by Sophie White
‘The arms are very nice alright,’ Liv agreed. ‘But, Ali, I’m not sure there’s any amount of thinking straight that’ll get you out of this. One way or another you’re going to lose. You see that, don’t you? Whether it’s followers or Sam. Or both,’ she finished grimly.
‘I think I need to put the mouthwash into a little jar or something, maybe with a stripy straw.’ Ali fussed with the bottle, the familiar quake in her chest at Liv’s words.
‘Ali?’
‘I know it’s a tricky situation. I just need to get through the Glossies and I’ll figure it out then.’
‘But what’ll you do?’
‘I’ll think about it then.’ Ali sounded a lot more certain than she felt. ‘I don’t have the headspace right now. Between Sam and my dad and sponcon, I’ve too much going on. But I’ll figure it out.’
‘Sam is genuinely the best thing that’s happened out of all this. I think you love him but you need to shut this Ali’s Baba madness down and just be real with him.’
‘Jesus, can’t you just shut up for a minute? I’m trying to get this post up – I have to publish it before 9 a.m. – and then I have a really important meeting. I can’t fix this whole thing right this second.’ Ali could feel the tide of stress threatening to overwhelm her.
Seeing Liv’s face freeze, she tried to backtrack immediately. It’d been the longest conversation they’d had in weeks.
‘I’m sorry, Liv, I’m really sorry, OK? I really am – I don’t want to hurt Sam. I’m just afraid he’ll ditch me if I tell him the truth. I will sort everything out – I just need more time.’
Liv looked like she was about to go on the offensive once more but thought better of it. ‘I’m really worried about you, Ali. You ditched your job for this. You’re lying to everyone. You’re doing sponcon while your dad’s getting sicker and sicker.’ She came around the table and hugged her long and hard.
‘Please, don’t. I’ll cry, Liv. And then my face’ll be wrecked before this meeting.’ Ali disengaged from the hug, avoiding Liv’s probing gaze. She made a mental note to add Liv to the list of people she needed to keep at arm’s length. The list was growing. Miles, Mini, Sam, Liv – anyone she couldn’t maintain her pristine façade in front of, really. Avoiding Liv’s eyes, she took a final snap of the flat lay and started to clear up. ‘I’ve got to get going. I have a brand meeting.’
Ali started gathering her kit. Now the ring-light and tripod went everywhere with her. With eighty thousand people watching her Stories she couldn’t rely on just any old lighting anymore.
Liv stood staring at her and shaking her head.
Ali’s phone started buzzing and she could confidently say she had never been happier to see the words ‘Mini calling’.
‘I have to get this.’ Ali started moving towards the door. ‘Might catch you before I head to the retreat thingy later.’ She hit the green button and mouthed ‘Bye’ to Liv’s stony face as she turned and fled out the door to her car – she needed to get on the road.
Taking the call from Mini had been a mistake. Her make-up had looked pretty dodge by the end of the Liv hug and now, after five minutes on the phone to Mini, it was completely wrecked. Things with Miles were getting worse but the doctors seemed to communicate solely in cryptic euphemisms that made it impossible to establish what they were really saying.
The whole thing was taking its toll on Mini. She barely reacted to Ali saying she’d be away for a few days. Normal Mini would’ve pumped her for info – where she was going, with whom and why. New Mini had her advantages, of course – at no point had she taken even the slightest bit of interest in Ali’s recent Instagram adventures. It was amazing how insular the Instagram world could be and this worked to her advantage. You could be Insta-famous and no one beyond the bubble even knew who you were. It was dangerous too – it made everything on there seem even further from reality.
Mini was clearly lost in her own issues. Her usual all-business demeanour had crumbled in the last weeks. She was even taking time away from the gallery. Eleanor, her younger sister, was staying over a lot. The two were very close, always cackling at private jokes and references no one else got. Seeing Mini transformed in Eleanor’s presence always made Ali wish she’d had a sister. Though Liv was nearly as good. Usually. With the way things were right now, Ali was starting to worry they wouldn’t get that back. Just a few more weeks. She gripped the wheel, glancing at Google Maps to make sure she was heading the right way.
