From Mum With Love

by Louise Emma Clarke

  ‘So, I told him. “Actually no, the thing is, I’m pregnant…” He replied: “Pardon?” So I repeated: “I’m pregnant.” And then there was silence. Total silence. No hugs, or tears, or even screams. We kept walking and I could feel my heart pounding with every step. And after what felt like a lifetime, he calmly turned to me and said, “Well, that isn’t going to work.”’

  Jessica gasped. ‘You’re kidding?’

  ‘No, sadly not. I kind of laughed and said “What do you mean? I know it’s not ideal, but it’s going to have to work, isn’t it?” But he didn’t even look at me. He just stared ahead as he walked with a cold, glazed over expression, and then he took a deep breath and said: “Mel, I didn’t want it to come out like this, but I’m in love with Emily and I want to be a family again. I love Lara too and I’ll always be there for her, but this new baby can’t happen. It isn’t in the plan.”’

  Jessica knew she should say something, but she was lost for words.

  Mel paused for a moment and shook her head. ‘I didn’t say a word. I stopped walking, composed myself for a second, then turned around with the buggy and walked as fast as I could back home. I knew I had to get back through the door before I broke down. I didn’t want him to see me lose it. I didn’t want to have to dodge people’s eyes as I sobbed big, angry tears in public. I knew that once I started, I probably wasn’t going to be able to stop. He didn’t chase after me. I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to, but he didn’t bother. And then when I got home, I bolted the doors so he couldn’t use his key. I assume he’s in Stockholm now, but his passport could still be here. I haven’t even bothered to check.’

  Jessica stood up and strode over to her friend, sitting next to her on the sofa and pulling her into a hug. She didn’t know what to say. There was nothing she could say.

  ‘This would all be a lot easier if we could share a few bottles together, wouldn’t it?’ Mel said, laughing through her tears.

  ‘Too right, babe,’ Henny said, joining the three of them on the sofa. ‘But do you know what? We’re going to get you through this, with or without alcohol.’

  ‘We bloody are,’ Deena added. ‘In fact, I’m going to message Ian now and tell him I’m staying here tonight.’

  ‘Me, too,’ added Jessica.

  ‘Me three,’ replied Henny.

  ‘Now lead us to your pyjama drawer my dear, as we’ve got the whole night ahead,’ Deena said, beckoning to the door.

  ‘Thank fuck for you girls,’ Mel replied, standing up and leading the three of them out of the room. ‘What would I do without you?’

  And with that, they were heading up the stairs.

  14

  Followers – 19,794

  Emails in inbox – 149

  Event invitations – 39

  Paid collaborations – 1

  Award nominations – 1

  Blogger enemies – 1

  Blogger friends – 1

  Dear Bella,

  In the movies, having a baby is the end part. The bit after you fall in love, have a beautiful white wedding, and grow a baby bump, glamorously. The movie usually ends with a shot of a hospital bed, babe in arms, and two parents gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes. That was pretty much how all my favourite movies came to an end in the 1990s and so I grew up believing that it would happen to me, too. I’d fall in love (check), get married (check), get pregnant (check), and pop that baby out without even smudging my mascara (first half checked, second half definitely not checked). And after that? I didn’t know, but I fully expected to be gazing into Daddy’s eyes adoringly while doing it.

  But the truth is Bella that there’s no idyllic rosy glow cast over your life when you have a baby. There weren’t petals strewn across our king size bed when we got you home from hospital. In fact, if Daddy had even attempted to touch me for the first few months postpartum, I would probably have clobbered him. We spoke mainly to debate whose turn it was to change your nappy or for me to demand he scurried off to hunt for another pack of giant maternity pads. My body was bloated and bleeding, my hair went days between washes, and I hadn’t seen my makeup bag since the day I’d gone into labour. I have vague memories of trying to make eye contact one evening on the sofa but it was less about ‘gazing adoringly’ and more about ‘needing a bar of chocolate from the fridge’.

