Fran had met Michael when Freddie was only two years old, shortly after his biological father had upped and left them. And while the whole family had been shocked at first when this giant man had arrived with Fran and Freddie to join them for a roast dinner (after all, her first husband had been partial to designer stubble, skinny jeans, and leather jackets), they all very quickly realised this was the man that they both needed. Older than Fran by fifteen years, complete with a divorce and two grown-up daughters, he wasn’t the person Jessica had expected to sweep her sister off her feet – but everybody could see that he was the right one.
Within months of their meeting, it was as if he’d always been part of the family. And that’s where everyone expected him to stay.
Lost in thought, Jessica jumped when the door knocked. ‘Are you two back already?’ she called, as she strolled through the hallway.
But when she pulled the door open, it wasn’t Chris and Bella standing on the doorstep.
‘Fran!’ Jessica said in shock, realising instantly that her sister had been crying. Her mascara was smudged under her eyes, while her skin was covered in telltale red blotches (neither of them had been able to hide when they were feeling emotional throughout their childhood and teenage years thanks to the affliction of those red blotches). ‘Oh Jesus, are you OK?’
Jessica expected her to fall into her arms and start crying, as had been so often the case over the past year, but it was different today.
‘I’m fine,’ Fran said, with a quick smile. ‘Are you going to invite me in?’
Jessica took a step backwards and ushered her sister towards the lounge. Fran stepped inside, dropping her bag onto the floor in the hallway with a thud and heading straight for the sofa.
Jessica sat down next to her. ‘I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I should never have assumed it was OK to share that letter…’
‘It’s perfect,’ Fran interrupted.
Jessica stopped.
‘It’s really perfect,’ Fran continued. ‘And that’s why I cried like an idiot, because it just sums everything up so perfectly.’
Jessica swallowed. ‘Are you sure? I really didn’t want to upset you. But I couldn’t have left it out…’
Fran grabbed her sister’s hand and squeezed it. ‘Thank you, Jessy. The thing that I’ve worried most about over the past year, more than anything else in the world, is the thought that he’ll be forgotten. That people will stop talking about him, because it’s all a bit awkward. And the thought that Bella will never remember him…’ She stopped, tears flooding her eyes. ‘I want her to know about him when she’s older.’
Jessica smiled, glancing quickly up at the ceiling to force her own tears back down. ‘So, I’ll publish it? Are you sure?’ she asked.
Fran nodded. ‘Totally sure. And you’d better have the sweetest photo of the two of them lined up to go with it!’
So, Jessica published it. And then the two of them sat together and admired the way it looked, with Michael smiling back at them from the laptop screen.
Jessica usually preferred to close her laptop as soon as she published a post and distract herself by playing with Bella or getting out of the house – but today, she sat with Fran on the sofa and, together, they watched as the traffic, likes, and comments rolled in.
And the blog post did well. Very well. Jessica had worried that it would be the first post that people struggled to empathise with, but she had clearly underestimated how many people had lived through the loss of somebody they loved. And as each comment appeared, Fran read it out loud to her sister:
Allegra Simpson: I’m typing this through tears. I got a phone call like that when I was twenty-five and the way you described the sense of dread was spot on. You’ve taken me straight back. Thoughts with your family.
Penny Turner: I’ve been reading your letters to Bella for weeks now and I wasn’t expecting this at all. I am so sorry to hear about Michael, it sounds like he was an amazing man.
Louisa Jane Carter: I just love your blog. I’m so sorry to read this.
Olivia Lee: With a mummy that tells stories like this, Bella will always remember him. xxx
Claire Davey: So beautifully written. I lost my mum last year and found out in a phone call. Thank you so much for writing this post!
Before long, there were so many comments under the post that they couldn’t keep up. The likes were rolling in quickly. And the numbers of followers and subscribers were rising too.
‘It’s quite addictive watching what happens when I post,’ Jessica said, as they scrolled down the page together. ‘At least we haven’t got any shitty comments this time. I don’t think I could stay calm if it was on this post.’
