The Bad Mothers’ Book Club

by Keris Stainton

  She winced, digging her nails into her thighs. This was definitely more painful than plucking and threading. Her toes curled in her shoes as she told herself to breathe and focus on the outcome. This would all be worth it. Although knowing that this was only the first eyebrow and she had to go through all of this again wasn’t really helping.

  ‘So for most people this side is a bit more sensitive …’ April said and Jools thought about getting up and going home. She could draw the other eyebrow on, it would be fine, one was enough. April started work and Jools started counting in her head. And then she tried something she’d been taught for insomnia – naming a piece of fruit for every letter of the alphabet. Apple. Banana. Jesus fucking Christ, this was painful. Cantaloupe. She felt a tear roll down the side of her face and pool in her ear and then April dabbing at her skin with cotton wool.

  ‘Almost done,’ she said.

  ‘Good,’ Jools whispered. Dragon Fruit. E. What was a fruit beginning with E?

  ‘The arch is usually a little more painful,’ April said and Jools wanted to stab her in the throat with her stupid tiny blade. Who the fuck had invented this? It was torture. And she couldn’t think of a fruit beginning with E. Fig. Grapes.

  ‘I just need to wipe the pigment off now,’ April said.

  Jools couldn’t think of a fruit beginning with H. Or I. Or J. This was a stupid game.

  ‘Are you OK to sit up?’ April asked.

  Jools felt April’s fingers on her arm and she opened her eyes. April helped her up to sitting position and held out the same small hand mirror she’d used before.

  In Jools’s mind, her brows were bloody, swollen and terrifying, so she was amazed to see that they looked incredible. She’d never done such a perfect job herself, and even when she’d had her brows tinted in the past, they hadn’t looked anywhere near as good as this.

  ‘This is amazing.’

  ‘You’ll need to bathe them with warm water three times a day for the next week,’ April said. ‘And I’ll give you a cream to apply. And as long as you don’t feel faint or sick, you’re good to go.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jools said. ‘They’re even better than I expected.’

  Jools swung her legs to one side and lowered herself off the bed. She felt wobbly, but she’d be fine once she had some water. She pulled the bottle she’d brought with her out of her bag and gulped some down.

  ‘You’re OK?’ April asked.

  Nodding, Jools followed her over to the desk to pay, handing her card over and taking her phone out to check that Matt hadn’t been in touch. Or the nanny about the girls. She only had one text and it was from Eve asking how it had gone.

  ‘Can I ask you a question?’ April said, as Jools tapped her PIN into the machine.

  Jools knew what it was going to be and wanted to say no. Instead she said, ‘Of course.’

  ‘Is Matt going to Liverpool? I know you probably can’t tell me, but if I didn’t ask, my boyfriend would never forgive me.’

  Jools forced her face into a smile. ‘I’m sorry. I really can’t say.’

  April’s cheeks flushed. ‘That’s OK. He’ll be excited you were here anyway. We saw you in Northern Life. Your house is so gorgeous.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jools said, her hand was shaking, she noticed as she put her card back in her purse. ‘That was a fun shoot.’

  ‘It looked like it.’

  ‘I think I might need to sit down a minute,’ Jools said. There were spots floating in front of her eyes and everything suddenly seemed far away.

  ‘Oh my god,’ she heard April say. ‘Are you—’

  And then everything went black.

  Chapter Six

  ‘You scared the shit out of me,’ Matt said, brushing Jools’s hair back from her forehead.

  ‘Sorry,’ Jools whispered. She was lying back against a huge pile of pillows. Matt had closed the curtains against the early evening sun, but she could still see the watery light peeking around the edges. She wanted to ask him to open them again, wanted to tell him she was keen to absorb as much sunlight as possible, but she also didn’t want him to move from the bed.

  He was holding her hand, stroking over her palm with his thumb.

  ‘What were you thinking? Why didn’t you take Eve with you? Or Maggie?’

  Jools smiled at the little frown line between his eyes. ‘Because I’m not ill. Because it was just brows. Because Maggie doesn’t know yet. And because I didn’t expect to faint. Obviously.’

  ‘Obviously,’ Matt repeated, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. ‘You did though.’

  Jools smiled. ‘I know. Mortifying.’