  It wasn’t romantic, Bella. It was far from it. And in the weeks that followed your birth, it often crossed my mind that Hollywood had done mothers a disservice by allowing us to believe it would be. As time went on, we argued a lot too – because essentially, I wanted and needed him home with us, but work, life, commitments didn’t always allow it. I’ve never been so angry with someone I love so much, and at times, that floored me.

  But on the good days – the days I could string a sentence together and see clearly through the fog of tiredness – it occurred to me that the way that our relationship had changed made it so much stronger, so much closer, and I guess so much better.

  I didn’t wear lace underwear any more (even the thought made me shudder) and we hadn’t been on a date since I was thirty-three weeks’ pregnant and nearly fell asleep in my bowl of spaghetti – but we had you now. We were a family. We were together.

  It was about having a newfound respect for each other. It was about seeing Daddy’s protectiveness as I grew you, his calmness as labour swept over me, and the love wash over his face as he cradled you in his arms for the first time. Suddenly everything felt different. Suddenly it made sense. And while we may have argued more frequently and had more than our fair share of moments when we seriously wondered if the other was living on the same planet (mainly me, admittedly), our relationship had still never felt closer.

  So no Bella, he hasn’t always been the perfect husband – as I haven’t always been the perfect wife.

  But he has, without fail, always been the perfect daddy to you.

  And watching that happen has made me fall in love with him all over again.

  Even on the days he’s late home from work.

  I promise.

  Love from Mummy x

  *

  ‘Here you go ladies,’ Henny said, as she placed three mugs on the breakfast bar.

  It was the morning after, and while Mel slept upstairs, after finally drifting off when daylight peeked through the curtains, the girls were gathered in the kitchen wearing pairs of her pyjamas and looking after her baffled, but rather excited toddler.

  After much persuasion, Mel had called her mother late the night before. She was convinced that she’d laugh and say ‘I told you so!’ having never been a fan of Steven, but the reality had been very different. In fact, she’d immediately cleared her diary and booked a flight to London the next morning. Within hours, she would be sweeping through the door to look after her daughter and grandaughter.

  ‘Do you think she’ll be OK?’ Jessica asked, as Henny pulled a stool up to join them.

  Deena shrugged her shoulders. ‘She puts on a brave face, but she’s broken. I think the thought of heading back to work was keeping her going to be honest. I don’t know what she’ll do now.’

  ‘Will she keep the baby, do you think?’ Henny asked. The question made Jessica flinch, the alternative having never crossed her mind.

  Deena blew on her coffee and took a sip, as the question hung heavily between them. ‘I think she’ll have the baby, but let’s see. She probably needs some time to think.’

  ‘I still can’t believe it,’ Henny said, staring into her mug. ‘I mean, if I’m totally honest with you girls, I never really warmed to him and hearing him speak to Mel like that at the barbecue just confirmed it. But I just don’t know how she’s going to move on. She really loved him.’

  ‘I feel bad, because I knew she was on her own a lot of the time and I feel like I should’ve done more now. Like be here more? Do you know what I mean?’ Jessica asked, swirling the coffee in her mug as she spoke.

  ‘Nah, don’t feel bad,’ Deena said. ‘Mel has always been brilliant
at putting on a brave face – and if she’d wanted more support, she would’ve asked. She knew we’d all be here in a flash if she needed us.’

  Jessica swallowed. ‘I wish I’d been here earlier,’ she replied awkwardly.

  ‘Oh, stop it! How were any of us supposed to know? You had plans, don’t beat yourself up, babe,’ Henny said, as Lara toddled up to the table and handed her a piece of a puzzle. ‘Do you want to do the puzzle, Lara Lou? OK, Auntie Henny will do it with you.’ Deena and Jessica smiled as they walked off hand-in-hand towards the lounge.

  ‘So how did it go with your blogger friend last night?’ Deena asked, as the two of them were left on their own in the kitchen.

  ‘Oh, it doesn’t seem to matter now,’ Jess said, sipping her mug of coffee. ‘Blogging felt so important last night but this has put it all in perspective.’

  ‘Don’t say that. We do care about your blogging, girl! We all want you to get through to that awards ceremony. In fact, we’re considering gatecrashing and cheerleading in the corner!’

