‘For sure,’ added Deena, watching Mel pour generous measures of gin into the bottom of each glass.
‘Let’s just forget it,’ Jessica said quickly. ‘It’s really not the end of the world that she doesn’t want to go for a bloody coffee with me!’
‘We’ll always be here for coffee, anyway,’ Henny said, squeezing her arm and smiling.
‘Or a massive gin,’ Mel added, bending down to check each glass had the same measure – until she was interrupted by the sound of screaming.
‘Oh shit, that’s Lara,’ Mel said, quickly dashing out the wide kitchen doors and into the garden. But Henny’s husband Dan had got there first and was consoling Lara, as Tallulah marched away from the scene with a doll in a buggy.
‘She OK?’ Mel called from the doorway.
‘Fine,’ Dan called back. ‘Tallulah’s just not very keen on sharing!’
‘Where’s Steven?’ Mel asked, searching the garden for her husband.
‘Just getting the charcoal to light the barbecue,’ Dan replied.
‘Ah. Well just shout if you need me’, she called back, as she turned back to the kitchen.
‘Do you think she’ll be at that baby food launch thing you’re going to?’ Henny asked, as Mel started topping up each glass with tonic water.
‘Oh, bloody hell, I forgot about that. When is the big launch?’ asked Mel.
‘Next Thursday,’ Jessica replied. ‘But I’m sure she won’t be there.’
Mel finished the drinks by scooping a couple of ice cubes into each glass and then handed one to each of the girls. They each took a sip, pausing for a second to enjoy the bubbles on their lips.
‘Oh, that’s good!’ Deena said, smacking her lips.
‘Shall we hand the others to the men? Or shall we just hang out in the kitchen and drink the lot?’ Henny asked, followed by her characteristic giggle.
‘Plenty more where that came from,’ Mel said, picking up two glasses. ‘I ask Steven to buy a bottle of something whenever he passes through duty-free – and believe me girls, we’re building up quite a stock… Now grab an extra glass each and let’s head outside. I need to make sure he’s lit the bloody barbecue or we’ll still be on G&Ts at sunset.’
Each of the girls picked up an extra glass and followed Mel through the doors to the garden, enjoying the feeling of the mid-July sunshine on their skin. As the toddlers played on the lawn, taking it in turns to drive a big plastic car, push the doll buggy, and jump into a big paddling pool turned into a ball pit (or trying their best to take turns, at least), Henny’s husband, Dan and Deena’s partner, Ian stood alongside them kicking a ball with five-year-old Thomas. Steven and Chris were down on the patio working on lighting the barbecue. After checking that Bella was behaving herself, Jessica strolled towards them.
‘Thanks, honey,’ Chris said, taking his glass.
‘So how’s work going?’ Steven asked, as he struck a long match.
‘Oh, the usual,’ Chris replied, turning back to Steven. ‘You know, generally trying to deal with a company that thinks there are forty-eight hours in the day and attempting to escape my desk at a decent time every evening before the wife divorces me!’
‘Well, silly me for thinking it was because you actually wanted to see us,’ Jessica laughed, rolling her eyes. ‘I’ll leave you two to it.’
Heading back to sit with her friends at the table and watch the children, she spent a happy hour or so in the sunshine. As the scent of barbecuing meat started to fill the air and glasses were topped up, they took it in turns to leap up to diffuse toy tugs-of-war or pick toppled toddlers from the floor and send them on their way again.
After some team work in the kitchen pre-lunch, preparing a colourful spread of salads, buttering bread rolls, and grabbing bottles of sauce from the fridge, they were soon sitting together at the big wooden table in the garden, working their way through plates of food and batting wasps away as they chatted. Toddlers sat on laps and the sunshine was still (quite remarkably for London) shining brightly.
‘So, Jessica, Hen tells me you’ve started a blog,’ Dan boomed over the table in his strong Welsh accent. ‘What’s it about?’
Jessica felt her cheeks blush as she cut into her lamb chop. ‘Oh, it’s a series of letters I’ve been writing to Bella since she was tiny. It’s just about being a mum really…’ She glanced at Bella sat on Chris’ lap and added, ‘I guess it’s about Bella. And me. But mainly Bella.’
