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‘We did our research, of course,’ adds Alec. ‘We’d heard all about your success with Mylk It. Who hasn’t been for a coffee in one when in London?’
‘The coolest cafés in town!’ Arnaud adds. ‘We love what you did with the branding there. We had high hopes that you’d come up with some fabulous ideas for us too.’
I feel a little glow of pride at the praise for my old business. Mylk It, a chain of vegan cafés, was booming when I left five years ago. Quite a lot happened five years ago, actually. I learned that my husband did not want the baby I’d just found out I was expecting. What he did want was to carry on having the affair I’d also just found out he was having. We ran the lucrative business together – my idea, my hard graft, his family’s injection of cash to get us started. So I left the business, divorced the husband and left London all in the space of a few months. I moved back to Bristol, where I grew up and where my parents lived, and started afresh. Out of all the big decisions I had to make at that time, quitting the business I had created at university was by far the hardest. Still, my life feels so much richer now. Sure, I’d love to still be involved with Mylk It, but there’s no way I could work with Mark after what happened. And I cannot imagine my life in London now. Bristol is busy and bustling and full of new life for me.
I’m at Bath train station buying a peppermint tea when an alarming message from Poppy comes through.
Don’t forget about Paul tonight!
7pm that swanky restaurant near The Triangle where the footballers go.
You know it?
I do know it. Very posey and wildly not my scene. I sigh into my hot drink. Poppy’s still going.
Dress UP.
Actually don’t worry I’ll bring outfit options with me later.
Have promised to take Lila out for tea so you can’t get out of the date LOVE YOU X
And just like that, peaceful work mode has been shattered. I frown and check the time. At least I’ll be back in Bristol on time for school pick-up.
Chapter 2
School pick-up is a cruel beast. You know when you can just sense a bad vibe? Every time I come to pick-up I can feel a shift in the school mum clique. They seem wary of me and I don’t know what went wrong, or how to change it. I’ve wondered if it’s because I don’t fit their mould. I don’t wear the uniform of maxi dresses or athleisure, for a start. I turn up in suits. It’s not like anyone has been overtly rude, I just can’t seem to find myself an in. So I stand on the sidelines (literally by the school’s large recycling bins) overhearing snippets of their conversations about loft conversions and weekend plans while catching up on work emails.
I suspect that a lot of these friendships were shaped back when the children were at nursery, too, which doesn’t help. I didn’t send Lila to nursery or pre-school, taking a full year of maternity leave thanks to a hard-won pay-out from my old business. Then my parents and Poppy took her for two days a week and it was just enough time for me to sow the seeds of my new consultancy career here in Bristol. I snatched time to work through her naps and in the evenings to set myself up. It was tough but it meant that I got those precious early years with my daughter all to myself. Only now I’ve realised that Lila might be missing out – just how many birthday parties like Oscar’s has she not made the guest list for? Have I done Lila a disservice? She seems happy in her first year at school and from the way she talks, I’m pretty sure she’s made some little friends already, but now I can’t shift the feeling that I’ve somehow let the side down.
That we’re just not one of the pack.
Perhaps I should throw myself into school life as much as I throw myself into work and motherhood. It’s not like this has to be entrenched, I tell myself. After all Lila’s only had one full term of reception class so far, and spring term only started a couple weeks ago. I can shift this vibe! I’m a strong, successful woman and we are no longer in high school! I tuck a stray hair into my neat chignon and round my shoulders back.
Even though I’m on the reserve’s bench I’ve still figured out that Celeste – the ‘bonkers one with the big hair and the posh accent’ – leads the A team of parents for Lila’s class. She has already taken pole position by the school gates and a couple of other key parent players are joining her. I dither a bit but decide that I can’t stay in my hiding place by the bins forever. A reputation as Weird Bin Mum is the last thing I need.
I take a breath and step forward, right into the circle.
‘Hi, Celeste.’ I beam, fixing her with my most dazzling smile.
‘Hello.’ Celeste’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She’s got the kind of beachy waves that come from an expensive hairdresser, loose curls lapping the shoulders of her butter-soft oatmeal jumper.
‘How are you?’ I ask, but she’s no longer listening. I do, at least, still have my place within the circle.
‘Here he is!’ Celeste trills, clapping her hands together. The other parents and I turn to see who she’s talking about. A man in suit trousers, a shirt and tie walks towards us, palms up and arms spread wide.
‘Ladies, this is my husband Douglas,’ Celeste explains as the man proceeds to shake hands and tell each mum that it’s a pleasure to meet her. ‘I’m so happy you made it back from Westminster in time!’
Even I know that Celeste’s husband is an MP because she likes to brag about it loudly at every possible occasion. She’s beaming with pride as he works his way round the mums like he’s on a campaign, but I swear her smile turns slightly sour as he reaches me. Still, I am woefully pleased to get a handshake.
‘Douglas Battenberg,’ he says, smiling at me.
‘Like the cake?’ I point out before realising that this might not be the best way to impress the alphas.
Another mum, Frankie, splutters out a laugh before clapping a hand over her mouth.
‘Don’t tell anyone, but I’m not actually a fan of marzipan,’ he says affably.
With that, Celeste flings a possessive arm around his shoulders. ‘Douglas made a New Year’s resolution to make pick-up more often, didn’t you, darling? Work keeps you away from us far too much.’
