---

The restaurant was busy but quiet, apart from a low hum of conversation and the occasional chink of glasses. The maître d’ was attentive in taking Jenny’s coat and escorting her to the table where Mark was waiting. Ever the gentleman, Mark stood to kiss her on both cheeks, then pulled out a chair for her to sit. It felt like decades since she’d last done this.

‘Great choice of restaurant.’ She looked around her. ‘It’s a new one to me.’

Mark was in his element here. Looking like he’d just stepped out of the pages of GQ, he’d already attracted glances from two of the other tables. ‘I thought you’d like it. You did always have a fondness for the finer things in life.’ He winked.

Jenny was determined to keep all conversations strictly business. She already felt guilty. She had told Dan who she was meeting – had practically asked for his permission – but her husband wasn’t a jealous man. ‘If you think that’s best, it’s fine by me. Just order the most expensive thing on the menu.’ But it wasn’t Dan she felt guilty about.

‘Thanks for seeing me so quickly. I know you must be pretty busy.’

Mark smiled. ‘There’s got to be some payback for you having put up with me for all that time.’ He opened his expensive suit jacket and leaned forwards. ‘Anyway, I’m hoping this conversation is going to be to our mutual benefit…?’

A waiter appeared by the side of the table and filled their water glasses. Mark picked up the wine list. ‘Before we get down to business, what would you like to drink? Are you still a Chablis girl?’

What was it with all these references to their mutual past? Had this been a terrible mistake?

‘Whatever you want to order will be fine. I’m on quite a tight schedule so I’d like to hear what you thought of The Undercover Mother.’

‘We’ll get to it, Jen. Let me order the wine first.’ Mark took his time reading the wine list. Then he asked the wine waiter for his opinion, before settling on something whose long French name sounded expensive.

Finally, he turned his attention back to her. ‘I must admit, I was a little surprised to get your call. I thought you were attached to Flair with an umbilical cord. Does Eva know you’re meeting me?’

Jenny’s conscience twanged. Of course Eva didn’t know.

‘I’m still on maternity leave. I only came to the advertisers’ event to keep my hand in.’

Mark smirked. ‘Good for you. Best not to burn your boats, eh?’

Jenny knew that Mark was an expert on not burning boats. Or rather, making sure he had a new bed-warmer lined up before he ousted the current one.

Despite herself, Jenny couldn’t resist. ‘So, how is Lucy?’

Mark chuckled. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

If Mark and Lucy were in a relationship, Jenny knew he would have told Lucy to keep it secret in the interests of avoiding ‘talk’ that might get back to Eva about her journalists fraternising with a rival editor. She wasn’t interested in the gory details.

‘Have you read the pages I sent?’

Mark sighed a ‘You’re no fun any more’ sigh. ‘I did. Well done. You’ve made a boring topic almost entertaining.’

Jenny ignored the faint praise. There was too much at stake to annoy him. ‘So, what do you think?’

Mark looked confused. ‘What do you mean? I’ve just told you what I think. It’s entertaining.’

It was Jenny’s turn to sigh. Did he want her to beg? ‘About running the column. The Undercover Mother. In your magazine.’ Should she try sign language?

‘The Undercover Mother? In my…?’ Mark’s frown of incomprehension smoothed away and a smile spread across his face. ‘This is a joke, right? One of your jokes?’

Jenny felt her face grow hot. ‘Not a joke, no. You told me to call you if I wanted to write the column for you instead of Eva. At the advertising event. You gave me your card.’ She wished she hadn’t recycled it – she could have pulled it out of her bag as proof. He had said that, hadn’t he?

‘I don’t want to be rude here, Jen, but that is not what I said. A motherhood column? No. Not for Suave. Not at all. If Eva doesn’t want it, I can’t imagine why you thought that I would.’

Jenny didn’t need to ask how he knew that Eva didn’t want the column. Damn Lucy. She stiffened. ‘So, why did you agree to see me?’

Mark sat back in his chair. ‘Isn’t it obvious? To discuss you writing a new column for me. Once you’ve got yourself back into shape, obviously. A staff writer position, with your own column, just like “Girl About Town”. But bigger. Better. I was thinking along the lines of the “View from the Boys” column I wrote for Flair, but the other way around. You can help our testosterone-fuelled readers to get into the mind of a woman. We could call it “What Women Want”.’ He leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘Don’t you want to show Eva and Lucy what you can do?’

Jenny excused herself to go to the toilet. There, she splashed water onto her face to cool it down. Either the lunchtime wine or the embarrassment of having pitched a parenting column to her Lothario of an ex-boyfriend had given her an uncomfortable rosy glow. How had she been so stupid?

When she got back to the table, Mark had refilled her glass and was trying a different route of attack.

‘You were made for this kind of life.’ Mark swept his hand out to encompass the restaurant. ‘What kind of social events will you go to as a parenting writer? Mothercare openings? Church fetes with “Bouncing Baby” competitions?’ He laughed. ‘Come on, Jen. Tell me you aren’t missing all this—?’

She couldn’t tell him that, because she was. She was missing meals in nice restaurants, and getting dressed up and drinking cocktails with ridiculous names. She was missing it all. Despite the awkwardness of being here with Mark, she loved the food, the service, the being somewhere new where not many people could get a table this side of Christmas. Mentally, she had already written a rave review about it being an ‘ultimate date venue’. But she still wouldn’t swap it for an evening on the sofa with Dan and Henry.

