Chapter 12
It has only just turned 8 a.m. but the Cosy Corner is already busy. Kate pauses outside, Rosie snuggled up in a sling on her chest. Looking through the windows, she’s suddenly glad about her decision not to bring the pram. It would have been a nightmare having to manoeuvre her way through all the tables and chairs inside the little café, which, as the name suggests, is rather cosy. She still hasn’t got quite used to pushing it and often bumps it into things.
Before opening the door, she types a quick message in her group chat with her mum and sister. The group is still called the Mathews Girls, even though Erin took Mark’s surname when they married and Kate decided to double-barrel hers. She still thinks of the three of them as the Mathews Girls, though.
Look! I took your advice! I feel like a kid turning up on the first day of school. But I’m sure it will be fun. Thanks for giving me the push I needed xx
She sends a photo looking in through the window at the comfy chairs, bookshelves and display heaving with cakes.
Erin replies immediately. Hurrah! Good luck, sis, I’m sure it will be great xx
Kate pauses in case her mum is going to reply too – she’s usually pretty quick – but when nothing comes through, she returns her phone to her pocket and pushes open the café door. The group she is looking for are immediately recognisable by the platoon of prams.
Once she’s ordered at the counter, the women in the group look up and smile warmly, beckoning her over without her needing to say she is here for their group.
‘Is this the Tired Mums Club?’
‘Do you need to ask?’ laughs one woman, gesturing to her large coffee cup. ‘This coffee has three shots in it.’
The women are dressed in an array of tracksuits, leggings and jeans that Kate suspects hold secret elastic waistbands just like hers. There are messy buns and tired smiles, white patches on shoulders, large cups of coffee and plates piled with baked goods.
Even if it took the well-meaning interference of her mother to get her here, Kate is suddenly glad that she came.
‘Welcome,’ the woman adds. ‘It’s always nice to see a new face. I hope you don’t mind that we meet pretty early, but we’ve all been up for hours already, right?’
Kate can hear the exhaustion behind the woman’s laugh and immediately feels at ease. After months of feeling as if she’s existing in a different time zone to her friends who don’t have children, here are women who also know what it’s like to begin their day in the early hours. For the day never to really end, in fact.
‘So, what’s your name?’
‘Kate,’ she replies as she lowers herself into a chair. It’s Rosie’s first time in a café and she looks a little startled as she gazes about, taking it all in. After three months spent mostly on the sofa, Kate feels the same way.
The woman next to her holds her own baby up in front of her chest, lifting up one of his hands as though he’s waving. ‘Hello, Kate,’ she says in an icing-sugar-sweet voice directed at Rosie. ‘I’m Theo.’
‘This is Jacob,’ says the woman to her right, smiling and placing her hand protectively on the head of her baby, who is dressed in blue dungarees and a yellow T-shirt.
Before Kate can chip in, the other mothers introduce their babies; there’s Mabel (big blue eyes, snotty nose), Jackson (mop of black hair, sticky-out ears) and Charlie and Ivy (twins). The babies are all bigger and older than Rosie, but Kate has no idea how old exactly. Surely she should know these things now she’s a mother?
‘Um, sorry. My baby’s actually called Rosie. I’m Kate. I didn’t realise we were doing baby introductions first.’
‘Oh, that’s OK!’ says Theo’s mum brightly. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Kate, welcome to our group. I’m Lexi. Most of us met through our NCT class, but we decided to open it up to whoever wants to come along. How old is little Rosie?’
‘Three months.’
Kate wonders if the other women are going to introduce themselves, but it seems that the moment for name-sharing has passed.
‘Oh!’ lets out Mabel’s mum further down the table and Kate watches her go gooey, holding her own older baby a little tighter to her. ‘So, you’re still in the lovely newborn bubble. I’d give anything to have that time again.’
‘I miss it too,’ says Jackson’s mum. ‘Although I don’t miss the lack of sleep. How is Theo sleeping now, by the way, Lexi? Has the sleep training worked?’
