by Tracy Bloom
‘You will not believe why she cancelled,’ Alison continued. ‘Honestly, I don’t know why I bother with her sometimes.’
Neither do I, thought Matthew. Charlene scared him.
‘She bumped into Katy at the registry office, apparently, and Katy asked her to go to a music class with her. Can you believe it? She cancels for Katy, of all people, who’s never once bothered to come along to one of our meet-ups. Honestly, the cheek of it.’
Matthew froze. It had been a while since Katy’s name had been mentioned between them. Alison had thankfully given up trying to entice her to come to their post-birth gatherings. He’d heaved a huge sigh of relief and assumed that Katy was now firmly back in the past where she belonged.
‘She tried telling me that Katy was in a bad way, that she wasn’t coping and needed someone to talk to,’ Alison went on.
‘Oh,’ was all Matthew could think to say without giving away his inner turmoil.
‘I can well imagine, actually. She never struck me as the most maternal of people. Never really looked like she was looking forward to being a mother.’
‘Mmmmm.’ Matthew nodded, pretending to study Rebecca’s ribbon around her tubby little waist.
‘She never really listened in the classes, either. Always looked totally preoccupied. As if she wished she were somewhere else entirely.’
She did, thought Matthew. As far away from him as possible.
‘I told Charlene to give her my love, though,’ Alison said. ‘And that no-one will think badly of her if she wants to start joining in now. In fact, it would be really good to have her back. There is only so much celebrity gossip with Charlene that I can handle.’
Never going to happen, thought Matthew. Katy had more sense than to walk back into their lives.
‘I’m sure Katy will do what she needs to do,’ he said. ‘She’s probably fine. You know what Charlene’s like. She’s probably not seeing Katy at all – more likely to have found out there’s a sale on at Primark or something and needed an excuse to get out of meeting up.’
‘She better not have done. I’d made brownies and everything. Now what am I going to do with them?’
‘I’ll eat them,’ he offered.
‘You can’t eat all of them.’
‘Why not?’
‘You’ll start getting middle-aged spread like your dad.’
Matthew instinctively sucked his waist in.
‘I’m nowhere near middle-aged yet,’ he said.
‘Well, you’ll look it if you eat too many brownies. I’ll put them in the freezer. We’ve rearranged for next week, so I’ll save them for then, just in case Katy decides to come along too.’
‘Don’t’ get your hopes up,’ said Matthew. ‘She’s probably got her own group of mums to hang out with by now.’
‘I bet she’s still embarrassed because Ben knocked you out at Charlene’s wedding.’
‘He didn’t knock me out,’ said Matthew defensively.
‘You were out cold for at least two minutes and you had a bruise the size of a grapefruit on your chin.’
‘It was nothing, just a misunderstanding,’ he muttered.
‘I know,’ said Alison. ‘But I can understand if that’s why Katy’s been avoiding me. She’s probably still mortified. Maybe I should call her, tell her that you’ve forgiven him. Or why don’t you call her? It would be better coming from you. She’ll have to believe you’ve forgiven him if you tell her. And you’ve got history.’
‘What do you mean?’ exclaimed Matthew, getting more alarmed by the second.
‘Well, you went to school together, didn’t you?’ Alison said. ‘So technically she knows you better than she knows me. I’m sure she’d appreciate a call from you.’
‘No,’ said Matthew sharply, causing Alison to raise her eyebrows. He couldn’t believe they’d moved on this far and yet now they were somehow back skirting around the lies again. Alison had never discovered that he and Katy had actually been more than classmates and were involved in an all-consuming teenage romance until Matthew had broken Katy’s heart. These were facts that needed to stay in the past, just like Katy did. Future harmony depended on there being no contact between the two couples whatsoever.
‘Just let it drop,’ he tried to say as calmly as possible. ‘If Katy had wanted to be friends she would have been in touch by now. It’s not down to you or me to call her. She should be the one doing the running.’
Alison didn’t respond for a moment.
‘You’re right,’ she agreed eventually. Matthew tried hard not to show his physical relief. ‘It’s her boyfriend who hit my husband. She knows where I am if she wants me. Neither me nor you should go crawling to her.’
