To their left was the open-plan kitchen, decorated in muted hues of pale wood and turquoise blue, right down to the blue leather radio that was quietly playing Capital FM. A large window ran the length of both rooms, looking straight out at the garden, which looked deliberately and beautifully wild.

  ‘So let’s get this straight,’ Deena said, as Mel handed her a mug of coffee. ‘There are four of us here and we don’t have a single baby wipe between us?’

  ‘I made sure I had a pack in my bag,’ Jessica explained. ‘I thought there was a few left, but it turns out that it’s empty.’

  ‘I have a supermarket delivery coming this afternoon. I’m waiting for that!’ Mel replied.

  ‘But what if Lara shits between now and then?’ Deena asked, raising her eyebrows.

  ‘Well, I guess I’m buggered, aren’t I…’ Mel replied dryly. ‘Henny, you having sugar in your coffee today or not?’

  ‘No thanks, babe. I’m on a diet again. I know it’s boring,’ Henny said. ‘I always forget wipes. I just assume you girls will have them with you.’

  ‘Well, I did remember,’ Deena said. ‘But I lent them to one of the ladies at class this morning and she never gave them back…’

  ‘What a bitch!’ Mel replied in a mock horrified tone, prompting laughter from the other three.

  ‘Right, what can we do?’ Henny asked. ‘Is it definitely not a flusher?’

  ‘Ew Hen, that’s vile,’ Deena replied. ‘And after a quick peek, the answer is very definitely no.’

  ‘Cleaning wipes?’ Mel asked, pointing to a pack of kitchen wipes by the sink. ‘Just spare me a couple as I need to give the surfaces a good bleach later…’

  ‘Great suggestion,’ Deena said, rolling her eyes.

  ‘You got any kitchen roll, Mel?’ Jessica asked.

  ‘Of course,’ she replied, reaching for the roll behind her.

  ‘Right, I’ll try and create something close to wipes, Deena. You go and get Finley ready.’

  And that’s pretty much how these mornings went. Chat about poo, and projectile vomit, and sleepless nights, and Googling strange rashes and symptoms (nearly always coming to the conclusion that it was ‘a growth spurt’ or ‘teething’), interspersed with strong coffee, moans about husbands and partners getting home late from work, and reminiscing about the old days before they had kids. And while they chatted, the babies toddled around, dropped trails of raisins, and had the odd fight over who was the rightful owner of the prized orange building block which, for some reason, was so much better than the identical one in red.

  Today, however, Jessica’s blog was a point of conversation, too. And once Finley was cleaned up, the girls gathered back in the kitchen.

  ‘Your page has nearly 300 followers, babe!’ Henny said, pointing to her phone.

  ‘Really?’ Jessica asked, sitting back down at the breakfast bar. She shook her head and stared out to the garden for a moment, deep in thought. ‘This is crazy. What’s going on?’

  ‘Do you think somebody shared it?’ Mel replied.

  ‘They must’ve done… I’ll investigate when I get home and see if I can work it out. I’m still learning with the social media stuff, but hopefully I can find out who it was.’

  ‘300 followers is pretty impressive girl,’ Deena added. ‘My mate Finty has been blogging about food and wine for years and I still don’t think she has that many people following her.’

  ‘Really?’ Jessica replied. ‘I don’t know… I didn’t expect anyone to read it…’

  ‘I’ll be honest,’ Mel said ‘I don’t really know much about blogging. How many followers do the biggest bloggers get?’

  ‘Some of them have hundreds of thousands,’ Jessica said. ‘I imagine they make a fair bit of money, too.’

  ‘But how does that work?’ Mel asked. ‘I mean, who pays them?’

  ‘They team up with companies and advertise their products,’ Jessica replied. ‘It might be nappies one minute, bubble bath the next, then a hotel that’s really good for families. It changes all the time. Sometimes they do a whole blog post and sometimes they just post a picture on their social media. I’m sure it’s way more complicated than that, but all the bloggers I follow seem to be doing adverts now…’

  ‘Is that what you want to do, babe?’ Henny asked, lifting Tallulah onto her lap.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know… I guess it’d be nice to earn a bit of money eventually, but I just want to share my letters to Bella for now,’ Jessica replied, leaning over to pick a raisin out of Tallulah’s white-blonde hair.