  ‘That place’ll put up a blue plaque: Jools Jackson fainted here. I looked back as we left and they were drawing a chalk line on the floor.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Jools said, laughing. ‘They won’t want to promote the fact that they took me out.’

  Matt leaned forward and was about to press his forehead to Jools’s when he jerked back. ‘Is it sore?’

  ‘Bit,’ Jools said.

  He brushed his lips over her temple instead.

  ‘How do they look?’ Jools asked.

  Matt laughed against her hair. ‘Are you really asking me that?’

  ‘Listen, you knew I was vain when you met me. This shouldn’t be a surprise.’

  He sat up and looked at her face, his forehead furrowed in concentration. She felt a flutter behind her ribs and reached out and grabbed his wrist, pressing her thumb against his pulse point.

  ‘I love you,’ she said, forcefully.

  ‘They look great,’ he said, his gaze drifting down from her brows to her eyes. ‘You’re beautiful. You’re always beautiful.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be beautiful with no eyebrows.’ She walked her fingers up his forearm, brushing the dark hair in the wrong direction.

  He pulled his arm away, laughing. She’d always loved how ticklish he was.

  ‘You would. No eyebrows, no eyelashes, no hair. Still beautiful.’

  ‘Bollocks,’ Jools said, but she knew he actually meant it. She couldn’t believe it, but he did.

  He dipped his head and kissed her nose, her mouth, her chin. ‘I mean it. I know none of this stuff is for me, but I promise you I don’t need it.’

  ‘It’s not not for you,’ Jools said. ‘But it’s mostly for me. Also so I don’t scare the kids.’ They could hear the kids downstairs with Sofia, laughing and shouting. Jools loved how much they loved Sofia. It meant she didn’t have to worry about them when she wasn’t with them. And Matt was a fantastic dad, of course. They’d be fine if … They’d be fine.

  ‘Have you thought more about when we’re going to tell them?’ Matt asked, his mouth close to her ear.

  Jools’s eyes filled, as they always did when she thought about having to say those words to her girls. Telling her mum and her sister had been hard, so had telling Eve, but her daughters? They were so small and she knew they wouldn’t really understand, but she still couldn’t bear the thought of it.

  Matt had been with her when she got the diagnosis, even though she’d tried to tell him he didn’t need to come. She had been so sure it was nothing. A blocked milk duct, an absess, a tumour maybe, but a benign one. She hadn’t really properly expected the doctor to say cancer. Not in real life. But she had. And then she’d told them how they were going to deal with it while Matt squeezed Jools’s hand and they both stared straight ahead, trying to take it all in.

  They hadn’t talked about Jools dying. Jools wondered if they should. If it would be sensible, mature, to have a plan in case the worst – the very fucking, almost unimaginable, worst – happened. But Jools was a planner. She always felt more in control if she had a plan in place, but she absolutely couldn’t bring herself to plan for her own death.

  ‘Before chemo,’ Jools said, swallowing down the lump in her throat. ‘Or do you think we should wait and see what happens? I don’t want to tell them too soon, but if my hair starts falling out—’

  ‘Why d
on’t we wait,’ Matt said. ‘They don’t need to know, do they? Maybe we should only tell them when it becomes unavoidable.’

  Jools nodded. Her head felt suddenly heavy, her forehead tender. She rested her head on Matt’s shoulder and he immediately shifted to put his arm around her, pull her against him. She snuggled into his side.

  ‘I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything important,’ Jools said, closing her eyes and breathing in the scent of his skin. Everything in their lives had changed over the past ten years, but Matt always, always smelled the same. Like rain. Or maybe the ocean. She’d never been quite sure.

  ‘Nah. I had a meeting with the player liaison guy, but it’s not important. And he seems cool. I can reschedule. But you know even if I’d been playing I would’ve come straight to you.’ She felt him smiling. He’d joked about that for as long as she’d known him. She’d never had to test him on it though. Not yet.

  ‘I know, you always say that,’ Jools said, laughing against his chest. ‘Can’t see it happening in reality though.’

  ‘I would,’ Matt said, running his hand down his wife’s arm. ‘I’d say “try me” but I really don’t want you to.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Jools said. ‘I promise.’