‘Have you had any more hate since that comment I spotted?’ Fran asked.
‘The odd comment,’ Jessica replied. ‘But I’m learning to ignore them.’
‘Well, I’m not surprised this post is so popular,’ Fran said. ‘You write beautifully, little sister.’
And for the next twenty minutes, the sisters stayed that way together on the sofa, clicking and scrolling and reading. And it wasn’t until they heard the key turn in the lock, saw the front door fly open, and were jumped on by an overexcited toddler that they were able to tear their eyes away from the screen. And they suddenly became Mummy and Auntie Fran again, playing tunes on a rainbow xylophone on the living room rug, chopping cheese and cucumber in the kitchen for her lunch, and handing out cuddles before Bella went upstairs for her lunchtime nap.
That little girl might never know her Uncle Michael, but they were both determined to that she would grow up aware of his love.
And that blog post was just the start.
10
Followers – 7,501
Emails in inbox – 20
Event invitations – 11
Paid collaborations – 1
Award nominations – 1
Dear Bella,
The next few weeks passed in a blur. There were lots of tears, plenty of hugs, shopping trips to buy black dresses, online searches for readings and hymns, and messages back and forth at 3 a.m. when Auntie Fran knew I was the only other one awake. It was the hardest time in my life – but with you still so very small and perfect, also one of the best. And even now, a year down the line, I struggle with that. The memories fused together forever in my mind; the very worst and the very best. There were times when I felt guilty for being happy, when my sister and nephew’s world was in ruins. But when you lay in my arms (or in fact, any of our arms during that time), I was so thankful for you. You were a constant reminder to everyone that life may be cruel, but it can also be beautiful. That life continued. And that we needed to be strong and keep going; for Auntie Fran, for Freddie, and also for you.
But the time passed quickly and before long, you were three months old. I’d barely even had the chance to process everything, but suddenly you were cooing at us, smiling broadly, and objecting to being cuddled for too long. You were wide awake now, starting to reach for the toys dangling in your face in your baby gym and trying your best to learn how to roll. I was so busy that I didn’t have time to reflect on how fast it was going. Until one day when I was standing in a supermarket queue, that is.
I was waiting to pay for a basket of shopping, while you were sleeping in your buggy, when suddenly a newborn baby caught my attention further ahead in the queue. And it was then that I realised, with a sudden pang, how big you’d got. But that wasn’t all… As I stared at that tiny newborn, somebody dropped their basket with a clunk on the floor close by, and that tiny baby jumped with a jolt. ‘Oh, I love it when newborns do that!’ I thought, turning my attention to you in your buggy and smiling affectionately. And that’s when I realised. You’d stopped doing it. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d seen you do it. Those days were gone.
Saying that motherhood passes quickly is such a cliché but it was that moment that I realised it was true. Right there in a supermarket queue. Three months had whizzed past, with some amazin
g highs and some dreadful lows, and while it was all happening, you had been changing. Uncurling. Waking up. Focusing. Growing up. And I’d barely even noticed.
As I unloaded my items onto the checkout belt to be scanned, my heart physically ached realising that you were a proper baby now – and soon you’d be a little girl. It all happened so quickly, without any kind of alarm bell or warning going off. There was no going back.
So, I made a vow that day to slow down and soak it all in.
And do you know what, Bella?
That’s exactly what we did.
Love from Mummy x
*
It was 9.27 a.m. on Friday 20th July – and Jessica and Bella were whizzing towards London at 117 miles per hour. The train carriage was busy and several people had rolled their eyes and tutted as the doors opened at Westcombe Park and she’d attempted to squeeze inside with Bella in her buggy. ‘Sorry,’ she’d called into the carriage as she pushed Bella onto the train, ‘Any chance you could move down just a little? Sorry about this! A bit more? Sorry! Please?’
Eventually they managed to squeeze inside, and as Jessica stood with her back uncomfortably tight against the doors and someone’s backpack swinging close to her face, she wondered why she’d ever thought it was a good idea.
