From Mum With Love

by Louise Emma Clarke

  ‘You think?’ she replied, staring down at the two furry raisins now in the palm of her hand.

  ‘Yes, just forget it,’ he replied. ‘Did you really look at her photos?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ Jessica stuttered. ‘But only because I was trying to work out whether I knew the bitch!’

  Chris laughed. ‘And I take it she’s a stranger?’

  ‘Yes!’ Jessica said loudly. ‘Are you sure I shouldn’t just delete it?’

  ‘I don’t think you should bother. Listen, you have over 600 likes on that post now!’ he said, prompting Jess to swallow with shock. ‘So just ignore it, OK? Focus on the hundreds of positive comments. It’s going viral, honey! It’s amazing! I’ve got to get back to my desk, but stop worrying. It doesn’t matter. Felicity Macdonald is obviously just having a bad day.’

  ‘And she’s not the only one,’ Jessica said, turning her eyes to Bella, who had managed to find the pack of oatmeal cookies she had stashed under the buggy to take to Henny’s house and was doing her best to break into the packaging. ‘OK, see you later. And babe?’

  ‘Yes?’ Chris asked.

  ‘Thank you,’ Jessica replied. ‘Can’t wait to see you later.’

  As she hung up, she already felt stronger and calmer. Chris always had the answer, and even though she doubted she’d be able to scratch Felicity’s words from her mind for a while, she was going to try her best not to dwell on them.

  She hung up and made her way straight to Bella, confiscating the cookies and putting them out of reach on the kitchen surface. Time was ticking and Henny would message any second. While she waited, she reloaded the social media page, clicking and swiping on her phone until the page re-loaded and the stats lit up.

  634 likes, and she’d only posted the link thirty-two minutes ago.

  634 likes in half an hour.

  She’d made a mistake biting back, but Chris was right. In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter. There were so many wonderful, supportive comments, but she’d zoned in on the one negative.

  Still, the last half an hour had taught her one thing; she needed to talk to someone who understood. Someone who could give her some advice on how to deal with things like this. And as Bella arrived at her feet with another box of unopened raisins in her hand (a fly on the wall would assume she never fed the child), she made a promise to send an email to blogging veteran Tiggy Blenheim that weekend.

  ‘It’s not what you know, it’s who you know,’ she said under her breath, just as a message from Henny pinged on her phone to say they were ready.

  Jessica lifted Bella into her buggy and secured the straps in place with a loud snap, and as she pushed her out of the front door and onto the path, Felicity Macdonald, her plum lipstick, and their war of words were already fading from her mind.

  5

  Followers – 1,022

  Dear Bella,

  Daddy’s first day back at work was just a week after you were born - and I was still a tired, sore, emotional mess. It was a Monday morning and I watched him get ready from our bed, propped up against a mountain of pillows as you fed from me hungrily. We still hadn’t got to grips with breastfeeding and I kept having to re-latch you to my boob, gasping with shock at the power of your suck, which felt like you had a hundred little blades planted in your gums to slice into my nipple. Once you got into a rhythm, you sounded like a hungry piglet. As I listened to those grunts and sighs, I watched him button up his shirt, pull on his suit trousers, tie his shoelaces, and fix his tie. I knew he’d be gone in a matter of minutes, and I hadn’t worked out how I was even going to have a shower that morning, let alone get through the rest of the day.

  When he was dressed and ready, he walked over to the bed and kissed me on the lips. And then he bent down and kissed your head gently, pausing for a moment to breathe in your newborn smell.

  And with that, he was gone.

  I waited until I heard the door shut behind him downstairs before I allowed myself to dissolve into tears. You had fallen asleep feeding, eventually detaching from my boob and leaning back heavily into my arms with your mouth open and a drop of milk dribbling down your cheek. You looked so peaceful and I stared down at you as I cried. It was just a few tears at first but then I couldn’t stop. It was like the floodgates had opened and within seconds, I was howling. Big tears plopped onto your head as you lay there in my arms, rocking you unintentionally as each sob gripped me. A week of emotions was pouring out of me, and I didn’t think I’d ever be able to stop.

