by Helly Acton
Surely real babies can’t cry for this long, this loudly? She considers entering the Chat Room to report that Ben has a glitch. How do actual parents do this with actual kids? She thinks of Jane and the twins and feels guilty that she ever felt Jane was milking it with the ‘it’s hard being a mum’ thing. And Jane has twice the torture. Amy can’t do this. She’ll never be able to do this. She’s struggling with just one, and he isn’t even real.
‘How are you doing?’ a voice whisper-shouts from the bedroom door, making Amy jump.
Kathy tiptoes into the living room, checks on her angelic baby Ruth and walks over to Amy with her arms outstretched, offering to take Ben.
‘Ugh, thanks – my arms are killing me,’ she says as she rubs them and sits down. She takes a sip of her tea and spits it back into the mug when she realises it’s ice-cold. She can’t even have a cup of tea. ‘How the hell did you do this, Kathy?’ she asks.
‘If anyone tells you that parenting is all giggles and sunshine, they’re fibbing. It’s the toughest job I ever had. Although I suppose that isn’t saying much because it’s the only job I ever really had.’
Ben’s wailing is turning into a soft whimper and it sounds like he’s settling down.
‘Well, I obviously don’t have the touch.’ Amy sighs. She feels useless.
‘Don’t worry, they’re just testing you.’ She throws her eyes to the ceiling cameras. ‘They don’t need to test me, I’ve done this before. This challenge is all a bit wasted on a woman of my age.’
‘Maybe you’re here to show us what to do. Although I have no idea what you’ve just done to get him like that.’
Ben has stopped crying completely and is now breathing heavily, deeply asleep.
‘I love being a mum, but it wasn’t my dream. I wanted to be a nurse. Then Jeremy came along and our first kid happened. Then our second soon after that.’ She sighs, carefully lowering Ben into his cot. ‘What makes me angry is that I somehow knew we’d end up divorced. I just had this funny feeling. He never thanked people who gave way for him. In the car. He always thought he was better than everyone else and could buy his way around. You know the type?’
Amy knows exactly the type. One of her biggest bugbears about Jamie was how he never made way for people. When he walked down the street, he would always walk in a direct line, making everyone move out of his way. No apology, never ‘excuse me’. Amy would dart around to help people get past and he’d just carry on walking. They’d often end up walking separately, with him striding ahead. Once, she stopped to see how long it would take him to notice she wasn’t there. He got so far that he couldn’t see her anymore, then sent her a text telling her to hurry up.
Their conversation has given Amy a good blog idea. 99 Red Flags, a site where women can submit their personal warning signs to watch out for.
‘Anyway,’ Kathy continues, ‘I met Jeremy just after I qualified as a nurse. It was all very whirlwind. Engaged after six months, married after a year, pregnant after a year and a half. His car dealership was going well and we decided I didn’t need to work. That it would be better for the family if I stayed at home and looked after things there.’
‘Well, that works for some families,’ Amy adds, thinking how boring she’d find it.
‘I didn’t know what I was doing, I wasn’t old enough to make that choice. My parents thought it was a good idea too, but they were a different generation. We were happy for a long time, and I forgot about being a nurse. We were comfortable. I felt secure and I loved being able to spend so much time with my kids. They needed me, and that felt good. Of course, when they became teenagers, they didn’t need me so much anymore. And neither did Jeremy. He’d opened new branches across the country and was away most of the time. It was like I’d reached early retirement. It seemed too late to start a career. I just ended up floating around the house with nothing to do and no one to look after. We had a huge fight once about him being away so much. He told me I’d become needy and boring. That I was no use to anyone anymore, and I might as well be put on an iceberg and floated out to sea.’
Amy has to stop herself from laughing in shock about how outrageous that sounds. How could Kathy have stayed after that?
But then again, how could Amy have stayed after Jamie told her she was boring? It happened to her, too. And she stayed.