It didn’t help that she was feeling apprehensive about going to this baby food launch in the first place. But when she’d aired her hesitations with the girls in the park the day before, she’d been met with unanimous encouragement to go.
‘Well, it’s my idea of hell,’ Mel had said, as she took a sip of her takeaway cup of coffee. ‘But I think you should go.’
‘Me too,’ Deena added, with Henny nodding along in agreement.
‘Do you? But why?’ Jessica asked, surprised at their encouragement.
‘Well look,’ said Mel. ‘You know that none of us knows a great deal about mummy blogging…’
‘Me included!’ interrupted Jessica, with the girls all laughing in reply.
‘But it turns out that you’re bloody good at it! And even though you started this blog as a bit of a hobby, you’ve already got your first paid job and been nominated for one of the biggest awards out there. And if you want to be taken seriously, you’re going to have to do the things that bloggers do. So why not just go? Show your face. Put something on your social media bragging about being there. Meet a few of the other big bloggers and tag them. Do all the things that other bloggers do,’ Mel said.
‘So basically, just pretend I know what I’m doing?’ Jessica said, raising her eyebrows at her friend.
‘Exactly!’ replied Mel. ‘You didn’t expect to see yourself on that shortlist, but you deserve it. So, go out there and show people that you are the real deal – even if it involves going to events that you’d rather not go to.’
‘You’re right’ Jessica said, realising she needed to accept her fate. ‘I’ll just suck it up and go. It’s only one day in the whole grand scheme of things. It’ll be fine.’
The girls nodded along enthusiastically, before Deena added: ‘And now the important question. What the hell are you going to wear?’
And with the conversation turning to a debate on whether she should wear heels or flats, the fact that Jessica and Bella would be getting on that train in the morning and making their way to Borough Market seemed decided.
And just twenty-two hours later, she was wedged on the 9.24 a.m. to London Cannon Street, wishing she’d ignored their advice entirely.
The journey into London took twenty minutes. In fear of Bella trying to eject herself from her buggy and escape (and she wouldn’t blame her), Jessica relied purely on bribery to get them through it. And whilst leaning into her bag to gather snacks put her dangerously close to head-butting a stranger’s crotch, it was well worth the risk to prevent the inevitable meltdown.
When they finally ground to a halt in the station and she could feel fresh air on the back of her neck as the doors opened, the relief in that carriage was so palpable that she could almost hear a collective sigh. She reversed the buggy off the carriage and through the ticket gates, heading towards the station exit. Commuting into London in the morning rush hour was never fun but with a toddler on a warm day, it was pretty much torture.
The journey had been a distraction but now that the two of them were standing on the pavement of Cannon Street, with commuters in sharp suits rushing past, the traffic back-to-back on the road in front of them, and the sound of honks, beeps, and revs filling the air, her mind was firmly back on the objective of their visit. Thinking about where they were heading made her stomach plunge, but her next job was to get there.
The pavement was thick with people and pushing the buggy wasn’t easy. ‘Sorry!’, ‘Excuse me!’, ‘Oops, sorry!’, ‘Sorry would you mind?’, ‘Ah thank you!’ she said every few seconds, as she found a route through the crowds. Reaching the end of Cannon Street a few minutes later, she crossed the road and swung right towards London Bridge, where the pavement widened and she finally had space to stroll and enjoy the scenery.
It was a mild day; not stiflingly hot thankfully, but warm enough to get away with a dress, cardigan, and sandals. She’d have been a lot more comfortable in her standard uniform of skinny jeans and a striped tee to skim her mum-tum, but the girls had convinced her to dress up a little. ‘There might be photographers there!’ Henny had suggested, sealing the decision to make a bit more of an effort. So, she’d gone for a summer favourite in her wardrobe; a black cotton dress with delicate neon embroidery. It reached just past her knees and had quite a stylish bohemian look (and most importantly, didn’t need ironing), along with metallic gold strappy sandals (flat, because heels would’ve taken it way too far), and a pale grey cardigan. It was an outfit that still fitted from her pre-Bella days and she felt quite confident in it, which gave her one less thing to worry about as she strolled across London Bridge that morning.