‘It’s great, but that’s just not me any more. I want to do something new. Write about being a parent.’

Mark shook his head. ‘You’re lying.’

---

After the chrome and white of the restaurant, Jenny’s kitchen felt shabby and unstylish and cramped – even though Claire had cleaned it for her whilst she babysat Henry.

Jenny tried to see her sister’s work as an act of kindness rather than judgement.

‘How was your lunch? Have you signed a new contract?’

Jenny wasn’t ready to admit what had happened. ‘Not yet. We still need to discuss what the nature of the column will be. Where’s Henry?’

‘Upstairs in his cot, having a nap. What do you mean, “the nature of the column”? I thought you were going to write this “Undercover Mother” thing?’

Jenny was impressed that Claire remembered the name of the blog. She was also impressed that Henry was taking a nap in his own cot. How had Claire managed that?

‘Possibly. Or maybe a wider subject. Like general women’s stuff. Lifestyle. Social life. You know.’

Claire narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re going back to what you did before.’

Jenny wasn’t in the mood to discuss it. She hadn’t given Mark a definite ‘no’, because he’d made her feel so uncertain about everything. He’d been so dismissive of the blog… And she had really enjoyed being out in the real world again. Maybe she could do Mark’s column and still be home enough for Henry. She needed time to think.

‘I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.’

Claire had never suffered from uncertainty in her life. She plucked her cashmere cardigan from the back of one of the kitchen chairs and slipped it on. ‘Well, I think you’re mad. Do you remember how often you were out when you were doing that job? Your husband is quite possibly the most patient man I know.’

Here we go again. ‘You don’t understand.’

Claire was pulling on her boots. ‘You’re right. I don’t. You’ve finally got a wonderful life with a husband and a baby and you want to jeopardise it by—’

‘My life has always been pretty wonderful, thank you very much.’ It was amazing how much this line still rankled with Jenny. ‘Just because you think a husband and baby is the pinnacle of success doesn’t mean that it actually is. Do you know there are women out there who don’t even want children? Can you imagine?’

Claire finished zipping up her boots and stood up. ‘I know that you think my life is the height of boredom, Jennifer, but being a mum is the most fulfilling thing I have ever done. One day you are going to look back at all the things you have missed out on and wonder if the posh lunches were really worth it.’

Jenny was too angry to trust her mouth. How dare her sister reduce her writing career to ‘posh lunches’?

Claire hadn’t finished. ‘And on that subject, you might have mentioned that Henry has started rolling over. I left him on his mat whilst I went to the toilet and he was almost at the door by the time I got back.’

Jenny froze. She had been trying for weeks now to get Henry to move. She should be pleased that he was doing it. So why did she feel tears pricking at the back of her eyes? Do not cry.

But Jenny’s face gave her away and Claire realised what she had done. She softened her voice. ‘Oh, Jen. I’m so sorry. Was this his first time? I honestly wouldn’t have said anything if I’d known. It’s awful when you miss out on any of the firsts.’

Her sister’s sympathy made Jenny even more cross. This was ridiculous. Why did it matter that she hadn’t seen his first roll? But somehow, it did.

‘It doesn’t matter. I’m sure I’ll see it later.’

Claire started to say something, then stopped. She picked up their coffee cups and took them to the sink to wash them up. Even this bugged Jenny. Why couldn’t she just stick them in the dishwasher like a normal person?

‘Actually, I was going to ask you for a favour.’ Claire rinsed the cups and put them on the draining board. She didn’t turn around. ‘Can you help me write a CV?’

This was a surprise. ‘A CV? What do you need a CV for?’

‘A job, of course. It’s been a while since I’ve applied for a job and you’re good at writing, so I thought you could help.’ Claire found a tea towel in the drawer and started to dry the cups.

Jenny was still confused. ‘A job? For you?’

Claire opened a few cupboards before finding a home for the mugs. ‘Yes, for me. What’s so shocking? I did work before I had the children, you know.’

Jenny could barely remember her sister pre-parenthood. ‘But why now?’

‘Both children are at secondary school. I’m at home all day. There’s no reason for me not to get a job.’

Jenny detected Steve, Claire’s husband, in this. He’d spent the last decade or so openly questioning what his wife did all day.

Any joke about her leaving her children alone would only open the floodgates for another lecture, so Jenny kept to the facts. ‘What are you applying for?’

‘I don’t know yet. Office work, I suppose. I can only work ten till two so that I can drop off and collect the children. And I need the school holidays off, of course.’ She thought for a moment. ‘And no weekend work. Other than that, I’m completely flexible.’ She looked at Jenny so brightly that Jenny didn’t have the heart to tell her she was living in cloud cuckoo land.

Jenny stifled a smile. ‘Okay. Well, when you’ve found something which fits the bill, let me know and we’ll knock up a CV.’

‘Great. Thanks.’ Henry started to cry upstairs. ‘I’ll go, and let you see to him.’

Jenny gave her sister a brief kiss on the cheek. ‘Thanks for looking after him.’

Claire smiled. ‘It was a pleasure. A real pleasure.’ She paused in putting her coat on. ‘You haven’t even explored the idea of what it would be like to give up work, Jen. Have you tried a baby group?’

Jenny shook her head and started up the stairs. ‘No, I’ve been too busy.’ Too busy putting it off.

‘Just try it,’ Claire called after her. ‘Speak to some of the mums there. Find out how they find it being at home with a baby. You might surprise yourself.’