The Bad Mothers’ Book Club

by Keris Stainton

  ‘Left the troublemaker at home then?’ one of the other mums said.

  Emma had noticed her that morning – she’d been walking up the road when Emma had been looking for someone to take Ruby in – and was now leaning on the handles of a double buggy, the two small boys inside it fast asleep.

  Emma laughed weakly. ‘Yeah, I won’t be bringing him again.’

  ‘I know you’re probably not ready to hear this,’ the woman said. ‘But it was dead funny to watch.’

  Emma shook her head. She could imagine. And she thought it might make a funny story at some point in the future. But she wasn’t there yet.

  ‘Sorry. I’ve just got an evil sense of humour. I’m Beth.’

  ‘Emma,’ Emma said, smiling finally.

  ‘When he peed against the car,’ Beth said. ‘I nearly peed too.’

  Emma snorted. ‘Who is that woman …?’ She glanced around to make sure she wasn’t behind her. ‘The one in the leather leggings? Jools?’

  ‘Ah,’ Beth said. ‘Jools Jackson. Her husband’s a footballer, so she thinks she’s it.’

  ‘Matt Jackson? Is she married to Matt Jackson?’ Now that Emma thought about it, she remembered seeing an article about them in the local magazine. Matt was really handsome so she’d focused more on him than his wife.

  ‘Yeah,’ Beth said. ‘How long have you been here? I would’ve thought you’d have seen them already. They’re our top local celebrities.’ She rolled her eyes.

  ‘We’ve only been here just over a month,’ Emma said. ‘But I think I did see them in a magazine. I didn’t realise it was her.’

  ‘Oh god, yeah,’ Beth said. ‘Northern Life? Everyone talked about it for days, like she was a Kardashian or something. I expected her to start offering to sign everyone’s copies.’

  ‘And the other women?’ Emma asked, looking back over her shoulder again, just in case.

  ‘Eve, Flic and Maggie. They’re all right if you get them on their own. Well, Eve can be a bit of a cow, but, yeah, as long as you separate them from the herd.’

  ‘It was just Eve and Flic, I think. No Maggie.’ She tried to remember if there’d been another woman with them at any point, but if there had been, Emma hadn’t noticed her. ‘They mentioned they’ve got a book club …’ she told Beth.

  ‘Oh god,’ Beth groaned. ‘The fucking book club. It’s exclusive. Invitation only. They were on some TV show once – something like This Morning, but not that – the author of the book they were reading came out to meet them and they had cocktails. The way everyone was going on about it, you’d think it’d been the queen.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘Can’t remember. Not someone I’d ever heard of.’

  ‘They’re reading Wuthering Heights now. They’d struggle to get Emily Brontë here.’

  ‘Is she not local?’ Beth said, and then grinned so Emma knew she was joking. ‘Fucking hell though. Why would you read that if you don’t have to?’

  ‘I love it actually,’ Emma said. The door to Miss McCarry’s classroom opened. ‘I’ve been thinking about re-reading it for a while.’

  ‘What’s stopping you?’ Beth asked.

  ‘I haven’t finished a book since we moved up here.’ Emma shook her head. ‘I always fall asleep.’

  ‘It’s the sea air,’ Beth said. ‘But maybe start with something more fun than Wuthering Heights then. There’s a whole shelf of Fifty Shades in the charity shop.’

  ‘I’ll suggest that for next month,’ Emma joked.

  ‘It’s all very Big Little Lies – did you watch it?’ Beth said, her voice low again. ‘The book club. Like they’re all friends but they hate each other. It’d be hilarious if it wasn’t so sad.’

  A few children burst through the doors of the classroom, but Sam wasn’t one of them. Emma hoped he’d had an OK day. She hoped he hadn’t hated it.

  ‘Slow down!’ Miss McCarry called, trying to hold some of the children back before they caused a bottleneck in the doorway.

  And then Sam burst through, his hair sticking up in clumps, his red school sweatshirt covered in paint. He ran over to Emma, hugged her around her thighs and said, ‘Can we go to the beach?’ against her jeans.

  ‘Course,’ Emma said, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. He smelled like wet dog. ‘How was your day?’

  ‘Did you get my Lego?’

