The Undercover Mother_A laugh-out-loud romantic comedy about love, friendship and parenting Page 17

  ‘Jenny, please. All I’m trying to say is that there is no right or wrong. I chose one way but it’s not the only way. And there are some… downsides… whatever choice you make.’

  Jenny narrowed her eyes. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Claire put down her knife and fork. ‘I can’t get a job.’

  ‘Well, that’s because you were asking for ridiculously restricted hours.’ Fatigue-induced irritability made it difficult for Jenny to be sympathetic.

  ‘I worked out pretty early on that those hours were going to be impossible to find. One recruitment agent actually laughed at me.’

  Jenny suppressed a smile.

  ‘So I stopped looking for those hours and just asked what they had generally.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Nothing. Or almost nothing. It appears that I am not actually qualified to do anything which uses my brain. It doesn’t matter what I did before, the fourteen-year gap in my CV is as unbridgeable as the Grand Canyon.’

  Jenny felt guilty about the smile. ‘You haven’t been looking very long. You just need to keep at it.’

  Claire shook her head. ‘I even tried my old company. But there’s no one there who remembers me, and the HR person I spoke to – who sounded about twelve – just spoke in clichés about the business having moved on since I was there. Apparently, I don’t have the skill sets needed.’ She took a gulp of her water. ‘What the hell is a “skill set”, anyway? I used to type and answer the phone.’ She stabbed at a piece of broccoli. ‘That’s why I think you’re right.’

  That woke Jenny up. ‘Right about what?’

  ‘About keeping your job going. Not giving it up altogether. At least you’ll have something on your CV when no one needs you any more or wants you to… to…’

  Claire burst into tears.

  * * *

  In the next twenty minutes, it all came out. How the kids had needed her less and less since they’d started secondary school. How long and boring her days had become. Although it had been her husband who had suggested she look for a job, Claire had been a little bit excited about it.

  ‘I thought I’d be able to find something interesting. I wasn’t looking to be a brain surgeon. Doctor’s receptionist or sales assistant would have been nice. But it turns out that no one wants to employ someone whose CV reads like Mrs Beeton’s diary.’ Claire dabbed at her eyes with a napkin.

  ‘I’m sure something will come up.’ Jenny squeezed Claire’s hand encouragingly.

  Henry woke up in his usual subtle way: eyes open, mouth open. Jenny looked at her watch. It was his lunchtime. She had been so close to finishing a hot meal.

  ‘Let me feed him,’ said Claire. ‘You eat your lunch.’

  Jenny watched in awe as her sister spooned the orange mush into Henry’s open mouth. Where was the spitting? The grizzling? The pulling at his tongue as if he were being poisoned?

  ‘You’re so good at that.’

  Claire shrugged. ‘I’ve done it enough times.’ She picked up a corner of Henry’s bib and expertly wiped a smear from the corner of his mouth. ‘I miss it, actually.’

  It was so obvious, Jenny wondered why she hadn’t thought of it earlier. ‘Have you thought about working with children?’

  Claire paused with the spoon midway to Henry’s mouth. He actually reached out to try and grab it. She has mystical powers.

  ‘Do you know, I hadn’t even thought of it. What about all the qualifications?’

  ‘You’ve got time to do them now the kids are more independent.’ Jenny handed Claire a yoghurt. ‘I’ll google it if you like. Find out what you need.’

  When she’d found her mobile in her bag, Jenny saw she had a ‘Call me’ text from Eva. It was so rare to get a message from her that Jenny called back straight away.

  ‘She’s just gone into a meeting,’ Maureen told her when she answered. ‘But I know she wants to see you pretty urgently. When can you come in?’

  Jenny tried not to get her hopes up, but her imagination ran wild. Maybe Eva had had an epiphany about the blog. Jenny had been getting a lot of comments in the previous few weeks – Eva might finally be taking it seriously. There was no way she would ask to see Jenny urgently just to tell her that she was letting her go; she was far too busy for that. And Lucy was doing so well on ‘Girl About Town’ that she wouldn’t be asking her back for that, either. What else could it be but that she had decided to give her a shot at The Undercover Mother column, and was ready for her to start immediately?

  ‘How about tomorrow?’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I spent a lot of time selecting a beautiful baby journal with lots of lined pages for writing touching and amusing anecdotes about The Boy’s first year – I am a writr, after all.

  The pre-birth bit is complete – including trivial details of the contents of my hospital bag and my completely fabricated craving for chocolate eclairs. After his birth? Not so much.

  Posh has created a dated photobook, while Sporty has written so much in her baby diary that she had to buy a second one. I hoped that Scary’s lack of sentimentality would mean that she had performed as poorly in the baby journal department as I had, but it turns out her mum has made her a beautiful scrapbook of the first few months. Maybe I can get away with just printing a few of these blogs?...

  From ‘The Undercover Mother’

  * * *

  There had to be a way to tell the other mums about The Undercover Mother. Jenny just needed to work out how to phrase it.

  ‘Can you believe we’ve all been friends now for over six months? Hey, I know what I meant to say – I have been writing about you all online without telling you and now my editor is going to put it in a magazine!’

  No. Too flippant.

  ‘I have been offered a column writing about motherhood and I’d love to feature you all. You’ve all been so fantastic these last few months… new mothers everywhere could learn so much from you!’

  Too sycophantic. And a lie.

  ‘I really need this to keep hold of my career.’

  Too pathetic.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your meeting with Eva?’ Dan appeared in the doorway.

  ‘What are you doing up? I was going to let you have a lie in.’ Jenny raised her head from where she was lying on the sofa with Henry, watching some inane baby programme. They’d been up since 5.30 a.m. and she was doing her best to tune out the beaming weirdos on the TV and doze off.

