‘Hello, hello!’ her mother said, loudly enough to turn heads at the tables surrounding them. ‘And how are you both? Any luck with the dress?’
‘Yes actually,’ Fran replied, reaching under the table for the paper bag. As she unfolded the dress and held it out, their mother gasped dramatically and clasped her hands to her chest.
‘It’s perfect!’ she said, ‘Exactly how I imagine they dress in Hollywood at these big award shows! And perfect for accepting an award in, too.’ At that, she winked dramatically at Jessica.
‘Mum! Stop it!’ Jessica said, shaking her head. She took the dress out of Fran’s hands and folded it carefully, placing it back in the bag. ‘Actually, could you stash this under the buggy and take it home? It’s probably less likely to end up covered in Pimms!’
‘I’ll take it, dear,’ her dad said, reaching for the bag. ‘It’s very nice, Jessica. Very nice indeed! You will look lovely in that!’
‘Thank you, Dad,’ she said, handing it over and smiling fondly at him. She knew it would be safe in his hands.
The conversation continued, but it didn’t take long for Bella to lose patience, making grabs for Pimms-infused strawberries in Jessica’s glass, so the decision was made to take her home for her tea. Chris had promised to be back by her bedtime, saving her parents from a battle to get her to sleep (they had that job to look forward to on Saturday night, of course). So off they went, retracing their steps through the crowds in the garden, making Jessica and Fran grimace and cringe as innocent bystanders were forced to jump out of the way of the buggy.
And once again, they were alone at the table, pouring a second glass of Pimms.
‘So, how’s Mel?’ Fran asked.
Jessica sighed and looked down at her glass. ‘Honestly, I don’t know. She always puts a brave face on things, but I don’t know how this can ever resolve itself. She’s a single mum, with another baby on the way and no chance of heading back to her career any time soon.’
‘She’ll manage,’ Fran said. ‘She has no choice but to manage.’
Jessica looked up at her sister. She’d felt the similarities on the night she’d walked into Mel’s house – the kind of devastation that she’d witnessed when Michael died – but since then, it hadn’t occurred to her that Mel had been thrust into single motherhood in much the same way. She’d had a warning, but she’d chosen not to believe it and suddenly there she was, alone with her child, wondering how life was ever going to be the same again.
‘When does it start feeling normal again?’ Jessica asked.
‘I’ve no idea,’ Fran replied. ‘It still doesn’t for me. I wake up every morning and for a split second, I think I’m in our bed in Dulwich and expect him to be sleeping next to me. And then I open my eyes and realise I’m in my teenage bedroom at Mum and Dad’s and he isn’t here. It’s like I’ve been kicked hard in the stomach, every single day.’
‘I know I’ve said this hundreds of times before,’ Jessica said, ‘but it’s just really sad. Like really, really sad. Michael was such a good man and you had such a perfect life together. It could’ve happened to a bad person… I mean, it shouldn’t happen to anyone, but if it’s going to happen, why does it happen to the good people? People who have families? And children? And only ever do kind things? We never know when life is going to change in a split second and it just isn’t fair.’
‘No,’ Fran said, before looking up and smiling at her sister. ‘But that’s the difference, isn’t it? Michael was such a bloody good man. He loved me and he loved Freddie. And he would’ve done anything to stay here with us. But Mel’s husband? He had no idea how lucky he was! I only met him a few times but from what you’ve told me, he’s treated her like shit.’
Jessica nodded. ‘He really has,’ she said, as she picked a piece of cucumber from her glass and popped it into her mouth. ‘So, it’ll be easier? She might feel like herself again, a bit sooner?’
‘Well listen, I’ve been through heartbreak before. I thought Gary was the bloody bee’s knees! I thought he was the man! Meanwhile, he was too busy racing around on motorbikes to even notice me most days. And then I had a baby with him, thinking it was the perfect way to tame him, and off he went, into the sunset on his prize motorbike, without so much as fucking goodbye.’
‘His loss,’ Jessica quipped back.
‘Too bloody right,’ Fran replied, taking a sip.
