Page 63 of The 3am Shattered Mums' Club

‘Yes, they are.’

‘What’s that funny little name for you all?’

‘We’re the 3 a.m. Shattered Mums’ Club.’

‘Very nice, dear.’

* * *

The dress Mel had chosen for the show that evening was red silk and floor length with a plunging neckline. And she was going to absolutely rock it.

‘My wife,’ Daz said when he came downstairs into the lounge.

He was wearing a pale blue shirt and a beige jacket. Daz was never one for glam, and he still had a slight look of the accountant about him – more like he was about to sit and do a tax return than hit a cabaret club – but that was what Mel loved about him. Daz didn’t try to be sexy, he just was in her eyes, and that, she realised, was why she still fancied him after all this time. And he wasn’t fazed by the job that Mel did either. He loved seeing Mel dressed up but had never been one of those guys to ogle over other women. Once – she had been reliably informed by one of Daz’s work colleagues – Daz was at one of their staff meetings, which happened to take place in a strip joint (the boss of the company was playing around with ways to ‘enhance’ the working day, apparently) – and the waitress, who had lost her clothes somewhere between the entrées and the main course, did so without Daz batting an eyelid and ended up going away with sound and solid tax advice rather than tips in her knickers. So, Mel knew that despite all the other acts that were set to perform tonight – a couple of them renowned for their slinky outfits and playful audience-participation act – Daz’s eyes would only be on her. Which was why she could never tell Daz about the Jeff incident. It would crush him. It was merely a blip in her long career as a performer, and yes, whilst the odd man ogled and would occasionally reach out to grab her arse, she would promptly put them back in their place with a firm shove and a quick glance at the bouncer. But the fact that Mel had even for a second contemplated Jeff as a tasty piece meant she would never be able to fully let go of the guilt, and whilst what Jeff had done – or rather tried to do to her – was ghastly and deserving of having his balls stretched and strung around his neck, she knew she would never again let her professionalism slip whilst at work. Even if she had finished and was drinking at the bar. It was indeed a shame, she concluded, that there were some men who mistook a friendly, even flirtatious smile, for an indication that sex would promptly follow. But she hoped that people like her friend Sophy were raising the next generation of men to be less pretentious dickheads.

But she was trying to put all that behind her, and tonight was going to properly mark her re-entrance to the showbiz world. Irene had been here all day playing with Sky and cooking lunch whilst Mel mentally went through her set and generally geared herself up for the show. And the best part was, Aisha and Sophy were coming too. Max had slid into a routine of taking a feed at 8 p.m. then sleeping through until eleven or midnight. He would then have Sophy up half the latter part of the night, fussing and cluster feeding, but it meant that Sophy could drop Max, feed him, and come to the gig for a few hours. She would then pick him up on her way home.

Sophy arrived in sleek black faux leather trousers and a pink T-shirt. She had been wearing trainers to drive but changed into heels once she had handed a sleeping Max in his car seat over to a delighted Irene.

‘Now, Mum, are you sure you’ll be okay with two babies tonight?’ Daz asked Irene.

‘Ah yes, love. I did raise you and your brother, and you were only eleven months apart – it sometimes felt as though I had twins. I’m looking forward to it.’

‘I hope they don’t both wake up and cry at once,’ Sophy said, a streak of worry washing over her face, and Mel quickly ushered Sophy into the waiting Uber before she could change her mind.

* * *

The crowd went wild, a proper standing ovation with foot stamping and whistles that made Mel’s skin erupt into goosebumps. She waited for the applause to die down, then took one final bow and said a simple thank you and left the stage.

‘Oh my god, you are amazing.’ Aisha pulled Mel in for a tight squeeze when she made it back to the bar after freshening up from her set.

‘Absolutely outstanding, Mel – I had actual goosebumps when you sang that last ballad.’ Sophy surreptitiously wiped a tear away from her eye.

‘Beautiful as always, my darling girl,’ Daz said. ‘And now, girls, who would like a drink?’

They all put their orders in and huddled around the table as Daz walked over to the already packed bar.

‘He’s such a great guy – you are so lucky,’ Sophy said, watching Daz walk away.

‘I know,’ Mel said softly, the guilt sitting hard in her chest. Not only had she been the instigator in Jeff and Sophy splitting up, she also already had the near perfect relationship.

‘It’s okay – don’t be sorry or anything,’ Sophy said, downing her lemonade.

‘Well, you know, Sophy, you’re still so young, youwillmeet someone else,’ Mel said, wondering if Sophy might finally open up and disclose what Mel was strongly suspecting.

‘Aaaah, I dunno,’ Sophy said.

‘You will, for sure,’ said Aisha, who was on her second glass of wine and trying to pace herself. ‘You must get men checking you out on Instagram?’ Aisha said.

‘Oh crikey, yes, but that’s not the way forward, is it?’

‘Oh no, but I just meant that there are men out there who are interested.’

‘Yes, I suppose, one or two.’

‘One or two? Is there someone you have in the pipeline?’ Mel quipped.

‘No, nothing like that,’ Sophy said.

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