And then what, Ali? What happens in a few weeks? She hushed the thought.
She got to the business park early for her meeting with Baby Bella Boo Boo Buggies. It was a grim collection of warehouses, tile shops and printing companies on the western edge of the city. She scouted a spot for her next update and found a serious dearth of Insta-worthy locations. Eventually, she set up behind a red-brick block next to what she suspected was a septic tank. The glamour. Careful to keep the shot tight, she babbled for a few minutes about how she couldn’t wait to reveal what she’d been working on. Oh, and for everyone asking, her top was from ASOS. No one had been asking, of course – this was just to give the illusion that she was flat out responding to her followers.
It was a curious thing, but the more followers she got, the less engaged they seemed. When she’d just been plain old @Ali_Jones she’d often have the chats in the DMs but now, though there were more people watching, they seemed to say less. It was creepy.
Don’t be paranoid, Ali. They’re not some giant crowd of faceless stalkers. They’re your people. You wanted them and now you’ve got them. She folded away the ring-light and tripod and headed around the front of the building where Sian, the brand manager, was waiting with a big bunch of flowers.
‘Congratulations, Ali! Big day – designing your first collection!’
‘Oh gawd, I’m nervous! I’ve never designed anything. Except maybe the design-your-own at Pizza Hut.’
Sian laughed uproariously. ‘That’s why we love you here at Bella Boo Boo! You’re just so real!’ Ali smiled awkwardly. ‘So right this way, Ms Designer!’
Oh god. It was always all a bit much with these people.
Ali was shown into a meeting room filled with pram paraphernalia. There was a white board with the word ‘ideas’ written large. On the vast table were swatches of fabric in different shades of tasteful grey along with a mountain of pastries and fruit platters. A couple of bored-looking men were introduced as the design team, here to ‘guide the process’.
The process, it transpired, was pretty simple. Ali was given a coffee. They discussed how structurally there was little to improve on the Bella Boo Boo Buggy but what they needed was Ali’s vision – this meant picking which grey she liked best. She also had a choice of three innovative features they could add. She opted for the iPhone holder – great for strolling and scrolling. She practised her signature a couple of times for the new logo, which would be ironed on to the bassinet part of the buggy, and that was pretty much it. The Bella Boo Boo Buggy by @AlisBaba was born. Ali took a few snaps of the process then the photographer arrived to shoot Ali with the buggy for the campaign.
‘It’s not ready, though, surely?’ Ali was flustered; she hadn’t expected the turnaround to be literally that day. A hairdresser was already fixing her hair while the make-up artist prepped her brushes.
One of the designers just rolled his eyes and headed out the door. The other one leaned across the table. ‘You’ll just use one of the normal buggies and then we’ll fix the colour and add the logo in Photoshop. C’mon, you’re an influencer, you know how it works.’ He winked and followed his colleague out the door.
The whole thing was wrapped up by noon and Ali was back in her car posting about her ‘exciting news’ before lunchtime.
‘I’ve been working on this project for so long and it is so exciting to finally be able to tell you about it.’ She paused in her typing. It just wasn’t that satisfying to be claiming she’d poured blood, sweat and tears into picking a c
olour. They’d kept referring to her as the designer, which was fairly awkward given the actual designers were sitting right there.
She X’d out of the post and saved it as a draft. She brought up her feed and found herself face to face with a smiling Kate brandishing her engagement ring. Ali hit the Heart button and typed ‘Congrats. Amazing news!’ She noticed Kate was also claiming to have ‘designed’ the ring. She’d picked the diamond and asked for a plain band. That, it seemed, constituted designing something on Planet Instagram.
I should just be owning this, Ali thought. All the times I’ve seen influencers bring out their various lip kits and #goalsjournals. Now I finally have something with my name on it. I should be enjoying this moment.
