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‘It’s a pleasure to finally be here,’ he says with a well-practised smile. God, they make a good-looking couple. Light tans and clear skin and the kind of confidence that comes from wealth and a private education. ‘I’m very much looking forward to hearing what young Oscar has been up to today.’
Tally, another alpha mum, nods furiously at Douglas’s comment.
‘The children usually do PE on Wednesday so there’s bound to be some chat about that,’ she says. Tally is dressed in a head-to-toe luxe workout ensemble despite having driven here in a blacked-out Range Rover parked just around the corner and clearly having done no exercise.
‘I was a dab hand at lacrosse in my day.’ Douglas chuckles, but Celeste clears her throat and reminds him that lacrosse isn’t on the syllabus at St Barnaby’s.
‘Much better for the optics if the children are at a state school,’ she explains, so now I find myself battling a strange mix of emotions.
1. I’d quite like to bludgeon this woman.
2. Isn’t it a thrill to be included in the group? I feel positively giddy!
‘They did yoga last week,’ points out Tally. ‘Margot loved it. I think she might be a little yogi like her mama.’
From what I can gather, Tally’s a self-made success story. A mumfluencer with a whopping social media following who can often be found doing a piece-to-camera about her mum style, her recommendations for eye-wateringly expensive scented candles or her best advice for getting stains out of white clothes. Tally’s daughter Margot is one of those rare children who look pristine at all times.
Douglas Battenberg is still dominating the conversation when there’s a sudden and noticeable shift in the dynamic. A ripple of excitement weaving through the huddle. That I’m in. I’m in the huddle! I mean, no one has really spoken to me yet and they’re all sort of carrying on regardless rather than making an effort, but still. Baby steps. Invites to playdates for Lila may be just around the corner.
I watch Tally check her reflection on her phone, tweaking her ponytail until it’s just so. Satisfied, she peers over the top of her sunglasses, her rosebud lips slightly parted.
Celeste lets out a pretty laugh even though no one made a joke.
Frankie, the mum who giggled at my Battenberg quip, pulls at her T-shirt in dismay, causing the baby she’s carrying in a sling to whimper in protest. ‘I would not have worn this grubby sack of shit if I’d have known,’ she hisses. ‘Is it Thursday? Have I got my days mixed up again?’
‘What happens on Thursday?’ I ask.
‘Thirsty Thursday,’ whispers Frankie.
What’s Thirsty Thursday? Do they go for drinks without me? I weigh up whether to ask and risk being rejected to my face, or just stay quiet.
‘No, it’s Wednesday. Joe never does Wednesdays,’ another mum named Mel – an extremely competent-looking woman – says, her eyes trained on whatever is causing the commotion behind me.
‘But this T-shirt is moth-eaten for the love of—’
‘Finally, another chap!’ booms Douglas with a broad smile. I turn to follow his gaze.
A dad I vaguely recognise is walking towards the group. I think his son is Sidney but there have been so many new names and faces to get used to since school started that it’s all still a blur to me. This man isn’t a source of confusion for anyone else, however, as the rest of the mums now seem to be losing their minds over his appearance.
Dad arrives to pick up child! Alert the elders!
Clearly, however, my mockery is wrong and this is a big deal because every single one of the mums is staring, wide-eyed. There’s a sort of mass hysteria to their reaction, a carnal intensity that makes me feel like I’ve stumbled into a Magic Mike Live. I take a clinical look at Possibly Sidney’s Dad, who is very good-looking in a brooding sort of way. Tall and lean with a tangle of curly brown hair which he keeps pushing back off his forehead. Cute dress sense too, stylish without being over the top. It’s clear that this dad is a massive step up from the most of the other dads at pick-up, even perfectly groomed Douglas with his unflappable charm in the face of his own silly surname. This dad looks like a rock star collided with a lumberjack. Cool. Sexy. Good with his hands.
And doesn’t he know it!
I believe it takes three seconds to decide whether you like somebody or not. The fact that Possibly Sidney’s Dad appears to be lapping up this attention means my own judgement call takes even less. It’s an instant no from me.
I turn back to the other mums. One lets out an audible gasp on sight of him.
Celeste bites her lip.
Someone else gets out an actual fan, even though it’s a grey day in February.
The man steps into the group.
‘Afternoon, ladies,’ he says in an Irish drawl.
Ladies. So outdated! I can’t help but scoff. This catches his attention and he gives me a curious look. Ordinarily I’d brush this aside but I realise that now I’m in the huddle I need to be more mindful. Upset the apparent eye candy and I might find myself unceremoniously ejected from the group.