  ‘You can’t promise that. But promise me no more cosmetic procedures without a friend.’

  ‘I can get my nails done.’

  ‘Take Eve with you.’

  Jools had been starting to doze, but she tipped her head back to look at her husband. ‘I can get my nails done on my own, oh my god!’

  ‘Can’t you get someone to come to the house?’

  Jools dropped her head back against his chest. ‘Yes, actually.’

  ‘Do that then.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘OK.’

  Jools was just starting to drift off when she heard Matt say, his voice soft, ‘You scared the shit out of me today, babe.’

  She tried to tell him she was sorry, but she was already asleep.

  Chapter Seven

  ‘Mrs Chance?’ Miss McCarry called from the classroom door at pick-up time on Friday. ‘Could I have a word?’

  ‘Cockwomble,’ Sam murmured, curled around Emma’s legs. ‘That’s a word.’

  ‘That’s a bad word, sweetheart,’ Emma said, glancing at Beth who was looking at her with wide eyes, trying not to laugh.

  ‘Of course,’ Emma told Miss McCarry. ‘I just need to wait for Ruby.’

  Seconds later, Ruby was heading towards her, talking and laughing with Flora. She looked just as neat as she had when they’d gone in that morning. Flora was in an almost Sam-like level of disarray.

  ‘God, look at the state of her,’ Beth said, shaking her head. ‘I don’t know how she gets everything so bloody filthy.’

  ‘Bloody filthy,’ Sam repeated, from where he was sitting on the ground, half on Emma’s feet.

  ‘Mrs Roshni?’ Miss McCarry called out. The only Asian mum at the school – at least the only one Emma had seen so far – half held her hand up in acknowledgement.

  ‘I need to have a quick word with you too, if you don’t mind waiting?’ Miss McCarry said.

  Emma looked over at Mrs Roshni in solidarity. She nodded at Miss McCarry, gave Emma a quick smile, and walked over to sit on one of the picnic tables at the edge of the playground, parking an empty buggy alongside. Her toddler son looked up at her and then took off across the playground, laughing.

  Once the last of the children had left the classroom, Ruby and Sam followed Emma into the bright room. It smelled like paint and glue and farts, Emma thought, and made a mental note to tell Sam that later; she knew it would make him laugh.

  ‘If you can take a seat,’ Miss McCarry said, gesturing at one of the tiny chairs, next to the tiny tables. ‘And Ruby, could you just take Sam to the hall? I think Mr Leyland wanted some help tidying away the musical instruments.’

  ‘Oh wow!’ Ruby said, actually clapping her hands. She loved to tidy. Emma would probably question whether Ruby was really her daughter if she hadn’t seen her emerge from her vagina.

  ‘Come on, Sam,’ Ruby said, and tugged him out of the room.

  ‘Thank you for taking the time to see me,’ Miss McCarry said, sitting on another tiny chair. ‘I know you’re busy.’

  ‘Yes, no problem,’ Emma said, even though she’d had a two hour nap and then spent the rest of the afternoon lying on the sofa watching repeats of A Place in the Sun, while feeling horribly guilty about the state of the bathroom. And the kitchen. And all the other rooms. Paul had been working late most nights, which meant Emma had reverted to an almost feral existence. Once the children were in bed, she spent her evenings slumped in front of Netflix. It wasn’t even as if she was mainlining box sets – often by the time she’d chosen something to watch, she was already mostly asleep.

  ‘We have some … concerns about Sam. And how he’s settling in. Or rather, how he’s not settling in.’

  ‘Right,’ Emma said. She tried to cross her legs, but banged her knee on the underside of the table. A tube of blue paint fell over and started to roll towards them. Miss McCarry stopped it with her hand without even turning her head.

  ‘Does he talk much? At home?’

  ‘Sam?’ Emma frowned. ‘He never stops.’

  ‘Interesting,’ Miss McCarry said. ‘Because he really doesn’t speak at school at all.’

  ‘Seriously? Sam?’

  Miss McCarry nodded. ‘Obviously at first we thought he was shy and that things would improve once he gained some confidence. But if anything, he’s getting worse.’

  ‘Worse how?’

  ‘Has Sam told you about Golden Time?’

  Emma shook her head.

