The Bad Mothers’ Book Club

by Keris Stainton

  ‘Oh my god,’ Maggie said, dropping down next to her and curling an arm around her shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry. I had no idea.’

  ‘That’s because I didn’t want anyone to know.’ Jools gave her a small smile. ‘I was trying to control it like I try to control everything.’

  Maggie shook her head. ‘You don’t. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of those things.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Jools said. ‘Honestly.’

  Hanan crouched down next to Jools and held out a cup of tea from a flask.

  ‘Oh my god,’ Jools said. ‘You’re an angel. Thank you!’

  ‘That’s the only cup I brought,’ Hanan said. ‘So we’ll all have to share I’m afraid.’

  ‘That’s OK,’ Jools said. ‘Cancer’s not contagious.’

  ‘Oh my god!’ Maggie said, laughing.

  ‘Too soon?’ Jools smiled.

  The breeze died down and the children ran off to play in the grass, dropping the damp towels in the sand behind them. Emma picked them up, shook them as hard as she could, and handed them to the other women.

  ‘They’re a bit damp and gross, but they should help a bit.’

  Beth had been rummaging through Emma’s cool bag, checking what food they had for the next five hours, and she suddenly shouted, ‘Emma, you beauty!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘There’s matches in here!’

  ‘Oh right. Last time we used it we had a disposable barbecue,’ Emma said. ‘Anyone know how to make a fire?’

  ‘I do,’ Jools said. ‘I think. I mean, I used to. I was in the Guides.’

  ‘I can’t imagine you in the Guides,’ Beth said. ‘I never went, but I was a Brownie.’

  ‘Me too,’ Emma said. ‘Pixie Seconder.’

  ‘Pixie Sixer!’ Jools said. And then added ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I was an Imp Seconder for about a week,’ Maggie said. ‘And then they did away with the Imps cos there weren’t enough of us. Story of my life.’

  ‘I Was An Imp Seconder: the Maggie Marshall Story,’ Emma said and everyone laughed.

  The women collected a good pile of sticks and Jools arranged them into a pyramid, poking smaller sticks in between. She curled her hands around the matchbox as she struck the match and dropped it into the centre, sheltering the whole thing with her body.

  ‘Did it work?’ Beth asked, leaning over to look.

  ‘Give it a second,’ Jools said.

  They all watched, transfixed, as the flame caught and appeared to run along to the twigs, which started to smoke before suddenly flaring.

  ‘Well done!’ Emma said.

  Jools smiled. ‘I’m amazed that worked, actually. Haven’t done it for years’

  Later, when the children were back and everyone was gathered around the fire, eating crisps and passing Hanan’s tea around like it was some sort of ceremony, Jools said, ‘I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’m almost happy we got stranded.’

  Emma laughed. ‘I wouldn’t go that far. But this is nice.’

  She watched the shadows cast by the fire playing over Ruby’s face. Ruby’s sand-encrusted, dirty face. Her hair, that Emma had fastened into two plaits that morning, had mostly come undone and was damp and curling, strands stuck to her cheeks. She wanted to squeeze her.

  As the day went on, the wind died down and they were warm enough in the sun. The children investigated the island – there was much excitement when they spotted seals lounging on the rocks on the far side – while the women took turns to watch the children, and the rest of them sat around talking or just soaking up the sun.

  They talked about Jools’s cancer, Emma’s loneliness when she’d first moved up from London. They talked about their husbands and their children and how they all worried they drank too much wine. They talked about homework and their husband’s jobs and how they felt guilty for not working, but guilty when they considered working. They talked about how almost all the parents at the school gates were women, how the shops and cafés and playgrounds were full of women.

  ‘I sometimes look around and think where are all the men?’ Emma said. ‘You know?’

  ‘They’re at work,’ Beth said.

  ‘But you’d think some of them would want to be at home with the children, wouldn’t you,’ Emma said. ‘Even for a little while. I wouldn’t have felt bad about working if Paul had been home.’

