Babyville Page 0,132
have three billion ice-cube trays stacked in your freezer?”
Sam starts to laugh. “Not for ice. I read a brilliant article that said you had to freeze the food you make for the babies in ice-cube trays. It's amazing. Every time I cook I just empty out two or three. It's so easy.”
“But Sam,” Maeve says, trying very hard not to smile, but she can't quite help it, “you're supposed to turn them out into freezer bags when they're frozen, not keep buying more ice-cube trays.”
“You're joking.” Sam is mortified as she looks at the trays and trays of frozen baby food, stacked up until there isn't a millimeter of extra space. “No one told me that.”
“Oh God. I'm sorry,” Maeve starts to laugh. “I'm only laughing because I would have done exactly the same thing but I've seen someone do it. You must have spent thousands on those bloody ice trays.”
Sam grins, starting to see the ridiculousness of what she's done. “Not thousands. Hundreds maybe. God, I'm stupid. I can't believe I didn't think of that.”
“So I'm not the only one whose brain has shrunk to nothing since giving birth?”
“Clearly not. I just thought I'd hidden it reasonably well. So. Drink. What'll you have?” She walks back to the cupboard. “Chamomile? Apple and rosehip? Peppermint?” She looks at Maeve's aghast face and starts to laugh. “Joke,” she says, having almost forgotten about Dan. “Tea or coffee?”
“I would say tea but I don't trust you and I need some caffeine so you'd better make it coffee. Strong. Two spoonfuls and milky.”
“Two spoonfuls? Are you sure?”
“Yup. Catching up on the last months when I wasn't allowed to drink any. So . . .” Maeve looks around the kitchen. “This is just as gorgeous as I suspected, but far more to the point, I thought you said you didn't have any help.”
“I don't.”
“You have to be joking. I feel slightly ill. How in the hell do you manage to keep this place looking so perfect by yourself? Nobody does that.” She peers at Sam closely. “Are you some kind of Stepford Wife or something?”
“Trust me,” Sam laughs. “The furthest thing. I was having this meeting . . .” She realizes she can withhold the truth but can't lie completely, not to a new friend. “This friend of ours has secretly asked me to draw a picture of his house for his wife's birthday, and I was so ashamed of this house looking like a bomb's hit it that I had a massive blitz this afternoon. If it makes you feel any better, I swear this house never ever looks like this.”
“Okay. That makes me feel a bit better. So you draw, then?”
“I was a graphic designer.”
“And now?”
“Now I'm a mother who was supposed to have gone back to her job after three months but I'd been unhappy with the company for years, and I just couldn't face it. So now I'm a full-time mother who isn't earning anything, who needs to find some kind of work to keep her sane, but who in the meantime resents her husband for not being able to provide for her in the way she'd like. I'm a mother who will probably have to think of something pretty damn sharpish.”
“No beating around the bush with you, then,” Maeve laughs. “If it's any consolation, I understand.”
“Are you going back to work?”
“I'm supposed to. And before Poppy I thought I would definitely go back, I thought I'd stagnate if I wasn't in the work environment, but I don't know whether I can leave her now. That bloody three-month deadline's looming, and I can't believe I'm going to say this, but the truth is I find being a mother strangely fulfilling.” She sighs. “I spent years building up my career, and just as I was getting somewhere I got pregnant. I thought Poppy would be a temporary blip, but I simply don't miss the adrenaline of work, and I really think I'm happy at home, with Poppy.
“I worked in television,” Maeve adds, as an afterthought.
“I know.” Their eyes meet, and Sam realizes she must now confess. “Oh God. Please swear to me you won't run away if I tell you how I know.”
“I swear to God I'll take at least ten minutes to run away, given that I have to get Poppy's snowsuit back on and get her strapped into the buggy again.” She's joking, but curious. How could Sam possibly know she worked in television?
Sam groans. She likes Maeve so