She could hear how she sounded but fuck it. She just had to remember how jealous she used to get seeing these exciting-news posts. Now someone else was seeing her exciting news and feeling jealous of her. She went back to the draft and amped up the enthusing to max levels.
‘In the planning stages of the new Bella Boo Boo Buggy by @AlisBaba, I thought so long and so hard about what it is that new mamas really need after welcoming their little bundles into the world …’ She wrote at length about her ‘process’, her ‘vision’ and the nights spent toiling with her sketchbook. She rounded it off with no less than twenty-five hashtags, boldly including ones like #DesignersOfInstagram and #AliSketches.
Satisfied, she hit Post and consulted the calendar app. It was nearly time to hit the road. She just needed to get to the pharmacy and stock up on some pregnancy staples before heading to the retreat. She presumed they’d all have their own private rooms but, just in case, she wanted to look the part. She’d done some research and knew Gaviscon to be an absolute must-have for preggers bitches. She was also going to grab some organic black-bean brownies she’d tried ages ago that had given her mega bloat. Could come in handy for the spa when she’d be in her swimsuit. She was fairly certain she didn’t have to be showing yet at thirteen weeks but a little hint couldn’t hurt. She’d already bought nursing bras and some maternity workout wear to help her get in the right headspace for the part.
She gave the phone a final check and then started the car. The new post was already racking up likes and comments. She smiled, pulling out of the business park. She’d save them for later, something to look forward to after checking in with Mini and getting an update on Miles this evening. Glancing down at the phone in the holder, she could see a fair few ‘oh my god’s and ‘amazing’s rolling in. ‘Amazing’ had pretty much been sapped of all meaning since the advent of Instagram. Still, it felt pretty amazing to Ali as she headed towards the motorway in the early-afternoon sun. She just needed to stay focused on the good stuff.
24
‘Now, mamas, I don’t want you getting yourselves all worked up over these letters. Keep them simple. You just want to convey to your baby how much you love them. How you can’t wait to meet them. What your vision is for your relationship with them. How you see their place in this world. What you hope they will achieve with their lives – not financially speaking, of course, but on a more profound, spiritual level. Think of what your intentional parenting will look like …’ Adrienne was pacing the forest floor barefoot, gesturing elaborately as she held forth. It was really verging more on an interpretive dance, thought Shelly.
She shifted about, trying to get comfortable. Sitting cross-legged was a special kind of hell, she reckoned. How does Hazel do it? She’s forever storying in the lotus pose on sisal rugs that look itchier than a hairshirt. Of course, sisal would be better than the bloody ground. What is this, some kind of hazing? Though tolerating pain and low-grade annoyance would probably be the perfect parenting hazing, thought Shelly, not that any of these women knew that. They seemed to think parenting was going to be all love, light and Liga. Shelly swapped position, tucking her feet underneath her and practically groaning with relief. This attracted a slightly ratty look from Adrienne, which Shelly responded to with a wide smile.
Adrienne continued her spiel about the ‘simple missive’ they were supposed to be writing as she stalked around the forest clearing among her disciples – fifteen women of various stages of pregnancy all decked out in silk scarves wrapped like bandeau tops around their breasts and floaty patterned harem pants – it was a uniform at the retreat.
‘We wear simple garments so we can connect with our mama-earth inner selves’ was the explanation during the opening ceremony. It really underscored the cult vibe, Shelly thought.
The other women on the course were, for the most part, fabulously wealthy first-time mums. They had no idea what they were in for. Shelly pitied their ignorance and wished she wasn’t so painfully aware of the inevitable fallout coming her way after the sweet-smelling bomb was lobbed into her already tricky set of circumstances.
She was starting to get an idea of the single-parent life in the past few weeks. With Dan practically parenting remotely and Marni’s hours cut back – thanks to the money complications – Shelly had been doing the mum thing more. One upside of spending more time with Georgie was that she’d started to feel less guilty about her.
