‘An honest one!’ she shouts, startling Willow, I think, because the squawking starts up again.
‘Aha-ha, you might be right! It’s the dreaded Mum Guilt, though, isn’t it? Keeping us all silent for fear of someone thinking we’re crap at our new jobs! Listen, I’m at Women Who Win, so I’d better dash, but I’m so glad you’re going to talk to someone, and I’m going to take a leaf out of your book – motherhood is hard! MOTHERHOOD IS FUCKING HAAARD!’ I yell into my car.
‘YESSS! YOU ARE A GOOD WOMAN, ROBIN WILDE! YOU’RE THE FUCKING BESSST!’
‘SO ARE YOU, LACEY HUNTER!’ I shout back, and we hang up.
Nothing invigorates you quite like a good scream down the phone to your best friend, eh? Even if you do now feel a bit self-conscious that Reena Patel, a new reception mum who recently joined WWW, might just have heard you swearing at the top of your lungs. Oh well, I’m sure she’s been there too!
It’s a Friday night in the middle of summer, but the hall is packed with women ready for our meeting. This is our fourth meeting, and by now our numbers have risen to around forty, so news of our community is spreading well, which is a joy to see.
So, at my request, tonight’s topic is The Juggle Struggle. It feels apt, and I’ve invited Natalie to speak, because if ever there’s a woman who’s mastered how to find the right balance, it’s her.
I rang Kath earlier to ask if she wanted a lift to the meeting, but she’s spending the evening with Colin. I’m going to find time this weekend to check in on her because I know she’s hurting right now and I hate that I’m not helping her.
I take my usual seat with Finola and Gillian, and just as Gloria finishes her welcome, and is about to invite Natalie to speak, Storie wafts through the front door and sits with us. Just what I need. With forty or so women in here, it’s so hot.
Natalie is giving an amazing talk about the history of MADE IT and her own career progression. I want to listen attentively, but I can’t help thinking about all the things I need to do this weekend, and my To Do list for the week ahead. Every time I think about a thing I need to do I think about how I’d like Edward to be at home waiting for me when I come in, or how, rather than ‘finish Luther’ being my Saturday afternoon plan while Lyla’s at her dad’s, I’d like it to be ‘finish Luther with Edward’.
I wasn’t paying attention and Natalie’s finished, so we start to move on to the discussion part of the evening. Finola begins talking about how pleased she’s been with her first few lessons at the stables, and how Gillian’s ‘top-notch computer advertising’ has really boosted local awareness of what she’s doing.
‘Well done, Gillian,’ Storie says. ‘You’re really using the electrical forces for good, to connect people with the animals, to blend man and beast.’
‘I think there’s a word for that, my dear,’ Finola chortles, before Gillian can jump in and kindly thank Storie for her compliment, of sorts.
‘So tell us, Robin, how on earth did you and Natalie pull it all off?’ Gillian asks, beaming, eyes agog, just like Finola. Amazingly, even Storie is looking tuned in.
It’s so warm in this room. I wonder if Lyla’s OK with Simon by himself? I wonder if Kath has time to come over tomorrow? God, it’s hot.
‘Well, it’s a big story. We flew out to New York not really knowing what would happen,’ I begin, feeling my chest and neck itching and prickling with the heat. I blink hard and carry on. I’m fine. ‘We knew we had a big task ahead of us, and so much was riding on getting it right.’
‘I bet it was! I’m no businesswoman, but I’d wager a lot was on the line!’ Finola encourages, smiling.
‘Yes, everything was on the line, a lot was,’ I stammer, feeling my throat go dry.
‘And did Edward fly out with you, or was he waiting at the other end, anticipating your spirits rejoicing when they met again?’ Storie says, somewhat dreamily and with no hint of insincerity.
I think of Edward and scratch my neck, trying to gather my hair up and off my skin. I swallow hard. I want him to be here. New York is too far away. I want to call him. I swallow again, trying to push down the wave of emotion that’s welling up, and before I can excuse myself, I’ve got up and run out of the room. I don’t really know where to go, so I run all the way to Lyla’s classroom and into the toilets next to it. I burst through a cubicle door, slam it shut, sit down on the extra-small child-sized loo and let out great big heaving sobs.