  ‘You probably would have done,’ Jools said. ‘Mums learn to feel bad about everything, really early. Before you’re even pregnant. I couldn’t choke down those massive folic acid tablets and got told off at every appointment.’

  ‘The way I look at it,’ Hanan said – she’d taken her hijab off and her hair hung down her back, shiny and smooth and then tangled and sandy at the ends – ‘Is that people are going to judge you no matter what you do. So you might as well just do what you want.’

  ‘God,’ Beth said. ‘I wish we had wine. Cos I would like to drink to that.’

  ‘We should promise to try not to do it to each other,’ Jools said. ‘Any more.’

  ‘Like, take a blood oath?’ Maggie said, laughing.

  The sun was lower in the pink-streaked sky and it was starting to get chilly again. The women had shuffled closer to the fire and each other.

  ‘Maybe we should just remember this,’ Emma said. ‘All of it.’

  And they would.

  Epilogue

  Emma wiggled her bare toes into the sand as she watched Ruby and Sam chase Buddy through the puddles left by last night’s long hoped-for rain. The summer had been hot and oppressive, the constantly open windows filling the house with kamikaze flies and drowsy wasps, the children stripped down to their underwear, yet still clammy and complaining. And it had still been the best summer Emma could remember.

  The school year had ended with both Ruby and Sam taking part in the assembly – Ruby presenting her project about Hilbre Island, which had started out as a study of the nature on the island and ended up as a much-needed demonstration of tidal safety and wilderness survival tips. Sam had sung one line in a song about friendship, his hand clutching Yahya’s on one side and Miss McCarry’s on the other. When Emma thought back to that first meeting with Sam’s teacher, she was so proud she could burst. Instead she’d cried so much that a mum she didn’t know had passed her a tissue from further down the row.

  Paul’s bonus for successfully completing the Matt Jackson signing had allowed them a long weekend at Disneyland Paris where the children had eaten too much candyfloss and popcorn and had their photos taken with every Disney Princess and animal character they could find. It had been exhausting, but joyful, and when they’d asked Sam what his favourite part was, he’d said the big fish in the river, so possibly also completely pointless. Perfect.

  After Disneyland, when the weather was hot but still tolerable, they’d started meeting the other families on the beach each morning. The children played together, while the women sat on towels and talked and ministered to the smaller kids. Hanan and Jools had become particularly close when one of Hanan’s oldest friends back in Wakefield was diagnosed with breast cancer. Flic had turned up once to tell them she was moving away and then she was gone.

  They’d started bringing pot luck picnics and bottles of wine, a tent for the little ones to sleep in the shade, disposable barbecues. The women – even Jools – had soon stopped wearing make-up, showering, brushing their hair. Emma had joked that it must be what living in a commune was like. Beth had suggested they buy a chicken or burn incense.

  ‘Hey,’ Paul said, coming up behind Emma and handing her the ice cream she’d asked for, before calling the kids over to collect theirs. ‘What are you thinking about?’

  Emma watched Ruby and Sam laughing as they raced towards their parents, Buddy barking, sand flying through the air behind the three of them. She bit the top off her ice cream and rested her hand on her burgeoning belly. She turned to smile at Paul, tanned and stubbly, looking about ten years younger than he had in London.r />
  ‘How lucky we are,’ she said.

  Maggie wrapped the picture in tissue paper and placed it in the box on top of the others, before stuffing the spaces with newspaper and sealing the box with tape.

  ‘Have you finished now?’ Amy shouted from the living room.

  Maggie carried the box to the front door and then went to join her daughter on the balcony.

  ‘Yep.’ She kissed the top of her head. ‘All done.’

  ‘Can we go to the beach?’ Amy pointed. ‘Ruby and Sam are there.’

  Maggie squinted into the sunshine. She could just about make out the two children and their dog, and maybe Emma and Paul standing nearby, but that could be any two people.

  ‘How did you spot them?’ Maggie asked her daughter.

  ‘Ruby’s red wellies. And Buddy. Can we go?’

  ‘You can’t, sorry,’ Maggie said. ‘You’re going out with Daddy this afternoon.’