  But eventually, I did. The tears stopped and my sobs eased off. You had stirred, but not woken. I lifted you carefully into your bedside cot, I moved the stash of pillows one by one, before burrowing under the covers and falling quickly into a deep sleep.

  I was woken by the doorbell ringing. Once, twice, then again. I glanced over at you quickly in panic, as I always did when I woke in those early days - but your little chest was rising and falling gently as you slept. Satisfied that you were OK, I rolled onto my side and heaved myself out of the bed (my preferred way to get up, given that the stitches still hurt like a bitch), grabbed my dressing gown, and pulled it over myself as I walked down the stairs. ‘I’m coming, I’m coming,’ I muttered as the doorbell rang out again. Reaching the door, I braced myself for a moment to speak to a stranger. I didn’t know if it was the postman, a flower delivery person, or somebody selling double-glazed windows. I just wanted them to go away.

  Taking a deep breath, I swung open the door, and standing there on the doorstep were Granny and Grandad. I fell so quickly into Granny’s arms that she nearly stumbled off the doorstep. ‘Hi Mum,’ I muttered as she held me tightly and I breathed in the familiar scent of Cacharel Anais Anais on her cardigan. ‘Hi Dad,’ I added, as I pulled away and hugged Granddad. For a moment, I felt like a child again – and I knew that I didn’t have to worry.

  I stood back to let them both into the house, and as they stepped inside, Mum asked, ‘Has he gone darling?’

  My voice caught with emotion as I replied, ‘Yep.’

  ‘Well, we’re here now!’ she replied. ‘Is she asleep? Yes? OK well, we have breakfast. Come on, let’s go inside. We come armed with pastries! Do you want a plain croissant or a chocolate croissant? What do you want, Frank? Any coffee on, love? No? I’ll make it now. Let me drink a cup and then I’m going straight upstairs to wake that little girl up!’

  And that pretty much became the routine, Bella. In those early days on our own. Daddy would leave and an hour or so later, Granny and Granddad would storm through the door with provisions. Auntie Fran popped in a few mornings a week too, when Michael had left for work and Freddie had been dropped at school, usually bringing a stack of Freddie’s old babygrows and little cardigans she’d found in the loft.

  Oh Bella, I had worried about being on our own in those early days so much, but the truth is that we were never going to be alone with a family like ours. And as I stood there in the kitchen that first morning, with my parents ensuring that life ticked on without Daddy by our side, one hand gripping a chocolate croissant, and the other a cup of coffee, I couldn’t have been more thankful about that.

  Love from Mummy x

  *

  It was 6.05 a.m. on Saturday and Jessica woke to the sound of someone moving around the bedroom. Suddenly he was standing over her, whispering, ‘I’m off for a run. See you in a bit.’

  ‘Don’t run a marathon,’ she mumbled, kissing Chris on the lips. ‘And please, please, please don’t slam the front door! I will not be happy if you wake up Bella and then disappear for an hour!’

  ‘OK honey’, he replied quietly, as he turned to walk out the bedroom. ‘I hope she sleeps in for you!’

  Jessica held her breath as he closed the front door and when the hum of the baby monitor continued uninterrupted, she exhaled with relief. She stretched out, enjoying the coolness of the new patch of duvet on her skin.

  She’d always loved weekends, but they’d taken on a whole new meaning now she was at ho
me with Bella every day. Everything seemed brighter and happier with Chris by her side. She felt far more confident as a mother when she had back-up, and occasionally she even got to have a hot shower in peace or the chance to get to the bottom of a hot cup of coffee.

  They didn’t have any plans today, which was just the way she liked it. They could go for a stroll to the park, head to their favourite cafés, take turns to cook up some feasts in the kitchen, and hope the weather stayed nice for Bella to toddle around the garden. She might even get to type up her next letter.

  With Bella still sleeping peacefully, she rolled over and picked up her phone from her bedside table, clicking straight onto social media to check her stats. When she went to bed last night, she had just over 950 followers on her page – but the number staring back at her now was 1,022.

