Chapter 7
7
F leur had just finished clearing up the sitting room. Patrick had gone upstairs for a shower because he was getting up super early the next day to drive to Norfolk, and she’d spent a very pleasurable hour on a notebook perusing binge with the aid of a nice gin and tonic with a slice of lime and sprig of lavender. As you do. Feeling quite smug about how well her latest notebook had turned out and how it was wholly just for her and her only, she looked at her phone as it rang with a video call on WhatsApp. She glanced at the screen: Lucy . Fleur and Lucy had been texting on and off all day about the new arrival but Fleur had not yet had a proper call from her.
Patrick, with wet hair and pyjama bottoms, walked in rubbing the back of his hair with a towel. Fleur turned her phone around and he raised an eyebrow. ‘I reckon she’s calling to debrief you on the greatest birth ever documented. Brace yourself.’
Fleur knew the birth and the baby would be the main focus of Lucy’s call. She smiled but there was an odd little tightness in her chest as she pressed to accept the call. ‘Hey. How’s everything over there? I bet you’re tired…’
Lucy let out a small, exhausted laugh. ‘Mum. I am dead, like I now know what it feels like to die. I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired in my entire life. Ballet school is nothing on this and I thought that was bad.’
Fleur leaned back against the sofa and joked. ‘Why, exactly? Did you give birth, too?’
‘Might as well have. Mum, it was chaos. You have no idea.’
Patrick shot Fleur a knowing look and mouthed, Oh, I think we do .
The pair of them had watched Sarah’s socials too many times to not know what was going on or how the birth had gone. Fleur stifled a laugh. ‘Go on, then. What happened?’
Lucy groaned. ‘Well, for starters, Dad panicked, obviously. He literally left the hospital bags in the car and then lost the car keys, so I had to go back down to the car park and get them while Sarah was live-streaming her contractions. She was pretending to be fine but really, she swore a lot at Dad. When I say swore, I mean the worst word. You must have seen the contractions, did you?’
Fleur pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘How was Sarah?
‘Oh, she was loving it in between. Like, full-on thriving. Between contractions, she was giving commentary, like some kind of reality show contestant. “I can do this; I was made for this.”’
Patrick openly shook his head and whispered. ‘Thriving? Don’t make me laugh. Wait until she’s been up all night.’
‘How did the midwives take it?’ Fleur was mindful not to turn the conversation into a full-on rant about Sarah but couldn’t really help herself. She already had a fair idea of what the midwives would have been saying.
Lucy rattled on. ‘At one point, one of them had to say, “Sarah, love, you have to put the phone down.”’
‘You’re joking.’
‘I swear on my life. Dad looked traumatised through the whole thing.’ Lucy sighed dramatically. ‘Anyway, fast forward to the actual birth, and she was all sweaty hair and stuff and she was swearing like really, really badly and like every other word. Honestly, I was shocked and she did this really deep sort of voice, like, I don’t know, an animal or something…’
Fleur tried to piece that information with the picture-perfect version she’d seen on Instagram. ‘How did she end up looking as she did in that photo you sent me?’
‘It’s the lashes,’ Patrick said solemnly as if he had a clue.
Lucy giggled. ‘Anyway, the baby is here now but yeah, Sarah swore so much. It was long. Honestly, I don’t even know what day it is anymore.’
‘So, you two are at home now?’
‘Yeah, and Dad is shattered. It was, well, a lot.’
Patrick caught Fleur’s eye and pulled a face. Fleur took a deep breath. ‘Right. You need to be careful. We don’t want any collapsing from you or anything.’
Lucy sighed. ‘Mum. Can we not start with that? I am fine. That hasn’t happened for ages since I stopped ballet. I wanted to be there. It was actually nice and I really, really love him, Mum. He’s so tiny and perfect, his little toes, oh my goodness, and I don’t know, I just feel like I want to be here for him, you know? Like I need to be. Bonding is what Sarah called it. She did a module on female and sibling bonding at uni…’
Fleur closed her eyes briefly. She had expected Lucy to be happy about the baby’s arrival but she hadn’t expected the intensity of it all. Here her daughter was very emotionally involved with something that at the end of the day wasn’t much to do with her at all. Sometimes she didn’t know what to say for the best. ‘He is your little brother, after all.’
‘I know, but it’s more than that. I feel like... I don’t know, like I want to be involved. Like, be properly there for him. You know?’
Fleur felt deeply conflicted. On one hand, she was glad Lucy felt the connection. It was good, healthy, and just all-around nice. On the other hand, it was early days and Sarah’s postpartum fantasy would soon wear off, that she knew for free. She swallowed her thoughts and tried to sound happy. ‘That’s really lovely, Luce. I’m glad you feel that way.’
‘Yeah.’ Lucy hesitated slightly and narrowed her eyes. ‘So, would you want to come to the hospital and meet him?’
Fleur froze. God no. Full-on, flat-out, hard no. Just in case there was any doubt: no. She’d known the moment was coming, of course she had, and she’d given it a fair bit of mulling over, but as the words came out of Lucy’s mouth, she felt completely unprepared. There was no way on earth she was going to the hospital. She felt a little bit like some kind of evil, ugly, old witch in a fairy tale but didn’t care. ‘Hmm.’
‘I mean, no pressure, obviously. But, you know, it might be nice. I know it’s weird and complicated and everything, but at the end of the day, he is my brother. And I think you’d like him.’
Fleur gripped the edge of the coffee table and swallowed. It was all too awkward and had been since Sarah had been on the scene.
‘Mum?’ Lucy prompted.
Fleur cleared her throat. ‘Yeah, I umm, I just... We’ll give them some time. It’s all very new.’
Patrick raised his eyebrows at Fleur from the other side of the sofa and whispered. ‘Just say no, if you don’t want to go.’
‘Mum, honestly, you don’t have to. I get it. But I think it might be less weird than you think it will be.’
Would it, though? Fleur wasn’t so sure. Nope, it would not. Not only could she not be faffed, she didn’t want to have to suffer Sarah in all her baby glory acting as if she was the only woman on the planet to have ever given birth. She imagined walking into the hospital or Sarah and Ben’s house, Sarah looking smug as heck, Ben looking awkward, Lucy sitting there, completely in love with the baby, and Sarah probably filming the whole thing and harping on about how good it was to be a merged family. Fleur was a flat no but there was no way she was going to present it like that. She’d just make an excuse until all the baby arrival glow had worn off. ‘Ahh, umm, I’ll see.’
Fleur grimaced. She wouldn’t see and wouldn’t be going. End of. She loved Lucy and put her at the fore of almost everything. This, however, was going too far. She’d watch from the sidelines and keep her distance and see how everything turned out. It was none of her business, she wasn’t interested in bonding and at the end of the day just simply didn’t want to know. Lucy was going to have to suck it up and take that on board.
F leur had just sat down with her late evening cup of cocoa, feeling quite pleased with herself for ignoring her phone for a whole hour, when Patrick wandered in, cocoa in one hand, phone in the other, grinning like a man who had found something truly ridiculous.
‘It’s happened,’ he said, plonking himself down opposite her.
Fleur frowned. ‘What’s happened?’
Patrick held up his phone. ‘The official birth announcement has dropped.’
‘Already?’
Patrick scrolled with one hand as he took a sip of coffee. ‘And, surprise, surprise, it’s not just any old baby announcement—it’s a Sarah special. Give me strength.’
Fleur sighed and reached for her phone and sure as eggs is eggs, there it was. A full-on, professionally edited post, so polished it could have been featured in a high-end baby magazine. Sarah was in the hospital bed, looking like she’d just stepped out of a spa treatment, full make-up, perfectly curled hair, and skin so glowy it had definitely been filtered to high heaven. The baby, swaddled in the softest white blanket, lay in her arms like a perfectly arranged prop. Ben was in the background, sitting in the hospital chair, staring at the camera with the hollow-eyed look of a man who had aged twenty years overnight.
Fleur zoomed in on his face. ‘He looks done in.’
Patrick chuckled. ‘I am enjoying this way too much. That is the face of a man questioning every life decision that led him to this moment.’
Fleur scrolled to the caption.
Welcome to the world, our precious little poppet. Our hearts are bursting! The most magical, empowering, raw experience of my life. So grateful for my amazing partner who has been my absolute rock through this journey. I couldn’t have done it without you. #Blessed #NewMum #BirthWarrior #PostpartumGlow #LoveMyTribe #FourthTrimesterMagic
Fleur made a faux gagging sound. ‘“Fourth Trimester Magic?”’ She repeated and swiped to the next photo a black-and-white shot of Sarah looking down at the baby, eyes dramatically misty while Ben rested his head exhaustively in his hands beside her.
Patrick leaned over. ‘Yeah, that’s not normal. No one looks like that in labour. Lucy probably took that. Have you heard from her?’
‘Not for a bit.’
Fleur scrolled further. There were more pictures. A soft-focus close-up of their hands intertwined. A posed shot of Sarah breastfeeding with perfectly arranged hospital sheets and artful lighting.
Patrick shook his head. ‘There’s more staging in this than a wedding. You do have to wonder…’
‘How did she even have time to do all this?’
‘She probably hired someone, a Birth Content Specialist or I don’t know...’
Fleur groaned and clicked on the comments section, which was even worse than she had anticipated.
Omgggg! Sarah you look INCREDIBLE, how is this even possible?!
Ben is such a supportive King, you can see the love in his eyes.
Fleur blinked. ‘The love in his eyes? You have got to be kidding me.’ She knew Ben well and had never seen him looking as bad.
Patrick smirked. ‘Maybe they mean the love of sleep. You know, the love he used to have before it was cruelly ripped from him forever.’
Fleur scrolled further down the comments.
Thank you for sharing this journey with us, it’s so special to be a part of it.
‘A part of it? Why do these people think they’re part of her birth? It’s so fake.’
Patrick snorted. ‘Because she made them part of it. There’s probably some poor sod out there who’s been refreshing her page all day, convinced they had a personal role in this labour.’
‘This is unhinged. Give it a week, she’ll be doing New Mum Skincare Routines and reviewing postpartum recovery tea.’ Fleur buried her face in her hands for a second. ‘This cannot be my ex-husband and my daughter is part of it. Why me? Why?’
‘Oh, but it is and it’s only just beginning.’
Fleur’s phone buzzed with an image from Lucy: a picture of Sarah, lying in her hospital bed, baby nestled against her, makeup still fully intact, looking unnaturally serene, and Lucy bobbed down beside her looking at the baby. Fleur shook her head. ‘Nope. Nope. Can’t do it. If I see any more of this, I’ll throw my phone out the window.’
Patrick grinned. ‘I mean, at least she’s committed. Some people just post a picture and move on.’
Fleur exhaled, rubbing her temples. ‘It’s the comments that get me. The people who actually think she looks like that after giving birth. Shall we place bets on how soon the postpartum fitness journey begins?’
‘A week, maybe less.’
Fleur typed out a suitably nice message to Lucy, pressed send and with that, shut off her phone, picked up her cocoa, and decided a much stronger drink would be required in the next few post-baby weeks. She would remain resolute, calm, nice and pleasant on the outside while on the inside she would try not to get too rattled at all. Another thing she had to navigate as Lucy’s mother. Sometimes she felt as if it was all really a bit too much.