Lexi sighs and begins to talk in detail about the sleep training plan, before the conversation moves seamlessly onto an update about the babies’ bowel movements. Kate wonders how their children would feel if they knew the way their mothers are sharing the most intimate details of their lives like this. And yet she understands it too. That need to talk about the things that so consume every waking (and half-waking) moment but that feel too dull or too desperate to share with anyone else. A desire to look around and anxiously check, Am I doing this right?
Kate sways more vigorously as Rosie starts to grizzle. With one hand, she devours a millionaire shortbread, crumbs raining down on Rosie’s hair, which Kate brushes away surreptitiously. As she listens to the other women’s stories about teething and nappy rash, a pressure builds inside her until she feels as though she’s going to burst.
‘Do you ever feel like you might have made a huge mistake?’
Frowns dart across faces and Kate’s cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. Oh. She must have said the words out loud. She knows immediately that what she’s just said is awful, the one thing you’re never supposed to think, let alone actually say, once you become a mother.
Lexi frowns, tilting her head slightly. ‘What do you mean? Like when you realise you’ve bought the wrong size nappies or have done the poppers on the Babygro up wrong? I accidentally poured orange juice on my Weetabix the other day, I was so exhausted!’
The other mothers look on expectantly, waiting for Kate’s reply. She thought that coming here would help her feel less alone, but these women clearly don’t know what she’s talking about. And she immediately knows why. Because they are good mothers, says the voice in her head, the voice that has been talking to her incessantly over these past few months.
‘Yeah, just like that.’
‘Don’t worry,’ says Mabel’s mother kindly, resting a hand on the table close to Kate’s. ‘We’re only human. We’re bound to make tons of little mistakes.’
‘I am loving being a mum, though,’ adds Charlie and Ivy’s mum, expertly balancing Ivy on her chest as she rocks Charlie in the pram. ‘I know it’s hard work, especially with twins, but I could just sit and stare at them both for hours.’
The expressions of the other women instantly change. Tired faces grow soft and smiley, eyes glisten and turn to look down at their squishy babies.
‘Oh, I’m the same with Mabel. I spend so long trying to get her to go to sleep, but then as soon as she’s down, I miss her. I end each day by scrolling through photos of her, I just can’t help it.’
‘Yes!’ chips in Lexi. ‘It’s like please can I have a break but also I can’t bear to be apart from you for a second because I love you so much.’
‘Although,’ says Jackson’s mum with a wry smile, ‘I do miss my old body. I’d love to get back to running one day, but right now I can’t imagine it. Even standing up too quickly makes me need a wee.’
‘Oh God, yes. I wince every time I see a trampoline,’ adds Lexi.
‘Lexi, I don’t think we’ve ever heard your birth story?’ asks Mabel’s mother and the others tilt their heads in interest.
‘Mine wasn’t too bad,’ she replies cheerily. ‘Twenty-hour labour and she was born in the pool. I did tear, though.’
‘Who didn’t?’
The others laugh.
‘I wish I could have given birth in the pool,’ says Mabel’s mum wistfully.
‘Yours was a C-section, wasn’t it?’ asks Lexi.
‘Yep. Emergency. Pretty awful, to be honest, but we’re all safe now, so that’s all that matters, isn’t it?’
Kate stands up so suddenly that her mug spills half its contents into its saucer on the table and Rosie begins to cry. The others look up in surprise.
‘Are you OK, Kate?’
‘Sorry, dirty nappy,’ she says, making a show of sniffing Rosie. ‘I better go.’
‘There are changing facilities here,’ says Lexi, pointing towards the corner. ‘Pretty good ones too, it’s why we meet here. I can help if you like?’
‘It’s OK, thanks, I’ve got to go anyway,’ she says as she grabs her bag. She is beginning to sweat, her heart rate rising. Rosie’s cries grow louder and she notices a few of the other groups in the café turning in her direction. She does her best to keep her head down.
‘Oh, OK, well, thanks for coming and see you again soon, I hope!’ Lexi calls after her.
Kate waves distractedly as she heads rapidly for the door. But she already knows she won’t be coming back.
Outside, she takes deep inhales, counting to ten in her head like her former therapist taught her. She has worked so hard on learning to control the panic that used to control her. But now she can feel it wrapping its tentacles around her and tightening its grip.