  She blinked a few times to check it was real. She knew that posts going viral could do amazing things for bloggers, but she had never expected it would happen to her. But as delighted as she was about it all, she felt woefully unprepared.

  Jessica had started reading parenting blogs in the early days of her pregnancy, and a few of her favourite bloggers had gigantic followings. She’d seen pictures of those ladies appearing at events, speaking at conferences, and being interviewed on television. They’d been offered book deals, worked with big brands on national advertising campaigns, and been given regular columns in magazines. They were celebrities in their own right and if she’d walked past one of them on the street, she would be just as starstruck as if she’d spotted a Hollywood star.

  For a moment, Jessica let her mind wander.

  What if her followers kept rising? What if she had so many readers that people started recognizing her on the street? What if she was asked to attend an event and hundreds of people bought tickets just to see her? How would it feel to become a household name?

  And did she even want that to happen?

  She wanted to be successful, of course. She’d love to be known for writing, for connecting with other mums, and for the way she evoked memories and feelings through her words. She’d love these letters from her notebook to be read by thousands and thousands of people. For the first time since starting her blog, she was feeling sparks of ambition.

  Inspired, she started scrolling on social media, and one of the first posts that popped up on her phone was by a mummy blogger she followed who lived in Central London. Jessica spent a while studying her photographs and reading her words, quickly coming across a photo of her standing with a number of other bloggers at an event. Amongst them was Tiggy Blenheim.

  ‘Ah, Tiggy.’ Jessica said under her breath, pausing for a moment to try and reconcile the down-to-earth Tiggy she remembered from her childhood with the glamorous blogger on the screen.

  One click later and she was staring at the feed for ‘Tiggy Does Motherhood’. Fran was right; she really did have a lot of children. It was hard to work out exactly how many at first glance, with a gaggle of white-blonde children in beautiful clothes starring in nearly every photo. With some more scrolling, she counted five – from a toddler girl on her hip, to a boy she guessed was around ten years old. Tiggy herself was just as blonde as her children, with the whitest teeth, a supermodel-esque body, and a dark tan that Jessica fully believed came from a sun lounger and not a bottle. Her husband featured in photos occasionally too. He was tall, with a rugby player physique and strawberry blonde hair and stubble.

  Tiggy’s family now lived in the countryside and the photography that accompanied her words was beautiful. There were shots of the family posed against a charming stone farmhouse, of the kids marching through fields in different coloured wellington boots, and impressive picnics spread out on gingham rugs. She’d certainly come a long way from her childhood in a terraced house in South East London. Her life looked picture-perfect and it wasn’t surprising that her blog, her photos, and her words had quickly elevated her to being one of the top bloggers in the UK.

  Her social stats were definitely impressive. In fact, seeing that she had over 100,000 followers was a bit of a wake-up call for Jessica and she cringed at her own delight at reaching 1,000 just a few minutes before.

  Among Tiggy’s photos of her children and her home, there were a few adverts scattered into her feed. In one photo, her children sat around a pile of muddy clothes, with a box of washing powder next to them. In another, Tiggy sat at her computer, with a small bottle of smoothie in her hands. Each of these photos was labelled #Ad, but it didn’t stop her fans enjoying the pictures. She had over 1,000 likes on each, with dozens of comments stacked up underneath. Jessica scrolled through her feed and studied the photos, imagining for a moment that she might have the chance to do something similar one day.

  If she wanted to.

  She just wasn’t sure.

  Noticing it was now 6.30 a.m., she decided to get up. Chris was usually gone for about an hour when he ran at the weekend, and it would be nice to have a pot of coffee brewing before Bella woke up. Climbing out of bed, she pulled the curtains open and stood for a moment in the ray of sunshine now streaming into the bedroom. She wore a T-shirt and knickers in bed, so grabbed a pair of pyjama bottoms from the back of the chair and pulled them on. Catching sight of herself in the full-length mirror, she stopped to stare back at her reflection for a moment. She hadn’t made any conscious effort to lose weight (trying to fit the gym or regular classes into her weekly routine without any childcare was nearly impossible) but she had noticed the baby weight slowly starting to fall away. Whether it was because she’d been trying to eat a little more healthily (and she had been trying, although she wasn’t always successful) or because she was walking a lot with the buggy now the weather was milder, she didn’t know – but for the first time in a long time, she felt a bit more confident about the vision staring back at her.