  ‘I bet it doesn’t take long,’ Deena said. ‘I mean, if it carries on at this rate… When will we be able to read the next letter?’

  ‘I’m hoping to start typing it up when Bella sleeps at lunchtime. If she bloody sleeps, that is…’

  ‘On that note,’ Henny said, ‘I’m going to get this one home, as she’s yawning. Do you want to walk together, Jess?’

  ‘I probably will, actually,’ Jessica replied. ‘I don’t want Bella to fall asleep in the buggy or I’ll miss out on naptime altogether. When are we next seeing each other, girls?’

  ‘Greenwich Park tomorrow?’ Mel suggested. ‘Henny and I were just starting to make a plan…’

  ‘Oh crap, I can’t,’ Jessica cut in. ‘I’m seeing my sister.’

  ‘How is she?’ Henny asked.

  ‘Well, she’s leaving the house again, which is a big step.’

  ‘It’s great she’s heading out,’ Henny said. ‘I mean, wow, I can’t even imagine…’

  ‘Poor, Fran. Jesus. She’s had a shit time,’ Mel said, shaking her head. ‘Don’t worry, we can do another day. Does Friday work for everyone?’

  One by one, the girls nodded.

  ‘It’s a date,’ Jessica said, as both she and Henny kissed their friends on the cheek and grabbed their bags.

  ‘Yep, see you then,’ Mel replied.

  ‘Bye girls, see you Friday!’
Deena called after them as they started pushing the girls down the road. ‘And for fuck’s sake, can everybody try and remember baby wipes?’

  3

  Followers – 382

  Dear Bella,

  I wasn’t ready for you.

  I was thirty-five weeks and five days pregnant when I walked away from my desk for the last time, clutching a hamper of pink baby clothes and a giant bunch of roses. I glanced back at that seat, that computer, and that window one last time – and then walked away. Your daddy met me right outside the office door, taking the hamper from my arms and planting a giant kiss on my lips. He didn’t need to say anything; he just needed to be with me, as I walked away from the only adult life I really knew. The team had wanted to take me out that evening in the village for a bite to eat (‘The Last Supper’, it had been coined for comedic value) but I wasn’t feeling well enough to do it. I was exhausted, my back was hurting, and I felt far more emotional about leaving than I had expected. So, we called it off and a rushed celebration in the office was organised instead, complete with so many bad jokes that I actually did wee myself a couple of times. And, after gathering up my things, walking out of that office, and climbing into a taxi, I sobbed into your daddy’s chest as we wound our way towards home.

  I spent that night lying lazily on the sofa, but I couldn’t shrug the back pain. At about 10 p.m., I stood up awkwardly and tried to breathe heavily through a fresh wave of pain. And it was then that we both realised that something wasn’t right. ‘Jess, you’re in labour!’ Daddy suddenly blurted out – and I didn’t have the energy to reply, let alone disagree.

  The rest passed in a blur. We still didn’t have a car (that was on the ‘to-do’ list for the next few weeks), so my parents rushed to pick us up in the Volvo – a twenty-minute journey, which apparently takes half that when the driver is being shouted at hysterically by his terrified wife. Minutes after that car screeched to a halt, at the hospital, I remember being whizzed through the corridors, faces coming into view and then out again. I remember panic in the room as they realised how quickly it was all happening. I remember pain like I’ve never felt before, softened occasionally with a desperate gasp of gas. I remember pushing. I remember burning. I remember your daddy beaming at me proudly with tears welling in his eyes as he watched things happen down the business end – quickly followed a big gush of water and an angry cry. I remember being handed a warm, slippery baby and pulling her tightly to my chest. And I remember gazing down at your wrinkled face and puckered lips as you slept there so peacefully – and wondering if it had all been a dream.