Page 120 of Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?
If meeting Yasmin King again after all these years was weird and coincidental enough, she goes and has a baby induced today, of all days. Yes, one year apart, we are in possession of kids with the exact same birthday.
‘Does she have a name yet?’ Will asks.
‘Jo.’
Will and I look at each other. I mean, we like you and everything but be original, no?
She cackles to see our faces. ‘Of course it’s not Jo. My last name is King. She’d be Jo King.’
This makes Will howl. Meanwhile, I’m still trying to work out how Yasmin is laughing. I sneezed post-labour and thought my bladder had fallen out.
‘Posey. This is Posey.’
I like that. Goes with the cheeks, her pursed little lips and the fact that’s what her mum does for a living. Yasmin looks down at her and I’m just glad she’s got to this point. Harry is not in the picture, but she has family support, us and the right people who’ve shown up when it matters. I can’t describe the next part of this journey for her but that glow in her face, the calm she exudes, tells me she’s well equipped to take it all on. Will and Joe go over to inspect. That was you once, Joe.
‘Posey and Joe. Do you think they’ll be mates as they grow up? What if they get married?’ she asks.
‘Then I’m not standing next to you in the wedding photos,’ I say.
A midwife enters the space.
‘Oh wow! Is this big brother and Daddy?’ she asks.
We all stare at each other, grinning. Who am I then? The hired help? The sister?
The friend.
‘Not quite, this is my fake son,’ Yasmin says to confuse matters further. She pulls a face at Joe.
‘I’m his mum,’ I say.
The midwife looks confused, obviously checking to see if we match. Joe wrinkles his nose at her.No, I definitely came out of her. I was there, I should know.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JOE! BIG LOVE FROM ALL OF US! EAT LOTS OF CAKE! WELL DONE, B&W, FOR GROWING A BABY FOR A WHOLE YEAR!
The excitable text message is accompanied by a ridiculous family selfie that involves Tango in a wine glass, a cat wearing streamers and long lines of emojis. Well played Meg et al. I smile at my phone and reply with a heart.
It’s been a quiet day so far for one so momentous. We woke up together in bed, grateful it was a weekend, and spent a good half hour staring at and hugging Joe, wondering where this year has gone. One minute, pop, a baby had come out of me; the next, a year has flown by, filled with emotions and 365 days of doing everything and nothing. I’ve changed thousands of nappies, I’ve milked enough milk to fill several bathtubs, I’ve been awake all the hours, and I’ve spent an absurd amount of time in leisurewear and big knickers. I could slay you at daytime TV quiz shows now and also show you how well I can fall asleep, pretty much within the same breath. Will had a moment. He left us, he came back. I gained two extraordinary new nieces. Joe was slightly famous for five minutes and I hope that will make him an answer in a music trivia-based quiz one day. I still chat to Kimmie. We tell each other what to read and she sent Joe expensive designer Gucci stuff I’ve seen on Kardashian children for his milestone first year. We are pondering whether to flog it on eBay. My social circle these days includes the sisters (goes without saying), a model I went to school with, a pensioner who lives opposite me and a wonderful couple in Giles and Oliver, who have taught us where all the best baby-friendly brunches are. Joe gave up the modelling for a quieter life of obscurity, but Giles still tries to lure us back occasionally with tales of projectile vomit and diva babies who aren’t Joe. I’m also back working again. I feel all the guilt, especially as I was rubbish at sorting childcare so am leaning on Mum and Dad, but I went back into classrooms to do my bit for the youth. Imogen and Harvey are still together. I miss Sean in the staff room but he’s doing alright in Toronto revelling in the fact that you can pretty much order anything on a Canadian menu and chances are it’ll come with maple-cured bacon. Another highlight is the new floor in our flat, the Callaghan clan’s Christmas present to me. Engineered wood floorboards: game changer.
Will and I are not the same people we were when this year started and this is most likely down to our little person. Will is happier, less frantic about what parenthood all means, completely at ease, as if he no longer worries about fatherhood like a series of problems that need fixing. He’s begun to love this. He doesn’t look awful in chinos. I don’t wear chinos but I am eighty per cent midi wrap/smock dress and the other twenty per cent is still sugar, carbs and stretch marks and that suits me just fine. Two months ago, I did listen to Lucy, who said a fringe would suit me. It doesn’t. I now have to wait another year to grow that fucker out.
I look over at Will now, Joe on his shoulders. This birthday is not quite over, not yet.
‘Has he thrown up in my hair?’ Will asks as we traverse a pelican crossing. I go on my tiptoes to inspect. Joe grabs at handfuls of Will’s hair.
‘I think that’s just drool.’
‘That is lovely, Joe.’
‘Cooling on such a warm summer’s day, no?’ I say.
‘Oh no, it’s all counteracted by the very warm feeling around my neck.’
Joe doesn’t care. Let’s just hope his nappy doesn’t leak. When we arrive at our destination, a bouncer inspects our tickets and gives us the once over. Are we cool enough to enter? I mean these two are in matching Converse hi-tops (a parenting goal realised, by the way). We’re way cooler than the dad behind us in Birkenstocks, that’s for sure. Yet for once, the presence of a baby and a sensible rucksack filled with breast pads is actually a pre-requisite to enter this Brixton venue.Big Fish, Little Fish. Yes, we opted against a round of pass-the-parcel in our flat and have brought Joe to his first rave to celebrate a whole year of being alive. Let’s party properly, young man. It’s a family-friendly rave, Lucy told me, and two to four hours long, as opposed to twenty-four hours. One of her mates works here. He’ll be the one on stilts with the hula hoop apparently. Lucy couldn’t tell me much more but I suspect there will be big Capri Sun energy and glowsticks for miles.
Will looks genuinely excited as we enter the premises. ‘Do we know if they’ll play the classics?’ he asks. ‘It has to be full on rave music. If they play “The Grease Megamix”…’
‘Then we will leave,’ I reassure him.
