by Lauren Sams
Meredith nodded. ‘No problem. It’s going to be so much fun. I’m really looking forward to it.’
‘Oh. Good,’ I said, confused. Why was she being so chill about this?
‘There might even be time to do Attica and Flower Drum, if we play our cards right. I’m a friend of a friend of Ben’s, so . . . I’ll pull some strings.’
I squinted. Had she not heard me?
‘No, Meredith,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I can’t go. I can’t go to Melbourne.’
She raised her eyebrows, straight-faced. ‘Why?’
‘Because –’ I closed my eyes, trying to remember my vow to be more assertive. Being more assertive with Jase was easy, because I was constantly annoyed with him and I didn’t care if he thought I was a nag. But with Meredith, I just couldn’t. Although she was highly strung and probably medicated (who wasn’t?), in her lucid moments, she was very good at her job. She was decisive and clever. She wasn’t afraid of people not liking her. I admired her for all of those things.
And yes, I knew that, on the spectrum of crazy, she sat somewhere between Tom Cruise jumping on the couch and Katie Holmes marrying Tom Cruise. I knew that her expectations were too high, that she needed to be more flexible – with everyone on the team, not just me. But there was something in me that wanted her to think I was tough enough for her. That I could be as dedicated as she was. That I was worth having on the team. I wanted her to think I could have a baby and a career. Because I knew there was a part of me that didn’t quite believe it either. It was precisely the reason why I needed to grow a pair and be honest with Meredith. It was the only way I could ever see this working. So I drew a breath and went for it. ‘Because of Pip. She’s sick. She can’t go. And I can’t be away from her for a whole weekend. She’s too young.’
Meredith frowned. Exactly zero lines appeared on her forehead. ‘Oh. I see. What about her father?’
I shook my head. ‘We’re not together. He hasn’t spent all that much time with Pip. I wouldn’t feel comfortable –’
‘The nanny?’
‘No. There’s no nanny, remember?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Right, right. Well, you’d better bring her then.’
‘No, Meredith,’ I said. Was she listening? ‘I can’t. Pip is sick. She’s on antibiotics. Her doctor said she needs to stay home, get some rest. Melbourne would be too disruptive.’
She stared at me, a cold glint in her eyes now. ‘These are very important meetings, Georgina. I would have thought you’d want to be part of them.’
I took a measured breath. ‘I do. But right now my priority has to be Pip. She’s not feeling well and I need to be here. Like I said, I can Skype in, or prepare something in advance for you to take with you. I’m sure you understand, Meredith,’ I added, entirely sure she did not.
She tilted her head slightly, pursing her lips. ‘I’m disappointed, George. I really went in to bat for you. You know, Richie was very hesitant when he heard your idea for a column, but I persuaded him to give you a go.’
‘Oh . . . but you told me he loved it.’
Meredith’s eyes darted. ‘Well, he does, now, but it took some convincing. I mean – motherhood? And work? Not exactly Pulitzer Prize–winning stuff, is it?’
In another life, I might have stood up for myself. But instead I found myself, bizarrely, apologising to Meredith.
‘Look, I’m so sorry, Meredith, but I really can’t come. Thank you for convincing Richie to take on my column, I really appreciate it. But right now, I really just can’t do this.’
‘Can’t, or won’t?’
‘Can’t.’
She narrowed her eyes at me. ‘You’re onto a good thing here, George. But things can change. So I’d suggest you figure out a way to get to Melbourne.’
She turned and walked out of the office, barking, ‘And bring a babysitter. Attica doesn’t have high chairs!’
*
‘Lucas! Lucas! Get down from there. Right. I’m counting! One. Two. Lucas! Lucas, I mean it. If you aren’t down from there in . . . one . . . two –’
I’d only been gone for three minutes – max – but somehow, Lucas had managed to hoist himself onto the baggage carousel and was now riding atop a rather large piece of luggage. He whooped with delight as he rode the bag around the carousel. Ellie’s face was tomato red – a mixture of rage and embarrassment – as she yelled at him to get down.
‘Hey! Hey, calm down,’ I said, a coffee in each hand and Pip strapped to my chest. Pip looked up at me and cooed. She was so close to talking, I was sure of it. Every day, she added a new sound to her onomatopoeic vocabulary. I couldn’t wait for her first word. Maybe once she started to talk, it would be easier to figure her out. Right?
