Filter This

by Sophie White

  Well, that escalated, thought Ali, sneaking a peek around to see how everyone else was taking the news that they had to self-immolate just to be a mother. In general, the assembled women were staring with reverence at their chosen objects. Polly was crouched over to the right past Shelly contemplating a papier mâché ornament, evidently homemade. Ali hadn’t seen her much throughout the retreat – she obviously wasn’t as close to Shelly as their Instagrams suggested. Then Ali’s thoughts and the silence were disturbed by a sound that had presumably never been heard before at the Mothers of the Earth retreat: sniggering.

  Adrienne marched over to the offender – none other than Shelly! – looking frankly homicidal. Ali felt the rage rolling off her in waves.

  Shelly held her hands up in a stance of surrender. ‘I’m sorry, Adrienne. I didn’t mean to laugh but, like, ya know, it all seems a bit much. We can’t only be mothers from now on. You can’t lose yourself when a baby comes along. It’s hard enough being a mother without trying to make it all that you are.’

  Adrienne was incandescent with rage. ‘What do you know about it?’

  ‘Well, I am a mother.’ Shelly was trying to sound reasonable.

  ‘You only know your own spiritually bankrupt way of motherhood. I am teaching a profound and joy-filled new path,’ Adrienne screamed.

  The entire circle was now silently staring. Ali wouldn’t have bet on Shelly leading the mutiny but there she was looking defiant.

  ‘Joy-filled is the whole fucking problem,’ Shelly argued, and Ali nearly died of shock. Shelly saying ‘fuck’ was big. ‘You’re making all these women think it’s going to be this huge spiritual experience and that’s just crap.’

  ‘Don’t listen to her, mamas.’ Adrienne was verging on hysterical as she covered her own ears. ‘She’s trying to block your joy.’

  ‘I’m not,’ Shelly insisted. ‘I’m just saying it’s not all what you see on Instagram. Some mornings you’re so tired, you just feel like a wrung-out old J-cloth. There’s actual poo in your hair and you wish you could just get rid of the baby for five minutes and go for a lie-down.’

  Ali couldn’t believe the queen of beige was talking like this. Around her the other women looked traumatised.

  ‘You wanted to kill your baby?’ Joanna, a Pilates instructor from Westmeath, gasped.

  Shelly looked irritated. ‘That’s not what I said. I did not want to kill my baby – I just wanted a bit of peace. You don’t know what it’s like. They’re sucked on to you round the clock and they don’t do anything but scream and shit. I don’t think I even loved my baby at first. I just felt this huge sense of obligation to her. And then I felt so guilty all the time because I didn’t have the joy. And I was supposed to have the joy and didn’t everyone else have the joy. That’s why I’m telling you this. Forget about the joy. You’re a mother, not a fucking goddess. And being a mother is hard. But it’s so, so worth it.’ Shelly paused, looking around mischievously. ‘Well, it is when they’re not chewing the tits off you. Let me just say mastitis is a bitch,’ she finished triumphantly and marched back towards the edge of the clearing.

  Ali burst out laughing and immediately covered her mouth. A few women gasped.

  ‘Nooo,’ screeched Adrienne. ‘I would never have invited you here. This is not who I thought you were, Shelly.’

  ‘It’s not who I thought I was either,’ Shelly threw over her shoulder. ‘And maybe that’s a good thing.’

  Ali watched her go. What was going on? That was the most un-Shelly thing she’d ever witnessed. Did she just say ‘chewing the tits off you’? Ali couldn’t believe it.

  ‘OK, OK.’ Adrienne was desperately trying to regain control of the situation.

  Joanna was crying quietly as Helena stroked her back. ‘She made it sound so awful,’ she whispered. ‘Surely it’s not going to be like that?’

  ‘She’s been against us since the beginning of this retreat,’ Adrienne hissed. ‘Don’t even think about those hateful words.’

  ‘What kind of psycho would want to get rid of a baby to have a nap?’ Helena asked, which Ali felt was a little unfair.

  ‘Well, it’s not like any of us really know what it’s like, though, do we?’ she ventured tentatively. ‘They do cry a fair bit. Do you have kids, Adrienne?’

  ‘Ali,’ Adrienne aimed the staff at her, ‘that is not the point. If you want to go all Team Shelly, so be it. But know this, she is a toxic entity.’

