Just Between Friends: Page-turning fiction to curl up with in winter 2020

by Rosie Nixon

  Oscar shook his head and avoided eye contact. ‘He’s only tiny, Lucy,’ he sighed. ‘He needs his mama.’

  I felt like a bad mum.

  ‘I’m doing my best,’ I said. ‘I feel shit enough as it is.’

  ‘It’s my turn to go to the pub now,’ he declared.

  We stared at each other in silence. His words rolled around my head. I’m not sure if I can do this again.

  I didn’t think Oscar was being serious about going out, but soon realized he was, as he strode down the hallway to retrieve his coat and shoes. He shut the door without saying goodbye, clearly desperate to get away from the wailing baby. I wondered if he would come back. Maybe it was best if he didn’t. I’d pushed him too far this evening. Perhaps it would be better if I just raised Albie on my own; perhaps I didn’t deserve a good man like Oscar – maybe I didn’t deserve to be a mother at all. Not after what I had done. My chest felt tight.

  As the door closed I poured myself a glass of water in the kitchen and sat in my usual place on the sofa, pulled down my top and undid my bra strap, ready to smother my nipple in a thick coating of Lansinoh cream and brace myself for Albie’s hard little tugging mouth. I was grateful that Oscar had left a half-drunk glass of red wine on the coffee table, and I soon polished it off and poured another.

  I took a deep breath and readied myself for the feed and the searing, hot pain – which I was prepared to go through because it was worth it for the little bundle in my arms. I pulled the breastfeeding cushion into place on my lap, lay Albie down on top and tried to focus between gritted teeth, flinching with the shooting pain as he suckled.

  When Albie had settled and appeared to be drinking smoothly, I stared ahead and went over the conversation in my mind, fear beating a drum inside me.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Aisha

  It was past midnight when Jason got home. I was sitting in bed having just given Joni her dream feed and she was fast asleep in the ‘Cocoonababy’ beside me. I had started to flick through the Gina Ford book Tara had given me, but was too tired to take anything in. The routines seemed baffling.

  ‘Hello, wife,’ he said, sinking onto the bed beside me. He hadn’t yet taken off his coat or shoes. His breath smelt of beer.

  ‘Hello, hammered husband,’ I said, noting a wild look in his eyes.

  ‘Not hammered, just missing my beautiful wife,’ he replied, running his hand down the side of my face and kicking his trainers off his feet. ‘I love you so much, you know,’ he said. ‘You and Joni, you’re my absolute world.’

  I smiled. It was nice to hear he loved me, even though he was drunk.

  ‘I’d be lost without you, I love you so much,’ he continued, soppily. ‘You’re so beautiful.’ He brushed a strand of hair away from my face and tucked it tenderly behind my ear. He looked at me, doe-eyed. ‘My gorgeous, hot wife.’

  I hadn’t heard him speak like this for ages, and I certainly didn’t feel particularly beautiful, let alone hot in my loose-fitting breastfeeding nightie. But it was quite sweet to be on the receiving end of such flattery. Jason had looked handsome in the pub this evening, as he bonded with the other guys. I was proud he was mine.

  ‘You’re really drunk,’ I said. ‘You’d have to be, to find this milking cow attractive.’

  ‘Maybe a little tipsy… I’m sorry it’s so late, but I enjoyed toasting our beautiful little bean’s head,’ he replied.

  ‘It’s not a bean any more,’ I reminded him, gesturing to the cocoon and its softly snoring contents. ‘That’s Joni. Did you stay at the pub?’

  ‘I went on to meet a couple of guys from work. They were at one of the bars on the high street, so I joined them for a bit.’

  He wriggled out of his jacket and dropped it onto the floor.

  ‘I love you so much,’ he said, moving closer to my face. ‘Do you love me?’

  ‘Of course I love you,’ I replied, slightly confused by his need for reassurance.

  ‘Do you love me for all my faults?’ he continued.

  I looked at him, puzzled. ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’

  ‘Just that I love you, I love you so much,’ he said again.

  Perhaps he was trying to make light of the fact he was blatantly drunk – and horny.