  ‘Right, so it’s when we have fun activities at the end of the day. It’s mostly used as a reward for good behaviour.’

  ‘But Sam wouldn’t join in. In fact, he hid under a table. And when I tried to talk to him, to get him to come out, he meowed.’

  Before she could stop herself, Emma snorted with laughter. She covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Sorry.’ She blinked up at the sign while she composed herself. ‘He meowed?’

  Miss McCarry gave her a tight-lipped smile. ‘I know it’s early days, but the head was saying if this continues we should consider referring Sam to speech therapy, although if he talks at home—’

  ‘He does. He never stops talking.’

  ‘Then that’s a different issue. I’ll have a word with Mrs Walker about it and get back to you.’

  ‘Right,’ Emma said. ‘Thank you. It’s probably just a settling in thing, do you think?’

  ‘Probably,’ the teacher agreed.

  The two of them stood and Emma looked around the room. The room in which her son spent the best part of every day and she really had no idea what he was getting up to.

  ‘There is just one other thing,’ Miss McCarry said. ‘And I’m not sure I should even mention it, but if I don’t …’

  ‘OK …’

  ‘One of the other children said Sam called him a name. And obviously I’m not entirely convinced because, like I said, Sam doesn’t talk.’

  ‘What was the name?’ Emma asked, already wincing internally.

  ‘Butt-puffin,’ the other woman said.

  Emma bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. ‘I’ll have a word with him. Thanks for telling me.’

  ‘Miss McCarry said you meowed today,’ Emma said, as she, Sam, and Ruby walked down the hill towards the prom.

  ‘Yes!’ Sam said, jumping off the edge of the kerb and back on again. ‘Can I go and run?’

  ‘In a minute, yeah,’ Emma said. ‘Just tell me first … The meowing. Why?’

  ‘I was being a cat.’ He stopped hopping long enough to rub his hand over his face in what Emma had to admit was a pretty impressive impersonation of a cat.

  ‘Right,’ Emma said. ‘Obviously. She’s a bit concerned. Because you don’t talk.’

  ‘I do talk!’ Sam said, shucking his coat off and l
etting it drop to the ground at his feet.

  ‘He talks in the playground,’ Ruby said, as Emma bent to pick up Sam’s coat. ‘He talks to his friends.’

  ‘Do you?’ Emma asked Sam.

  ‘Course. We were playing vets today. So I was a cat and Louis was a fox and Thomas was a tiger, but then he ate the fox and got sick and the vets got closed down.’

  ‘But Thomas didn’t carry on being a tiger after playtime, did he? And Louis stopped being a fox.’

  Sam looked up at her, his forehead furrowed in confusion. ‘Louis was dead. Thomas ate him.’

  ‘Right,’ Emma said. ‘What I mean is, they stopped playing at the end of break. But you were still a cat in class.’

  Sam shrugged. ‘I like being a cat.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Emma said. ‘And there’s something else. She said you called someone a “butt-puffin”?’

  ‘I didn’t!’ Sam said, outrage written all over his face.

  ‘I didn’t think so,’ Emma said, reaching out to stroke his hair back from his face.

  ‘It was fuck-puffin,’ Sam said.

  Emma’s mouth dropped open. ‘Where have you heard that?’

  ‘Daddy said it when he was watching the football.’

  ‘Right,’ Emma said. Yeah, that sounded legit. ‘OK, well that’s a bad word and you mustn’t use it, ‘K?’

  ‘OK,’ Sam said, his small face serious. ‘You should tell Daddy that too. Can I go and run now?’

  ‘Knock yourself out.’

  Emma watched her son and daughter dart across the green, swerving into each other and hooting with laughter. She thought about texting Paul to tell him what Miss McCarry had said, but she knew he either wouldn’t reply or he’d say something dismissive or defensive and she couldn’t face that. Instead, she just watched Sam and Ruby and thought about how that was why they’d moved up to the Wirral, out of London. For the big sky and the bigger house, the beach and the sea air, the shorter commute and smaller school. It was worth it, she knew. It would be worth it.

  ‘What were you in for?’ Emma heard someone say. She tore her eyes away from her kids and smiled at Mrs Roshni, who was walking down the hill towards her.

  ‘Can I go and—’ her son asked her.