It had been quite a morning. Our flight was delayed, which meant that Pip missed her nap. Not for lack of trying, though – I strapped her to my chest and made a valiant attempt to bounce her to sleep. But every time I felt her little head press closer to my chest, ready to make the leap from awake to asleep, we’d be interrupted by, ‘Mrs Kylie Barnes. I repeat: Mrs Kylie Barnes. Please make your way to Gate 34. Your flight is boarding.’ And then, ‘Mrs Kylie Barnes. I repeat: Mrs Kylie Barnes. Please make your way to Gate 34. Your flight is about to close.’ And then, ‘Final boarding call for Flight 67A to Cairns. Mrs Kylie Barnes, paging Mrs Kylie Barnes.’ Every time we heard Mrs Kylie Bloody Barnes’s name, Pip’s head jolted back, eyes wide open yet again. I must have looked like I was out of my mind: bouncing and patting the baby, giving her a peaceful shh every now and then, and then wringing my hands and silently mouthing, ‘FUCK OFF!’ every time Mrs Kylie Barnes was called to her gate.
The doctor had reluctantly told me it was OK for Pip to fly, after checking her ears for possible infection about sixteen times.
‘Are you sure it’s absolutely necessary to go on this trip?’ she’d asked, her face full of concern.
No. No it is not.
‘Yes, it is.’ The truth was, I was too afraid of the alternative. Not being fired (although that would be bad, especially now that Nina had moved out and I relied on my pay cheque more than ever). No, the worst alternative was Meredith being angry with me and me having to stick around to live with the consequences.
On the flight, Ellie was adamant that Lucas was not allowed to watch television – apparently his teacher still held grave concerns for his intellectual development. So instead of letting Lucas zone out to Thomas the Tank Engine, he tore around the plane like a puppy chasing a ball, except without all the cuteness. Without any of the cuteness. I loved Lucas, but after watching him run from one end of the plane to the other for forty-five minutes, I was ready to throw him in the overhead cabin with my luggage. And a TV, to shut him up.
‘What can I get for you?’ the flight attendant asked, leaning over Ellie and glaring at her. I shot her a look that I hoped said something along the lines of, ‘I’m so sorry this unruly child is so clearly ruining your day. Please rest assured I don’t know his mother very well. Now, would you please get me a gin and tonic?’
‘Gin and tonic, please.’ I smiled so hard I felt my cheeks touch my eyelids.
She cleared her throat and raised her voice. ‘Ma’am, under government regulations, we are prohibited from selling alcohol before 11 am.’
‘Oh.’ I felt my smile deflate as I flinched, sure the whole plane had heard. ‘Thanks anyway.’
At least now Ellie wasn’t the worst mother on the plane.
Finally, just as we touched down at Tullamarine, Pip drifted off to sleep. I couldn’t believe it. I’d bounced her for an hour at Sydney! We’d been on the plane for another hour! And now she decided to go to sleep? Now? Now, when I needed to jostle for our bags and get a taxi and attempt to strap her into the car seat, which I knew she would hate as much as being strapped into the pram? Now? It was going to be a long day.
Once we were inside the terminal, Ellie announced she needed a coffee, and I started rushing away before she’d even finished her se
ntence.
‘I’ll go!’ I called, over my shoulder. ‘You wait for the bags. Byeeee!’
How would I get through the whole weekend if I couldn’t handle TV-free Lucas for an hour? I pushed that thought aside and ordered the biggest, strongest coffees on offer, then went back to find Ellie, who was now screaming at Lucas to get off the baggage carousel before he got squashed by a fake Louis Vuitton.
‘Get down, Lucas!’ she shouted, stamping her foot like, well . . . like Lucas. Oh my god. What if Meredith saw this? She’d taken a later flight (business class had been full on my flight; sadly, it was not filled with me) and because of our delay, I was terrified she’d see us at the airport. I’d told her I had found a babysitter. I hadn’t told her it was Ellie, and that she was bringing her four-year-old to stay at Crown Towers with us. I had my fingers – and toes, and legs – crossed that we could avoid running into each other. I needed to keep my two lives – work and Pip – as separate as I possibly could. I didn’t want Meredith seeing the disarray that was my home life.
‘Shh! You’re making a scene, Ellie! Shh!’