  ‘For all your faults,’ I said.

  Then he held my head in his hands and we began to kiss, gently at first and then with more urgency. I could smell cigarettes on his breath; he occasionally succumbed when he was drinking. But I was glad he had made an effort with the dads from The Baby Group, and I couldn’t begrudge him a few extra pints this evening, he’d been so attentive to us all week.

  Jason flung the duvet back and placed his hand over my nightdress, on the top of my thigh. I felt self-conscious and also nervous about what he was going to find under there, in a region I had successfully avoided thinking about, let alone touched, in any way other than a medical one, since giving birth. And it was still fairly early days to be having sex again. I was worried about how it would feel to have him inside me. I stiffened slightly.

  Before I could decide whether this was a good idea, Jason was already pulling his jumper and T-shirt off over his head.

  ‘Baby, just go slowly, okay,’ I urged, holding onto his shoulders as he pulled me on top of him. If I’d known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have put my breast pads in. I pulled them out and tossed them onto the floor quickly, all the while trying not to think about which colour of Sainsbury’s finest big granny knickers I was wearing under my nightie this evening. At least I had weaned myself off the gigantic sanitary pads by now. ‘I think it will be all right, at least I hope—’

  He silenced me by sticking his tongue into my mouth again. ‘Oh Aish,’ he moaned between kisses, ‘I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much.’

  ‘I’ve missed you too, baby,’ I whispered self-consciously. I felt as though I had completely forgotten what to do during foreplay, let alone how to make love or talk dirty.

  I glanced towards the cocoon. At least Joni was asleep – she shouldn’t see this, it could scar her for life.

  It didn’t matter that I had regressed to a virgin because Jason was in the mood to show me what to do. His lips and hands were everywhere, as I prayed he wouldn’t squeeze my breasts too hard because milk was certainly going to come out. My nipples tingled with delight – and a little engorgement. He took one into his mouth and sucked.

  ‘Mmmm,’ he moaned. ‘Your tits are amazing.’

  ‘Just lightly.’ I took his hand in mine and slowed the pace, guiding him away from my breast and across my stomach. Luckily I had only just fed her, so I didn’t think there was too much danger of spurting milk as we got it on, but it felt pretty strange being groped in an area that was currently being used to keep our child alive. I struggled to put an image of a cow’s udders out of my head.

  He slipped his hands under my nightie and pulled my knickers down. Things down there felt better at least and my breathing slowed. He entered me gently, cautiously, unsure how this was going to feel for either of us. It must have taken all of his willpower to move so slowly. My back arched as I felt him inside me.

  ‘Remember, don’t come,’ I whispered, thinking of Maggie’s warning that a woman can be especially fertile in the weeks following childbirth – and ‘Irish twins’ was the last thing either of us needed right now, especially me.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he panted, ‘I won’t. God I want you so much. I fancy you so much.’

  It only took a few gentle thrusts before he was withdrawing again, this time to come. It was all over within minutes – which, to be honest, was a relief. It was hard to feel properly invested in a lengthy shagging session when I knew Joni would be wanting another feed in about two hours, which meant only a small window for sleep even if I dropped off immediately.

  ‘Aisha,’ he said between rapid breaths, his eyes clamped shut, his arm wrapped around me. ‘I love you and Joni so much. I do, you know. I really hope you
believe me.’ And then he promptly fell asleep.

  Meanwhile I got out of bed, went to the bathroom for a quick inspection down below and hunted for my breast pads and a fresh crop top to keep everything in place overnight. As I lay there in the darkness, watching his chest rise and fall, and listening to Joni breathing steadily on the other side of me, it occurred to me that my body was doing an amazing job keeping everyone in this household going right now. And of course I believed Jason loved me and Joni – why would he doubt that?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Aisha

  Friday 2nd July

  I met Lucy in the same French café Susie and I had gone to a few weeks earlier. Luckily Joni was less of a fidget than Albie seemed to be; she had been content to snuggle into my chest for the best part of an hour, transfixed by the black and white pattern on the wallpaper behind me, as I’d one-handedly managed to scoff some scrambled egg and toast.