‘I mean, seriously! What a twat!’ Jessica continued loudly, prompting Fran to laugh so hard that she nearly sprayed Pimms across the table.
When they’d both composed themselves, Jessica sighed and said: ‘So you think she’ll be OK?’
‘God yeah,’ Fran replied. ‘She’ll get there.’
‘And you?’ Jessica asked.
‘I guess I will, too. I’ve got a little boy who needs me.’
Jessica smiled at the mention of her nephew. ‘When does he get back from his football tour?’ she asked. ‘Is he having fun?’
Fran laughed. ‘I think so. I gave him a retro Nokia mobile phone of mine before he left and he’s so chuffed with himself! I keep getting text messages that must take him at least half an hour to write!’
Jessica howled with laughter. ‘Do you remember how you had to push the button four times to get the right letter?’
‘Exactly that!’ Fran said. ‘That’s the exact phone! I think it’s twenty years old! I was surprised when it charged up to be honest, but I think the old ones are quite robust! Anyway, he’s back on Sunday and I can’t wait to see him. I miss him far more than I expected to!’
The conversation continued until they’d got to the end of the jug of Pimms, laughing and chatting as the sun lowered and softened. The garden was still busy, but the clientele had changed in the past hour. The students had gradually drifted away and there were now tables of office workers in suits surrounding them, all sipping glasses of wine and pints of beer and tucking into plates of bar snacks.
‘Fancy another jug of Pimms?’ Fran asked, pointing to the entrance to the pub.
‘Better not,’ Jessica replied, looking at her watch. ‘Shall we have something soft instead? I think I’m going to need quite a lot of alcohol to survive the night on Saturday, so I’d rather save myself for then.’
‘No worries, lightweight! What do you fancy? I think I’ll move onto spritzer.’ Fran stood up and grabbed her bag.
‘No, this one is on me,’ Jessica said, standing up and pointing at the bench for her sister to sit back down. ‘I’ll get you a spritzer and I’ll grab something to eat, too. You stay here and save base…’
But just as she was approaching the bar, she felt a hand on her shoulder.
‘My wife tells me that you’re a famous blogger,’ a man said to her, his work shirt stretched over a beer belly, face ruddy, and hand clutching a half-drunk pint of ale.
Jessica laughed nervously, already looking around for a space at the bar to escape. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that…’
‘That’s what she says…’ he continued, his speech slurred. ‘She says that she reads your blog and you have millions of followers!’
‘Oh, that’s not true!’ Jessica said, hoping nobody was listening in.
‘She says that you’ve been in the pub all afternoon and that you’ve been through several jugs of Pimms. And that your baby daughter was here for most of it! You naughty girl! Naughty, naughty girl!’ Her new friend hiccupped and swayed into her.
Jessica turned to him. ‘Well, that’s not true. My daughter was here for ten minutes. And I’ve had a couple of glasses of Pimms. That’s all! I’m already on the soft drinks!’
‘Oh, so she was here!’ he replied, hiccupping again. ‘I bet that wouldn’t go down well with your mummy readers!’
‘Oh fuck off,’ Jessica said, suddenly filled with rage.
‘Pardon?’ her friend said, his eyes wide and bloodshot.
‘Seriously! Fuck off! I am allowed to go to the pub with my sister! I am allowed to say hello to my daughter quickly if she’
s passing the pub garden with her grandparents! I am allowed to go out for the day without my child in tow! Just fuck off! I don’t have to answer to you!’
She managed to negotiate her way into a spot at the bar, leaving the man swaying behind her.
‘God, I didn’t realise these blogger types were so touchy! I’m going to do my wife a favour and tell her not to bother reading it any more if you don’t want to take a bit of honest feedback!’
‘You do that,’ Jessica quipped back, refusing to turn around.
Ordering a white wine spritzer and an elderflower soda, she watched as they were made by the barmaid. She was hoping that by the time she had paid and had to turn around again, he might have got bored and disappeared – but she could still hear him hiccupping as he stood behind her.
‘You’ll have to get used to the criticism though, won’t you darling?’ he piped up again. ‘If you want to be a big blogger, you’ve got to grow some thicker skin.’