‘George, he’s on top of the carousel! It’s going to start moving. I need to get him down. Help me!’ She stared at me in disbelief and I reluctantly put the coffees down.
‘Lucas!’ I called out. He looked down at me.
‘Aunty Gawgee! Look at me! I’m flying! I’m the aeroplane now! Flying high, in the sky . . . fly and fly and fly and fly,’ he sang, a smile breaking across his little face. If it wasn’t so dangerous, it’d be darn cute.
‘Oh my god,’ Ellie said, burying her face in her hands.
I patted her shoulder. ‘Come on, it’ll be fine. Calm down.’
She lifted her head. ‘It’s not that. It’s that song – flying high, in the sky –’ she shook her head ‘– it’s from Peppa Pig. My child is addicted to television. What have I done? He’s –’ she lowered her voice. ‘He’s an idiot!’
‘Ellie. Enough. Your kid is not an idiot. Would an idiot know how to sneak past his mum and climb up on the baggage carousel so she couldn’t get to him? Nope. Just get up there and get him, alright?’
Ellie shook her head tersely. ‘I can’t. He’ll do a runner. He does this all the time at the park – climbs up to the highest thing and then when I go up to get him, he just runs away. It’s really dangerous. The only person he’ll come down for is Simon.’
‘Well that’s going to be a problem, isn’t it? We accidentally left Simon in Sydney,’ I deadpanned.
Ellie buried her head in her hands. She may have calmed down in general, but Ellie still had a penchant for overreaction in the extreme.
‘Ellie, I will go find someone who works here – a man, I guess – to get him down. Stop panicking.’ I lowered my gaze. ‘And keep your voice down.’
Ellie crossed her arms and nodded. ‘Fine. Thank you.’
As I went in search of someone to hoist Lucas down, I raced over the weekend’s run sheet. Tonight, there was dinner with the agency bosses – at the much-anticipated Attica, of course. Tomorrow morning, for some reason, Meredith and I were being ‘treated’ to massages by the client and then we had the upfront session with them. I was prepped for the upfronts. I’d used all of Pip’s feeds this week to strategise for the year ahead, sitting with my baby tucked into one arm and my iPad in the other, figuring out exactly what to say. Where would we take The Weekend? How could the client come on board? What could we offer that was different? You know – all that bullshit suits love.
Tomorrow night there’d be another dinner, and then on Sunday, Ellie and I were taking the kids to see The Wiggles at Fed Square. Lucas was beside himself with excitement, even though he’d already seen them seven times. Still, as he had told me in all earnestness, he’d never seen them in Melbourne.
Why wasn’t there anyone working here? I could see people in cafe uniforms, people who worked at car rental places, Sportsgirl assistants. But nobody who actually, you know, worked at the airport. Maybe nobody works at airports anymore, I thought, through my sleep-deprived fog. Maybe they’re like bins at train stations; one more thing the terrorists have taken away from us.
As I was walking back to Ellie, determined that we could pull Lucas down ourselves, I heard someone bark my name. Only one person barked my name.
I spun around.
‘Hi, Meredith,’ I said, flashing the biggest smile I could muster. But I needn’t have bothered; she wasn’t looking at me.
‘Who’s this?’ she asked, as if she’d genuinely forgotten I had a daughter.
Pip cooed.
‘Uh, this is . . . this is Pip. My baby,’ I said, unnerved. Did Meredith have amnesia? Did I? Was she Drew Barrymore in 50 First Dates? I was sure – truly, truly sure – that I had told her about Pip. Multiple times. And yet, every time Pip came up in conversation, it was as if Meredith had never before heard her name. What was going on? Was I crazy? Or was Meredith?
‘Oh. Yes,’ she said, nodding.
‘How was your flight?’ I asked.
She grimaced. ‘Terrible. The vegetarian option was a sandwich. I mean, what is this, 1998?’ She rolled her eyes and sighed. ‘That’s what I get for flying with Qantas.’ She spat the name out, as if she’d flown 900 kilometres on a flea-ridden pigeon. One who’d offered her carbs.
‘Mmm.’ I nodded, trying to seem sympathetic. We had flown Jetstar. We didn’t get free water, much less free sandwiches.
‘Weren’t you bringing a babysitter?’ Meredith asked pointedly. She scanned the scene behind me.
I nodded. ‘Yeah, I did. She’s just, um . . . she’s getting the bags.’