  Albie had been unsettled, crying quite a lot and not taking the bottle well, and now he was back in his pram, grabbing for the string of toys stretched across the top just out of his reach. How frustrating it must be to be a baby. Lucy had disappeared to the counter to order another coffee. She could have called over a waitress, but she seemed agitated.

  I half wanted to pick Albie up and give him a cuddle, but my hands were full with Joni as I gave her a quick feed. My hormones were out of control at the moment – if I looked at any baby for long enough, my eyes pooled. I was in tears watching a Pampers commercial the other morning, while Joni dozed in my lap. I kept looking from the screen to her and back again – marvelling at her precious vulnerability, and the fact she is so blooming cute. You just can’t appreciate it before you have one of your own.

  Lucy came back to the table, just as I was quietly finishing the feed. ‘Meant to ask if you wanted one too?’ she said loudly, putting a hand on my shoulder.

  She took me by surprise, coming up behind me so quickly, and somehow I managed to spill the glass of orange juice I was holding in one hand – thankfully cold – down onto Joni.

  I automatically held her up in front of me, as far away from my white T-shirt as I could safely reach without losing my grip of her – stupid colour to wear when you’re a mother of a tiny infant. It had missed her face but gone all over her little pale-yellow onesie.

  ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry!’ Lucy exclaimed, more loudly than was strictly necessary, as I drew a few glances from other tables. ‘I didn’t mean to make you jump.’

  ‘It’s fine, don’t worry, I’ll just grab a wipe.’

  I jumped to my feet and dashed to retrieve my nappy satchel from the buggy, parked out of the way, on the other side of the café. Thank God I’d remembered a pack of wipes and a change of clothes for her today.

  The nappy bag had somehow got its strap tangled with the frame of the buggy and I struggled to free it while holding Joni with one arm, conscious that if orange juice transferred onto this T-shirt, I was unlikely to ever get it off, and I didn’t have a change of clothes for me too.

  I yanked the strap again but failed to free the bag. This time I turned for help and noticed Lucy look up. She was the closest person to me and had two free hands, unlike most of the others.

  ‘Take her for a second, would you?’ I called, pleadingly, to Lucy from across the small café.

  Lucy hesitated and for a moment I actually thought she was just going to leave me hanging, drawing unwanted attention from a number of nosy bystanders.

  ‘Lucy,’ I said again, ‘help me out?’

  ‘Of course, sure.’ She finally came over and I handed Joni to her.

  ‘Just don’t get too close,’ I warned.

  She put her hands under Joni’s tiny armpits. ‘There’s no babygrow stain I haven’t seen in the last twenty-four hours, believe me.’ She held her out at a safe arm’s length.

  Joni gurgled in response.

  I untied the bag and, realizing a wipe wasn’t going to do the job, took her off into the baby changing room.

  When I returned, only Lucy and one other table were left in the café. Admittedly, it had taken a while to do a complete strip-down, change her nappy and re-dress.

  ‘So sorry again,’ she said when I finally sat down again.

  ‘It was an accident,’ I laughed awkwardly.

  We fell into silence.

  ‘Albie seems to be taking the bottle now, finally,’ she said eventually, making us both relieved to have something to talk about.

  ‘Oh great, I’m happy for you,’ I said. ‘What did you do? Did Oscar giving it to him help?’

  ‘He just got there in the end,’ she sighed. ‘It’s a relief. Oscar has been trying, but it’s not been straightforward. Maybe Albie senses something is wrong…’

  ‘Wrong?’ I probed her this time.

  ‘Well not wrong, exactly. I guess I’m just scared. I’m worried that Oscar’s not ready to be a daddy again.’ She paused, her head hung, avoiding eye contact. ‘I’m not sure he and I can do this together.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lucy. It’s hard enough without this extra worry. Maybe Oscar just needs more time to get used to being a father again?’ I offered. ‘I guess we have nine months of intense training, whereas the men’s lives only properly change once the baby arrives. They have to catch up with us.’ I peered across at the pram. ‘Aw, look at him though; so handsome. He looks so much like him.’

  Something I said seemed to stop Lucy in her tracks. After that, she didn’t seem to want to talk any more.