‘There were a million other warning signs, but I just ignored them. I had no money and no real experience. Besides, he wasn’t always bad. When he came home the next day there were flowers and chocolates. We went out for supper and he told me I looked nice, which was the first compliment he’d given me in years. He did seem sorry for what he said. So I just carried on, hoping that when he retired we might be able to pick up where we left off in our twenties. Then about eighteen months ago, the insults continued but the apologies stopped. Next I started smelling a perfume that wasn’t mine. Then I found a hairband in our car that didn’t belong to me or our daughter. And then three months ago he told me our marriage was over, that he’d met someone else who suited him more. That he was happy. And that he wanted me to start making plans to move out. After thirty years. I knew it was the end, I just didn’t know where to start.’
Amy wonders what she would have done in the same situation. She’d like to think she would have risen to the occasion, thrown Jamie out, got an expensive makeover and met a handsome billionaire. But the movies aren’t real. She’d probably have moved in with her parents and spent the next three months stalking his new girlfriend on Facebook.
‘Did you take a baseball bat to his car, Beyoncé-style?’
‘Surprisingly, I reacted quite calmly. I’d known about the affair, so I was waiting for him to come clean. Just looking at him made me feel sick. But I also didn’t want to move, because I had nowhere to go. So I refused to give him the divorce and he couldn’t evict me because the house was in both our names. I know it sounds spiteful, but I did enjoy seeing his face boiling with rage when I carried on as if everything was normal and the conversation had never happened. As if there wasn’t a new woman suddenly living in my house, sleeping in the spare room above the garage that Jeremy had been sleeping in for over a year. And then, this show happened. Can you believe, he told me he wanted to have a family lunch with the kids? It was for my birthday, the bastard. Anyway, I’m actually delighted to be here. This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me, and the only chance I’ll have to get my hands on a million pounds. But it’s not just that. I want to prove I can do this on my own, and that I can be somebody without them.’
‘Well, I think it’s amazing that you’re being so calm about it all. When Jamie dumped me on here I was a complete mess.’
Amy has a flashback to weeping and screaming in the Chat Room in front of everyone.
‘I wouldn’t worry about it. Others would be the same. Amy, you have your whole life ahead of you. At least you didn’t waste any more time with your ex. Otherwise you’d have ended up like me.’
‘Doesn’t look too bad,’ says Amy.
‘Well, I did get two beautiful brats out of it. They don’t even seem to care that it’s over, they’re too busy spending their salaries at bars.’ Kathy moves towards the bedroom. ‘But I do love them really.’
Ben starts whimpering as Kathy leaves and Amy puts her head under a pillow, praying for him to shut up. Kathy’s right. At least she only wasted two years of her life – not one second more. She wouldn’t put it past Jamie to upgrade to a younger model in ten years’ time. He always wants people to think he has the best. Maybe that’s what this is all about. Maybe he’s met someone else. If she had her phone she could hunt for clues. She hates him right now, but the thought of him being all over someone else still makes her feel sick.
Eleven
Amy’s wiping vomit off the kitchen floor for the third time that morning. The yellow goo has also spilt onto her flip-flop and oozed its way in between her toes. If it were real, she’d be sick herself. She’s baffled by how the producers ha
ve created these anatomically functioning moulds of plastic. The fake formula the housemates feed them comes out one of two ways, and Amy has become a reluctant master at cleaning up both.
Some of the housemates aren’t adjusting to mock motherhood as well as others. Earlier that morning, Amy saw Jackie hosing down Alice’s bottom with a garden hosepipe, holding her by the top of her head. Gemma has been using Bel as an arm weight. ‘She’s a dumb-Bel, get it?’ she’d cackled, before continuing with her bicep reps, kissing the baby on the forehead with every lift. ‘This would make the best Instagram story, wouldn’t it?’ she’d added, before putting Bel down on the sofa and slumping next to her with a big sigh. ‘God, I can’t believe we’ve been here for almost a week already. I am missing out on so many stories right now. I’ll never get to see them, either. And I’ll have, like, the biggest backlog of comments, too.’
The others are handling it a little better. For Kathy the challenge is second nature. She soothes, feeds and puts Ruth to sleep without so much as a sigh, scream or an entire bottle of Sauvignon blanc. Hattie is a total helicopter parent and has her baby Sophie attached to her hip twenty-four hours a day. It landed her in trouble on The Wall when the public accused her of suffocating the doll in the middle of the night. Tears and apologies followed.