Meredith gave me the knowing nod of someone who was very familiar with the nuances of using hired help. I tried to do the same.
‘Looking forward to tonight? We’ll have the tasting menu. It goes for about five hours.’ Meredith beamed and prattled on about something called pickled uni, which will absolutely change your life, she promised. But all I could think was: five hours. That really meant seven hours, minimum. Probably more like eight. I did the calculations: if we got to the hotel within the hour, I could feed Pip and then express, and maybe express again before her next feed. I would have to express again before dinner anyway, so my boobs wouldn’t leak onto the navy silk dress Celeste had helped me borrow from a PR. Would that be enough milk for Pip? She nursed almost exclusively at night now, sometimes three or four times. I would really have to pace myself, wine-wise, at dinner, so I could nurse her when I got home. No more than two glasses. OK, three.
‘Hello! Earth to George!’ Meredith swayed her head from side to side as she sang the last three words. Realising I’d been staring into space, I looked back to her. She pointed at my chest. Where, it would appear, Pip had thrown up. Oh dear. Must stop bouncing.
‘Uh, right. Gosh, sorry. Pip, are you OK?’ I peered around the side of her head to see her face. Apart from a string of vestigial vom, she seemed fine. Better out than in.
I reached for the packet of wet wipes in my bag but couldn’t find any. I had definitely packed them this morning, in readiness for the flight. Hadn’t I?
I felt frantic. No wipes. I had never wanted to be this mum – this disorganised, flustered, out-of-her-depth mum. Meredith, a frozen smile plastered on her face, handed me a Missoni tissue (yes, they make them).
‘Thanks,’ I said, taking the tissue and wiping the chuck from the Ergo. There wasn’t much – it was hardly a Code V. It was a waste of a $12 tissue.
Meredith seemed to be at a loss for words. ‘Well,’ she said, that smile still plastered to her face.
‘Uh, right. We’d best be off. I’ll see you tonight, at dinner?’ I smiled hopefully at Meredith. Please don’t make me do anything before dinner. Please don’t make me do anything before dinner.
She nodded, looking relieved. ‘Yes. Meet me for a drink at the hotel bar and we’ll get an Uber together.’ It wasn’t a suggestion.
I nodded. Phew. I had half-expected Meredith to spring a surpris
e meeting on me. Thank god. Maybe this weekend wouldn’t be so bad.
*
By the time I returned to the hotel room later that night, my boobs were two concrete mounds. I could barely take my bra off, they were so swollen.
‘Hi!’ Ellie whispered as I cracked the door open. ‘They’re asleep! Shh!’
I nodded. It was 1 am. I had sort of figured the four-year-old and the nine-month-old would be asleep.
‘How’d it go?’ I asked.
‘Good, good. They were fine. Lucas was quite sweet, actually, he helped me with Pip’s bottle and patted her to sleep.’
‘Oh, that’s so cute. He’s a good kid. Apart from the whole climbing on the baggage carousel thing.’
While I’d been busy cleaning up vomit with Meredith’s Italian tissue, Ellie had eventually hailed an airport staffer who thought the whole thing hilarious and valiantly hoisted himself up to snatch Lucas down. He’d said something about how Lucas was his ‘spirit animal’ as he sauntered off, chuckling to himself.
Ellie nodded.
‘You OK?’ I asked. She looked a little wistful.
‘Mmm,’ she said, nodding. ‘I’m fine. It was nice having the two of them. They’re good together. Pip is such an easy baby.’
I stared at her. Pip? My Pip? The Pip who had barely stopped screaming since she exited my vagina nine months ago?
‘Are you serious?’
‘Yeah, she was fine. I gave her a bottle, read her a book and she went straight to sleep. Haven’t heard a peep from her since.’
I lowered my gaze, feeling my jaw drop a little. ‘What time did she go to sleep?’
‘7.30.’
‘She’s been asleep this whole time?’
Ellie nodded. ‘Why are you so surprised?’
I laughed. ‘Um, because she has never once done that for me. Wow. Super mum.’
Another ten points to Ellie, who wasn’t just a good mum – now she was a better mum to my own kid than I was.
Ellie shot me a wry smile. ‘Kids are like that. Lucas always went to sleep easier with Simon than he did with me. He knows all my buttons and exactly how to push them. Pip’s probably exactly the same with you. Don’t worry about it.’