  Jessica shook her head and laughed. ‘Well, that’s something I’d like to witness… Thank you… You are all lovely friends, but I think we all know the chances of me making it through to that ceremony are pretty slim!’

  ‘Well, we all reckon you’re going to win it,’ Deena replied, raising her eyebrows.

  ‘You would say that! You’re my mates,’ Jess said, rolling her eyes and laughing. ‘But seriously, half the people aren’t even going to make it to the awards ceremony. The shortlist comes out on Tuesday.’

  ‘Oh wow, it’s all happening soon. What time?’ Deena asked.

  ‘I don’t know actually. I’ve tried not to think too much about it too much,’ Jessica replied.

  ‘But generally, how is the blogging going? Are you enjoying it?’ Deena asked.

  Jessica paused to think. Nobody had asked her that question before and she wasn’t sure how to reply. She knew it was going well – the rising follower numbers, paid collaboration, and award nomination spoke for themselves, after all. She hadn’t been prepared for the speed of how quickly her blog would take off and she had to pinch herself on a daily basis. Having an audience listening to her words was a dream come true. It was what she’d always wanted.

  But was she enjoying it? Really enjoying it?

  Tiggy’s voice played in her mind at the launch: ‘Sorry, I don’t remember you’, quickly followed by a vision of Felicity Macdonald tapping away her comment: ‘You should be ashamed of yourself!’, and then Chris’ voice rang in her ears in the café: ‘You aren’t the girl that cries in a café over something a complete stranger has said to you! This isn’t you! You’ve got sass!’

  She sighed. ‘Honestly? I don’t know.’

  Deena looked surprised. ‘You aren’t going to stop, are you?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Jessica replied. ‘I love writing. I really, really love it. But I always imagined I’d be dashing around London reporting on important events, rather than blogging about how I sent Chris out to get me another pack of maternity pads…’

  Deena laughed. ‘But that’s our life, isn’t it? It’s not glamorous any more! And so many other mums read your blog posts and understand exactly what you’re getting at. It makes them feel better! The one that you wrote about finding your friends made me cry! And I never bloody cry!’

  ‘Really?’ Jessica asked, surprised.

  ‘Yes! Honestly. I know I’m your mate, but I enjoy reading it.’

  ‘I knew you all read it, but I wasn’t sure if it was just moral support,’ said Jessica, laughing.

  ‘Well, it’s true. I really enjoy reading it. So don’t stop, OK? Get your next letter up today when you get home. And I’ll be keeping my fingers and toes crossed for good news on Tuesday,’ Deena said, as they both turned to a knock at the door.

  BANG! BANG!

  ‘I didn’t think her mum was going to be here for another few hours,’ Deena said, strolling towards the front door. But as she strolled down the hallway, Lara had made it to the door first.

  BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

  ‘Dad-dy! Dad-dy! Dad-dy!’ Lara called, looking through the glass panel at the bottom of the door.

  Deena stopped in her tracks, her blood suddenly running cold.

  ‘Deena? Let me in please! The door is bolted!’ Steven shouted loudly from the other side. He pushed his key into the lock and turned it repeatedly, the sound of metal grinding on metal cutting through the air.

  ‘Dad-dy! Dad-dy! Dad-dy!’ Lara repeated, banging her fists on the other side of the door. Henny reached the door, opened her eyes wide in surprise at Deena, and scooped Lara into her arms.

  ‘Come on baby girl, let’s go play in the other room!’ she said gently, as Jessica strolled over to join them. As she walked away, Lara screeched loudly, flailing in Henny’s arms and crying loudly as she was carried into the lounge.

  ‘What the fuck do we do?’ Deena whispered to Jessica. ‘We can’t let him in!’

  ‘Deena? I can see you stood there, for fuck’s sake! Let me in my house, please! Unbolt the bloody door!’ Steven yelled. He turned the key again, pushing the door with a thud.

  BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

  ‘Bad idea!’ Deena yelled back. ‘It won’t be helpful! Just go away and give her some time!’

  ‘It’s my fucking house, Deena! You can’t lock me out of my own fucking house! Where is she? I want to talk to her!’