To Amy’s surprise, Lauren seems to have the magic touch, despite coming across as the least maternal of them all. Seb is by far the calmest baby in the house.
When Amy asked her if she was lacing her formula with whisky, she’d just shrugged. ‘I suppose when you’re a DJ, you just get used to being tired. And I remember my sister telling me that having a baby is all about sticking to a routine. So I just do the same thing over and over and over again. It’s fookin’ boring, but it seems to work.’
When Ben isn’t crying, he’s vomiting. And when he isn’t vomiting, he’s crying. When Amy complains about it out loud, there are some very helpful suggestions from the public.
@allyal1984 Two words Amy – duct tape! :)))) #theshelf #badparenting
@lovaboyv247 Have you tried breastfeeding? Get your boobs out! #theshelf #funbags
‘God, men are gross,’ says Gemma as she lunges past the screen, holding Bel at chest height.
‘Ed Sheeran seems nice,’ says Amy, as she puts Ben down to go to the loo.
‘And Benetton Cumbercross!’ shouts Hattie from down the corridor. Amy starts to correct her, then stops. It’s close enough.
When Amy returns to the sofa, she finds Ben crying on the floor. She scoops him up and looks nervously at The Wall. Of course, her blunder hasn’t gone unnoticed.
@samirmu200 Ha! Amy’s an idiot. Wouldn’t let her look after my pet goldfish! #theshelf
@erina Everyone knows you can’t leave a baby alone! EVER! Thought she’d be better at this … #theshelf
‘I was gone for a second! God, how are mums supposed to wee? I don’t want to hold him while I do it, it’s just weird.’
She takes Ben into the bedroom for his mid-morning sleep. It’s become one of her favourite times of day in this human zoo, along with his afternoon sleep and his night sleep. She’s beginning to realise that she’ll never be a Hattie, playing peek-a-boo with Sophie for two hours non-stop. Or a Lauren, doing the same thing on repeat every day. Or a Kathy, devoting her entire life to two children who’ll end up leaving anyway.
Maybe motherhood isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Maybe everyone is pretending.
At least Amy’s got off lightly with her bathroom blunder. Jackie’s copping an earful for how she’s been handling Alice.
@frenchiefanatic_2 She’s not a pair of trainers you fuckwit! #jackie #theshelf
@candykan90 Child abuser! Take that baby to social services! #jackie #theshelf
‘Who’s moderating these?’ Amy says, loudly, so that she can pretend not to hear Ben wailing from the bedroom as she comes back in. ‘Comments like this could send someone over the edge.’
‘Real TV don’t give a shit, Amy,’ responds Jackie, throwing Alice up and down in the air like a ball. ‘All they care about is ratings. If someone does go over the edge, that’s a bonus.’
‘Sickos,’ says Lauren, rocking Seb on her knees.
‘Amy! Ben needs something!’ screams Hattie from the bedroom.
‘Uuuggghhh,’ Amy groans into her lap.
‘You OK?’ Gemma asks. ‘Want me to go?’
‘No, it’s fine, I’m just so tired.’ She rubs her red, itchy eyes. ‘Am I the only one here who hates their baby?’
‘Bel’s a right bellend.’ Gemma smiles, pleased with herself. ‘I came up with that earlier. Just think of the money, Ames.’
When Amy gets to Ben, he’s lying in another pile of puke. She’ll be glad to see the back of this smelly little plastic prat when the motherhood challenge is over.
As she walks through the living room with Ben on her hip, a thread on The Wall grabs her attention.
@tonytalks65 Amy needs to man up and grow a pair! #lol #theshelf
‘Ugh, that’s exactly the kind of idiot comment Jason would make,’ says Gemma, lunging. ‘Bet he would have run for the hills if I’d dumped him on here. It takes guts to stay.’
@smashthepat She has a pair already @tonytalks65. They’re called boobs. You’re not funny #sexismisneverfunny #theshelf
@tonytalks65 Oh boy, here we go. Why can’t women laugh at themselves? Go on, give us a smile @smashthepat #feministscanttakejokes #theshelf
@smashthepat We’ll laugh when you say something funny. Warning: it has to be intelligent. Something you might struggle with @tonytalks65 #theshelf
@tonytalks65 What’s wrong, @smashthepat, a bad bout of PMS? Or just Mad Cow Disease? #funny #haha #theshelf
‘Oh shut up, you tosser,’ Gemma mutters.