‘Absolutely,’ said Matthew, squeezing her hand. ‘You’re worth more than that.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled back at him gratefully, just as the large oak doors opened and out trotted a young couple with a bright red, screaming baby.
‘Call my assistant and we’ll try and fit you in next week to see if he’s in a better mood then,’ said a man dressed in tweed trousers and a waistcoat who’d poked his head around the door. He turned and addressed the group waiting patiently on the Chesterfield.
‘The Chesterton family?’ he asked.
‘We most certainly are,’ said Matthew, getting up quickly to leave behind the conversation they’d just had. He hoisted Rebecca onto his shoulder and offered his free hand to Alison so he could escort his wife into the studio to have their first official family portrait taken. ‘All four of us,’ he said to her with a relieved smile as he watched her eyes well up for the second time.
Chapter Eight
Katy was grateful that she could finally look at her reflection in the long mirror in the bedroom. She and Ben had agreed to get Christmas over with and then Millie would be shipped out of their room and into her own next door. It was a relief to be able to see herself in the mirror, her first morning back in a business suit, without the baby paraphernalia in the background reminding her of the significance of what she was about to do.
She looked okay, she decided. Admittedly, body-shaper tights had been roped in to create the illusion of a tummy unaffected by being blown up to three times it’s size before being deflated to a saggy shadow of its former self. She turned to take a side-on view and was pleased to see that her ankles no longer looked like they’d been clad in bread dough, though they were already protesting at the indignity of being put back in high heels after so many weeks of the blessed relief of Uggs. As for her upper arms, they had never looked so good. Who knew that hours spent parading the flat trying to bounce a baby to sleep, lugging the dead weight of a car seat around everywhere, and the constant collapsing and the uncollapsing of a pushchair could have this effect? It was probably the best thing that had ever happened to her triceps. She leaned forward and added a last dab of lipstick, then automatically sniffed at her jacket lapels to check for baby sick. Satisfied she looked the part, she picked up her bag and went in search of Ben and Millie to face her first goodbye as the breadwinner off to work rather than the parent left holding the baby.
As she walked down the corridor to the lounge she couldn’t quite believe the day had come. It was over two months since Ben had got her out of bed in the middle of the night and proposed the swap. He’d left without a word the next morning and she wondered whether he would return that night and announce he’d made a huge mistake and regretted everything he’d said. But just after lunch she received a text from him telling her he’d had an informal chat with the Head, and he’d said as long as they could recruit a replacement he would be able to leave at the end of the Christmas term if he wanted to. Did she want him to? She’d stared at the text for a long time. She put her mobile face down on the counter whilst she tidied up the kitchen then fed Millie. She left her mobile at home whilst she went out and walked around the park, hoping Millie would drop off to sleep and give her headspace to think this thing through. Eventually she settled and all was quiet, so Katy headed home,
intending to compile a list of pros and cons for Ben’s grand role-swap plan. She’d just got the pushchair through the door and was taking her coat off when she heard a snuffle. She knew what was coming and wanted to scream. She needed to think, but Millie was having none of it. She wanted out of the pushchair and she wanted input, whether in the form of a nappy change, or a bounce on a knee or a jiggle on a shoulder or a swing in the air, anything as long as she had the undivided attention of her mother. She valiantly battled her tiredness with toe-curling wails for over an hour, successfully preventing Katy from even going to the toilet. Eventually Katy snatched up her phone and texted Do it in reply to Ben’s message before she could even stop herself. Of course Millie chose that exact moment to calm down and snuggle into Katy’s chest, her eyelids slowly and gently closing.
Katy stared at her phone, a mixture of euphoria and dread swirling around in her head. As she sat there with her little angel sleeping contentedly in her arms, she mentally listed all the reasons why her going back to work didn’t make her a bad mother –a list she would refer to every day in the weeks leading up to her eventual return to work.
She was a good mother and going back to work was a brilliant thing to be doing because:
- Millie and Ben could bond properly.