  Amy’s face – almost completely covered in freckles thanks to the long, hot summer – broke into an enormous smile. ‘I forgot!’

  ‘I thought so,’ Maggie said. ‘Even though I’ve told you – ooh – about twenty times.’

  When she and Amy had moved out of the house and gone to stay with Maggie’s parents, she’d worried about Amy’s relationship with her dad, but they seemed happy enough. Amy was always happy to see him – she spent every other Saturday with him – but she didn’t want to stay in their old house now that Eve lived there, and she was always happy to come home to Maggie. It helped that all but five of her collection of puppies had stayed in the old house and Jim brought a different one – or so he said – with him each time.

  Jim seemed a lot happier too, which had been a difficult thing for Maggie to process. She’d spent a while thinking of herself as the victim – of his moods, his temper, obviously of his affair with Eve – but she’d come to realise that she’d never fully invested in the marriage, had never even really been in love with him, and how unfair that had been to him. And also to herself, of course, but she was working on forgiving herself for that. And creating a whole new life. Renting the flat overlooking the marina, the beach and Victoria Gardens had been the second step. The first step had been leaving.

  Sofia had decided to stay in Poland, at least for a while. Her mum’s injuries had been worse than they first thought and she seemed to have contracted repeated infections. They’d Skyped a little at first, but not for a while. Maggie missed her, but she’d also realised – with the help of a counsellor – that Sofia had been something like an escape hatch. She’d helped Maggie understand herself better, but she hadn’t been the answer. Maggie was starting to understand that no one was the answer. No, that wasn’t right. She herself was the answer. She just had to keep working on the question.

  Matt squeezed Jools’s fingers where their hands were joined in his lap. Jools glanced at him and smiled, but then focused back on the doctor, willing the woman to say what Jools and Matt were so desperate to hear. Or, at the very least, not say the thing they dreaded.

  The doctor smiled and said it was good to see them both, that they looked well.

  ‘I love your hair,’ she told Jools.

  Jools ran her hand back over her head. Her hair had started to grow back, but it was completely different. Where it had always been smooth and – despite what many people seemed to think – naturally blonde, now it was light brown and swirling in soft curls. Matt loved it, running his hands over it constantly, as if she were a cat. Jools wasn’t sure what she was going to do with it yet. Apparently the curls were ‘chemo curls’ and might not stay, but the colour brought out the hazel in her eyes, so she was going to wait and see. Also it meant that every time she looked in the mirror she was reminded of what she’d gone through, what she’d survived. She hoped.

  ‘So,’ the doctor said and looked down at her notes.

  Matt squeezed Jools’s hand again and she felt like her heart was squeezing in her chest. She tried to breathe. Whatever happened, it would be OK. They would be OK.

  When the doctor looked back up she was smiling. ‘There’s no sign of cancer. Your bloods are clear.’

  Jools gasped out a breath, followed by ‘Oh my god.’

  The doctor blurred in front of her eyes and then she was being pulled into Matt’s arms, one of his hands – as was often the case lately – cradling the back of her head, fondling her hair.

  ‘I love you so much,’ Matt murmured in her ear. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

  Tears dripped off Jools’s jaw and soaked into the shoulder of her husband’s shirt.

  ‘Fuck,’ she said, into the side of his neck and he laughed.

  ‘Obviously you’ll need regular check-ups,’ the doctor said, once Jools was upright again, Matt leaning into her side. ‘But for now everything looks really, really good.’

  Jools shook her head. ‘Thank you. For everything.’

  ‘It’s my job,’ the doctor said, but she was smiling.

  ‘I got two bottles to start,’ Emma said, pushing glasses across the large table. ‘And a jug of juice for me and Hanan.’

  She was huge now, with just a few weeks to go. All along she’d been so much bigger than with either of the other kids, as if her body recognised what was happening and just relaxed right into it.

  ‘I need to tell you all something,’ Maggie said, pouring the first glass and taking a sip. ‘I was going to ask you last time we met, but I chickened out and then I had to just make myself do it before …’ She took another sip. ‘I invited Eve.’

