Page 77 of Always Alchemy

They’rein the pool when I emerge into the basement in my bikini.

‘Mummy!’ Grace shrieks. She whacks Adam on the side of the head with the huge foam noodle she’s brandishing and swims over to the side. Her swimming style is flailing and splashy but surprisingly effective.

‘How are my favourite people?’ I ask, stooping so I can pick her up. She’s wet and gorgeous. I blow a raspberry on her wet cheek and she giggles. ‘How was nursery? Did you have the best time?’

She lays a tiny hand on my shoulder and chatters away to me. Now that I’m here with them, all thoughts of peace and quiet fly out of the window. I just want my Grace and Adam fix. As Adam jumps out of the pool, I eye him up shamelessly.

Dark hair slicked back.

More dark hair forging a trail whose destination I’m very, very interested in.

Pale blue eyes shining with an intensity of love so great it makes my breath catch.

My husband is so fucking hot. He can knock me up any day of the week, I swear it. Damn these pregnancy hormones.

He puts his arm around us and places a palm on my stomach, right next to where Grace’s tiny foot is swinging. Inside, there’s a heartbeat so small even I can’t feel it yet. In the next month, our baby’s movements will be noticeable—to me, anyway—as that magical flippy-fish flutter I love so much.

‘How are you feeling?’ he murmurs as he dips his head to kiss me.

‘I’m fantastic,’ I tell him. ‘This nursery sounds amazing! I want to hear all about it.’

He takes Grace from me so I can step down into the sunken hot tub and sets her on the top step. She instantly shuffles over to where the button for the jets is. She’s wearing a strawberry print swimming costume from Gossamer’s Little Wonders line. It has layers of frills on the bum. She looks beyond adorable in it, her cheeks flushed pink from her exertions in the pool with her father.

‘Daddy! Get in!’ she shrieks, her tiny finger hovering over the button. We both laugh.

‘Yes, boss,’ Adam says, lowering himself in beside me. The water is warm and gorgeous. He stretches his arm along the edge and I slide over so he can tuck me against his body before kissing my hair.

We both take in the sight of our tiny daughter vibrating with excitement. Turning on the bubbles is always her job.

‘Ready,’ Adam says in a ridiculously deep, dramatic voice.

‘Steady. And…’

Grace bounces in place, her feet on the seat, before she presses down on the button. The jets activate with their promising rumble, and she squeals in delight.

‘Bubbles!’ she cries.

27

MORNING GLORY

AIDA

I’m no stranger to the redBBC Breakfastcouch. I’ve had several invitations to sit here over the years, mainly in the form of an expert on US and British elections. The hosts even had me on here whenSearching for Paradisewent live.

But today’s appearance is a new take, and I’m pretty excited about how it will go down.

Maddy’s mom, Verity, was offered and accepted a regular Friday morning fixture onBBC Breakfastabout six months ago, after her third book came out and her YouTube channel hit crazy numbers of viewers. Her core demographic of middle-aged British women was deemed the perfect fit for the breakfast show’s audience, her signature effusive style touted as a way to shake up the red couch, orsofa, as the BBC calls it.

She’s definitely spiced Friday mornings up over here with her almost childlike enthusiasm and refreshing lack of fucks given. She’s had a lot of viewers clutching their pearls,that’s for sure, but she’s also given many, many more food for thought as they sip their morning coffee and take in her strongly worded, plainly delivered, views on women’s changing needs—and rights—as they age.

I’m not a breakfast television viewer, but I take enormous pleasure in watching her reels on Instagram and catching up with highlights from her weekly slot, mainly because they involve her consistently terrorising her totally spineless and bland-as-fuck co-presenter, Tom Daniels, one of the regular anchors on the show. I guess the powers that be at the Beeb intend for Tom to keep Verity in check. They may not have done it on purpose, but watching a cringing, mortified Tom flail under Verity’s gleeful spiels and her shameless questions to their guests is unintentional TV gold.

Today, I’m here to ensure that TV gold endures.

Verity has invited me on to discuss women’s wellbeing as I prepare to celebrate my fiftieth birthday next week. I’ve been briefed to expect questions on managing everything from my career, energy levels, sex drive and hormonal wellbeing.

Tom Daniels is going to be squirming so hard on that couch I almost feel sorry for him.

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