  ‘She’s upstairs! She’s finally sleeping! I really think it’s better if you leave her alone!’ Deena shouted back, looking at Jessica and shrugging. ‘We can’t let him in, can we?’ she mouthed at her.

  Jessica shook her head and mouthed back ‘No!’ thinking for a moment before adding in a whisper: ‘Is the back door locked? I’m just going to check.’

  BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

  ‘I’m going around the back!’ Steven shouted, prompting Jessica to turn her fast walk into a run. Seconds later, she was there and one pull of the handle reassured her that the door was locked fast. As she turned to run back to the front door, she could hear him at the side gate trying to force it open.

  ‘Open this gate! Seriously? This is my own fucking house!’ he shouted, using his shoulder to barge against the gate. Unsuccessful, he was back at the front door seconds later. ‘I’ll call the police, Deena. For fuck’s sake! Unbolt the door and let me in!’

  BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

  ‘I’ll call the police too and tell them you’re harassing your wife,’ she shouted back, as they all turned to the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

  ‘Why don’t you just fuck off, Steven?’ Mel shouted, as she reached the bottom of the stairs and walked slowly towards the door, her hair messy and eyes streaked with yesterday’s mascara.

  ‘Let me in, Melanie. Please? I just want to grab my passport,’ Steven yelled, his voice lowered.

  ‘Of course you do!’ Mel spat back loudly. ‘You didn’t want to come and see your daughter or check whether your pregnant wife is doing OK after telling her you’ve been screwing someone else! No! Of course not! You just want to grab your passport so you can fly back to that whore!’

  At that, she turned and stormed down the hallway towards the kitchen, with Jessica close behind her. Deena stood firm by the door, while Henny had switched the television up loudly in the lounge and shut the door.

  BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!

  ‘Teletubbies! Teletubbies! Say Hello! Eh-Oh!’

  BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG!

  ‘That fucking bastard,’ Mel said under her breath, as she reached the kitchen and opened the cupboard above the microwave. Grabbing a black leather wallet from inside, she hastily unzipped it and flicked through the passports. Finding Steven’s, she threw the wallet down and turned on her heels back towards the door.

  ‘You’re not going to give it to him?’ Jessica asked, as she followed behind her.

  ‘Yes, Jess,’ Mel replied without even turning. ‘I just want
him to go!’

  BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

  ‘Where the fuck are you, Melanie? Last chance or I’ll call the fucking police!’ Steven yelled, his voice hissing with rage.

  Without a word, Mel posted the passport through the letterbox, so that it fell at Steven’s feet, and turned back towards the kitchen.

  ‘Come on girls,’ she said, as she strolled away. ‘I need a bloody coffee.’

  And they followed, with their hearts thumping and nerves frayed.

  *

  An hour later, Jessica was strolling home. Deena had happily volunteered to stay with Mel until her mother arrived, as her partner Ian had taken Finley to his parents for the day and Henny was already on a train to spend the rest of the day at The Science Museum with Dan and the children. So, Jessica walked home alone, deep in thought.

  She often moaned about Chris and the fact he got home late from work. She honestly wished he was around more often. And they had arguments – quite often actually, since Bella had arrived. But seeing Steven that morning and the way he had shouted at Mel, ignored Lara, and pounded on the door so aggressively, she suddenly appreciated how lucky she was. Especially when her phone pinged during the post-Steven-turning-up coffee and she glanced down to see selfies of Chris and Bella in their favourite café next to Greenwich Park, scoffing pancakes and blowing kisses at the camera. He loved his little girl and thinking about their relationship filled her eyes with soppy, thankful, tired tears.

  Jessica had only spent one other night away from Bella before last night, when she had stayed with Fran at her parents’ house after Michael’s funeral, and she was nearly bursting with excitement to see her little girl again as she approached her front door. So when she opened it and wasn’t greeted by her daughter running towards her legs at top speed, she felt momentarily deflated. But Chris was there and she was happy to see him.

  ‘Hi honey,’ he said with a smile, turning towards the front door from his position on the sofa watching football. ‘How is she? What’s happening?’