In an instant Gillian and Finola have followed me here and are looking over the top of the cubicle door, such is its child-friendly size.
‘It’s too much, I can’t do it all,’ I sob.
‘Sweetie,’ Gillian soothes as Finola walks out again, presumably not impressed by how pathetic I am.
‘It’s like I have too many tabs open in my brain,’ I cry, struggling to catch my breath.
‘It’s OK, you’re OK,’ Gillian carries on soothing as the door opens again, and in walks Finola, followed this time by Gloria and Natalie.
They coax me out of the miniature cubicle and into Lyla’s classroom, where we all sit on equally miniature chairs around a table.
‘This isn’t like you, Robin, you’re my go-getter!’ Natalie says with a concerned look in her eyes.
‘You’re our inspiration for being a freaking life winner!’ Gloria adds. ‘What’s happened to bring this on?’
‘I’m not a life winner, I’m not a go-getter, I’m not any of those things. I’m just a tired, messy, faking-it single mum with a job I don’t deserve, a family I can’t look after and friends that I’m failing. I’m shit,’ I sob, putting my hands to my face in shame and self-pity.
Now it’s Natalie’s turn to get het up round a table, albeit a teeny-tiny classroom table.
‘Robin Wilde, I will not let you feel this way! You are amazing! You really, really are a go-getter! I’ve seen you handle your friends, your family, your work, other people, and you are everything you want to be and more. I admire you every day! Nobody feels like they have it together! I certainly don’t. It’s a team effort, and we’re your team. If things are too much at work, let me give more to Skye. If you need some time for family, take it and enjoy it. We’re here to support you because we love you,’ she says so passionately I want to cry all over again.
Gloria pipes up, ‘You have to be kinder to yourself. How are you meant to look after others when you’re not looking after yourself? What can we do to help you? You wanna night out on the tiles, as you Brits say?’ She smiles kindly.
‘I think our lovely Robin needs a bit of TLC and an early night,’ Gillian interjects as Finola sits by her and nods sagely.
‘How about I take you home and make you a nice cup of tea? I’ll run you a cool shower and we can watch a bit of TV together,’ Gillian says gently.
‘That would be really nice, thank you,’ I reply.
‘Will you promise us one thing?’ Natalie says.
‘What is it?’ I ask.
‘That you try to remember that being a life-winning go-getter also means taking time to care for yourself, and that asking for help is not a weakness, it’s a strength. We all care about you,’ she finishes, reaching out and giving my arm a little squeeze.
‘I will, thank you,’ I say, a fresh tear, maybe one of relief, rolling down my face.
THIRTY-TWO
TWO DAYS LATER
AFTER A FULL SATURDAY of rest and a lovely evening painting with Lyla (who had been fine with Simon and not accidentally poisoned by Mother Earth), I’m feeling a lot better.
Gloria has rung this morning to see how I’m getting on, and it feels nice to be checked in on when lately I’ve been the one checking in on everyone else.
I’ve arranged, surprisingly painlessly, with Valerie for Corinthia to come and play with Lyla, and so the both of them are happily singing and dancing around upstairs, living their best lives. It makes me smile to hear Lyla having such a good time.
I’ve not long flicked the switch on the kettle when the doorbell goes and L
acey saunters through without Willow.
‘Oh, hi! It’s just me, Lacey Hunter, without a baby in tow!’ she laughs, waving her arms about as if to show they’re empty.
‘Ohhh my Goddd, this is amazing!’ I sing back.
‘Yep! She’s having some daddy ’n’ daughter time, and I’m having some me time. I went to the doctor this morning and she confirmed that yes, it’s postnatal depression. You were right. I’ve got some medication and strict orders to have time for myself, so here I am, at your service. Gillian rang, and said you’d had a bit of a night of it?’ she says, her old energy back.
‘Well, first, you look great! Surely those meds haven’t kicked in that fast?’
‘Nope, but I’ve had Piper helping me, and Karl’s fully realised I need more support. The meds will help soon, but for now I’m just relieved I was taken seriously, and that things are going to get better. Kath’s agreed to have Willow one day a week when Piper goes home, and Mum’s going to have her every Friday. I’m going to get things sorted, Robs!’ She’s the happiest I’ve seen her in a long, long time.
