Page 59 of The 3am Shattered Mums' Club

‘Oh my god, Sophy, that was so fucking profound! You should put that on your Instagram!’ Mel said, shaking her head.

‘That was really lovely, Sophy. And so true.’ Aisha’s eyes were glimmering with happy tears.

Sophy suddenly looked excited. ‘You’re right, Mel, I absolutely should do that. Truth be told, I have been struggling to connect with my content. It’s all about healthy bodies and looking fit and eating really well, but sometimes, well, most of the time, I just feel tired, and I want to snuggle with Max. But I didn’t want it to turn into one of those pages where I just post flat lay after flat lay of Max, you know?’

‘Yeah, but I reckon you’re on to something there, with the whole authentic-maternal stuff. Just make it a bit more real. Talk about what we talk about, like feeling absolutely frazzled and healing stitches, but make it light-hearted. I think mums might relate to that and get some comfort from it,’ Mel said.

Sophy looked thoughtful. ‘Do you think?’

Aisha nodded enthusiastically. ‘Absolutely, you’re a very genuine person, Sophy.’

‘I don’t feel like it at the moment. I feel a bit of a fraud, really.’

‘So, change the content!’ Mel said. ‘Call it the 3 a.m. Shattered Mums’ Club if you like!’

Sophy looked brighter. ‘Could I? Would you mind, I mean?’

‘Why would we mind? It was pretty much you’re doing in the first place. I think it’s the sort of content that would be much more suitable for you. Start it over, set up a new profile, send people to it and see how it goes!’

Sophy blew out a breath. ‘Okay, I will!’

‘Brilliant,’ Aisha said.

‘Hey, we’re not just the 3 a.m. Shattered Mums’ Club – we’re Any Time of the Day Shattered Mums’ Club,’ Mel said triumphantly. ‘And I hope we will be friends for a very long time.’

26

AISHA

Martina settled herself in the big comfy chair in the Aisha’s lounge, and Aisha handed her a cup of tea. They had just fed the boys and put them down for a nap. Aisha had been preparing herself for this conversation with her mother for a long time. It had been a few weeks since she had seen Jon in the street, and she had waited until he followed through with his phone call before she decided to talk to Martina. She wasn’t entirely sure if Jon was going to stay true to his word. She hadn’t seen him in twenty years, and so a relative stranger in the grand scheme of things, but to Aisha’s surprise and delight, she received a phone call on her mobile the following week. A conversation that hadn’t cemented an instant meet-up but had paved the way for future plans. Aisha was feeling hopeful. And since Jon had come back into her life, and she had been spending more time with Mel and Sophy, she was feeling a lot better about things. Time with the boys felt a little more joyous. They had started to smile back at her regularly, and for every fifteen or so hours of work she seemed to put in during one day, whether it be night feeds, washing, cleaning, cooking or just holding and playing with the babies, she averaged out about one or two of those hours where she felt some level of contentment, and dare she say it, happiness.

Martina let out a long sigh and stretched her legs out. She was still a fit woman at just fifty, but she did occasionally complain of aching joints, but that was because she spent so much time cooking and cleaning for the cousins and helping neighbours out. She rarely sat down to properly relax.

‘So, Mum, I have something to talk to you about.’

‘Damn, girl, I knew there was something up with you – you been skipping round like a jumpin’ bean all afternoon.’

‘Is it that obvious?’

Martina nodded her head. ‘Shoot.’

‘Well, a few things, really. One: I heard from my father. Jon.’

‘Damn sure I ain’t ’bout to forget his name in a hurry, so no need to remind me,’ came Martina’s first response. It didn’t surprise Aisha that it was one fuelled by defence.

‘Right. Well, he came here, to the house.’

Martina shot forward in her chair and looked around. ‘Your father! In this house?’

‘No, he didn’t comeinthe house, I met him in the street. He’d been working up the courage to come and knock on the door, and in the end we ended up talking on the street.’

Aisha looked at Martina, who now looked as though she had just sucked on a very bitter lemon. Aisha cleared her throat and carried on.

‘I also found a letter, well, lots of letters under your bed, but I read one, from him. It explained a few things to me, and so now I know why he left.’

Aisha saw a flicker of something that looked like doubt or shame in Martina’s eyes.

‘I had my reasons for keeping him away.’

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