With her arms wrapped around Rosie’s back in the sling, she sets off quickly through the village. She isn’t quite sure where she is headed, just that she needs to get away from the café as quickly as possible.
It’s only when Kate reaches the familiar gate that she realises where her feet have taken her. The river might have seemed magical in the misty early mornings, but now the water glitters in the sunshine. Everything appears in high contrast; the long grass in the meadow a vibrant green shot with pops of colourful buttercups, poppies and pink and white clover.
Kate makes her way over to the bank. An older woman lies on her back in the river, arms and legs spread in a starfish shape as she floats, grey hair spreading out around her. Another woman swims a head-up breaststroke in the opposite direction and, as she passes by, a dragonfly flits above her head, its wings flapping an iridescent green.
The desire to jump in is suddenly like a physical ache that spreads through Kate’s whole body. The water is tantalisingly close now. She can see it lapping against the reeds. If she could just get in the water, she knows she would feel better.
But a little noise from inside the sling reminds her that while the water might be right there, she can’t dive in.
Tears of frustration prick at her eyes. If Rosie weren’t here … But even as she thinks it, she hates herself for it. It’s the kind of thought she feels certain the other women at the Tired Mums Club never have, those mothers who clutched their babies so tightly.
Kate turns away from the water, blinking back tears of frustration and shame. But just as she is about to leave, her eyes fall on a noticeboard that she hadn’t spotted before. It is dotted with flyers and posters, some printed but most handwritten. Notices about lost swimwear, the number of someone offering kayaking lessons and, in the centre, an official-looking laminated poster that catches Kate’s attention with its bold, typed font.
The Farleigh-on-Avon River Swimming, Bathing and Recreational Water-Based Activities Club (FoARSbrWAC) invite you to join us every day at 8.00 a.m.
Kate reads the notice twice. Even after a second reading, she isn’t entirely sure what the group is exactly for. River swimming she understands, but what exactly constitutes a ‘water-based activity’? There isn’t any information to help her, other than the time that they meet.
There’s something about it that intrigues her, though. When she set out this morning to join the Tired Mums Club she had hoped to find a sense of community, but she left the café feeling more alone than ever. She misses Emma and Leonie and the buzz of her job at the newspaper. They’d replied late last night, apologising for being out of touch, but hadn’t told her more about the story they must be working on, and Kate had the sense of being on the outside, not right in the middle with them where she used to be.
She misses the people she swam with every morning at the lido too, even if she didn’t know all their names. Most of all, Kate misses Rosemary. Her old friend wouldn’t expect Kate to explain all the complex feelings that have been crowding her brain recently, jostling about for space. She’d just swim with her, then suggest they share a slice of cake together in the café afterwards.
The Farleigh-on-Avon River Swimming, Bathing and Recreational Water-Based Activities Club sounds intimidatingly official. Nothing like the casual, friendly swims she used to share with Rosemary and her other swimming friends. And besides, the grizzling coming from inside the carrier on her chest is a stark reminder of all her responsibilities. She couldn’t join a swimming club when Rosie is so reliant on her.
But she takes a photo of the sign anyway.
As she’s about to put her phone away, it buzzes with a new notification in the Mathews Girls group chat.
Erin: How was the Tired Mums Club, Kate? Hope you made some new friends! Xx
There’s still no response from her mum. It’s not like her to not reply, but she hardly blames her. Kate has definitely become increasingly active in their group recently, sending endless photos of Rosie and baby-related questions, often when she’s nap-trapped on the sofa and her friends are busy working so she doesn’t have anyone else to talk to. She wouldn’t blame her mum if she’d decided to mute the group for a while, just to take a breather. God, are even her own family becoming sick of her? No wonder she didn’t fit in with the mum and baby group.
She can sense the eagerness in her sister’s message – and maybe, behind it, the hope that in Kate making some new friends she might stop relying so heavily on her family.
Everyone was really nice and welcoming,she types back. Thanks for persuading me to go! Xx
It isn’t technically a lie. The other mums were nice. Kate just didn’t feel as though she belonged.