‘I’m so, so, sooo glad,’ I say, going over to the other side of the kitchen and giving her the biggest squeeze.
‘Thank you. Now, what can I do to help you? Are you OK?’
We spend a good hour talking about the ‘incident’, which Lacey thinks was probably a panic attack, and about what I can do to make time for myself. I admit that my heart hurts for Edward, but that my pride is getting in the way of reaching out because I can’t bear to be rejected again, even though Lacey thinks I should give it a try.
I can feel the tears rising, thinking about Edward, so we change the subject to Kath. We’ve decided we’re going to bite the bullet and look for Eleanor, consequences be damned …
THIRTY-THREE
‘IT’S HERE! I’VE HAD a letter. I have had a letter! It’s from the agency! They know where she is. THERE IS A LETTER!’ Lacey screams down the phone the following Friday morning while I’m in the office doing the paperwork for the week.
‘OK, Lacey, calm down, I’m going to finish up here and come straight over. Stay. Calm.’ I’m barely calm myself, feeling all of my internal organs flip around inside as I try and figure out a way to leave the office early without raising any alarms.
I consider saying Lyla’s ill as an excuse, but I don’t want to jinx anything so I go with the old faithful.
‘Skye,’ I say as I walk into the kitchen where she is apparently spending a moment meditating with some rocks. ‘I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to go.’
‘I’m meditating,’ she says in a low voice, not opening her eyes.
‘OK, well, I’ll leave you to it but just so you know, the office is all yours for the rest of the day.’
‘Thank you for the space,’ she says, uncrossing her legs and standing up, packing her rocks into a little cloth bag. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I’ve got to go home,’ I say earnestly. ‘I’m not well.’
‘What’s wrong?’ she asks, looking me directly in the eye. Why is she so comfortable asking me that? Why isn’t it the olden days, where nobody spoke about anything and ‘not well’ was sufficient?
‘It’s my stomach,’ I lie.
‘Do you want to hold one of my crystals?’ Skye asks very seriously.
‘Um, I will, but I think I just need to be near my bathroom, you know?’ I bluff, knowing that you can’t argue with that.
‘Oh, right, no, don’t touch my crystals then, please, just take yourself home and get well,’ she says, holding her stones behind her back as if I am about to snatch them out of her hands and rub them all over my fake-germy body.
‘Cheers, Skye. Have a good weekend,’ and with that I dash out the door, hearing Skye tell Alice and Stuart something about my ‘bottom troubles’, before I drive faster than I should to Lacey’s.
‘Fuck my fucking fuck, is this the letter?’ I say as she lets me in. I’m totally hyped now, having had a ten-minute drive to really think this over.
‘Yes! I haven’t opened it because you needed to be here, but shit me, I’m beside myself. This is it! We’re going to find her!’ Lacey says, dancing about.
‘She’s not actually in the envelope, Lace,’ I laugh.
‘Ha, ha, just open it before I rip it off you!’ she laughs back.
I hold the letter in my hand and take a moment to consider how life-changing this could be. For all of us. This is a big, big deal.
I slide my thumb under the folded corner and carefully tear it open. The letter is on official paper. My eyes scan it quickly.
‘Lacey, they’ve found Eleanor. Oh my God. Wow. They don’t say where she is or what her surname is now, just that they have her on record and a registering some years ago of her interest to meet her biological mother. What’s more, they’ve contacted her, and she would be open to meeting with Kath. Oh my God!’ I screech, delirious with joy, nerves and sheer amazement. How can one letter mean so much?
I GO HOME THE most conflicted I have felt in a long while. I am buzzing with joy to find this long-lost baby, but frightened to tell Kath in case it’s not what she wants. Plus she still doesn’t even know that I know about her daughter. From everything she’s told Lacey, it really sounds like Kath would give anything to meet her, but what if we’ve got it wrong? Maybe she actually does want to leave the past behind her, and me showing up with all of this will be an overload. I wish Edward was here to discuss it with; he’d definitely have something supportive and useful to say on the matter.
