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On the day Dan had to go back to work, Jenny cried in bed for about an hour.

The last couple of weeks had been a blur of feeding, pooping and crying; sometimes all three at once. After pretending to be an angel for the first few days – just long enough to make her fall desperately in love with him – Henry had turned into a demanding dictator. She bathed him, held him, flopped out her boobs on demand, but nothing was ever enough. She’d always sworn she’d never let a man treat her like this, and yet this one had her completely at his beck and call. And he only weighed eight pounds.

How would she survive without Dan? Nothing had fazed him. Whether it was getting up in the middle of the night, changing an explosive nappy or feeding Jenny chocolate digestives whilst she wept, he’d just taken it all in his stride.

And now he had left them to go back to work. Jenny was suspicious. It wasn’t that he’d exactly skipped out of the door that morning, but he hadn’t looked devastated, either.

‘We can do this,’ she said to Henry, trying not to dribble snot and tears onto his babygro. ‘You just need to work with me.’ And work with her he did. If by ‘work with me’ she had meant, ‘wee all over the changing table’.

It felt like they’d just dozed off again when the doorbell rang. It was a huge bouquet from Eva, with a card that read:

Well, if anything was going to get Jenny out of her pyjamas and in front of the laptop, it was the thought of the ‘something else’ Eva would otherwise fob her off with. Anyway, it was a good thing she was up as she needed to shower this morning. Gail was coming, even though she was now more than a week overdue. She was the only one of them still pregnant: Antonia had had to have an emergency C-section three weeks before her due date, and Naomi had gone into labour five days ago, pulling off the perfect birth twelve hours later. According to Naomi’s 400-word Facebook post, baby Daisy had been delivered in water, accompanied by some kind of whale music. Naomi and John were now in their post-birth bonding period. Meanwhile, Jenny was in her post-birth pyjama period. Why had she invited someone here on her first day flying solo?

She’d invited Ruth too, but Ruth hadn’t even replied to her text. Two weeks ago, Jenny might have been irritated by that. Now she assumed that Ruth was lying prone somewhere under a heap of dirty babygros and would call when she escaped. She must have had the baby by now.

Maybe it was good that it would be just herself and Gail: she could really get to know her and assess how useful she would be for blog fodder. Remembering the smart clothes Gail had worn to the antenatal class, Jenny decided that she would also need to change out of her pyjamas.

---

At about ten o’clock, Henry fell asleep, feeding. Jenny placed him in his baby chair as if he were an unexploded bomb and crept up to the bathroom, carrying him in it. She knew she wasn’t supposed to, but how else was she meant to shower? Gail was due at eleven, so if Henry stayed asleep, Jenny should be showered and dressed in plenty of time. Easy.

Henry decided to wait until she was naked, wet and fully lathered before beginning to wail like an air-raid siren. Throwing open the shower cubicle door, she tried to make it across the tiled floor as quickly as her tender stomach and wet, sliding feet would allow. Carefully, she crouched down beside him, trying to see through the face wash that was stinging her eyes, and attempted to pacify him without having to pick him up and cover him in Radox. When no amount of shushing and chair rocking would do, she gave in and picked him up. With a deadly accuracy, he found her nipple and helped himself to a quick snack. This in turn made her yelp in surprise and pain, which started him crying all over again.

This time, it was impossible to calm him down. Which is why, an hour later, she opened the door to a punctual Gail with wet but unwashed hair and wearing only a dressing gown.

Gail, on the other hand, was wearing yet another combination of shirt and tailored trousers; she wasn’t dressing down on maternity leave. ‘Interesting look you’re going for there.’

‘I call it post-natal chic.’ Jenny ushered her in. ‘It’s surprisingly wearable.’ Normally, she would be mortified for anyone but her closest friends to see her like this. But Henry had finally gone back to sleep in the last few minutes and rather than use the time to get dressed, she had been hovering at the door, waiting to let Gail in before she rang the doorbell. She was terrified that any sudden noise might wake him. ‘Can you watch Henry for two minutes whilst I go upstairs and change into something less comfortable?’

When she got back, Henry was still sleeping. Gail was sitting on the sofa, checking messages on her mobile. When Jenny walked in, she clicked it off and looked up. ‘So, an actual baby, then. How was the birth?’

Despite her promise to smash the maternity code of silence and proclaim to all other women how awful childbirth really was, Jenny knew that she couldn’t do that to Gail. It would be cruel when she had no way of backing out. ‘Don’t ask me that question. Maybe ask Naomi – she seems to be better at it than me.’

Gail smiled. ‘Yes. I’ve seen the birth report. Have you heard anything from Antonia about her birth?’