  Her hair, however, desperately needed some attention. Naturally a mousy brown, she liked to add a few blonde highlights to wake up her skin tone, but without time to get to the hairdresser, it had grown back to her natural colour and she looked washed out and tired. She made a mental note to ask her parents whether they could have Bella for a few hours the following week, so she could sort it out.

  I bet Tiggy Blenheim has time to get her hair sorted, she thought, as she turned and walked out of the room.

  Reaching the door to Bella’s nursery, she paused.

  Should I just check her quickly? her mind whirred. No, you’ll wake her up! You know you will!

  But what if something is wrong? What if she isn’t breathing? her mind taunted.

  She’d just sneak inside and have a quick look.

  She placed the monitor carefully on the floor and opened the door as slowly and quietly as she could, peeping her head through the crack. Bella was curled in a ball, sleeping on her front. Jessica paused to listen to the sound of breathing, but she wasn’t close enough to hear.

  She’d just make her way a few steps further in. She dodged the squeaky floorboards in her path. She hadn’t made a noise at all and was feeling quite proud of herself when suddenly, Bella moved her arm and let out a soft groan.

  She darted back out the room in panic, pulling the door quickly behind her. Reaching the landing, she stood still and listened behind the door, but she could only hear the sound of her own heart thumping loudly.

  Please don’t wake up yet, Bella Boo. Just ten more minutes.

  Satisfied that she was asleep again, she started to climb down the stairs. Slowly and carefully, so the sound of her footsteps didn’t wake her. She had visions of a relaxed coffee downstairs with the sunshine streaming into the lounge and the radio playing quietly in the background. She could see the kitchen now and felt jubilant that she’d made it, gripping the baby monitor in her hand as she stepped towards it.

  ‘MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA!’ it suddenly rang out, stopping her in her tracks.

  She was awake – and it was all her fault. She sighed loudly and turned back up the stairs.

  ‘Coming Bella’
, she shouted, as the protests grew noisily. And then louder: ‘Mummy’s coming! Hang on!’

  A few minutes later and they were back downstairs, Bella toddling around in her sleepsuit, while Jessica made her way into the kitchen to fill the kettle. Once she’d put it on to boil, she strolled back into the lounge and pulled open the curtains to the garden. It was a lovely day and the grass was dry, so she decided to open the doors and let Bella have a play on the lawn as she pottered around downstairs.

  With newfound freedom, Bella stepped outside and quickly made her way to the toys lying in a pile halfway up the garden. Listening for the bubbles of boiling water from the kitchen, Jessica paused for a moment, watching her daughter. She didn’t look like a baby any more, 16 months old now and walking confidently. As she played, she babbled to herself, with the odd intelligible word now making its way into her speech.

  Bella had dark hair and big, green eyes, just like Chris, but she had inherited her mother’s light skin tone. Her hair was growing quickly now, not long enough to pull into a ponytail or pigtails yet, but it wouldn’t be long. She had sweet chubby cheeks and one dimple in the right side. She had always been small for a baby, right on the twenty-fifth percentile line, and that hadn’t been surprising, given she was early. Recently though, she’d shot up and they wondered whether she was going to be tall, just like her daddy.

  Jessica knew she was biased, but she thought Bella was beautiful. As she stood in the doorway watching her daughter pick up her small plastic spade and march around the garden clutching it delightedly, she felt her heart swell with pride.

  But the spell was suddenly broken by a pat on her shoulder.

  ‘Hi honey’, Chris said, red in the face and dripping in sweat. She smiled as she turned to him, kissing him quickly on the lips.

  Within seconds, Bella had spotted him. ‘DADADADADADA’ she squealed with delight, toddling towards them.

  At the sight of his daughter, Chris’ face broke into a smile. ‘Hi, baby girl!’ he said happily, as he scooped her into his arms and lifted her into the air. Bella laughed as she flew, cupping her hands around her daddy’s face as he pulled her back to his chest.