  ‘His lordship clearly isn’t going to sleep, so I might see if the walk home sends him off. I’d better get going,’ she said.

  It felt as though Lucy was keeping secrets – teasing me with bits of information, the odd cry for help, but never giving away enough for us to have a proper conversation about how she was feeling. I suppose I’d only known her for a few weeks and perhaps she didn’t find it easy to open up, yet I had a hunch there were layers upon layers to be pulled back. I wondered if Lucy had many close friends. She hadn’t mentioned any – she had barely even spoken of her family, come to think of it.

  Perhaps she needed some support right now. I resolved to give her the benefit of the doubt and make an effort. We might be new friends, but we had already shared so much. I decided to plan something nice for Lucy, mulling over the idea of organizing a small girlie surprise dinner for her, without babies, in the coming weeks. Perhaps some prosecco and company would help to cheer her up.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Lucy

  Aisha’s slouchy white T-shirt had been pulled down so she could feed Joni, revealing a hint of thin bra strap and bare shoulder, which somehow managed to look sexy as her baby suckled contentedly. I felt a desperate stab of inadequacy. She could be a model in an advert for breastfeeding that wouldn’t look out of place in any fashion magazine. Even Joni was making the cutest little sighs. Aisha seemed to have everything. Everything I wanted. It made my insides ache.

  There was one moment in the café when I was holding Joni – Aisha had thrust her into my arms unexpectedly – when I looked at the baby’s face and, for a fleeting second, my mind flashed back. The memory began spinning around, faster and faster, until I almost felt dizzy. For a split second I was unsure what I might say or do next. I looked down at Joni, so pure and innocent, and imagined what would happen if I took her. I had an acute sensation that I actually wanted to cause Aisha some pain. Luckily for her, she quickly took Joni back and hurried off to the loos. The spell was broken. For now.

  Chapter Thirty

  Aisha

  Thursday 5th August

  In no time at all I had been a mother for three months. Time seemed to pass in a regulated haze. Everything seemed to need measuring – from keeping track of how many hours’ sleep I got last night, to how much expressed milk to freeze, to how many weeks old and how many pounds Joni had put on. The remembering of digits was endless – and a sure way to make a mother feel hopeless, when you couldn’t always remember them. M
ost of the time it was hard enough to keep track of which boob I’d last fed her from.

  But the last few weeks had been magical because Joni had started smiling properly. Not just the dozy, blissed-out, milk-drunk smiles of the early days, but proper, ‘I know you – and I love you,’ beams. Seeing her blue eyes open and sparkle, and then her whole face light up into a smile, revealing a little dimple on one cheek, when she woke up or saw me enter a room was all the reassurance I needed to know that I was doing a good enough job as her mummy.

  It felt as though we were beginning to understand each other. I hadn’t really got what Maggie was going on about in The Baby Group when she described the different cries a baby gave – one for hunger, one for tiredness and another when they were really irritated about something – because all baby cries had sounded the same to me before I had my own, but now I knew. Most of the time I could understand Joni and it made it easier to give her what she needed, when she wanted it. I also knew her favourite breast to feed from and the way she liked to be held. I knew how to rock her to sleep. And I learnt that she loved to play peek-a-boo on the changing mat after bath-time – she found it so amusing when I popped up from behind the towel, breaking into giggles so cute and infectious, I could feel rushes of oxytocin wash through me.

  Part of the reason I was having such a blissful time with our baby was because things with Jason had also improved. It felt as if we had overcome the issues with him not being ready for all this and he was now fully engaged with Joni. Jason and I felt more in tune with each other than we had in months – it reminded me of the heady, loved-up days we had in Hong Kong. Whereas I used to sometimes dread him getting home from work because his mood-swings made me feel anxious, now I couldn’t wait to hear his key turn in the lock. He would arrive sporting surprise bunches of tulips, or my favourite chocolates for ‘no reason’; he’d sometimes send me a romantic message or cheesy poem on WhatsApp during the day and tell me how he couldn’t wait to get home and kiss me all over. It was so lovely. I felt truly loved.