Page 26 of The 3am Shattered Mums' Club

Sophy stood up.

‘Right, that’s it. We need to go. I have to feed Max – he’ll be waiting.’ Sophy felt a fierce tingle thrust through her breasts into her throat, where it morphed into an intense thirst.

‘Eh?’ Jeff looked confused. ‘The night is young, babes.’ He gestured to the almost empty restaurant.

‘It’s Sunday night, Jeff. Everyone is at home watchingLine of Duty. My boobs hurt. I need to feed my baby.’

‘I told you Mum hasn’t called. Everything is fine.’

‘Well, I’m telling you that I need to go.’ Sophy looked at the group of staff who were all now looking over at them. ‘Can one of you please call us a taxi?’ Sophy called to them. The waitress who had been serving nodded and picked up the phone. ‘I’m going, Jeff, so feel free to stay and party the night away.’

Sophy walked to the door and waited, looking anxiously up and down the street. Then she looked back at Jeff. He was trying to type in his pin number, but the machine kept bleeping. Eventually, Sophy marched back and put her card in the machine. An awkward silence ensued as the card machine printed out the receipt and Jeff began to stand up, knocking a full wine glass over. Sophy shook her head and didn’t even begin to apologise. The staff had had their laughandmade forty quid out of them.

In the taxi, Jeff kept sliding towards her every time the driver took a turn. He was barely conscious, and Sophy wondered what the hell was making him drink so heavily. She looked down at her boyfriend and found her thoughts wandering to Niall and something he had said in the kitchen that had made her laugh so hard she had to run to the loo and change her trousers (she really needed to work on her pelvic floor). It was a story about the first job he did, and he reminded her so much of some of her own childhood friends. She tried to think back to what she and Jeff used to laugh about when they first got together, and it dawned on her that it hadn’t been anything like the way she had laughed with Niall; it had been more superficial stuff about people they knew, places they had been, TV shows and so on. The conversation with Niall had been so relaxed that just being with him made her feel so familiar. It was hard to put her finger on exactly what it was at the time, but sat in the back of the taxi, bracing herself for another impact from Jeff’s lifeless body as the driver took a sharp corner, she realised what it was. Being with Niall, and laughing and talking, felt like home.

* * *

The taxi pulled up outside the house, and Sophy’s boobs had now begun to leak. She left Jeff, who she had jabbed awake, trying to tip the driver, and she could hear Max screaming as she struggled to get her key in the door. When she finally opened it, his cries filled the hallway, and her heart began to hurt. She found Wendy in the kitchen with the bottle in one hand and a flailing red-faced Max in the other.

Sophy didn’t speak a word. She just took Max and went straight into the lounge, where she lifted her sodden T-shirt and unhooked her nursing bra. Max latched on and began sucking furiously, his little jaw working harder than she had ever seen it work before. He made soft animalistic noises and choked as the milk came shooting out, as it always did for the first few seconds. Sophy pulled him off whilst he coughed, but he barely paused before he began rooting again.

As Max settled into the feed, Jeff stumbled through the door into the lounge followed by an anxious-looking Wendy.

‘I tried to settle him, but he wouldn’t have any of it. I don’t understand, me and your father used to go to parties all the time when you were a baby, and we left you with babysitters. You took that bottle every time, no problems.’

Jeff sank down onto the other sofa.

‘Don’t worry, Mum. You did great.’ Jeff’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he slid down into the fabric.

Sophy cocked her head at Jeff. Why didn’t he explain to Wendy that a breastfed baby generally favours the mother’s nipple over a silicon teat, and it wouldn’t matter if Wendy was Mary bleedin’ Poppins, there was no way Max was ever going to be happy taking a bottle from anyone, let alone at only a few weeks old? It was a bad decision on her part. But Sophy was past trying to explain it all to Wendy, who had one child forty-one years ago and seemed to think that never in the history of humankind had anyone ever or would ever concede to do things differently.

‘Well, you all seem to be all okay here, so if I’m not needed any more, I’ll get on home. Al’s pausedLine of Dutyfor me and we usually have our Horlicks about now.’

For a second, Sophy felt her emotions lift as she imagined Wendy and Al sitting down with their nightly malted drink until Wendy spoke again as she bent down and kissed Jeff’s head. ‘Night night, son. I’m glad you’ve had a good night. You deserve it with how hard you work.’

Sophy felt her insides clench again as she shook her head in disbelief, even though she knew no one was watching her. It seemed that nothing Wendy said would ever cease to amaze her.

Next, Wendy went to walk over to Sophy, presumably to kiss Max on the head, but stopped herself midway as she clocked Sophy’s semi-exposed chest and turned to the door instead, pulling her handbag tightly onto her shoulder as she did. ‘Night night, Sophy,’ she said as she walked out of the room, having the decency not to slam the door this time.

‘Night, Wendy. Thanks for babysitting,’ Sophy mumbled.

Sophy waited until she heard Wendy’s Fiat 500 start up outside, and then she spoke.

‘I can’t do it again, Jeff. I just can’t leave Max with your mum or anyone, not whilst I’m breastfeeding. It’s too stressful for him and for me. I don’t enjoy myself when I’m away from him, and well, let’s be honest, your mum is not the most maternal of women.’ Sophy paused. Max had slowed down his feed and was sucking at a slow and steady pace, his eyes firmly shut. His hands squeezed into tiny fists. She looked up at Jeff to gauge his response, but his chin was rested on his chest, a small bit of spit dribbling down his chin, as he emitted a tiny snuffling snore.

* * *

3.52 a.m. – Aisha:Things are a bit ropey at this end. Neither of the boys are settling. I have a craving for Pop-Tarts. Does anyone remember Pop-Tarts?

4.15 a.m. – Sophy:I should advise you against it, being your nutritional expert, but you have the metabolism of an eight-year-old boy, so I say go for it. Just make sure you eat some fruit in the morning. The actual morning.

4.16 a.m. – Aisha:I don’t have any Pop-Tarts in the house. And I’m really craving one. I can’t wake Charley up: she has work tomorrow.

4.17 a.m. – Sophy:Cravings? You’re not pregnant again?

4.19 a.m. – Aisha:Ha! No spare sperm flying about the place here.

4.19 a.m. – Sophy:Join the club.

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