  ‘I’m not Team Shelly – I’m just saying she knows, is all.’

  ‘I think Shelly has done enough today,’ Adrienne snapped. ‘I will not allow her to ruin this ceremony completely. Now, please, your totems. Prepare to fling your former self onto this symbolic funeral pyre and be reborn as the goddesses of infinite wisdom, patience, perfection and nurturing you were born to be.’

  Shit. The watch. Ali cast about for something to use instead. There was nothing but leaves and twigs on the ground. Fuck this crazy bitch, Ali! Just tell her you’re not doing it. But after the venom Shelly’s outburst had inspired, Ali felt wary of pissing Adrienne off further. Plus, she was filming again, and all of Ali’s followers would see her arguing on Instagram with the guru.

  One by one the women were stepping forward and dropping teddy bears and old jewellery into the flames. One woman tossed in a pair of high heels. Helena, the private funds manager, threw in her datebook. ‘All my clients,’ she announced proudly. ‘I’m so looking forward to my new life as “Mama”.’

  Gah, it was a fucking cult. It was nearly Ali’s turn. As the woman to her right threw in a sexy lingerie set, Ali, dismayed, hurriedly tucked the watch into her waistband and gingerly tugged out one of her strips of hair extensions. She walked forward and threw it into the fire nervously. Would that count?

  Adrienne narrowed her eyes but said nothing.

  Pissing her off was a small price to pay, Ali figured. She could never have lived with the idea that some mad hippy had peer-pressured her into burning Miles’s watch.

  She thought back to the last time she could remember him wearing it. He’d been singing her ‘Happy Birthday’ in the kitchen of the house in Seapoint.

  ‘I hate to tell you but it’s not even my birthday, Dad!’ She’d tried to sound casual. She’d just arrived with dinner – Mini must’ve been away.

  ‘I know that.’ Miles’s clear blue eyes had crinkled as he smiled. ‘I’m not that far gone!’ He’d come closer then, softly singing ‘Dear Ali’ before leaning down to hug her. ‘I get the feeling that I might not be able to sing it to you some day,’ he whispered. He’d straightened up as Ali blinked away tears, pressed her lips together and tried to smile. ‘Time’s not on our side.’ He’d tapped the watch. ‘So I’ll get a few happy birthdays in in advance.’

  Ali felt a drop on her bare feet, bringing her back to the forest. It was starting to rain. Adrienne concluded the chanting and turned to the camera to wrap up the recording with some details about the website and pricelists and then herded the women back towards the centre.

  26

  ‘It’s Tuesday 26 March. Our top stories: social media star and actress Shelly Devine has come under fire for inflammatory comments recorded in leaked footage that came to light yesterday evening. We go now to Teresa Daly reporting live from the Devine compound – Teresa, can you tell us how events are currently unfolding?’

  The Eye On Today studio disappeared and was replaced by a harried-looking Teresa Daly, who was positioned in front of the large electronic gates leading to the Devine home. It was 6 pm and nearly dark but in the distance, beyond the gates, the lights of Shelly and Dan’s mansion glowed. Teresa squinted into the spotlight trained on her from behind the camera and in fevered, breathless tones she began to relate the minutiae of the day.

  ‘We’ve been here since early this morning, awaiting any comment from the Devine camp. Family members and supportive friends have entered and exited but as yet there has been no sign of Shelly Devine or her husband, Daniel Devine. The couple lives
in luxury, as you can see from the extensive grounds and lavish home behind me. Shelly Devine has a successful lifestyle brand across various social media platforms, most notably her Instagram account. The Shelly Devine account is a destination for mothers in particular, as Ms Devine often documents family life through collaborations with many of the country’s leading clothing and homewares brands so it was with shock and dismay that her some 300,000 followers heard her deride mothers in a vicious tirade apparently captured during a wellness retreat in Killorglin, County Kerry.’

  ‘Turn it off, sweetheart.’ Sandra positioned herself in front of the TV in Shelly’s living room, hands on hips. ‘You mustn’t watch.’

  ‘It’s a bleedin’ disgrace that RTÉ are wasting the TV licences on that wan standing out there all day.’ Jim came in with the teapot, a pint of milk and a packet of biscuits tucked under his arm.