‘Ah, that’s great,’ Dan replied, smiling at her. ‘Well done you!’
‘I wouldn’t want Mel to write about Lara on the internet,’ Steven suddenly called from further down the table, without looking up from his plate. ‘I just don’t think it’s right.’
Mel shifted in her seat uncomfortably, as Jessica opened her mouth to speak – but Chris cut in first. ‘Really mate? She’s very much part of Jessica’s story, so it would be quite strange to leave Bella out.’
‘I just don’t think it’s right,’ Steven repeated, as he put a bit of sausage in his mouth and chewed. ‘I don’t really see the point of those mummy blogs at all, to be honest. Our parents got by without them, didn’t they? They didn’t need someone to tell them how to put a nappy on a bloody baby!’ Steven laughed, while Jessica tried to cover her embarrassment by laughing along too.
‘Each to their own mate,’ Chris replied, taking a sip of his beer. ‘I respect your opinion, but it’s not how I look at it. I think it’s important that there’s help out there for mums. It’s not something I could do every day. Hardest job in the world!’ Under the table, Chris squeezed Jessica’s leg in solidarity.
‘You don’t put pictures on the internet of her, do you Jessica?’ Steven boomed down the table, choosing to ignore Chris.
‘Well,’ Jessica stuttered, pushing her potato salad around her plate with her fork. ‘Just the odd one…’
‘I don’t think it would work if she didn’t include Bella,’ Mel said, sticking up for her friend. ‘I mean, you’ve got to invite people into your world for them to trust you and want to follow you. Every job demands you make big choices and take risks, and I don’t think blogging is any different.’
Jessica smiled at her friend and nodded. ‘Yeah that’s kind of what—’
‘What the fuck do you know about mummy blogging?’ Steven cut her off loudly, howling with laughter. Without even looking up from his plate, he added: ‘Anyway, shall we top up the ladies, darling? They’re getting a bit low? The chilled Sauvignon? Do you mind? Let’s keep them topped up! Thanks, darling.’
Henny, Deena and Jessica turned in shock, whilst their confident, spunky friend visibly flinched, pushed her chair back, and stood up, placing Lara down in her seat to continue eating as she made her way to the kitchen to get the next bottle of wine that was chilling in the fridge.
For a moment, the adults all ate in silence, while the toddlers babbled and threw food on the floor as a welcome distraction.
‘Hey, Dan, you joining any fantasy football leagues next season?’ Chris finally asked breaking the tension. ‘You’re welcome to join in with mine at work?’
And as they chatted about players, and goals and league tables, Deena, Henny and Jessica’s eyes met across the table.
The sun eventually began to cool and drop lower in the sky, and the families all started to say goodbye and walk towards their respective homes. Jessica and Henny walked back to their neighbourhood together, falling back as the men walked ahead with the children.
‘Have you ever seen him talk to her like that before?’ Jessica asked quietly.
‘No,’ Henny replied. ‘I’ve never seen anyone talk to Mel like that before. She’s a lawyer! She can hold her own!’
‘I find him pretty intimidating at the best of times, but I kind of wish one of us had stood for her,’ Jessica added, chewing her lip.
‘Ah no, babe. We couldn’t have done anything about that. It just isn’t our place. He was equally spiteful to you, anyway.’ And for a while neither of them
said anything, feeling the chill of the evening as the sun dipped towards the horizon.
‘It would be nice to have a proper catch-up soon, without the kids around. You wouldn’t be able to pop over tomorrow evening, would you?’ Henny asked, her voice upbeat.
‘I should be able to,’ Jessica replied. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘Well, Dan is out at a work thing. We could open a bottle and have a proper chat without the small people around? I’ll ask Mel and Deena too?’
‘God yes!’ Jessica said. ‘I’d love that.’
‘Fab, see you tomorrow then, babe,’ Henny said, pulling Jessica into a hug as they reached the end of her road.
‘See you, Hen,’ Jessica replied, kissing her on the cheek and turning to Dan and Tallulah to say goodbye.