‘Only that she had a C-section, same as me, the day before yesterday, and that she had a baby girl. They’ve called her Jessica.’

Gail tapped her short, glossy fingernails on her mobile case. ‘So, no more swanning around having lunch for a while, then? Still, I’m sure she’ll have an army of people waiting on her. Although I can’t imagine Geoff changing many nappies.’

Jenny was impressed that Gail could remember Antonia’s husband’s name. ‘No, he didn’t seem to be particularly hands-on. Unless he was googling birth facts on his phone the whole time. I think she said her mum was going to stay for a few days. Do you want a drink?’

‘A cold drink would be good. I’ll come out with you.’

Gail followed her to the kitchen, leaving Henry in the lounge on his own. Jenny had no idea what accident could possibly befall him sleeping in his baby chair, but she wasn’t about to find out. She sloshed orange juice into two glasses in record time and practically pushed Gail back into the lounge. Was he still sleeping? Breathing? Yes, he was.

‘Have you heard from Ruth?’ Gail sat back down on the sofa. ‘She’s the only one who didn’t comment on Naomi’s post.’

‘No, I haven’t. I was going to ask you that. I don’t even know whether she’s had her baby or not.’

Gail shrugged. ‘Maybe they’re busy seeing relatives.’

‘Maybe. Dan hasn’t heard from David, either, so that could be the case. Speaking of the New Dads, have you banned your partner from working away until the birth? I met a woman at the hospital whose husband was working in the city and didn’t make it back in time. She was not impressed.’

Gail put her glass down on the coffee table and adjusted the collar on her shirt. ‘Joe? No, I haven’t. It doesn’t matter if he’s not there.’

‘Really?’ There was no way Jenny could have got through her birth experience without Dan’s calm reassurance. At one point, he had actually needed to remind her to breathe. ‘Surely you don’t want to do it alone?’

‘No. My mum will be there.’

Her mum? Jenny was close to her own mum, but she was glad she hadn’t been there for the labour. For a start, she might have been a little shocked to hear the full repertoire of her daughter’s bad language.

‘Doesn’t your partner – Joe – want to be there?’

Gail sighed, irritably. ‘It’s more about whether he’d be any use. Not everyone is like you and Dan. Lots of people choose different birth partners now.’

Jenny resented Gail’s tone. ‘Oh, I know that. Naomi talked about a doula and Antonia planned to have a private midwife. I don’t know if she did in the end.’

‘An extra midwife would have been rather redundant in the circumstances, though, wouldn’t she? I’m not surprised Antonia was “too posh to push” in the actual event.’

Jenny bristled. ‘The baby was three weeks early, so I’m guessing it was probably an emergency operation, like mine. And she’s still in hospital.’ She waved a hand around her navel. ‘Plus, this is no walk in the park, believe me.’

Gail held up her hands. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t suggesting it was.’

‘Have you asked Joe whether he wants to be there?’

‘Very briefly.’ Gail’s tone made it clear that this topic was over. ‘So, any top tips you want to share?’

‘Yes,’ said Jenny. ‘Go back in time and hire a surrogate.’

---

Gail had left and Jenny was making a salad for lunch when Henry woke up with a yell. She attempted to keep cutting tomatoes with one hand as she jiggled him in the other arm. It was impossible. What could she prepare one-handed? Maryland cookies.

The card from Eva’s flowers mocked her from the sideboard, so she returned to the sitting room with Henry and the biscuits and turned on her laptop. Then Henry opened his mouth and deposited a pool of undigested milk into her lap. More washing. No, she was not going to be side-tracked. Just mop it up with a baby wipe and carry on.

What should she begin with? Maybe just a sneaky look at Facebook. There were a couple of photos of a fresh-faced Naomi holding baby Daisy, and a post from Lucy raving about a new club she had reviewed for the magazine.

Even though Jenny was viciously jealous that Lucy had her job, the last thing she felt like doing right then was shuffling around a packed dance floor.

Obviously, that would change soon.

Gail hadn’t been a great source of ideas for The Undercover Mother. In her defence, she hadn’t had her baby yet, but Jenny had the impression she wasn’t really a sharer. It also seemed pretty pointless trying to cultivate a relationship with someone who was going back to work in a few weeks. For the next six months, Jenny needed someone to meet up with during the day who could regale her with the hilarious mishaps of life with a newborn. Perhaps she should try Ruth again – if she could ever get hold of her.

Bored with Facebook, she checked her emails. Unlike her working days, there were only five waiting unread. Two were baby congratulations from former contacts, two were advertising special offers on shoes.

But the last one was an email from Ruth and David. The subject read: