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‘Suits me. I’ll sort the biscuits and make you a cup of tea. Go and sit down. I’ll bring them over in a minute.’
‘I’m sorry, I look terrible,’ Stella called as she made her way to the sofa.
‘Don’t be so ridiculous, you’ve just had a baby. But yes, as it happens, you do look like shit,’ Bridget called back to her friend from the kitchen. She came back with a plate piled with an assortment of biscuits. Nestling in next to Stella on the sofa, she took her friend’s hand. ‘Come on then, how’s it all going?’
Stella looked at her. ‘It’s really hard, actually. Seriously, this makes going to work look easy.’
Bridget squeezed her hand. ‘I remember my mum saying the first bit is the toughest, but it gets easier. Until they start walking and talking, that is. Then you’re in real trouble.’ Bridget smiled, tucking a loose strand of Stella’s hair behind her ear.
‘I just wish my mum was here, you know? I feel like I haven’t got anyone to ask what to do. There’s Caroline, of course, but she’s always made parenting look so easy. You lot haven’t had babies yet – so selfish, by the way,’ Stella scowled at Bridget, ‘and Simon’s been amazing, but now he’s back at work…’
‘Honestly, you’ll meet other mothers, and before you know it, you’ll be one of them, dressed in swanky leisurewear shouting loudly at your kids about being careful on the swing in the park.’
‘I went this morning, to a mother and baby group. It was hideous and I’m never going to one again.’ Stella motioned to the plate of biscuits with a nod of the head. Bridget reached over and picked up a piece of shortbread, handing it to Stella. She bit into it, crumbs falling onto Max’s head.
Bridget wiped them gently off. ‘Listen, you’re just really, really tired. Think what your body has been through.’
‘Well, I can tell you one thing for sure. I’m never, ever doing this again.’ Stella closed her eyes.
‘Kettle’s boiled, tea?’
Stella nodded, slowly. ‘Yes please.’
By the time Bridget came back from the kitchen, Stella was asleep, Max still cradled in her arms.
4
It came as a surprise to everyone, not least to Stella when, just over a year and a half later, she discovered she was pregnant with twins.
‘Seriously?’ Her boss had looked at her over his glasses from behind his desk.
Stella felt her cheeks redden. She’d been back at work for six months. ‘Yes, I’m serious. Having twins isn’t something I’d joke about, believe me.’ She’d hoped to wait a little longer to make the news public at work, but her quickly growing bump made it almost impossible to hide.
‘Well, I suppose congratulations are in order.’ He managed a small smile, but Stella guessed he’d be trying to find a replacement for her the minute she left his office.
‘Thank you. I’ll let you know my leaving date as soon as I know it, but it won’t be for a while, obviously.’
Stella had managed to get a place at a local nursery for Max and he was clearly loving it as much as she was enjoying being able to converse with adults about something other than toddler behaviour. But the daily struggle to leave the office on time to pick up Max from nursery before the late fees kicked in was real. Simon helped as much as he could, but his new job at a ferocious consultancy firm meant long hours and took him away from home at least one night a week.
As Stella’s pregnancy had progressed, the juggle got more exhausting to manage. One evening, when Simon was away, book club had been due to meet at the pub as usual. When Stella had messaged the group chat to say she just didn’t have the energy, Bridget called her straight back to tell her they would come to hers and would be bringing food with them.
Just after 7 p.m., the doorbell rang. Stella made her way slowly downstairs, having just got Max into bed. By now, she was the size of a small camper van – at least that’s how she felt. She opened the door to see three of her favourite faces grinning back at her.
‘Bloody hell, look at you! You look incredible!’ Lucy cried out, wrapping her arms around Stella’s neck.
‘Please don’t say I’m blooming. It’s such a lie.’ Stella rolled her eyes and hugged them each in turn as they came through the door. She was still the only one amongst them to have children and as they tumbled into the sitting room, discarding coats and kicking off shoes, she was momentarily envious of their freedom. To go out without booking babysitters – in fact, to have the energy to go out at all. But here they all were, now with glasses of wine in hand, passing round opened bags of crisps as they discussed what had been going on in all their lives since they last got together.
Stella sipped her non-alcoholic gin and tonic slowly, knowing the bubbles would no doubt give her indigestion, but she didn’t want to be rude. Bridget had clearly put thought into bringing something for her to drink while they imbibed discounted Picpoul.
‘Here, I got you these.’ Lucy passed a small canvas tote bag to Stella. ‘Books from the office, I just grabbed a few on my way out, ones I thought you’d like.’
Stella peered into the bag. ‘Thanks, Luce.’ She didn’t want to say that the chances of her picking up a book, let alone reading a whole sentence were slim to none. Ironic, really, given this was book club. She remembered their first meeting not long after they’d all moved to London, organised by Bridget. She’d got the four of them together around a table having been set the book a month before and Stella remembered the book they’d read like it was yesterday. It was A Room with a View by E. M. Forster and it remained one of her favourite books. The descriptions of the city and the characters in the book had stayed with her long after she’d turned the last page.
‘So, how are you feeling?’ Bridget sank back into the armchair opposite Stella. The once-sparse sitting room (although Stella preferred the term minimalist) was now populated with brightly coloured plastic toys. Along the mantlepiece were photos of Simon and Stella at various locations – on the beach at their wedding, at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower, at the top of the Empire State Building. Photos of Max sat in frames nestled in between books on the neat shelves.
‘Truth? Knackered.’ Stella laughed. ‘But I’m so pleased you’re here and not just because you brought food.’ The smell of warm spices wafted from the kitchen into the sitting room. ‘What is it, by the way?’
‘Sarah picked up a load of tapas from Borough Market on her way here,’ said Bridget. ‘Smells amazing.’