- She could earn more money in fewer hours than Ben, meaning that they could spend more time together as a family.
- They could save up for a house with a garden, then Millie wouldn’t be the only child without a trampoline.
- She was setting a very modern example to her daughter that women’s careers are just as important as men’s, and there is no reason why a mother shouldn’t work and a father be the main carer.
- She and Ben would start having sex again – surely?
- They could save up and have the wedding they both dreamed of.
This list was rotating around Katy’s mind for the hundredth time when she entered the lounge to find Ben in his pyjamas, lying on the sofa with Millie sound asleep on his chest whilst he watched a recording of Match of the Day. He turned to smile at her, his mouth slightly obscured by the bright ginger beard he’d been cultivating over Christmas. She couldn’t tell if it was an encouraging, don’t worry smile, or a slightly smug, look, this is a piece of cake smile. She’d tried throughout the holidays to tell Ben anything she thought he might find useful once he was left alone for hours on end with Millie. She feared, however, that her lack of confidence in her own maternal skills made her a poor teacher, and he’d only half listened to her mutterings about the chaos of a normal day with a baby.
‘So you all set, then?’ she asked, resisting the urge to succumb to the lump in her throat.
‘Sure, yeah,’ he said, waving a hand over Millie’s dozing head. ‘We’ll be absolutely fine. Don’t you worry about a thing.’
‘Are you sure you don’t need me to—’
‘I’ve got this,’ Ben interrupted, suddenly looking stern. ‘I can do this, okay? I may not be capable of a lot of things but I can look after my own daughter. Now go.’
‘Right,’ replied Katy, knowing she’d offended him. Not a good way to start in their new roles. ‘Well, I’m off then.’ She bent to kiss Millie’s head. She pulled away sharply as the touch of soft baby hair brushing her lips made tears suddenly spring to her eyes.
‘Bye,’ said Ben, engrossed once more in the football. ‘We’re all good here.’
‘I know,’ she murmured, and fled before she changed her mind about everything and never walked out the door again.
An hour later Ben woke with a start to the sound of Millie bawling. He was confused for a moment. His recording of Match of the Day must have finished, as all that remained was a blank blue screen. He sat up quickly, launching Millie onto his shoulder, and rubbed his eyes. So what should he be doing now? He leaned forward to pick up the remote control to banish the blue then grabbed his phone to check on the time.
‘Shit,’ he gasped, dropping the phone back on the coffee table. He’d had a text from Charlene reminding him that she would save a piece of floor next to her at the Music, Mummy and Me session, which was due to begin in twenty minutes. Katy had said to him that he didn’t have to go, but he wanted to show her that he was all-in with looking after Millie. Truth be told, he was looking forward to it. His first morning and he was going to a baby class with his daughter. It had successful stay-at-home dad written all over it. In any case, Charlene had been texting him daily to make sure he was going. He suspected she was overexcited about being the only one who knew the novelty parent in the class, so there was no way on earth she was letting him get out of it.
R U ON UR WAY☺ came the next text as Ben leapt up, trying to work out where to put Millie whilst he got dressed. He rushed through to the bedroom and laid her on the bed, and she wailed. He spotted the bouncy chair in the corner and put her in there. She wailed. He sang her a football chant, which normally did the trick. She wailed. He began an exaggerated dance, flinging legs and arms in all manner of awkward directions. She watched, mesmerised, as Ben continued his body contortions whilst trying to put on his underpants. He fell over twice.
Clothes successfully on, he brushed his teeth, forcing him out of Millie’s sight for a few moments. She wailed. He momentarily admired his bright ginger beard. What a bonus of being a stay-at-home dad . . . no shaving. It was like a dream come true not to have to spend precious minutes of every day scraping his cheeks with an electric torture instrument. Going back to sweep Millie out of her chair, he glanced at his watch. He had ten minutes to get to the Community Centre. Piece of cake.
