Those Other Women

by Nicola Moriarty

  ‘No, nothing like that. It’s just that I don’t work.’

  ‘So you study?’ Kellie asked.

  ‘Nope. No study.’

  ‘She’s a lady of leisure,’ Sophie said, putting on a posh accent.

  ‘Rich husband?’ Poppy asked.

  ‘Nope. I’m single.’

  ‘She’s a trust fund baby,’ Sophie explained.

  ‘Seriously?’ said Annalise. ‘You’re so rich that you don’t have to work?’

  ‘Yep.’ Carla picked up her wine and gulped it in a way that had Poppy guessing she might be a match for seasoned drinker Annalise. Poppy suspected that despite her assurances, Carla actually was feeling uncomfortable, and she smoothly switched the topic of conversation to the previous night’s episode of The Bachelor. From there, the five of them chatted about everything from Kellie’s new colleague who was possibly making a move on her – and whether she ought to tell her husband about it – to Sophie’s new jeans that apparently made her feel like a model, and Carla’s upcoming holiday to Thailand. They kept up a steady flow of drinks and as it grew darker, the families started to clear out and the jazz band packed up. The temperature dropped as the stars began to pop into view in the night sky above them and they all pulled on jackets and scarves.

  ‘So am I allowed to ask “the question”?’ Carla said when there was a lull in conversation.

  ‘What question?’ Kellie asked, shivering and wrapping her thin cardigan tighter around her body. Poppy smiled as Annalise feigned irritation before wordlessly unwinding the scarf from around her neck and handing it over to Kellie, who accepted it gratefully.

  ‘The “why doesn’t everyone here want kids” question. Or is that taboo?’

  ‘Why would it be taboo?’ Kellie shot back.

  ‘You know, ’cause it’s too personal or whatever.’

  Annalise groaned. ‘Or maybe because it’s the kind of question we all face constantly and we don’t want to continually answer?’

  ‘Yeah, or that,’ Carla admitted.

  ‘Well, I don’t mind talking about it,’ said Kellie. ‘I don’t want kids because I’ve never ever been the type of person to take on responsibility for anything beyond myself. I can’t imagine having the weight of someone else’s life on my shoulders.’

  ‘What about pets?’ Sophie asked. ‘Could you handle keeping a cat alive?’

  ‘Nope. I can barely keep a potted plant alive.’

  ‘Seriously? I’d go insane without my two dogs. My furbabies more than satisfy any need I have to nurture.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake,’ said Annalise, ‘why does there have to be “a reason”? Do people ask mothers what their reason is for choosing to have children?’

  ‘I guess not.’ Carla looked guilty. ‘Sorry, I didn’t really think of it that way.’

  ‘Well, for me it’s totally political and environmental,’ said Sophie. ‘Once upon a time procreation might have been a necessity to keep the human race alive, but now the world is far too over-populated. Having children is a selfish act, as far as I’m concerned.’

  Poppy felt an unexpected surge of protectiveness towards her brother, who had three boys – twins in kindergarten and a two year old. While she might not want kids herself, she loved her nephews. ‘I don’t know if that’s really fair,’ she said. ‘I don’t think my brother and his wife were being at all selfish when they decided to have a family.’ She thought about the way Nolan doted on his kids. He was an absolute natural as a father – she couldn’t imagine him without them. The twins had inherited Nolan’s infectious laugh and their younger brother was adorably shy.

  ‘I’m not saying they’re being intentionally selfish,’ said Sophie, ‘I just mean it in a more general way, you know, across the board. The wider population doesn’t really think about the effect of a human life on the world. The easiest and by far one of the most effective ways you can reduce your carbon footprint is by cutting down on the number of children you have.’

  ‘So you want us to adopt a single-child policy like China?’ Kellie asked.

  ‘Look, I don’t know what the solution is. I’m just saying that’s how I made the decision to stay kid-free. More people ought to consider adopting rescue dogs like me when they get the urge to mother.’

  Two kids ran past them then playing a game of tag, knocking Poppy’s bag off the empty seat at the end of the table.