  ‘Yeah,’ Emma said, glancing over at Beth who smiled back at her. ‘Let’s go find your sister.’

  Chapter Five

  ‘Sam, come on!’ Emma said as they walked along the prom to school a couple of weeks later and Sam stopped for what felt like the fiftieth time. ‘For god’s sake! We’re going to be late.’ They were about five minutes from school with – Emma estimated – about two minutes before the whistle.

  The walk was bracing and picturesque but there were way too many distractions for a curious five-year-old. In the first two weeks of school they’d already been late three times and Emma knew that if they were late again she’d actually get called in for a meeting with the head to explain herself. And she had no explanation beyond ‘it’s hard to get everyone out of the house in the morning.’ She wanted to avoid that meeting, if at all possible.

  ‘Did you see the ant?’ Sam was already starting to crouch down behind a bench, as Ruby tutted with impatience, wrapping Buddy’s lead around her wrist as he tried to tug her across the road towards the marine lake.

  Emma tugged on Sam’s hand. ‘No. I’ll look for it on the way home.’

  ‘Don’t step on it!’

  ‘I won’t step on it. I’ll be really careful.’

  ‘You know how many ants probably get stepped on every day, Sam?’ Ruby, said.

  ‘Shut up, Ruby,’ Emma said. Ruby was smart, but she suffered from a lack of empathy where her brother was concerned.

  ‘Miss McCarry says “shut up” is a bad word,’ Sam said.

  ‘It is,’ Ruby agreed. ‘You should say “be quiet.” Or really you shouldn’t say that either because you should listen to your children and not try to stifle their creativity.’

  ‘Oh my god,’ Emma said.

  ‘And that’s blasphemy,’ Ruby said.

  ‘Was that the whistle?’ Emma asked. ‘Come on.’

  ‘That wasn’t the whistle,’ Ruby said. She’d stepped out of her shoe and stopped to fasten it back on. ‘You know at half term?’ she asked, looking up at Emma.

  ‘Yes. It’s not for a while yet though. Get on with your shoe.’

  ‘Can we go back to London? I want to see Isabelle. Or she could come up here. She says she’s never been to a beach.’

  ‘They go to the South of France every summer,’ Emma said, reaching down and helping Ruby with her shoe. ‘But maybe we could go down for the weekend, yes.’

  ‘Good,’ Ruby said. ‘I think she’s probably missing me.’ Shoe back on, the three of them set off walking again. ‘Look, Mummy,’ Ruby said, as they turned the corner towards the school. ‘Flora’s going to be late too.’

  Emma glanced over at the green that separated the prom from Hillcrest School to see Beth – who she’d started thinking of as her almost-friend since she was the only other mum who’d spoken to her so far – doing a shuffling half-run along the path, with Flora lagging behind and her twin boys in front in the buggy. She waved and Beth nodded back.

  ‘We’re not going to be late,’ Emma said. ‘It was first whistle. We’ll be fine.’

  They reached the gate at the same time as Beth, and headed into the playground. Sam’s teacher Miss McCarry was just opening the door as they joined the small crowd of parents and children, milling around, waiting.

  ‘Go line up, sweetie,’ Emma told Ruby, who kissed her, grabbed Flora’s hand, and ran to join the class line.

  ‘Have your two had chickenpox?’ Beth asked, leaning down and pulling a pack of baby wipes out of the basket under the buggy, her dark hair fastened in two plaits swinging forward.

  Emma nodded, although she wasn’t sure Ruby actu
ally had. She’d had a few spots, but it never really developed and she’d often wondered if it would come back.

  ‘Our Sid’s got a pock on the back of his head,’ Beth said, in her strong Liverpool accent that Emma loved. She stepped round to the front of the buggy and wiped the twins’ faces. ‘But it’s under his hair so I’m not really sure.’

  Emma felt Sam curling himself around her leg, as he did every morning. They’d talked about it over the weekend and he’d promised he was going to try a bit harder to be a little bit braver, but apparently they’d be having the same conversation next weekend too.

  ‘Sam, love,’ Emma said, stroking his blond hair back from his pale face. ‘You like it when you get inside, you know you do.’

  ‘I don’t,’ Sam whispered. ‘I hate it. Can I come home with you? Please?’