Five minutes later and he was still battling to get the pushchair to stay up one-handed whilst he bounced a wailing Millie on his shoulder. What on earth was wrong with her? She was never normally this upset when she was with him. He was determined to get the stupid contraption up using one hand. He’d seen Katy do it, so it couldn’t be that hard, surely. He’d left the bouncy chair in the bedroom and he couldn’t put Millie on the floor, as it was a very hard Moroccan tile. One more go, he told himself.
‘Fuck!’ he screamed, as his violent shake of the contraption caused the pushchair to trap his hand. He stalked back to the bedroom to get the bouncy chair.
‘Is this where I should be for Music, Mummy and Me?’ Ben gasped as he barged through the double doors of the Community Centre.
All eyes turned to stare at the dishevelled-looking young man with a bright ginger beard marching towards the group of women sitting on the floor, clutching babies on their laps.
‘Ben!’ shrieked Charlene. ‘Sit with me, sit with me right here,’ she said, shuffling up to make room. ‘This is Ben,’ she said to the other mums, who were all agog. ‘We were in antenatal classes together. His girlfriend, you know, Katy, earns tons more money than him, so she’s gone back to work. He’s a stay-at-home dad.’ She completed her last sentence by raising her pencilled-on eyebrows to the top of her forehead, as if she’d just announced he was a male stripper.
‘Thanks, Charlene,’ said Ben, dumping himself down next to her with Millie.
‘Hi, Ben,’ said Abby, suddenly appearing from behind Charlene, fluttering her mascara-caked eyelashes whilst holding a phone up in front of her. ‘Good to see you again.’
‘Er,’ Ben faltered, struggling to cross his muscular legs. ‘Hi again.’
‘I said you were coming, and she said she’d come along and give you moral support. She’s also filming me and Rocco at baby music class to put up on my Teenage Mums Facebook group page,’ said Charlene.
‘And I don’t go to college on a Monday,’ added Abby.
‘Oh,’ said Ben. He held Millie’s hand up to do a little wave at Abby then looked around, suddenly feeling awkward that everyone was staring at him.
‘I’m Linda,’ announced a woman wearing a poncho sitting in the middle of the group with a guitar rather than a baby on her lap. ‘I’m thrilled to welcome a young man to our group,’ she gushed. ‘It’s Ben, isn’t it? Charlene has been tel
ling us all about you for weeks. Now I don’t want you to feel intimidated just because you’re the only man. You are very welcome at Music, Mummy and Me.’
‘Thank you,’ Ben grinned back. ‘You’ll have to change the name to Music, Mummy, Daddy and Me now, though, won’t you?’ he joked.
‘He’s right, Linda,’ exclaimed Charlene. ‘You don’t want to be done for bloody discrimination, do you?’
‘Please,’ said Linda. ‘We do have children present.’
Ben couldn’t suppress a smirk, which didn’t go unnoticed by Abby or Linda.
‘I’m sure everyone would prefer it if profanities were not used during the class, Charlene,’ Linda added.
‘Profanities?’ Charlene queried. ‘What are they? I don’t think I’ve used one of them before.’
‘You know what profanities are, you fuckwit,’ said Abby, smirking back at Ben.
‘Pleeeease,’ shouted Linda. ‘Shall we start again?’ She coughed and shook her shoulders. ‘So, as some of you are new to this class, maybe it would be an idea to quickly review the philosophy of Music, Mummy and Me before we make a start.’
‘Fuck me,’ Ben muttered under his breath. Abby stifled a giggle.
‘Music, Mummy and Me was founded in 1992 by Mary Jane Becket in Cambridge, following a study which proved that babies who participate and interact with music with their parents, smile more, communicate better and show earlier and more sophisticated brain responses to music, including the recognition of rhythm and more amazingly a recognition of pitch.’
‘Wow,’ exclaimed Ben. ‘That is amazing.’
Linda looked at him, unsure if her latest class member was naturally enthusiastic or merely sarcastic.
‘Mary started her own group in Cambridge, and now there are over fifty classes being run in the UK every week where babies and their carers can come along and enjoy a structured programme of melodic play.’
Ben stared at Linda in stunned silence until she was forced to ask if he was okay.
‘Melodic play?’ he asked.
‘Yes, that’s right.’