  ‘Holy shit,’ Beth said. ‘Are you going to beat her up?’

  Maggie laughed. ‘God. No. And she’d totally batter me. I just … we need to get on really. If she and Jim are going to stay together. And I thought it made more sense for her to come to book club where she knows everyone, not just me.’

  Emma squeezed Maggie’s arm. ‘That’s really nice of you.’

  ‘Also if I hate her I can just get hammered,’ Maggie said.

  ‘You won’t hate her,’ Jools said. ‘She can be a right cow sometimes, but her heart’s in the right place. She was an amazing help when I was ill.’

  I could have helped, Maggie thought, not for the first time. Over the past few months, she and Jools had talked about how and why their friendship had fallen apart. Jools had felt guilty knowing about Jim’s extra-marital behaviour, Maggie had been insecure in her relationship and capabilities as a mother and had put too much pressure on Jools. In trying to control her cancer, Jools had tried to push away everything she couldn’t control. They weren’t yet back to the ease of their old relationship, but they were getting there.

  ‘I’ve got an announcement too,’ Hanan said, pausing until everyone was looking at her. ‘I’m going back to work. In the shop. Well, the office at the shop.’

  ‘Wow,’ Emma said. ‘What brought that on?’

  ‘Mo’s at nursery three days and I just want something else to do. And Hashim’s not that good at the admin side of things so I’ve helped out a couple of times and it’s just … I like it. It’s nice to have something to shower for, you know?’

  The other women laughed.

  ‘I showered for this, obviously,’ Hanan said.

  ‘It makes me laugh when I think about when we all first met,’ Emma said. ‘I’d worry about what to wear and do my make-up and everything. I bought new clothes for Jools’s book club!’

  ‘Sorry,’ Jools said, cringing. They often teased her with stories about how controlling and un-fun her old book club had been. They all knew and understood her reasons, but it was still fun to take the piss a little.

  ‘And now you’ve all seen me at my worst,’ Emma said.

  ‘Some of us saw you at your worst at my book club,’ Jools said, grinning.

  ‘I was pregnant and I didn’t know it!’ Emma said, as she had so many times before. ‘Hormones are a bastard!’ She smiled around the table at her friends. ‘Anyway, my point is that now I’m like, have I washed? Am I wearing a
bra?’

  ‘I’m not,’ Maggie said.

  ‘Our washer’s broken,’ Beth said. ‘I’m wearing a swimsuit under this.’

  The women all laughed.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Emma said. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I love and appreciate you all. I know we’ve had a bumpy road to get here. But I’m glad we’re here.’

  ‘And I’m glad we’re picking our own books and not Jools’s classics,’ Beth said. ‘I vote for Fifty Shades.’

  ‘We are not reading Fifty Shades,’ Maggie said, laughing. ‘How many times do we have to have this conversation?’

  ‘If that’s what Beth picks,’ Emma said. ‘That’s what we have to read.’

  ‘Maybe we could have a few rules …’ Jools joked, and the other women shouted her down.

  ‘To the Bad Mothers’ Book Club,’ Emma said, raising her glass.

  ‘To the Bad Mothers’ Book Club,’ Maggie, Jools, Beth and Hanan echoed, clinking their glasses together.

  ‘May we one day actually read a book.’

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to: Sam for giving me the opportunity to write this book and for mentioning Harry Styles in her off letter; My agent Hannah Sheppard for talking me up and down; Laura Gerrard for patient editing; My sister, Leanne, for tolerating my questions about cancer and treatment (and for, you know, not dying); Fatima Patel for answering my nosy questions, letting me nick her children’s names, and for being one of the school mums who made the school run fun; Heather Jargus for the 3am deaths conversations; and Lindsay (surname redacted!) for the ‘Pop-up Pirate’ tip. As always, thanks and love to Harry and Joe for inspiration and distraction.

  Copyright

  First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Trapeze Books,

  an imprint of The Orion Publishing Group Ltd

  Carmelite House, 50 Victoria Embankment,