---

As soon as Jenny walked through the door, women appeared from everywhere to worship Henry. Jenny knew how handsome he was, but it was gratifying to have it confirmed.

Eva came out of her office to find out what the noise was. ‘Hello, stranger.’ She stopped and looked at Jenny intently. ‘You look different.’

If Jenny had felt self-conscious about her clothes over lunch, it was much worse now. ‘Do I?’

Eva looked closer. ‘Has your hair always been… wavy?’ She said the word ‘wavy’ as if it was an insult.

Jenny’s hand went to her head defensively. ‘I usually straighten it for work.’

‘Hmm.’ Eva shrugged. ‘How's life on the outside?’

Jenny smiled. ‘Good. Good. Little bit repetitive at times. But good. Are you missing me?’ She hoped fervently that the answer was yes.

‘Every day. Although each month when Lucy files her column on time, my loyalties are divided.’

Jenny ignored this joke. What were deadlines for, if not to be met at the last minute? ‘This is Henry.’ She held him aloft proudly, like a homemade sponge cake, although she knew better than to expect any kind of infant worship from Eva.

‘Ah. Very nice, well done.’

‘Have you been looking at the blog posts? What do you think?’ Jenny was proud that she had written anything at all. Sleep deprivation was not the mother of creativity.

‘Ye-es. Shall we have a quick chat about it?’ Eva motioned towards her office. ‘Maureen won’t mind watching the baby for a moment, will you?’

‘Not at all, I’ve been waiting for a cuddle!’ Maureen was Eva's PA and substitute mother to most of the office.

Jenny handed Henry over a little reluctantly and followed Eva.

‘I like your writing, of course.’ Shutting the door behind them, Eva cut straight to the point. ‘And it is mildly funny. But it’s just not very…’ She paused for the right word. ‘Exciting.’

Jenny laughed. ‘I don’t want to shatter any illusions here, but there aren’t many James Bond moments for a stay-at-home mum.’

‘Well, that’s what I assumed when you suggested it. So what’s the point? Why would people want to read it?’

‘You should look at the comments.’ Jenny had been surprised herself by the reaction she’d had so far. Other mums had been writing that they agreed with her, that she had made them laugh and that she had made them feel ‘normal’. Although some of the comments included acronyms such as DD and SO and BLW and, at first, she hadn’t had a clue what they were talking about. ‘People like it because it’s realistic – it’s the same as “Girl About Town”. Women read that to feel like they aren’t the only ones meeting dodgy blokes and spilling wine over themselves in equally dodgy nightclubs. Mums are the same, although it’s worse for them because it feels like every single thing they do is being judged.’ Jenny had found article after article online that told parents exactly what they should, and shouldn’t, be doing. When she got her column in the magazine, it would tell everyone they should do things their own way, and to stick a teething ring in the mouth of anyone who said otherwise.

‘Ye-es.’ Eva still didn't look convinced. Staring at Jenny, she stroked her lip. Jenny knew better than to interrupt: this was Eva's thinking face. Interestingly, it was quite similar to Henry’s weeing face. ‘I think we need more on the other mothers – your new crew. It worked perfectly in your old column, writing about the lives of the girls you knocked around with – really fleshed it out.’ Eva sat back in her chair. ‘That’s what you need to do.’

‘You must have read my mind!’ Jenny lied, relieved that Eva was still sufficiently interested in her idea to make a suggestion. ‘I've already got a group of women I met at antenatal and I was just going to ask your opinion on including more about them in the blog!’ She beamed with fake confidence.

‘How fortuitous.’ Eva’s eyes showed that she knew Jenny was lying. ‘We have an advertisers’ event next month. You could come along and work some magic on our corporate friends. If you can get some sponsors for your idea, we can talk.’ She looked at Jenny’s hair again. Then at her leggings. ‘If you’re feeling up to it.’

‘Great idea.’ Jenny’s heart sank. ‘I’ll be there.’

A knock on the door and Lucy’s face appeared, her annoyingly beautiful long hair swinging. ‘Sorry to interrupt, E,’ she said. Since when was she shortening Eva’s three-letter name? ‘But I wondered if you’d remembered to ask Jenny about her book?’

‘Ah, yes.’ Eva nodded. ‘Thanks for reminding me, Lucy.’

Jenny wanted to ask why she wasn’t shortening her new best buddy’s name to ‘L’.

Eva turned back to Jenny with a smile. ‘I was wondering if you’d mind giving Lucy a copy of your contacts book.’

---

Jenny slammed the cupboard shut and banged two mugs down onto the kitchen counter. She had completely forgotten to go to the supermarket after her trip to the office, and Dan was now eating a mixing bowl full of Shredded Wheat and Crunchy Nut Cornflakes for his dinner. He looked like he regretted accepting her offer of a cup of tea.

‘Can you believe it? Not only has she stolen my job, she now wants a copy of my black book. My bible.’ She paused for emphasis. ‘It has taken me years to build that up. The names and numbers of everyone who organises any kind of social event in the city. Every bar owner, club manager and tour manager. I’ve even got personal mobile or home numbers for most of them.’ A fresh wave of anger hit. ‘When I started, all my predecessor left me was a sheet of A4 paper with a list of venues and her own unintelligible rating system. And Eva – I mean “E”, apparently—’ she mimicked Lucy’s breathy, enthusiastic voice ‘—Eva thinks I should just hand it over to Lucy.’