  Shelly sprang up from the couch to help him. ‘I have to watch it, Mum. How do I go about pretending I’m not the main subject of the evening news? I need to know what they’re saying.’

  ‘Shhh, shhh.’ Jim held a hand up. ‘Who’s that?’

  Sandra moved to one side as Jim and Shelly scrambled back to the couch to watch. Teresa and the crew were on the move. A dark BMW had pulled up at the keypad for the gates. The camera was shaking, veering between ground and sky, and briefly captured the operator’s scuffed sneakers running over the gravel. Teresa Daly could be faintly heard growling, ‘Get him, get him.’ Suddenly the camera found Dan in the glare of the spotlight, looking furious, leaning out the driver’s window to press the keypad.

  Shelly gripped the arm of the sofa. She’d tried to call him earlier but couldn’t get him. In a brief text, she’d asked him to call her but he’d obviously been tied up all day.

  ‘Daniel Devine, can you tell us anything about your wife’s state of mind right now? Is she remorseful? Will she be making a statement? What do you think of your wife’s comments?’

  Shelly could see the gates opening slowly just beyond Dan’s car. Open, open. Open! she willed.

  ‘Those gates are terrible slow,’ Sandra remarked, hands still on hips, gazing down at her erstwhile son-in-law.

  ‘If he chucks you under the bus, I’ll kill him.’ Jim was rage-eating the Bourbon Creams and glaring at the TV.

  ‘What are you doing blocking my driveway?’ Dan was stabbing at the keypad, apparently trying to hurry the gates up. ‘Slow news day or what?’

  ‘Your wife’s comments have caused huge upset – are you saying you don’t care about that? Do you not care about your wife, Mr Devine?’ Teresa thrust the microphone into his face.

  ‘Don’t care about my wife?’ Dan echoed thoughtfully and Shelly held her breath. Oh god, no, Dan, please, no. She knew she wouldn’t be keeping up the pretence of a marriage anymore but she couldn’t bear this being how everyone found out. It was too humiliating on top of everything else. She covered her eyes and rocked slightly while Dan’s question seemed to hang in the ether for an age.

  ‘Of course I care about my wife.’ Dan grasped the microphone and stared into the camera. ‘She is taking some much-needed time right now. She’ll speak about this matter when she’s ready. And it won’t be to you vultures.’

  Dan put the car in drive, held on to the mic, snatching it right out of Teresa’s hand, and threw it into the bushes. The camera panned to Teresa’s shocked face and then back to the gates closing as Dan swung up the driveway, giving the finger out the sunroof as he went.

  ‘Well, that was decent of him,’ Sandra muttered.

  Shelly exhaled. Thank god. She stood and went to the window that overlooked the side of the house. She pulled the curtain back. Dan had parked and was watching something on his phone. It could only be the leaked footage. Shelly bit her lip. Would he come in to her?

  He shoved the phone into his suit pocket and massaged his temples, then gathered his coat and laptop and got out of the car. He turned and headed straight for the garden; as he passed close to the window, he started, having spotted Shelly. They stood staring at each other, separated by so much more than glass. As the gentle bickering of her parents receded behind her in the cosy room, Shelly felt the anger of the previous weeks drain away. Since the one and only counselling session, she knew in her heart they could no longer be together, and her head had told her this would be OK. Eventually.

  Dan looked defeated somehow too. She mouthed ‘thank you’ and he shrugged, his mouth set in a line of resignation. She mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ and that seemed to crack him. He smiled, if a little grimly, and nodded slowly. She pulled out her phone to text him.

  Don’t forget mediation on Friday morning. And, Dan, I really am sorry. XX

  She watched him read it and nod slightly. He looked up at her. ‘I’m sorry too’ – his lips echoed hers and Shelly smiled gratefully. He turned and continued towards the garden, but then stopped and turned once more. He tapped on his phone for a moment and then held it up. The video of her rant was playing and she squirmed, but he grinned and made the universal ‘you’re bananas’ gesture before shaking his head and heading on to the Seomra. Shelly smiled with the relief that he wasn’t holding it against her. She closed the curtain back over and returned to her parents, who were having a heated debate about the biscuits.

  ‘The Bourbons are a good crisis biscuit,’ Sandra was insisting.