Glancing to her left, she stopped for a moment and paused to admire the view. There was Tower Bridge, with the HMS Belfast sat to its right. Beyond it, she could see Shad Thames, City Hall, and the peaks of Canary Wharf in the distance. She had always loved this part of London and missed being able to jump on a train and meet Chris for post-work drinks whenever it took her fancy.
‘Look, Bella Boo, there’s Tower Bridge’, she said, pointing. Bella writhed and moaned in her buggy, eager to keep moving. ‘You’ll appreciate it one day,’ she said, as she peeled her eyes away and began pushing again.
It wasn’t long before they reached the end of the bridge and the traffic lights, waiting for them to change so they could cross the road. Borough Market was right in front of her and she knew she was minutes away from reaching the launch. Her stomach flipped as she imagined arriving at the event, before a voice inside her head gave herself a strict pep talk. ‘Oh, come on! You’re a grown woman! You can handle this! Stop getting so worked up about it!’
As the traffic lights changed, she sighed and crossed the road. And minutes later, she was standing underneath a large red brick building, with a neon-pink sign that read MUNCH! above her head.
‘Come on, Bella Boo,’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘Let’s head inside.’
It was dark in the hallway, which was disorientating having been in the bright sunshine moments before. Jessica pushed the buggy as best she could in the darkness, following a stream of light coming from the main room. As she approached it, her eyes adjusted to see a girl sat behind a reception desk with a list of names to tick off. She must’ve been seventeen or eighteen at most. Jessica wondered for a second whether she’d come to the right place.
‘Oh hi, I’m here for the Squeeze & Gurgle launch?’ she said, as she pushed the buggy up to the desk.
‘What’s your name?’ the girl replied, without moving her eyes from the list in her hand, which had been printed on a couple of sheets of A4 paper.
‘Oh right, it’s Jessica Holmes. Hopefully you’ll find me!’ she said, with a nervous laugh. But the teenager did
n’t laugh with her. Instead, she sighed and began reading. Not finding it on the first page, she sighed again and flicked it over, her eyes once again moving down the list. As she searched, Bella let out a screech and made an escape attempt, becoming quickly enraged with the straps of her buggy.
‘Shh, it’s OK. We’ll be inside soon. Shh. Hang on a minute, it won’t be long,’ Jessica urged, as she rocked the buggy.
‘Your name isn’t here,’ the girl said, finally. ‘I’ll get my manager.’
‘Oh right, I sent my RSVP, I’m not sure why…’ she said, as the girl disappeared into the room behind her.
Bella wasn’t impressed and was now objecting loudly, so Jessica undid her straps and picked her up. She kissed her on the head in an attempt to ease her own nerves and embarrassment, just as another guest arrived and stood in a queue behind her. Jessica turned to smile, but the lady was busy looking down at her phone.
‘Well, this is just bloody awful,’ the voice in her head said. ‘I’ll give it a few minutes and then we’re leaving.’ And just as her arms were starting to ache from holding Bella, who was putting up a good attempt to ditch to the floor, the teenager reappeared with a blonde lady behind her.
‘Hello!’ the lady said, with a smile on her face. ‘Can I just take your name?’
‘It’s Jessica Holmes,’ she replied. She could feel the eyes of the lady behind glaring into the back of her head and shifted uncomfortably in her sandals at the humiliation. As Bella squawked, she added: ‘Sorry, she really wants to get down…’
But the smiling lady was too busy reading through the list to acknowledge her. ‘What publication do you work for?’ she asked.
‘Publication? What do you mean? Oh, no, it’s a blog,’ Jessica replied. ‘Letters to my Daughter?’
‘Oh, that explains it,’ the lady replied. ‘It was probably Victoria who invited you and she left last week, so likely didn’t add you to the list in time. No worries! You aren’t down here, but why don’t you both come inside? We’d love to have you anyway!’
From Mum With Love Page 12
