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The conference room at the hotel was predictably anonymous and corporate. Along one side stretched a table covered in sandwiches and mini quiches. Dotted around the room were men, and a few women, wearing suits, holding paper plates and trying to look interested in the person they were talking with.

In the past, Jenny had hated these events. Right now, she was looking forward to a free sandwich and some adult conversation.

‘Hi, Jen. Glad you could make it.’ Eva joined her at the food table, not carrying a paper plate. ‘There are quite a few advertisers of women’s products here today. Might be a worthwhile day for us. Have you seen Lucy yet?’

Jenny shook her head; her mouth was filled with two cocktail sausages. She hadn’t wanted to put more than three on her plate in case she looked greedy. Breastfeeding made her want to eat all the time. It was nice to have something to blame.

Eva was scanning the room. ‘Maybe she’s running late. I know she was out until the small hours this morning at that new club opening. Oh, there she is. Over talking to Mark McLinley. I’m not sure I want the two of them talking – go and split them up.’

Jenny nearly choked on her last mouthful. Mark was there already? She couldn’t face that yet. ‘I’ll go and catch up with her in a minute. I’ve just seen Jack Jenkins, the sales rep from CleanWare. I’m sure their products would appeal to the The Undercover Mother audience.’

Eva gave a snort of surprise. ‘Good luck.’

Jack Jenkins was not a nice man. When he looked at you, you wanted to go and take a shower afterwards. He was dressed in a suit just a little too small for him, the buttons of his shirt barely meeting across his stomach. Not that Jenny was one to judge, but he could easily have passed for five months pregnant.

‘Well, hello, Miss Jenny. I haven’t seen you at one of these things for a while. You’re looking—’ he paused ‘—well?’

She knew a euphemism when she heard one, but she couldn’t afford sarcasm right then. If she could get even one person there to tell Eva that they thought her motherhood column was a good idea, she would have a fighting chance of getting it off the ground. ‘Thank you, Jack. I could say the same to you. How’s business?’

He held out a pudgy hand and twisted his wrist. ‘You know how it is – ballooning targets, squeezed budgets.’ He had been giving this same old story for years. He was well-known by the sales team back at Flair for waiting until the last minute to place his advertisements, and then negotiating an incredibly low rate. Jenny felt sorry for them having to deal with him every month – at least she only had to play nice when asked to attend these networking events.

‘I’ve got a new column pitch which you might be interested in.’ She tried to look as excited as possible, maybe a little flirty. Demeaning but necessary. ‘It’s aimed at new mothers.’

Jack blanched as if he’d just swallowed a dodgy vol-au-vent. ‘Mothers?’

Jenny nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yeah, a humorous column. We’re all in this together… isn’t it funny? That kind of thing.’

‘Funny?’ He looked like he’d never heard of the word.

‘It’s going to be great. I’ve already started a blog and the feedback has been immense.’ She had an idea. ‘Hey, maybe you could advertise on my blog? Get in at the ground level before everyone else?’

She could almost see the oil coming out of his pores. ‘Sounds great, really. But not sure it’s our kind of “thing”.’ He did those annoying air quotes that made Jenny want to snip off the ends of his fingers. ‘Sorry, Jen, I’ve just seen someone I need to catch up with. We’ll talk later, yeah?’ And he was gone.

Jenny put another sausage in her mouth. She looked around to see where Lucy and Mark were. She didn’t want to talk to either of them until she’d got something positive to say.

‘Jen! How great to see you!’

She swallowed the sausage whole and a rather unattractive sucking noise came out of her mouth. ‘Mark! What a nice surprise!’

‘I told you he’d be here.’ Lucy was right at his elbow. Cow.

‘Did you? I’d forgotten.’ Jenny smiled at Lucy with her mouth and killed her with her eyes.

‘The memory is the first thing to go when you have a baby, so I’ve heard.’ Mark smiled. Lucy laughed raucously.

‘Totally untrue,’ said Jenny. It’s the patience with twats that goes first. ‘How are you?’

‘Oh, you know, keeping busy. I got the editor’s job.’

‘I heard. Congratulations.’

‘Thanks. I’ve been trying to tempt this one—’ he smiled at Lucy ‘—to come over to my rag, but apparently she’s just been given a plum job at your place.’ He raised a provocative eyebrow.

Jenny gritted her teeth. ‘Yes, I’m working on a new project.’

‘So I hear. So I hear.’ Mark and Lucy exchanged a look which made Jenny want to smash their faces into the quiche Lorraine. ‘A parenting advice column, isn’t it?’

Lucy sniggered.

‘No. It’s a humorous column, actually. I’m exploring new media. You know what they say about print nowadays.’

Mark rubbed his fingers and thumb together. ‘It’s still where most of the money is. Seems to me you’ll be wasting your talents. You’re a party girl, Jen. You’re good at it.’

Jenny tried to hold his gaze but her face grew warm. ‘Things change.’

‘Not everything. Maybe you and I should have a chat sometime. We might be able to do a little something together?’

The last time they’d ‘done a little something together’ it had ended with her drowning her sorrows with a bottle of Gordon’s, vowing never to call him again.

‘Thanks, but I’m happy at Flair.’

‘Like you said, things change. Just keep my offer in mind. Here’s my card with my new office details, in case you’ve lost my number.’

Jenny hadn’t lost his number. Her friends had made her delete it after a couple of drunken episodes when they’d had to wrestle her phone from her hands to stop her booty calling him at 2 a.m. But not taking his card would make her look like she still had it.