  ‘Shhh,’ Jim shouted over her. ‘They’re playing it again.’

  The anchor was introducing the footage with a warning that some of the content might be upsetting, particularly to expectant mothers. ‘There is strong language and violent imagery. Discretion is advised, especially for younger viewers. We’ve been advised by our source that Ms Devine is referring to motherhood in these clips.’

  ‘’S just crap.’ The clip began with Shelly standing, looking exasperated, in the clearing of the forest.

  ‘I was saying all her BS about motherhood being this big spiritual thing was crap! Not that motherhood was crap,’ Shelly wailed, all serenity brought about by her reconciliation with Dan evaporating instantly.

  ‘Shhh, Shelly.’ Jim leaned forward.

  ‘Some mornings you’re so tired.’ The camera shook as whoever was filming adjusted the angle. It was low to the ground, as though the person was filming in secret. ‘You just feel like a wrung-out old J-cloth. There’s actual poo in your hair and you wish you could just get rid of the baby.’

  The clip appeared to jump and then resumed.

  ‘I did not want to kill my baby, I just wanted a bit of peace.’ The camera swung round to capture some of the assembled women and zoomed in on a sobbing Joanna. Shelly squinted, trying to work out who must’ve had the camera. The only person she really remembered in the circle had been Ali, who was visible in shot just behind her. Polly had been there, of course. And others whose names she couldn’t remember. It was impossible to tell who it had been.

  ‘You don’t know what it’s like. They’re sucked on to you round the clock and they don’t do anything but scream and shit. I don’t think I even loved my baby at first. I just felt this huge sense of obligation to her. And then I felt so guilty all the time because I didn’t have the joy. And I was supposed to have the joy and didn’t everyone else have the joy. That’s why I’m telling you this. Forget about the joy.’

  Shelly crumbled and Sandra rushed over to hug her.

  ‘Mam, I didn’t mean it the way they’re making it sound.’

  ‘Of course you didn’t, luvvie.’ Her mother rocked her, and even in her current state, Shelly was amazed how comforting that could be at thirty-four with a daughter of your own.

  ‘I said loads of other stuff about how being a mother is hard but so, so worth it.’ Shelly started to shake. Her phone was buzzing endlessly beside her and she couldn’t bear to think what was being said about her.

  ‘We’ve got fellow social media star Hazel Thomas in studio now to share her thoughts on the debacle.’ The anchor introduced a heavily made-up Holistic Hazel who w
as clearly fighting to contain her glee at the situation. She beamed at the camera and then rearranged her features into an expression of solemn concern.

  Shelly groaned.

  ‘Hazel, thanks so much for joining us. Can you tell us what the ramifications of this leaked footage will be for a social media star of Shelly’s stature? Especially given the Glossies, Ireland’s most important social media event of the year, are just days away.’

  Hazel opened her mouth and Shelly’s whole body tensed.

  ‘My apologies, Hazel.’ The anchor cut across her, pressing her index finger to her ear. ‘We’re getting word that Shelly’s making a statement at the Devine compound shortly.’ Turning back to the camera, she said: ‘We’ll take you there now.’

  Jim, Sandra and Shelly looked at each other, baffled, then Teresa Daly reappeared looking more composed than during her previous brush with Dan.

  ‘Thanks, Jean. I’m here live, reporting from the Devine compound, where Amy Donoghue, assistant to Ms Devine, will be sharing Ms Devine’s statement.’

  The camera swung round to Amy, who looked more teenage than ever with her top knot, fishnet body suit, jeans and flannel shirt. Shelly felt like crying with relief just seeing her. Amy blinked, scowling in the glare of the lights, then slipped her glasses on and began reading from her iPad.

  ‘Shelly has been bravely navigating the turbulent early weeks of a pregnancy that has, unfortunately, been fraught with health difficulties. She wishes to extend her heartfelt gratitude to all her followers for their support during this trying time. While some of her comments may appear extreme, they were taken out of context and do not reflect the views of Shelly and the brand and community that she has worked so hard to create. Thank you and, most especially, thank you to all the Shell-Belles out there who know the real Shelly and know that she is being horribly misrepresented by these slanderous and highly edited clips. We will be issuing no further comment and the family would appreciate privacy at this time.’