Jessica snapped round. ‘Why’s that?’
The man looked pleased with himself. ‘Oh, I knew you wanted to chat to me! Maybe that thick skin is growing already!’ He steadied himself on the back of the stall in front of him as he stumbled to the left.
‘Why do I need to get used to criticism?’ Jessica shot back.
‘You choose to put yourself out there and you have to accept what people think,’ he slurred in reply.
‘You’re a jerk. A total jerk. And for your information, if I choose to put myself out there, you still have to show a modicum of decency and respect. I don’t have to accept anything. And it doesn’t give you permission to accost a stranger in a bar and try to knock them out with the alcohol units of your breath.’
Hearing the drinks clink on the bar in front of her, she paid with a note, picked up the glasses, and pushed past her sweating friend.
‘Oh, and by the way?’
‘Yes darling?’ he slurred.
‘If you really want to do your wife a favour, make that your last pint and fuck off home. You can’t even stand up straight, seriously. You’re an embarrassment.’
But as she stormed out of the pub and back towards Fran, she already knew he was right about one thing. She needed to grow thicker skin fast. She needed to be better prepared, because she had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last time somebody forced their opinions on her.
She didn’t get home that evening until past 10 p.m.
‘Hi stranger,’ Chris said, as she walked through the door. ‘How was your day? Your parents dropped off your dress earlier and it is now hanging up in our room. It is quite frankly exquisite’.
‘Do you think so?’ she asked, as she kicked off her flip-flops in the hallway.
‘Yes, honey! Honestly! You are going to look so good in it. In fact, I will be mainly looking forward to removing it later that evening,’ he replied, with a wink.
‘Oi!’ she laughed.
‘But seriously, I can’t wait to see you wearing it on that stage!’
‘I wish everyone would stop saying that I’m going to win this thing!’ Jessica said, starting to feel quite irritated. ‘The more you say it, the more I worry that I’ll be disappointed when my name isn’t the one called out! Because it won’t be! I haven’t been blogging long enough! It’s lovely to make it to this stage – but I am not going to win.’
‘And if it isn’t your name,’ he continued, standing up to kiss her on the lips, ‘that is absolutely fine. Because you have still done amazingly well. You have still got to the final four parenting bloggers to win the biggest award in the whole year!’
’Yes, exactly!’ Jessica said, nodding.
‘But if it is your name,’ he added quickly, ‘you are going to look a million dollars collecting your award…’
Jessica scowled and playfully kicked him the shin. ‘Enough! But thank you. I’m glad you like it!’
She was. She really was.
And in just a couple of days, she would be stepping into it and heading to one of the biggest nights of her life.
19
Followers – 47,878
Emails in inbox – 228
Event invitations – 61
Paid collaborations – 1
Award nominations – 1
Award shortlists – 1
Blogger enemies – 1
Blogger friends – 1
Newspaper features – 1
Spotted by followers – 2
Dear Bella,
I’m writing this letter to you on the train. I can’t breathe, because I’m wearing giant pants to suck in my tummy and they seem to be restricting blood flow to my entire upper torso, but it’s worth the discomfort, because I’m feeling more confident in this dress than I’ve felt for a long time.
And as I sit here and watch the outskirts of London flash past the train window, I am filled with such a mixture of emotions. I’m excited, because it’s not every day you are invited to attend a glittering awards ceremony. I’m tired, because you’ve managed to pick up a snotty cold and I’m not sure how much I’ve actually slept in the last few days. But most of all, I’m feeling sick with nerves. Like properly sick. Butterflies are fluttering angrily in my stomach, my legs feel like jelly, and my whole body shivers when I remember where we are going tonight.
Life has changed so much, Bella. Six months ago, the only date in our diary all week was a music class every Tuesday morning where we danced around with your little friends – but suddenly, it’s not unusual to be getting phone calls from marketing managers inviting us to model in fashion campaigns, emails from restaurants inviting me for dinner, and invites to swanky product launches (even if they don’t turn out very swanky, after all). And tonight, here I am travelling to an awards ceremony in a dress covered in silver sequins. It’s all got a bit nuts, hasn’t it? And if I’m honest, there have been moments when I have wondered if it’s all for the best. Moments where I’ve wondered: ‘Why am I doing this? Is it really worth it? Do I really want to be a blogger? Do I really want to reveal so much online?’ Moments when I’ve considered stopping altogether. So many moments of doubt.