‘Okay, but I really don’t think I’ll be needing it. Sorry I can’t chat for longer, but there’s a million people here I really need to see. Good luck with the new job.’ She looked at Lucy pointedly. ‘Both of you.’

She scanned the room frantically; she couldn’t leave the two of them and then stand on her own like a lost puppy. Over by the buffet table was a new face. Young, handsome and conveniently placed near the Pringles. If old ad men like Jack Jenkins weren’t going to bite, she’d go after young blood. Watch me and weep, Mark McLinley.

Striding over purposefully, she thrust out her hand and flashed a smile. ‘Hi. Jenny Thompson. Flair magazine.’

He put down his plate and shook her hand, eagerly. ‘Simon Clarke. Unlimited Faces. I’m here representing a couple of new make-up brands.’

‘That’s perfect! You have new products, we have a new column!’ This was her chance. Jenny turned up the style dial. ‘You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.’

Simon might be young but he seemed willing to play. ‘Well, I don’t have any samples with me, but…’ She saw him glance at her chest. Although this was totally inappropriate, Jenny felt a little pleased. She still had it.

‘Well, that’s a shame. I don’t have any hard copies, either – but you can take a look at my… blog.’

This was supposed to sound a little flirty, but Simon was starting to twitch. And not in a good way.

‘Blog?’ he repeated, nervously.

He was looking at her chest again. That was a bit much. But she needed something to go back to Eva with. Just keep going.

‘It’s aimed at first-time mothers. It’s funny. It’s different. We’ve had a lot of positive feedback already. I can come to your office and show you.’ She took out a business card and offered it to him.

‘Mothers? With babies?’ He looked at her boobs again and then at her face. ‘Uh, I’m not sure that it really fits with…’

‘Of course it does!’ Jenny flicked her hair back; she was getting into her stride. ‘Intelligent women. At home, with time on their hands. Who else can browse adverts like they do?’

He was pulling at the collar of his shirt. ‘But our products are very glamorous and…’

Jenny’s smile froze on her face. ‘And mothers aren’t glamorous?’ She tried not to sound irritated. ‘I’m a mother.’ And he’d been looking at her boobs for the last five minutes. ‘Do you not think mothers want to look good, too?’

He looked horrified. ‘No, no, I wasn’t… I can see you are…’ Now he was desperately trying not to look below her neck. ‘I just need to… Let me just take your card. I’ll call if…’ He took the business card that Jenny offered him and almost ran away.

Dammit. Jenny glanced around to see if Mark or Lucy had been near enough to witness her crash and burn. Eva had been caught by Jack Jenkins. She’d just have one more sausage and then go and rescue her.

‘Excuse me.’

A waitress was hovering by Jenny’s elbow. Was there a ration on how many sausages you were allowed? ‘Yes?’

‘Er, I just thought you might want to know. You’ve got, er…’ She waved towards her own chest. ‘You’ve got… something, er… down your top.’

Jenny looked down. Her face got very hot. On her chest were two huge milk stains.

---

Twenty minutes later, she was semi-prone beneath a hand-dryer when Eva came in to the Ladies’. With nothing much to do whilst drying, Jenny had sent a picture of the milk stains to the other mums; Antonia had sent back a picture of her Jimmy Choos covered in baby sick.

‘Should I even ask?’

Jenny stood up and surveyed her bra region in the mirror. ‘Bloody breast pads leaked.’

Eva shuddered. ‘A “no” would have sufficed. How are you getting on?’

‘Great.’ Jenny lied. ‘I’ve been giving my card out and I’m sure I’ll have some leads for the ad team once we have a launch date for the column.’

Eva looked sceptical. ‘Really? Who?’

‘Well, there’s no point giving you names until…’ Jenny trailed off. She was tired. She was wet. And she didn’t have the energy for this right now.

‘Look, Jen, I know this isn’t the place, but we need to have a chat. The blog. It’s not really cutting it. Your writing is good, of course. It’s the content.’

Jenny just nodded.

‘We’ve got a planning meeting in a couple of weeks. Come to that. Maybe there’s something else we could give you. Monday 24th, 10 a.m.’

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Getting stuck in traffic was the perfect end to the day. Jenny turned on the radio and then turned if off again; she wasn’t in the mood for the DJ’s bright, chirpy voice. The tissue she had stuffed into her bra was a poor replacement for a breast pad and she could feel milk soaking through her top again.

She didn’t want Eva to be right. It had surprised her how much she enjoyed writing the blog. Admittedly, it was less Eat, Pray, Love and more ‘Eat, Play, Sleep’. With a lot more poo. But it was fun finding the humour in it all, and the comments she’d had from complete strangers had really made her day.

But none of this would matter to Eva: she had to think of the commercial side of things. And it seemed that she might have already decided that The Undercover Mother was never going to bring in the marketing bucks.

Maybe Jenny was fooling herself with this whole thing. Maybe they were right about motherhood addling your brain. Was she wasting her time? Or did she just need a new angle? Up until then, The Undercover Mother had been about the realities of living with a new baby. But maybe she just needed to widen her net a little. Start to write a lot more about the personal lives of the mothers themselves.

Like the mothers who were having problems with their in-laws. The mothers whose partners were not on the scene. The mothers who might have started an affair. Everyone liked to lift a rock and look at what was crawling underneath.

It was time to go deep.