I think about texting him but decide against it. If he’s not interested in having me in his life, then nor am I. I’m not going to be the weak one this time. While I’m feeling strong, I pick up my phone and type a reply to my last text from Kath.
Bit short notice but are you home and free for me to pop round?
Yes! Have just made lavender cordial! Colin’s finished poking my pipes so everything’s shipshape now! Just me! Come on over!
I don’t want to delve into what was wrong with the pipes, or even consider that this might be an innuendo. She’s home, she’s alone, I need to do this.
‘Hello, lovey!’ Kath coos as she opens the door. ‘Don’t mind me looking so smart, I’ve been on my rounds with the lavender creations so I’m in my business gear. Do you like it?’ she says, doing a little twirl in the hall as I step in.
I can see where she is going with this, but there’s no denying it looks absolutely bonkers.
‘I found the suit in Oxfam for £17.99 and just did the rest myself! Can you believe it?’ she trills, so proud of herself as we walk straight through to the kitchen.
Kath is wearing a lilac two-piece tailored suit. The trousers are wide-leg with a firm crease up the front, and the hip-length jacket is double-breasted with two gold buttons over her stomach. Underneath she’s put on a little white cami. Seems all right so far. Probably was all right on the hanger. Kath, though, being the brilliant Kath that she is, has taken the embroidery thread to it and from the hems around the ankle all the way up to the knee she’s sewn on trailing, swirling little stems and lavender flowers in sage green and deep purple. The lapels of the jacket have also been emblazoned with the embroidered flowers, but these have the added embellishment of tiny purple sequins on the bud and then delicate green bugle beads up the stalks. In addition to this, she is wearing more than her usual share of seafoam glass bead necklaces, her specs up on her head and a badge that says ‘#GirlBoss’ that I think she might have been given at a WWW meeting. If there was ever a woman who threw herself into a project, it was Kath, and I love her so, so much for it.
‘Kath, you look a million dollars. If this outfit alone doesn’t make people want to stock your creations, then they’re crazy!’ I say, giving her a big cuddle.
‘Now, this isn’t like you! So cuddly! What have I done to deserve this?’ she asks, squeezing me back.
I take a breath. There’s no point dragging this out.
‘I need to tell you
something. Can we sit down at the table?’ I ask.
Stirring my straw around my – surprisingly nice – lavender cordial, I struggle to find the words to begin.
‘OK. I don’t really know the best way to have this conversation, but I know it’s important we do,’ I begin.
‘Whatever it is, I love you and we’ll get through it together,’ Kath says kindly, reaching over to squeeze my hand. I don’t know if this makes it easier or harder to tell her what I know.
‘Thank you. Equally, I want you to know I love you. I always will.’
Kath carries on looking at me, wondering where I am going with this, but, I think, suspecting.
‘In New York, Lacey told me something. She didn’t want to break a confidence, but she knew I’d want to know, want to be there for you, want to—’
‘I know what you’re trying to tell me.’ Kath cuts me off before I can get any further. ‘Yes, it’s true. It’s sad, it’s hard, but it’s history. I’m used to managing it and I don’t need to talk about it. I appreciate your caring, and I appreciate that you think you are looking after me by encouraging me to talk about it, but I’m quite all right, thank you,’ Kath says angrily, tears welling up in her eyes.
‘Kath, no, I’m so sorry, I don’t want to force you to talk about this if it’s making you upset, I just want to see how you feel, and maybe—’
‘I can’t talk about it anymore because it hurts. I’ve been hurting a long time, but seeing newborn Willow look so similar, so like her, it hurt too much. Baby Lyla reminded me of her, of course, but there was something about Willow’s wispy hair that stuck with me. But Willow’s getting older now, and it’s getting easier. I didn’t know Elean— the baby, as she got older, obviously, didn’t even have a picture. I’ve resigned myself to never knowing her. I don’t know where she is, what she’s called now. My baby is gone. We’ve just got to accept that and live our lives the best we can, and—’
I can’t handle seeing Kath so despairing, tears rolling heavily down her face and splodging onto the lilac suit, turning it dark indigo where they land. It’s like watching someone’s heart break.
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