Twelve
‘There’s a circle of yoga mats in the garden,’ says Hattie, staring out through the glass and sipping on a tea, later that day. The others join her at the garden door with their babies in one hand and their mugs in the other.
‘Yoga makes me fart,’ comments Lauren. ‘My apologies in advance, lads.’
Gemma laughs, giving her a side hug. ‘I fucking love you.’
Doooong.
Jackie jumps back from the window, dropping Alice on the floor.
‘Shit!’ she says, bending over to pick her up and simultaneously spilling hot coffee over her scalp. ‘Shit shit shit!’ she stammers, rubbing the doll’s head with her sleeve. Alice starts crying.
‘Is that the front doorbell?’ asks Kathy.
Doooong.
‘Coming!’ shouts Hattie, making a move towards the door.
‘I can take her, Hatster,’ Jackie says, putting her mug down on the side table and grabbing her baby Sophie’s arm, which promptly pops out of its socket. Hattie shrieks and looks horrified.
‘Oh my God, sorry, little mate.’ Jackie laughs, throwing Alice towards the sofa behind her and ignoring her wail as she flies through the air. ‘I’m rubbish at this, aren’t I? Maternal instincts, my arse.’ She sticks her tongue out as she reattaches the limb the wrong way round and creates a zombie Sophie with a dislocated arm, a near-detached head and a low moan.
Doooong.
‘Hello? Anyone home?’ a muffled voice shouts through the door.
Doooong. Doooong. Doooong.
Hattie reluctantly leaves Zombie Sophie with Jackie and hurries to the front door, while the others gather expectantly in the living room. They hear the front door open, followed by a loud chorus of greetings in a familiar voice.
‘Is that … Hugo Jones?’ whispers Amy.
‘Sounds like him,’ says Gemma, rolling her eyes and throwing herself onto the sofa with Bel on her lap. ‘He’s such a knob,’ she sighs. ‘I met him at an influencer conference last year. He tried to explain to me how I could grow my following by targeting. Like I didn’t know that already. How else did I get to twenty thousand followers? Patronising moron.’
‘Is he the “drop calm” bloke?
’ asks Lauren.
Celebrity mindfulness coach Hugo Jones – or HuJo – became famous by sparking #dropcalm, a movement that went viral last year. The idea is to stop whatever you’re doing and, wherever you are, meditate for one minute and then post it on Instagram. HuJo amassed a huge fanbase, with people everywhere sitting cross-legged in newsagents, on train platforms and – most irritatingly – in tube carriages at peak rush hour. One woman even made the headlines by drop-calming at a funeral, with her family weeping in the background. He’s since scored a weekly meditation show on morning TV and a daily Metro column. And when he isn’t posing shirtless on his rooftop terrace overlooking Primrose Hill, he’s being papped with pop stars on beaches in LA.
Amy’s too embarrassed to admit she follows him, even though she only does it passively. Not now, HuJo, she thinks, every time she scrolls past a post asking her to ‘find a meditation minute’.
Hattie runs back to the living room, puffing.
‘It’s … it’s …’ She bends over and rests her hands on her knees, breathing hard.
HuJo glides into the living room behind her with a yoga mat under his arm.
‘HuJo!’ he finishes her sentence. ‘Namaste, ladies.’ He softens his voice. ‘How are we all this afternoon? Feeling blessed?’ He holds his palms together and takes a bow, his topknot bouncing forward and hitting him on the forehead. It reminds Amy of a ball sack.
He’s greeted by a mixture of unenthusiastic hellos.
‘Oh dear, girls, are we not feeling grateful for today?’ He looks around. ‘What are all these frowns?’
‘I am,’ says Hattie, smiling. She’s standing next to him and looking star-struck.
‘That’s the spirit, Hattie. Now, everyone, follow me. I’m here to make happy happen!’
A second later, all the babies fall silent and switch off at once.
‘God, you are fookin’ creepy,’ says Lauren, putting Seb into his cot.