  ‘I thought all the families were out of here by now,’ said Annalise, hopping off her chair to grab Poppy’s bag for her.

  A woman appeared next to them, ‘Sorry about that,’ she said, indicating Poppy’s bag. ‘Trying to round them up.’

  ‘All good,’ said Poppy with a friendly smile.

  ‘How relaxed is this?’ the woman added, seeming to suddenly take in the fact that five women were sitting around a table full of drinks and not one had a child hanging off her. ‘Jealous! I’m so overdue for a girls’ night out without the kids.’

  Kellie grinned back at her. ‘Every night for us is a night out without the kids.’

  The woman looked perplexed for a moment, as though she couldn’t figure out how they could possibly achieve this. Then the other shoe dropped and her face switched to embarrassment.

  ‘You guys aren’t mums? Sorry!’ she exclaimed. ‘I just assumed because you all look around my age that you —’ Her face reddened and she stopped short before rushing to clarify. ‘Not that it means anything, of course. Like, just because you’re old it doesn’t mean you should . . . Oh, shit, not old, I mean older. You’re not old at all. You still have heaps of time to have kids if you want to. Not that it has anything to do with me. I’m going to shut up now. Sorry!’

  ‘Don’t be,’ said Annalise. ‘We’re about to order another round and tomorrow we’ll be sleeping off our hangovers with zero interruptions. We’re all good.’

  The woman nodded fervently. ‘Yes, of course, of course,’ she said. ‘You’re so lucky. I am super envious right now.’ She backed away from the table as though they had morphed into an unknown species.

  ‘Wow!’ said Carla as they all started laughing. ‘That was mortifying. Did you see how embarrassed she was when she realised her faux pas?’

  ‘Why do mothers always feel the need to reassure us that we’re so lucky in case they offend us?’ said Kellie, shaking her head. ‘Thanks, love. We’re good.’

  Poppy grinned. That mum had just proved exactly why they’d needed this group in the first place.

  Bette – Recommendations please? I’m after a public pool in the area that doesn’t do pre-school swimming lessons in the mornings. The little tykes are very cute and all, but I’m always getting splashed when I’m trying to do my sidestroke, not to mention I’m sure they’re all peeing in the water. I love having my morning swim as part of my exercise routine. TIA.

  Dianna – Hi Bette, I can highly recommend the gym where I do yoga. It’s called Mind 2 Body and it’s on George Street They have a small pool that you can use as part of your membership.

  Yasmine – @Dianna, Ooh, I need a place to do yoga, I might check it out too.

  Jess – Ladies, there’s no better exercise than a good sex-life!

  Annalise – @Jess, PMSL!

  CHAPTER 3

  Mondays at Cormack always started with the weekly ‘managers’ strategy chat’. Poppy and Annalise were the first ones in Meeting Room Two – the other managers were usually slow to arrive.

  Cormack Millennial Holdings was a company with a name that no one had ever heard of, because they were hidden behind a brand-new trading name almost every week. Poppy knew it was a strange business model for a company, but she loved it. Each week, her research team would scour the latest news sites and all the different social media platforms to see what new trends were taking off. It might have been Polaroid cameras or old-fashioned bicycles that had trended up because of hipsters, or a certain super food because of the latest fad diet, or a particular toy – practically anything. Then the procurement team would start sour
cing the popular items; the marketing department would come up with a new temporary trading name, buy a domain name and set up a quickie website; and wham bam, thank you, ma’am, suddenly they were the suppliers of the one thing everyone wanted. They’d flood the market until the trend burned out and then move on to the next thing.

  Last year, Poppy had realised people were suddenly going mad for this ‘ship your enemies glitter’ start-up. So Cormack Millennial registered the trading name ‘Glitter Bomb’, ordered in pallets of glitter, and now, twelve months later, the warehouse staff were still finding glitter in their clothes.

  Their slogan might as well have been ‘Cormack Millennial – We jump on everyone else’s bandwagon’. Their CEO Paul came up with the concept. It was like he thought to himself, Hmm, I really like that company and that company, why can’t I do what they’re doing? You know what? I think I will.