As they walked the last few steps towards home, Jessica linked arms with Chris and peered over the top of the buggy to check Bella was still awake. Right on cue, she yawned widely.
Once they’d reached home and shut the world out for the evening, Jessica spent a moment unpacking her bag, and within seconds, her phone beeped in her hand.
Fran: Call me please, sister. Mega important.
Messages from Fran always worried her, so she clicked on her number within seconds and pulled the phone to her ear.
‘Hey,’ Fran said breathlessly, as she picked up the phone.
‘You OK?’ Jessica asked.
‘Yes, sorry, I ran for the phone,’ Fran replied.
‘No, I mean the message? Why did you want me to call you?’ Jessica asked.
‘Well. You aren’t going to bloody believe this, Jessy. Are you ready?’ Fran said.
‘YES!’ Jessica said impatiently, laughing with frustration. ‘SPIT. IT. OUT.’
‘OK, OK. Guess who’s been nominated for one of the UK’s biggest blogging awards?’
‘I don’t know,’ Jessica said, bristling at the mention of blogging. ‘Probably bloody Tiggy? And before you ask, no, I haven’t replied to her message and I’m not going to either…’
‘Well, yes, Tiggy has been nominated,’ Fran cut in.
‘And why did you ring to tell me this?’ Jessica asked.
‘Because somebody else has been nominated too,’ Fran replied, enjoying teasing her sister.
The penny dropped.
‘… No way,’ she managed finally.
‘Yes way,’ Fran continued, clearing her throat as she prepared to read the news. She carried on in her best version of a cut-glass English accent: ‘The following blogs have been nominated in the “Best Parenting Blog of 2018” category of the “Blog Network Awards 2018” … Including – drumroll please – JESSICA HOLMES OF LETTERS TO MY DAUGHTER! We now invite votes in all the categories, before the four finalists for each award are revealed on Tuesday 7th August 2018 and invited to a glittering awards ceremony at Old Billingsgate on Saturday 1st September 2018. Congratulations to all the nominees – and good luck!’
‘Oh my God. Are you sure? It doesn’t make any sense,’ Jessica said, as she let the news sink in.
‘Absolutely sure. It’s written in front of me, clear as day,’ Fran replied.
‘And how the hell do you know this? What are you reading?’ Jessica asked.
‘Well, I followed Tiggy’s blog after we chatted about it in the park, and I saw her gloating about being nominated about half an hour ago, so I clicked on the link and discovered your name up there too,’ Fran explained.
‘I don’t know what to say,’ Jessica said, stuttering. ‘This is… this is insane.’
‘I know. It’s insane, but it’s deserved Jessy. And if you make it through to that swanky do – which obviously you will – I’ve already got my dress ready to be your Plus One,’ Fran said.
‘You’ll have to kill Chris first,’ Jessica replied, laughing.
‘I think I can bring him down,’ Fran shot back – and she was only half-joking.
8
Followers – 3,588
Emails in inbox – 289
Event invitations – 1
Paid collaborations – 1
Award nominations – 1
Dear Bella,
Back when I was pregnant with you, just about the stage where my bump started to pop and I felt a bit more confident that passers-by knew I was about to have a baby and not a big poo, I dragged your daddy to a free class about breastfeeding at the health clinic. ‘Do I really have to go?’ he’d asked me, as we got ready that morning. ‘It’s not me that is going to be breastfeeding the baby!’ I was well aware that visions of a lazy afternoon on the sofa were crossing his mind. ‘It says on the leaflet that both parents should attend if possible,’ I replied, feeling daunted about walking into a room full of strangers to talk about my nipples. ‘Please come. I don’t really want to do it on my own.’
I looked at him with big, pleading eyes and rubbed my swollen belly, and after a brisk five-minute walk from our house in what felt like sub-zero temperatures, we were both strolling through the doors of the clinic. It was a two-hour session that involved holding dolls in various positions and an expert at the front demonstrating compressions with a neon pink crocheted boob. It was surreal and I had to stifle giggles on more than one occasion, but when we walked out, I felt so well educated on all things lactation that I didn’t have a doubt we would make it work. I was all set to be an Earth Mother, going about my daily business with a baby attached to my boob.
