have become less about making each other feel better and more about scoring points. Whose child sleeps the longest at night, whose little darling is already sitting up, or waving, or possibly even saying what sounds like ‘Mama’?
The mums are all here, grouped around a large table in the corner of the restaurant. Waiting for her. She’s putting their carefully organised schedule in jeopardy. Amber pulls a face of apology as she approaches – first to give birth, last to arrive, she thinks. Another black mark against her.
‘We were starting to wonder.’ Polly stands up and starts guiding her into a space for the buggy in the way a man might help a woman to park a car. ‘Not that way, go around the chairs and then back up next to Kendra’s,’ she instructs above the cool contemporary jazz music.
Amber smiles through gritted teeth, her progress halted as she lassoes a chair with the strap of the changing bag.
‘Let me help!’ Polly lunges forward and attempts to snatch the buggy out of Amber’s hands.
‘It’s okay, I can do it,’ she snaps, releasing her bag and parking up. She takes the spare chair between Cora and Hanima and sits down with a sigh. ‘Sorry I’m so late.’
Everybody is anxious to order their food before the babies wake up, although Louisa’s little boy is on a different timetable and finishing off a feed.
‘I’ll have a pepperoni pizza and a large glass of house white,’ Amber tells the waiter. The others raise their eyebrows like a team of synchronised swimmers. She knows exactly what they’re thinking – spicy food and alcohol can only mean one thing.
‘Oh dear,’ says Polly. ‘You’ve given up breastfeeding. What happened?’
‘Not enough milk.’
‘You probably weren’t drinking enough water,’ says Cora.
‘I drank gallons of the stuff.’
Hanima gives her a sympathetic smile. ‘Maybe it was stress.’
‘Possibly.’
‘You should try a lactation consultant,’ declares Polly. ‘Luckily, I didn’t need one because Belinda latched on immediately, but I’ve heard they can be very good. I’ll ask around, find you a recommendation.’ She leans across and pats Amber’s arm. ‘Please don’t give up, for Mabel’s sake.’
Amber clenches her jaw. ‘I didn’t want to give up, I tried and tried, but it just wasn’t working. Anyway, I feel so much better now, and Mabel’s happier too.’
Polly frowns, clearly thinking this can’t possibly be the case. But Amber knows it’s true. Mabel used to fret at the breast, either falling asleep with all the effort of sucking or biting her in frustration. Now she sucks contentedly on her bottle, secure in the knowledge that she won’t be going to bed hungry.
Food orders placed and glasses of non-alcoholic drinks clinked in a toast to motherhood, Polly commands the undivided attention of the group, announcing that she has some important and highly sensitive information to impart, otherwise known as a bit of juicy gossip.
‘It’s about Sonya,’ she says.
A heavy silence immediately descends on the group, punctuated only by the clatter of cutlery as the waiter lays their places. Amber looks towards Mabel, still asleep in her buggy, her stomach clenching empathetically as she remembers what happened last summer.
Sonya wasn’t like the other mums-to-be. She didn’t seem anxious or excited and wasn’t really interested in learning about labour or childcare. Nobody knew much about her, other than she used to work out at George’s gym, although being the manager, with only a few personal clients, he didn’t remember her. She wasn’t at all forthcoming, despite Polly’s probing. It was as if she didn’t really want to be at the class, but had been forced to attend.
For one thing, she refused to remove her shoes for the yoga-inspired exercises, despite all entreaties. ‘My feet smell,’ she said finally, going very red in the face. Her bump was small, considering how far gone she was, although this made more sense after Cora saw her smoking at the bus stop. She was a mystery.
She only turned up to two – maybe three – classes, then stopped. The rest of them agreed that she hadn’t really fitted in; they even made jokes about smelly feet. Then the news filtered through that her baby had died in the womb and she’d had to deliver her. Everyone was very shocked and upset, full of pity for Sonya and fear for the precious parcels they themselves were carrying around. They felt guilty about not having liked her much and didn’t know how to respond. Should they ignore the tragedy, or send messages of sympathy, even flowers?
Hanima heard