She was beginning to feel closer to Georgie and the constant self-berating had quieted somewhat. She even found that without Dan around she felt more relaxed. She wasn’t second-guessing her every parenting decision in anticipation of his criticism. And when leaving the little girl with her mum and dad so she could come on the retreat, she’d felt torn about going just when they were getting on so well.
Sandra had laughed gently when Shelly made noises about not wanting to go. ‘There’s plenty of time with Georgie ahead. It’s probably no bad idea to take some time to get to know this one,’ she indicated Shelly’s tummy, ‘and find the new you in all this, Shel.’
The new you! Sandra had obviously been bingeing the Oprah podcast but she was right, particularly about having some time to think about the new baby. Even if this hippy stuff was all a bit Enya, it was good to get some time alone to sort her head out.
Her parents had been incredible since she’d finally told them about the marriage meltdown: dropping by to watch the Late Late on a Friday night – Shelly didn’t quite know how to tell them this wasn’t exactly her idea of entertainment – and bringing Georgie to the park when Shelly needed time to work or simply lie down and absorb the crazy shift that had taken place in her life. She was down a husband, an assistant and maybe ten or so thousand followers (the SHELLY account had suffered in Amy’s absence) and she wasn’t altogether sure if she truly minded this or not.
With a following of her scale, probably only the most eagle-eyed would have noticed the drop in numbers – Hazel, no doubt, was preparing some sort of Machiavellian ambush – but even so, Shelly found she didn’t have the will to care about SHELLY with so much else at stake. Never mind the fact that the jarring disconnect between the life she was living and the life she was posting about had become too great to ignore.
There had been that weird DM the week before, but there’d been no more since. Shelly hoped Kelly’s Klobber (she was pretty sure that’s who was behind it) was just trying to rattle her. She had enough acrimony emanating from Dan’s Seomra at the end of the garden at home. With all these issues pulling at her, now the relentless spirituality and good-vibes-only mandate at Mothers of the Earth was really starting to grate. Every time one of the other pregos earnestly professed her love for her unborn child or expressed horror at the thought of ever subjecting said child to such corporal abuses as a fish finger, Shelly felt close to mutiny. They’re very easy to love ‘in theory’, she wanted to scream.
As the pine needles dug into her shins, Shelly found herself glaring at Adrienne as she passed by once more. Is she trying to raise our pain threshold before the birth? She huffed silently, switching back to cross-legged to give her muscles a break. How were the more pregnant ones managing? Shelly stole a glance at the woman on her right who hadn’t been happy about her Lululemons being confiscated on day one but calmed when sh
e learned that the harem pants were Stella. She was happily lotusing despite her big round belly, upon which she’d rested the first few sheets of the letter they were all supposed to be working on. She waved Adrienne over, looking a little hyper. Adrienne wafted back towards her, hands clasped behind her back and eyebrows raised.
‘Sylvia? Everything OK?’
‘Oh yes, totally. It’s just I’m a bit worried that I’m being too detailed in the letter. How much is too much?’
‘Well,’ Adrienne settled herself into a languorous pigeon pose on the ground among the leaves and drew her hands together in prayer, ‘it’s only natural that you have much to say to your baby. But it is imperative that you don’t overburden the baby with your thoughts or she’ll be overwhelmed.’
Shelly wasn’t sure she’d be able to listen to this without laughing. She pressed her lips together and took in the rest of the circle. Most of the women were hanging on Adrienne’s every batshit word – except Ali Jones, who appeared to be shaking with a fit of giggles. Someone sane at least, Shelly thought.
They’d met at Killarney train station en route and wound up sharing a taxi. Amy had tagged along to give Shelly a pep talk on the Kelly’s Klobber sitch, and when Ali appeared, Amy seemed all for them travelling together. Shelly suspected that Amy thought it’d be strategic for Shelly to be Ali’s friend – such was her current reversal of fortunes.
Amy had been giving Shelly a wide berth in the past few weeks to let her get her bearings with driving the SHELLY juggernaut once more. Once they’d been shown to their separate cabins, all overlooking a small lake at the edge of a wooded area, Shelly filled her in on Kelly’s Klobber.