Page 37 of The 3am Shattered Mums' Club

‘Do you want me to take over this morning?’ Charley said quietly to Aisha who was lying on the sofa.

‘No, you did the night feed,’ Aisha croaked.

‘Well, it was only fair since you were comatose and the boys needed feeding.’

‘Don’t. I’m a horrible mother. They’re barely two months old and I’ve turned to alcohol.’

‘You got drunk with some friends. It’s not a crime. And you’re not a horrible mum. You’re a lovely mum.’ Charley fell to her knees and stroked Aisha’s arm. ‘Just don’t do anything today. The boys are asleep. Call me if you need me. I’m just working out a new verse for this track. I can come back up and help. I’ll make you some lunch in an hour. Okay?’

‘Okay.’

Charley kissed Aisha on the lips. ‘You smell like a brewery.’

‘Oh god.’

Charley stood up and said, ‘I don’t know, I quite like it,’ as she walked away.

Aisha kept her eyes closed. The boys had been fed and were asleep. They could sleep for anything up to an hour, maybe even an hour and a half. Aisha sunk into the fabric of the sofa. They had made a good choice when they picked this sofa; they knew with babies on the way, this sofa was going to get a lot of use for day naps, watching TV and having guests over.

Aisha had never envisioned – as she and Charley had stood in the furniture shop that day, Aisha’s belly fit to bursting and the shop assistant looking more uncomfortable every time Aisha sat down – that this sofa would cocoon and comfort her with a raging hangover so soon after giving birth. What was she thinking? She would have to text and apologise to Sophy. And Mel, god, poor Mel, who saw her home in an Uber. She would do it just as soon as she could open her eyes and look at a screen without feeling sick.

Eventually, Aisha dropped into a semi-conscious state where psychedelic colours and images swirled around with no meaning. She could hear snippets of conversations from last night. She could see the inside of the taxi as she bobbed about in the back, accompanied by the sweet sound of Mel’s soothing voice. Suddenly, a face cut through the chaos, just a head and shoulders. Their eyes were bright and shining, then they opened their mouth wide, as if to speak or shout, or cry—

Aisha sucked in her breath and half sat up. She looked around the room, disoriented. What day was it? Why was she sleeping on the sofa? Then she heard the cry. It was Jude. He had developed a rhythm to his loud just-woken-up cry that was so distinctive to Aisha she could now clearly tell the difference between the two of them. She wasn’t sure Charley had sussed it out yet.

It was the letter. She had been sleeping fitfully ever since she had found it, brought it home from Martina’s and read it. The words on the paper played over and over in her mind and there was an aching feeling in her gut every time she thought about what they meant and how she had believed one thing about her life only for it to turn out not to be true at all. She knew she had to confront Martina about it, but how did you confront your own mother about family business that had not been spoken about for over twenty years?

She stood up and waited for a dizzy spell to pass. She looked at her phone; only half an hour had passed since she had closed her eyes. She wished she could crawl into bed and sleep for a week, completely undisturbed.

The boys were in their prams in the hallway. Aisha had managed a short walk with them before the real hangover had kicked in.

She picked Jude up, leaving Otis sleeping, and carried him through to the lounge. She stood at the window, where the wooden shutters were opened just enough for her to peer through. The street was empty. She felt her gut tighten in anticipation, but for what? She wasn’t sure. Was it the endless hours rolling into each other? The thought of spending most of the day on her own with two tiny mewling creatures? Was it guilt at getting blind drunk the first time she went out socially without the babies with her new friends? Or was it something else? Aisha strained to look as far as she could along both sides of the road. But she could only see a woman across the street pushing her bin out into the road.

Damn it, thought Aisha, it was bin day. She needed to get the wheelie bin out into the street before the men came. She was sure she could hear the truck in the distance. She slipped on her trainers at the door. Jude was still in her arms. She was noticing the weight of the boys more now; where they were light as feather a few weeks ago, the presence of their little bodies was so much firmer in the crook of her arm.

She opened the door and pulled the everyday bin from the front of the house. She never had any clue which one to take out, and only copied what everyone else in the street did. She wheeled it through the small black iron gate and onto the street.

The lady from across the road was back in her front garden now and looked over at Aisha and waved. Aisha waved back. She went to turn to walk back into the house when she saw the male figure at the end of the road to her left. She stopped and let out a small gasp, her nerves shattered and raw from the alcohol and fitful night’s sleep. She looked at the front door; she could be through it in one second and have it closed and locked behind her in another. When she looked back, the man was crossing the road. Aisha stood and watched as he walked closer and closer, and she felt glad she had the safety of the road between them. Eventually, he was close enough that his features were a little more in focus, and Aisha could see it wasn’t a man but a woman, wearing a blue beanie hat. This person didn’t look like the figure she had seen the few times along the street. The beanie-wearing woman stopped outside the house opposite where the woman who had just waved at Aisha was now tending to some weeds. The two women began to exchange pleasantries. Then they both stopped talking and looked over at Aisha. The woman waved again, this time as if she were inviting her over to join them. Aisha turned and hurried back into the house and closed the door.

Aisha felt a wave of panic flood through her body.Just breathe, she told herself.You’re just tired and hungover. There’s nothing to worry about.Why was she obsessing over people in the street? They were just people, going about their day.

‘Right, that’s it,’ Aisha said to Jude. ‘We’re going out. I don’t care where, the park, the supermarket, I just need to get out.’

She thought about Mel. She had been a terrible drunk in front of her last night. She should apologise. In person. She lived about a thirty-minute walk away. She could manage that if she packed water and snacks for herself. She lay Jude down in his pram, ignored his protests and texted Mel.

* * *

An hour later, Mel opened her front door and helped Aisha wheel the double pram through into the kitchen.

‘My god, your house is so huge – I love it!’ Aisha gazed around. ‘And so tidy!’

‘I got a cleaner,’ Mel said fast, as though she were confessing a terrible secret.

‘I don’t blame you! You can’t run a house with two kids and a bust ankle.’

‘She’s a great cleaner. I can really recommend her.’

‘I might take you up on that at some point when the boys are running circles around me and trashing the house!’ Aisha leant against the kitchen table. ‘I wanted to come here to apologise. For last night.’ Aisha pulled a small bunch of tulips out of the net basket at the bottom of the one of the prams and handed them to Mel.

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