  Sometimes they had multiple trading names running at once, sometimes they would zero in on one big idea. They’d drill down. They’d lean in. Over the years Cormack had often been accused of being the leeches of the entrepreneurial world, of attaching themselves to other people’s great ideas and sucking the life force out of them before dropping off and moving on. But Poppy thought Paul’s business model was actually a stroke of brilliance. The job was hard work and fast-paced but it was always interesting. These days Paul sat back and let his staff come up with all the good ideas. He’d always seemed just slightly on the wrong side of arrogant to Poppy, but lately he was tipping more towards laziness in her opinion.

  Annalise leaned forward in her seat, resting her elbows on the table between the two of them. ‘So,’ she said, ‘how many of ’em are going to ask for time off today?’

  ‘They better not.’

  ‘They will.’

  Poppy knew she was right. Weekly meetings were supposed to be all about planning their next big project. But lately they seemed to be monopolised by other managers wanting to discuss their schedules, ask for time off due to family commitments. It was like there had been something in the water-cooler at Cormack over the past few years. Women kept falling pregnant, one after another, and heading off on maternity leave. Then each one would return to their roles only to demand more flexible hours in order to fit around their kids. Poppy knew it was great that Cormack was a family-friendly work place. She knew it would be hard to juggle a job and children – but she also knew there were certain mothers at Cormack who took advantage of this.

  The worst culprit though would have to be Frankie – Paul’s assistant. This was because, on top of being able to use her kids as an excuse to come and go as she pleased, she was having an affair with Paul. And that meant she could get away with murder. So to speak. Poppy didn’t know Frankie’s husband and she’d only met Paul’s wife Linda briefly on the odd occasion she dropped by the office, but her heart broke for the two clueless partners. She’d been where they were so recently.

  Poppy usually liked to think she was observant, but it was Annalise who had drawn it to her attention first.

  ‘Do you think there’s something going on between Paul and Frankie?’

  It was funny how as soon as something was pointed out to you, you started noticing the little details. The closed office door and the blinds shut tight. The eye contact between the two of them, those little knowing glances. When two people had a secret, they couldn’t seem to help exchanging that knowledge between them with a simple look. Adding adulterer to Paul’s list of faults had recently cemented Poppy’s dislike of the man.

  And as for Frankie, Poppy already found her irritating enough as it was. She was always guarding the door to Paul’s office like he was a celebrity, and she would only grant you access if she considered you worthy.

  To top it all off, Frankie was so damn smug about her position. Just the other week, Poppy and Annalise were at the coffee shop next door to the office, about to order their morning caffeine hit. In a time when most cafes had gone full hipster – everything organic, staff with beanies and thick glasses, and seats made out of tree stumps or milk crates – the cafe next to Cormack was unapologetically . . . plain. Everything on the menu had gluten in it, and there was no fancy coffee art on top of the cappuccinos and no quirky 1950s-style names for the meals. No beards, no fedoras, no kale. Poppy and Annalise loved it.

  On this particular morning, as they were about to step forward and place their orders, Frankie walked in, stepped straight in front of them and said, ‘Sorry, girls, I’m ordering for the boss and I don’t have time to wait. You don’t mind, do you?’

  Before they had the chance to say a word, she started ordering. And, Poppy noted, it was two coffees she asked for, one for herself as well.

  Now, as they continued to wait for the rest of the managers, Poppy opened up Facebook on her phone and started looking through the latest posts on NOP. ‘Hey, what did you think of Carla and Sophie the other night?’ she asked as she continued to scroll mindlessly.

  Annalise tipped her hand side to side to indicate she’d found them a bit iffy.

  ‘I know what you mean,’ Poppy agreed, putting her phone back down. ‘They were okay, but they kind of stirred the pot a bit, didn’t they? Like wanting to quiz everyone about why we don’t want kids and bringing politics or whatever into it.’

  ‘Yeah and what’s with Carla’s whole “trust fund baby” thing? I mean, I’d love to not have to work, but what do you think she does all day?’

  ‘I know, right?’

  Poppy’s phone lit up with a notification and she picked it up again to take a look. ‘Speak of the devil,’ she said. ‘Post on NOP from Carla.’

