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‘It’ll come to you, don’t you worry. But first, there’s something else we need to work on.’ He had turned to look at her.
‘Simon, we’re on our honeymoon. You’re not thinking about kids already?’ Stella tried to laugh it off.
‘I just think the sooner, the better, you know? I don’t want to be an old father.’
‘We’re hardly old! I’m not even thirty.’
‘I know, but you know how it is. We’ll get home, get stuck back into work and before we know it, another five years will have gone by. I just think there’s no harm in at least thinking about it.’ He had squeezed her arm gently, his other hand reaching across and slipping under her loose linen shirt before moving down to her breast.
Stella had looked up at him, searched for the words, but before she could speak, his mouth was on hers and her body responded without hesitation.
* * *
Three months later, Stella had watched as the blue line slowly appeared on the pregnancy test balanced precariously on the edge of the sink in front of her. With the presence of a little life inside her, she had felt both elated and terrified all at the same time.
Simon was beside himself with happiness at the news, going completely over the top and insisting that Stella put her feet up at every opportunity. She had to constantly remind him that she was pregnant, not a hundred and two.
She’d continued working as long as she could, grateful for the distraction from worrying about whether she’d have the first clue what to do when the baby did actually arrive. But from the moment she’d held Max in her arms for the first time, she knew they’d be all right. The birth had been quick; having had her waters broken and been told it would be at least six hours before anything happened, Max took everyone by surprise by appearing just a few hours later. So quickly in fact, Simon had missed the whole thing, having gone down to fetch something from the car.
As Stella had lay in the hospital bed, staring down into the enormous, unblinking blue eyes of her baby boy, she felt like she’d known him forever. ‘Hello, you.’ His little fingers had curled around hers and she felt as if the world had shifted on its axis, putting him at the centre of hers.
Simon and Stella had muddled through the first few months as parents to a new-born baby, neither really knowing what to do despite having an impressive pile of baby books by the side of the bed. Simon tried his best to help, but Max was far more interested in Stella. Or, more precisely, her breasts. At times, she felt more like a cow than a human, sitting at the kitchen table with a breast pump attached to each to produce enough milk to enable Simon to feed Max from the bottle for a few shifts.
After a week, Simon had gone back to work and Stella was left on her own in the house. None of her friends had babies yet, so she thought she’d better find some who did and promptly signed up to a local mother and baby group. It took her a few weeks to pluck up the courage to go, but eventually she managed to get herself and Max out of the house (which always seemed to take about an hour) and walked to the church hall down the road. There, she had found a room full of mothers who all seemed to know one another. No one so much as looked up when she walked in.
Sitting there on her own, holding her baby in her arms, Stella had felt a million miles away from her old life. The one where she sat in an office drinking coffee with frothy milk dressed in clean clothes with freshly highlighted hair and beautifully done, barely-there make-up. Instead, she was in the same maternity jeans she’d been wearing for months, her hair unwashed and piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She actually couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn make-up.
She had looked around in the hope of making eye contact with a friendly face. In the meantime, Max had started to make it clear he wanted food – again – and so Stella tried to get Max into position so she could breastfeed him. But the brown plastic chairs were not helping, and before long, Max’s wails filled the hall. Suddenly, Stella felt the eye contact, but this time it was unwanted. She hastily bundled Max back into the pram and made for the door, desperate to get away from the stuffiness of the room. She had walked quickly along the road back towards home, tears in her eyes. Max’s crying continued, his red face screwed up in anger.
‘I’m sorry, baby,’ Stella whispered as big fat tears started to roll down her face. ‘I’m so sorry, hang on and I’ll get you sorted as soon as I can.’ She fumbled to get the key in the lock, her baby’s screams making every second seem like a minute. Eventually, she got inside and lifted a now furious Max out of his pram. She took him to the sofa and once again got herself into position to feed him. Being cocooned in the familiar space instantly calmed them both, and as soon as Max found what he was looking for, he latched on, silence covering the room like a thick, welcome blanket. Stella slowly relaxed her body and sank her back into the sofa. She closed her eyes, a wave of tiredness like she’d never known washing over her. Even her bones felt heavy.
Just then, her phone screen had lit up with a picture of her and Bridget – a favourite photo taken a few years ago on a particularly good holiday to Greece. The same holiday on which Bridget had cycled into an old stone wall on their way back from a particularly long rosé-fuelled lunch and meant they’d had to spend their last evening in the local hospital. Still, on the upside, Bridget’s broken ankle had meant they were given the seats with extra legroom on the plane home at no extra cost. Seeing that photo was enough to bring a small smile to Stella’s face. She reached for the phone and hit the green button followed by speaker.
‘Hey, Bridget!’ She tried her best to sound perkier than she felt.
‘Are you all right, Stella? You sound terrible! Did I wake you up?’
‘No, not at all, I was just, um…’ Stella shifted Max a little and sat up. Clearly her attempt at sounding more with it hadn’t worked. ‘I’m just really tired, that’s all.’
‘Where are you?’ Bridget shouted over the traffic roaring past her.
‘At home.’ Stella closed her eyes. Please come over, she wanted to say. But it was half past ten on a Monday morning. She knew she couldn’t expect her friend to drop everything; she was probably on her way to some exciting job.
‘I’m coming over. Can I bring anything? Do you need food?’
Stella was so happy to hear those words, she thought she might start crying again. ‘But aren’t you working?’
‘I’m between appointments, I’ve got time to pop over. My next one’s in a studio on your side of the river. That’s why I called.’
‘Well, if you’re sure…’
‘I’m sure, I’ll see you in a bit. Can’t wait to see you. Just don’t expect me to do anything particularly helpful with the baby. I don’t know how those things work.’
Stella managed a small laugh. ‘See you in a bit.’ She sighed with relief when Bridget hung up.
Half an hour later, the doorbell had rung. Stella opened the door, with Max asleep in her arms, to find Bridget on the doorstep with two bulging shopping bags. Bridget held them up, grinning. ‘I bought most of the biscuit aisle.’
‘Excellent, then you can come in. I’d put him down, but he’ll probably start crying again, so if you don’t mind, I’m just going to keep him here.’ Stella nodded towards her sleeping boy.