I worry that I’m not doing the right thing.
So tonight, as I sit on this train, I want to remind myself about why I started these letters. About why I first sat down, opened this yellow notebook, and starting writing to you.
I’ve always wanted to write, but I didn’t know where to start.
But then I met you, and suddenly I found the words.
I was always waiting for you.
You are my inspiration. My motivation. My muse.
And as I walk into this awards ceremony this evening, shaking like a leaf with nerves, I promise to keep you in my mind every single second.
It’s all been for you.
All of it, Bella…
Every single word.
Love from Mummy x
*
‘You ready?’ Chris asked, as the train came to a stop at London Cannon Street.
Jessica looked up and sighed loudly. ‘I guess so,’ she said, steadying herself for a moment on her high heels as she stood up. It had been a long time since she’d last worn them and it took her a while to find her centre of gravity. When she found it, she followed Chris slowly off the train.
‘Are we walking?’ she asked, linking arms with him as they strolled through the busy station concourse.
‘To Old Billingsgate? No, too far in those heels! We’ll jump in a cab,’ he said, dodging the crowd of people stood looking up at the departure boards. Seconds later, they were out on the street, walking against a flow of people rushing towards the station.
‘We stick out like sore thumbs,’ Jessica said, laughing.
And it was true. Everybody else was dressed in summer dresses, shorts, and flip-flops, carrying bags of shopping after spending a day of their weekend in the capital. And there they were, quite literally shimmering and shining in the early evening sunshine.
It didn’t take long for a black cab to pull up alongsid
e them and they were soon on their way to the awards ceremony, winding their way along Cannon Street.
‘You OK, honey?’ Chris asked, putting his hand on her knee. Jessica looked down at it, noticing his wedding ring catch the light, before placing her own hand on top and squeezing it.
‘I think so,’ she said. ‘I’m nervous, but I’ll be OK.’
‘Not worried about seeing Tiggy?’ he asked, searching her face.
Jessica turned to the window and sighed. ‘Well, yes, obviously. A little bit. I’ll chat to her if I get the opportunity. I’d quite like to tell her that I didn’t know anything about her being ditched from the campaign. But if I don’t get the chance, I’m not going to stamp my feet like a toddler! I hereby promise to stay dignified at all times!’
Chris squeezed Jessica’s knee and turned to kiss her on the lips. ‘I think that’s the perfect plan – and you make me very proud Mrs Holmes!’
Jessica smiled. ‘Just don’t let me drink too much or we’ll risk the plan imploding!’
Jessica knew they would be arriving in a matter of minutes, so reached into her bag for her phone to check there hadn’t been any panicked messages from her parents at Bella’s bedtime. To her surprise, there were five messages flashing up on the screen.
Mum: ALL OK HERE. SHE IS SLEEPING. GOOD LUCK. WE ARE VERY PROUD.
Fran: GO JESSY! I will be thinking about you all night! Let me know how it goes – and if Tiggy isn’t friendly, give her a bitch slap from me!
Mel: The girls are coming round so we can wait for news together! Good luck! Send us a message every few minutes, OK?
Deena: Good Luck, Girl! We can’t wait to hear!’
Henny: We are so proud of you babe! You are going to smash it tonight! We have a bottle of Pinot chilling in your honour (Mel is on the fizzy apple juice, but we’re going to pretend by putting it in a wine glass!) Let us know as soon as you hear! So excited for you! Yay!
‘Bella OK?’ Chris asked.
‘Mum messaged and she’s fine. She’s sleeping already. I had a message from Fran too, and one from each of the girls. They’re all gathering at Mel’s tonight to wait for news,’ Jessica smiled, zipping the phone back in her bag as the cab pulled up alongside Old Billingsgate Market.
From Mum With Love Page 22