But when you arrived Bella, I realised that real nipples were completely different from neon pink crocheted ones. And the baby? Well, let’s just say that you were harder to manipulate into all those positions than a plastic doll weighing less than a bag of sugar. I found the whole thing desperately and shockingly hard.
Why did nobody tell me that it would be so difficult? Why didn’t that woman standing at the front say: ‘Now listen, ladies! You are going to find this really fucking difficult – but keep going! It will get better! Remember these words when you are sat on your sofas with newborns in your arms! It WILL work eventually and I promise it will be worth it!’ Because that would have been a bit more help than harping on about the best ways to store breastmilk in the fridge or sharing her personal recommendation for nipple pads that wouldn’t chafe.
In those early days, I was so angry with that woman and her neon pink boob. In fact, in a couple of particularly fraught moments when you weren’t latching and I thought you were going to starve, I asked your daddy to track her down and kill her (and believe me Bella, I wasn’t entirely joking). It was frustrating, it was painful, and it was worrying. And to be honest Bella, I didn’t enjoy those early few weeks of breastfeeding at all.
But we kept going. And as the weeks ticked on and we got into more of a routine (along with a perfectly timed visit from our health visitor, where my boobs were squeezed way more times than felt appropriate), it suddenly seemed to get easier. We were finding a routine and getting used to feeding positions, and we were getting better as each day passed.
In fact, I was happily scrolling through social media on my phone during a feed when you were about three weeks old when it suddenly struck me like a lightning bolt. THE LATCH HADN’T HURT! In fact, I barely remembered placing you on my boob – it had just kind of happened. And with that moment of realisation, I put down my phone and stared at you feeding, chomping away like a little snorting piglet.
I wasn’t an Earth Mother, Bella. I never mastered the art of walking around feeding you, I didn’t pose for empowering photos with my boob out, and choosing what to wear that allowed easy access to my nipples every morning was always one of the hardest decisions of my day.
But it was finally working.
And I felt so bloody proud of myself for carrying on.
Love from Mummy x
*
Jessica re-read the email.
Dear Jessica,
Firstly, I’d like to personally congratulate you on the success of your blog since you launched it back in May. Here at the ‘Blog Network Awards’, we n
ominate one up-and-coming blog every year in each category. We understand it’s a hard industry to break into and want to recognise those bloggers that have managed it quickly and admirably. And on that note, we are delighted to inform you that a judging panel has chosen ‘Letters to my Daughter’ as the newcomer in the ‘Parenting Blogger’ category for 2018!
‘Letters to my Daughter’ has been listed alongside seven of the top Parenting Blogs in the UK and will now be open to votes until the shortlist is announced in early August. We wish you the very best luck with both the awards and the future of your blog. If you have any questions regarding the process, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I do hope to meet you personally on Saturday 1st September.
Kindest Regards,
Bob Thomas, Chief Executive of the Blog Network Awards
It was Monday evening - and a day had passed since Fran had delivered the news, since Jessica had logged onto her emails with hands shaking and heart racing and since she’d told Chris and stared at him with an open mouth, barely able to string a sentence together in shock. But as the email re-played in her mind, she still found it hard to believe it.
She’d been nominated for the biggest and best respected parenting blogger award in the country. The one everyone wanted to win. For a moment, she let herself imagine walking into that awards ceremony clinging to Chris’ arm. She let herself hear ‘Jessica Holmes of Letters to my Daughter’ being called out in a packed ballroom. It all seemed like a bit of a dream – and if she didn’t get enough votes to make it through to the shortlist, it would remain just that.
Hearing Chris’ key turning in the front door, she quickly snapped back to reality. And with a pass of the baby monitor into his palm, Jessica ran out the door as soon as he came through it.
‘Just in time,’ she whispered as she made her way out of the door, adding over her shoulder: ‘Don’t forget to check her, OK? I won’t be late.’
‘Wait, honey!’ he called back. ‘You forgot this!’
She stopped by their front gate and glanced back at him, noticing for the first time that there was a bottle of champagne in his hands. Jessica broke into a smile and walked back to take it from him.
From Mum With Love Page 9