  ‘What’s it say?’

  ‘She wants to know when people want to get together for drinks again.’

  ‘Is it a public post?’ Annalise asked.

  ‘Yep,’ said Poppy.

  ‘Shit,’ said Annalise. ‘Doesn’t she realise we have over one hundred members? You can’t put it out there for everyone.’

  ‘Nah, I wouldn’t worry too much. She hasn’t mentioned a date or venue. I’ll PM her and let her know if she wants to invite people out, she needs to make a private event and just put it out to a few people.’

  Lawrence came in and Poppy quickly put her phone face down on the table. He eyeballed her as he pulled out a chair and sat down by Annalise.

  ‘One of these days I’m going to set up a secret camera and find out what it is you two are always talking about,’ said Lawrence.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Annalise asked, leaning back in her seat and smiling innocently at him. ‘We were just chatting, nothing important.’

  ‘Don’t give me that look,’ said Lawrence. ‘You have something going on. Lately, every time I walk in on the two of you talking you both stop mid-sentence.’ He shifted his gaze back and forth between Poppy and Annalise. Annalise was completely capable of just staring back at him, but Poppy had trouble meeting his eye.

  ‘Maybe we were talking about your skills in the bedroom,’ said Annalise with a sly smile.

  Poppy was bemused she could be so brash about it. She knew the two of them had slept together a few times and that it was all completely casual between them, but there was no way she could have pulled off that level of sass with a guy she’d slept with, let alone one she saw at work every day.

  If Annalise was expecting Lawrence to be rattled by her comment though, it didn’t happen. Instead his face brightened.

  ‘That right?’ he said.

  ‘No,’ she replied, ‘of course not. We were talking about soccer, it’s out first game next Monday night.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ Lawrence looked back at Poppy. ‘So how’s the newbie been fitting into the team at your training sessions?’

  ‘She’s bloody brilliant.’

  Several more managers finally starting filtering into the room, cutting their conversation short.

  Paul and Frankie were the last ones to take their seats. Poppy wasn’t even sure why they bothered waiting for Paul to get the meeting st
arted. These days he pretty much sat back and let everyone else keep things ticking along. Once in a while he’d throw an idea out and all the managers knew to humour him, nodding and smiling and pretending to consider it carefully before gently steering the conversation around to someone else’s suggestion.

  ‘Oranges,’ said Paul, who had apparently decided to kick things off with a completely random comment. They all stared back at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He tapped the tips of his fingers together, pausing long enough to make them all feel uncomfortable. Eventually, he spoke again. ‘I’m thinking . . . see now last month it was frozen berries. So this month, why not oranges? Or . . . actually, now that I think about it – orange juice, right? Frozen orange juice. Next big thing, yeah?’

  The other managers all stayed quiet, exchanging awkward glances. Poppy knew she was going to have to be the one to say something.

  ‘Could be something in that, Paul,’ Poppy said, choosing her words carefully. ‘Although, don’t forget, the reason we jumped on the frozen berry bandwagon was because of the hepatitis C scare with the imported supermarket brand berries, right? So we were filling a hole in the market, giving the consumers that peace of mind they were craving with the bright new packaging – safe, fresh, Australian-grown berries! But oranges . . . umm, I’m not sure if there’s been anything in the news about those, has there?’ She glanced around at the others.

  ‘I mean, unless I’m wrong of course,’ she added quickly. ‘Unless I missed something. Lawrence, you heard anything in the news about oranges?’

  He gave Poppy a look, then said, ‘I’m not too sure, Poppy, but I’ll have my team check it out.’

  Throughout the whole exchange, Paul stayed quiet. In fact, it didn’t really look like he was actually listening, his gaze seemed to be fixed on a corner of the ceiling. His slightly silvering hair glinted under the fluorescent lights. He was right on the verge of shifting from good-looking, middle-aged CEO to past-his-use-by-date has-been.

  Frankie jumped in. ‘Okay, great, so Lawrence will check up on that for us, thanks, Lawrence. Now if I could just steer us back to the agenda.’