  Emma bit her lip. She wanted to say, yeah, fuck it, why not? They could go home, get their wellies on and go down to the beach, splash in the puddles from last night’s rain. Instead she carefully untangled his arms and crouched down to cuddle him.

  ‘Sorry, love. You’re going to have to be brave. Like we talked about, remember?’

  Sam nodded.

  ‘Sam?’ Miss McCarry called. ‘Are you coming in?’

  ‘No,’ Sam said.

  ‘Yes,’ Emma said, giving him a little shove towards his teacher. He got halfway to the door and turned back to look at Emma, his face a picture of tragedy. Emma had to dig her nails into her palms to stop herself running after him.

  ‘He’ll be OK once they get going,’ Beth said.

  Emma nodded. She really hoped so.

  ‘It’s a lot to get used to,’ Beth said. ‘A new town and a new school. And making friends isn’t easy.’

  ‘No,’ Emma said. ‘Actually, would you like to get a coffee some time? Maybe after we drop them off one morning?’

  ‘I’d love that,’ Beth said.

  Maggie opened the door. Her brother Nick was standing there, a bright purple suitcase on the path next to him.

  ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I’ve left Simon.’

  ‘Oh my god,’ Maggie said. ‘Come in.’

  It was only once they were in the hall, the door closed behind them, that Maggie wrapped her arms around her younger brother and squeezed. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  She took a step back, her hands still on his shoulders. He looked pale with dark smudges under his eyes. ‘What happened?’

  ‘You know we went away?’

  ‘Yeah, Marrakesh, right?’ Maggie said, letting go of him and turning into the hall. ‘Come through to the kitchen. You want a tea?’

  ‘Course.’ Nick followed her to the kitchen.

  ‘Bloody hell, Mags,’ Nick said, as Maggie filled the kettle. ‘Did Mum decorate for you?’

  Maggie glanced around. ‘What?’

  ‘It looks just like Mum’s house in here.’

  ‘It does not. Anyway, you’ve seen it before.’

  ‘I haven’t,’ he said. ‘Last time I was here everything was magnolia. And it really does. I think she’s got the same wallpaper.’

  Maggie shook her head. She wasn’t a massive fan of the wallpaper herself – it was cream with tiny red flowers – but it had been on offer and they’d needed a lot.

  ‘This room would look great with the splash back shocking pink and maybe dark blue on that wall. There’s so much light from that window that you don’t need to go light on the walls.’

  ‘I don’t remember commissioning you to redo my kitchen,’ Maggie said, leaning back against the cupboards. ‘Thanks though.’

  ‘I could, if you wanted me to.’

  ‘Thanks, but I like it.’

  ‘You mean Jim likes it. Then again, I can’t imagine him being comfortable with the flowers, however tiny.’

  ‘I like it,’ Maggie said. ‘Don’t start. Tell me about Simon.’

  ‘I wasn’t starting. But you’re right, we should talk about my problems.’

  They took their teas through to the conservatory.

  ‘This is so Mum too, by the way,’ Nick said, lifting a puppy off the chair and dropping it on the floor. ‘Entertaining guests in the conservatory.’

  ‘Amy would kill you,’ Maggie said, picking the dog up and sitting it on the sofa next to her.’

  ‘She’s not here though, is she. Little weirdo.’ He picked up and sipped his tea. ‘So.’

  ‘Marrakesh.’

  ‘Marrakesh. Yeah. It was fine. We didn’t fight or anything. We just didn’t really … I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. I looked at him one day and I couldn’t remember why I was with him. It was like being there with a stranger. Like I’d met him at the airport. Or we were on a blind date. I was like “how did this happen? Who even are you?”’

  ‘So the usual then?’

  Nick pulled a face. ‘It’s not the usual.’

  ‘It really is. You always do this. It gets too serious and you … flee.’

  ‘I didn’t flee.’

  ‘You’re here, aren’t you.’

  ‘Yeah, but I didn’t flee. I was very mature; I told him I didn’t think we were making each other happy. And he agreed, but he thought maybe we should try a bit harder, go out more as a couple, make a bit more of an effort, you know? But I said I didn’t really want to do that and then I left.’

  ‘You fleed,’ Maggie said, pulling her feet up underneath her. ‘Flew? Fled.’

  ‘I reasonably and maturely after a reasonable and mature break up, came up here to see my sister and niece, who I haven’t seen for ages.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Maggie said. ‘But are you OK? Really?’

  Nick shrugged. ‘I think so? Who’s to say. I feel fine. It feels smart. Like I couldn’t imagine growing old with him so why was I wasting my time, you know? And his time. So it was the smart thing to do.’

  ‘Still hard though.’

  ‘I’m not. It’s just these trousers.’ He grinned.

  ‘I am your sister,’ Maggie said, smiling into her tea.

  ‘So how’re things with you?’ Nick asked. ‘Anything exciting to report?’

  Maggie shrugged. ‘Not really. I’m very boring.’

  ‘You’re not. Well, you didn’t used to be.’

  ‘I take Amy to school. I go for a run. I make pebble pictures. I go to book club once a month. That’s about it.’

  ‘Mum told me about the pebble pictures. Are you having a breakdown?’

  ‘Shut up, they’re good! I made the first one for Amy and people kept asking about it so I made some more. People like them.’

  Nick leaned back in his chair and stared at her. ‘You’re turning into Mum. It’s creepy. Have you started following the reduced sticker woman round Asda?’

  ‘We haven’t got an Asda,’ Maggie said. ‘And I’m not turning into Mum.’

  Maggie actually felt her throat getting tight. How embarrassing.

  ‘Don’t get upset.’ Nick leaned forward and tapped her on her knee. ‘I’m just taking the piss. It’s just … is this what you imagined for yourself?’

  Maggie drank more tea. It actually was what she’d imagined for herself. Growing up, she’d pictured adulthood as a house and a car and a family that looked exactly like this – almost exactly, there would actually be two kids – and she hadn’t really thought beyond that. And that’s what she had. She had exactly what she’d wanted.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she told Nick.

  ‘That wasn’t what I asked.’ He raised one eyebrow.

  Maggie ignored it. ‘Are you hungry? Have you eaten?’

  Nick rolled his eyes. ‘Way to change the subject. Actually I am hungry. What have you got?’

  ‘Not much, we’ll have to go out. And then we can go and get Amy. She’ll be so excited to see you.’

  ‘Me too. I’ve missed her. FaceTime’s not the same.’

  Maggie finished her tea. ‘I’ll take you up to your room and then we can go.’

  They both stood and Nick pulled her into a hug
. ‘I’ve missed you too, Sis.’

  She squeezed him. She’d missed him more than she was willing to admit.

  Jools lay back and stared up at the smooth, white ceiling. There was a cushion with a buddha on it under her shoulders and, she knew, a view of Liverpool’s Georgian Quarter out of the original sash windows to her right, but she stared up at the smooth plaster and told herself to breathe.

  The beautician, April, had told her it wasn’t going to hurt much, but she’d heard that before. She’d heard that when she’d had a smear test, had blood taken, started breastfeeding, even when she’d had her babies. And every time it had been a lie. All of those things had hurt like hell. But they’d been worth it. And this would be too. She hoped.

  ‘Are you ready?’ April asked. ‘I’m just going to brush and trim your brows first. Are you wearing make-up now? On your brows?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jools said, closing her eyes. She hadn’t left the house without her eyebrows drawn on for as long as she could remember. She felt April smoothing a cool cream across her brows and then wiping it off again.

  ‘Now I’m going to draw them on,’ April said. ‘What I think will look good, which is pretty close to what you had when you came in. I can give you a mirror to watch me do it or do you want to wait ’til it’s done? Obviously I can redo them if they don’t work for you.’

  ‘I’ll wait ’til it’s done,’ Jools said. The less she had to see of the whole procedure the better. She’d watched dozens of YouTube videos before booking this appointment. Some of them had been fine. Some of them were so horrific that she’d had to click away. And she’d avoided the ‘my microblading nightmare’ videos altogether. It had to be done. It was as simple as that.

  Once Jools had approved the drawn-on brows, April applied numbing cream and told Jools the first pass was going to feel similar to plucking or threading. Jools had only had her eyebrows threaded once and tears had streamed down her face the entire time, so it wasn’t the most reassuring thing she’d ever heard. Her friend Eve saying ‘Beauty is pain’ popped into her head and she almost laughed. Thank god for Eve.