Page 14 of Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?
‘So do you?’
I’m sure there was a question in that. ‘How are Valencia and Leonard?’ I ask.
Paddy chokes a little on his lager.
‘Thriving. We were actually in a baby yoga class. It’s so good for the babies,’ says Caroline.
‘We would have invited you but we didn’t know your number,’ mumbles Nas.
They do know my number. I smile while their eyes scan my thrown-together kaftan dress look. Nothing’s changed with them. I’ve been to all-girls’ schools so I know the score – for all the ways we convince ourselves that putting women together can form some sense of sisterhood, it can also summon up the worst sorts of bitchery. I am wise enough to understand these dynamics to not be hurt – yet I’m also relieved. I lent off the bed the other day to get my phone and I think I displaced my spleen. Yoga would break me.
‘Oh, it’s fine,’ I reply. ‘Not really my bag anyway.’
Little Valencia pops her head from over the sling and glares at me, the scrunched-up face of a young cub. Paddy looks perturbed by the aggression in her stare.
‘Joe looks well,’ Caroline says, trying to drum up some civility.
‘He is. I wish he’d sleep but he’s doing great.’
Next to us, Leonard kicks his legs out, his face starting to curl into a cry. His mother placates him with a dummy.
‘Oh, Leonard and Valencia have slept through since week six. Didn’t you follow the links to the sleep schedule that Lolly put on the WhatsApp group?’
Paddy looks confused. Did someone pick all these names out of a hat? Lolly was our fearless NCT leader who had convinced us all that motherhood was something that could be run with a combination of hypnosis, timetables and letting them cry. It’s all about the babies letting you know how they feel, apparently.
‘I guess Joe’s a little different.’
Their smiles and silence say it all:We came to this pub for well-meaning baby activity, glowing and fit and handling this like pros. You’re here to eat chips with your baby in a supermarket clothes range.
‘Are you the proud pop-pops then?’ Caroline says, turning to Paddy.
‘You what, love?’
‘She thinks you’re Granddad,’ I tell him.
Paddy laughs. ‘Oh no, Will’s not in the picture anymore so this is a date. We met on Tinder.’
I close my eyes and try to hold in the laughter. They both look ashen at the scandal. They didn’t get that, did they?
‘This is Paddy. He’s my neighbour.’
‘I’m her bestie.’
‘Oh…that’s lovely,’ says Nas, still getting to grips with our humour and the fact I have an old man as a best friend. ‘Well, we must be going. It’s nearly feeding time here.’
‘It was good to see you both.’ It wasn’t but I am loath to carry this conversation on any further. ‘Take care and say hi to Pete and Greg too.’
They nod. ‘And to your husband, of course.’
He isn’t my husband and his name is Will. He definitely won’t be going anywhere near your extension now. They stride away speedily and I take a long sip of my lemonade.
‘Crumbs, where are those two bitches from?’ Paddy announces, possibly still within earshot.
‘Mother–baby group thing. We didn’t quite click.’
‘You think? Are they all like that then?’
‘Mostly. I’ve done that circuit of classes and groups. I went to the local community centre, some music thing. It was—’