‘Mm.’ Dan mumbled through a mouthful of cereal, then swallowed. ‘Maybe she just thought you wouldn’t be using it at the moment. You know, being on maternity leave.’

‘That’s irrelevant! The book doesn’t belong to the magazine. It’s mine! I kept those notes on everywhere I went, everyone I met. That book, those names, those numbers – it’s everything I’ve done as “Girl About Town”. It’s my life! It’s who I am!’

Dan looked confused. ‘You’re a large, black address book with a silver star on it?’ 

Jenny laid her head on the table. ‘You don’t understand, either!’

‘I’m trying, Jen. Really I am.’ He laid down his spoon and put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Don't bite me when I say this, but… do you really need it any more?’

Jenny’s head shot up again. ‘Of course I’m going to need it! What happens when I go back to work and she’s already wormed her way in with all the people who used to save the best tables and seats for me?’

‘Okay, Jen, humour me for a minute.’ Dan was using the calm tone of a police negotiator trying to talk someone down from a window ledge. ‘Because I don’t understand what the problem is. Before we decided to have a baby, you were complaining that you were getting too old to write a “singles life” column. Right?’

Jenny gave a small nod. She didn’t want to commit herself until she saw where he was going with this.

‘But now Eva has given the column to someone else, you’ve decided that you don’t want to lose it?’

‘Yes. No. Well, kind of, but…’

Dan held up his hand. ‘But you’re writing a blog about being a mum, which you’re hoping will become a column in the magazine and then you can write that instead?’

‘Yes. But it might not work. Eva hasn’t made me any promises. I might do all this work and she could say no.’

‘Do you enjoy writing it?’

Did she enjoy writing it? It was new. It was challenging. She found herself thinking about it when she wasn’t writing it. ‘I think I do.’

Dan shrugged. ‘Then we’ll work it out. If Eva doesn’t go for it, you can write the blog until it does take off, and we’ll just have to live on bread and water for a while.’

‘But it’s a blog.’

Dan looked confused. ‘I already said that.’

‘I’m a journalist, Dan, not a blogger. I get paid to write. I’m a professional.’

Then Henry started to cry and Jenny stomped up the stairs, muttering about people changing your life for you without even asking.

---

That night in bed, Jenny told Dan what Eva had said about the blog. ‘I need to step it up a level,’ she said. ‘Eva looked decidedly unimpressed with it so far. I need to make it more exciting – especially now I’m competing with Little Miss Perky.’

Dan nodded, slowly. ‘What did you actually say to Eva about your contacts book?’

‘That I’d try and look it out for her. What else could I say?’ She turned to face him. ‘I’m not going to give her the actual book, though. I’ll buy another one and copy some of it over. I’m not giving her everything.’

‘Good idea.’ Dan looked relieved that she hadn’t recommenced her rant from earlier.

‘Eva thinks I should write about the other mums in the blog. Like the Girl Crew I used to have for “Girl About Town”.’ She and her crazy friends from her twenties had had some good times together over the years. They’d visited en masse when Henry was brand new, but they were all still single and had been out until the early hours of the morning; they’d seemed oblivious to Jenny’s own exhaustion. Obviously, she would just pick up with them again once she had got the hang of this motherhood business.

‘That sounds like an interesting idea.’ Dan was clearly keeping his language as non-committal as possible so that he didn’t say the wrong thing. ‘Will you be writing about personal stuff? Have you asked their permission yet?’

Jenny looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Not exactly. I was planning on giving them pseudonyms and just writing about things that they do and say. If they know about it, they might not like it.’

Dan gave a lengthy whistle. ‘I bet they wouldn’t, particularly that posh one. Antonia, is it? Or that scary one who came on her own. She’s got enough balls to have conceived without the absent boyfriend.’

Jenny sat up in bed, her creative brain whirring into action. ‘Husband, you’re a genius! You’ve got it! Posh, Scary…’ She thought for a moment. ‘Naomi is a yoga teacher, so she must be pretty sporty, and Ruth is ginger! Well, auburn,’ she conceded. ‘They’re the flippin’ Spice Girls!’

Dan sighed and turned over, realising Jenny would now be on a roll that could last some time. ‘Okay, Baby Spice, I need to go to sleep now. Hey,’ he turned back again, ‘am I going to be in it, too?’

Jenny closed her eyes. ‘Shush now, time to sleep.’

Dan was soon snoring, but Jenny’s mind was racing. The Spice Girls angle could really work, especially as there were five of them. Perfect. Except for Ruth. She couldn’t write about Ruth. Could she?

And then there was this advertisers’ event to think about. As well as putting some impressive posts on the blog, she would need to get herself back into some kind of physical shape before then. Sexist as it was, most of the attendees at these events were men, and she’d have much more chance of winning their marketing pounds if she looked good.

If the look on Eva’s face was anything to go by, she also needed to sort out her clothes and hair. She was in real danger of veering into ‘She’s let herself go’ territory. She’d seen it happen to her sister. Within two months of giving birth, Claire had been living in jeans and sweatshirts, her hair in a permanent ponytail. Being a mum didn’t mean you had to dress like one.

Last week, Antonia had texted Jenny for her opinion on two dresses she was thinking of buying for her first post-baby night out. Jenny would give her a call and ask where she’d found them. Job done.