as a hot flush crept up her face. She recognized that smile. That was the smile she gave when frumpy full-time mothers tried to befriend her. It was a smile that said: Don't think about being my friend because I am not one of you. I am better than you. You are a full-time mother and I have so much more going on in my life than just my child. You're bored and lonely and desperate, and I am none of those things (even if I am).
Sam turned her head and examined herself slowly in the window of the wine shop. Black stretchy leggings that were once a size 10 but had almost certainly been stretched, if not into oblivion, then into what Sam dreaded might have been a size 14. Flat black boots that were the only comfortable things she had to walk in, although admittedly they weren't exactly making a fashion statement. Pushing George closer to the window, she looked at her face and frowned.
And she knew then why Emma had granted a small, tight smile before running away. Sam looked exactly like the desperate women she herself avoided. Oh God. Had it really come to that?
This isn't really me, she wanted to shout. Look! Let me show you photos of what I really look like, what I used to look like. But now, the desperate reflection in the shop window really was Sam, and that was when all resistance to the mother and baby groups finally broke down.
Sam re-enters the mothers' circle and sips her coffee. This is her first meeting, although the other mothers have met twice before, and a couple of them were in hospital together or know one another from prenatal classes.
She feels like something of an outsider, not helped by the fact they have decided to meet at someone's house every week, and Sam can't help feeling uncomfortable sitting on the sofa of a woman she's never met before, tucking into carrot cake that one of these women—amazingly—has found the time to make.
There are four other women there. Natalie with her daughter, Olivia; Emily and her son, James; Sarah and daughter Laura; and Penny with Lizzy.
“Thank God there's another boy.” Emily leans over to Sam and laughs. “I felt completely outnumbered last week.”
“It is extraordinary, isn't it,” says Sarah, in whose house they are all sitting, “how many people have had girls recently? You two are the only people who seem to have boys.”
Everyone murmurs in agreement.
“Lucky for the boys, though,” Natalie says. “I'd better teach Olivia about the birds and the bees early.”
“Would that be before or after the ABCs?” Penny says, smiling.
“My daughter's a genius,” Natalie puffs proudly, a twinkle in her eye. “ABCs? She'll be writing her first novel within the year.”
“Thank God,” Sam laughs. “I thought I was the only one with a genius child.”
“Oh no.” Natalie shakes her head vigorously. “All of us have genius children.” The other mothers agree, laughing. “In fact, this isn't just any old mother and baby group. This is a mother and baby group especially for genius children. I mean honestly. Look at my daughter. See the way her tongue's lolling attractively at the side of her mouth? That's actually sign language. We've been learning it together and what she's actually saying is, Mum, I'm bored and why are you forcing me to lie on a play mat when intellectually I am so superior to this.”
“At least I know I'm in the right place,” Sam says.
“Speaking of the birds and the bees—” Sarah ventures.
“Yeuch!” Natalie says forcefully, as Sam decides she definitely likes her. “Do we have to?”
“I just wondered whether you'd all done it yet.”
“Sex?” Emily laughs. “Are you nuts?”
“You don't mean it still hurts?” Sam's horrified. Admittedly sex has been the very last thing on her mind, but she and Chris have managed to have it a couple of times, and even though the first time was rather strange, it certainly wasn't painful.
“No! I meant why, for God's sake. Who'd want to?”
“I've got to say I agree,” Penny chips in. “I'm running out of excuses but the truth is I'm just completely exhausted. And I hardly feel sexy with saggy boobs and a fat stomach. God. Sex is just the last thing I can think of. The only thing I want to do when I climb into bed at night is sleep.”
“I, thank God, haven't had sex once,” Natalie says. “I've been telling Martin my stitches are painful. Bless.”
Sarah frowns at