  ‘I thought you’d need some time to get ready. I know it takes longer these days.’ Shifting random toys and baby gear out of his path with his foot, Dan scooped Henry from Jenny’s arms, avoiding the kick she gave him. She glanced down at her washed-out maternity pyjamas, stained dressing gown and chunky bed socks. He had a point.

  ‘So, when the column goes into the magazine, will you tell the others that you’ve been writing about them?’

  Jenny grimaced. ‘I haven’t made my mind up. Maybe they won’t realise it’s about them?’ She looked at him hopefully. ‘Do you think I have to tell them?’

  Dan shrugged his shoulders and settled down next to her on the sofa. ‘You haven’t used their real names, so probably not. But they’ll definitely recognise themselves, so you might wake up next to the severed head of Sophie the Teething Giraffe.’

  Jenny closed her eyes, then opened them and pushed herself upright. ‘I’d better get in the shower.’

  Getting dressed for work put her in a different frame of mind. This was the digital age. Everyone put their whole lives online nowadays. And it wasn’t as if she had written anything hugely controversial about the other mums. She hadn’t even used their names.

  But she hadn’t told them what she was doing.

  She pulled a brush through her hair. Okay, then. She just needed to tell them and get it over with. Worst-case scenario, they would be angry, stop speaking to her and that would be the end of it. It wasn’t as if they were really friends, anyway.

  So why did that make he
r feel sad?

  She was getting ahead of herself, anyway. Eva hadn’t confirmed that she wanted the column at all. In fact, after Naomi’s suggestion, Jenny had been researching baby magazines. Quite a few of them could benefit from a column which gave a healthy dose of reality. But Eva had been the one to ask for this meeting. Dared she hope that this was a good sign?

  * * *

  Normally, the office was a buzz of activity at this time of the morning. Today, it was almost empty. Jenny was both disappointed and relieved: disappointed by the lack of her old buddies but relieved not to see Lucy sitting at her desk.

  Eva looked really happy to see her. She even came out from behind her desk and gave Jenny a hug, before kissing her on both cheeks.

  ‘Jen! I’m so pleased you’ve come in. It’s been too long. You’re looking fabulous. Sit! Sit!’ She indicated a chair and sat back down. ‘How is that wonderful little boy of yours?’

  Eva was never this gushing and complimentary. Jenny began to get a horrible sinking feeling. Was she trying to soften some kind of blow?

  But Eva had a big surprise.

  ‘I have a proposition for you.’

  Jenny felt a wave of relief. Even the thought of touting herself around to other editors had been exhausting. She loved this magazine. She loved working for Eva. She loved everything and everybody. This was going to work out.

  ‘The Undercover Mother? You want it?’

  But the shake of Eva’s head was emphatic. ‘God, no! I’ll admit the blog reads pretty well, but it’s still not for us. I know—’ she held up her hand to prevent Jenny from interrupting ‘—that a lot of our readers are mothers themselves. But they buy our magazine to escape the humdrum, not to be reminded of it.’

  Jenny bristled but kept quiet. So, what was Eva proposing?

  Eva began to shift paper around on her desk, looking uncharacteristically wrong-footed. She coughed a couple of times and replaced two pens into a chrome pen pot. Then she looked up again and took a breath. ‘Actually, I was hoping you might like your old job back.’

  Now Jenny was confused. ‘My old job? “Girl About Town”? But what about Lucy?’ Eva had extolled Lucy’s virtues on more than one occasion. She’s enthusiastic. She’s hardworking. She meets her deadlines. Plus, Jenny had read enough of the columns to grudgingly recognise that the woman could write. How had she fallen from grace so suddenly?

  Eva picked up one of the pens from the pot and tapped it on the desk. ‘Lucy’s gone. She works for Mark McLinley now.’

  ‘Oh.’ So, Jenny’s writing talents weren’t so unique after all. All that smooth talking over lunch about Jenny being the writer he wanted. Turned out, he just needed a willing female. No change there, then. He really was a prick. She forced a smile. ‘She might well live to regret that move.’

  Eva raised an eyebrow. ‘Indeed. I had heard that he offered the job somewhere else first.’ She paused to make her point, then leaned forwards so her elbows were resting on her desk, hands clasped together. ‘So, how about it? Can you start back next week?’

  ‘Next week?’ Jenny stopped smiling.

  Eva nodded. ‘Lucy offered to work her notice but I told her she could go – we don’t want her saving her best pieces for him whilst we’re paying her wages. We have enough to cobble something together in the short term, but there’s no one else on staff who is ready to make the step up. That’s why I need you.’

  Jenny’s heart began to beat quickly. This was the last thing she’d expected. She’d been devastated to lose ‘Girl About Town’: she’d loved it. But could she still do it? She needed time to think.

  ‘I have to admit, I’m surprised.’

  ‘I don’t see why.’ Eva shrugged. ‘You’re the obvious choice. Plus, I remember you telling me that I was wrong to give Lucy your job when you were only going to be gone a few months.’ She put her head on one side. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve changed.’

  Jenny’s mind raced. She was out of the habit of thinking on her feet. Nowadays it took her at least five minutes to choose which biscuit she wanted to dip into her tea. This was too big a decision to rush, but she didn’t want Eva to think she wasn’t grateful. She needed to say yes without saying yes. She took a deep breath.

  ‘I’ve got an idea.’

  * * *

  It would be a gross exaggeration to say that Eva was keen on Jenny’s plan. She’d sold it to her as ‘Girl About Town: On Tour’ – a whole weekend in Brighton which would give her enough material for two, maybe even three, issues of the magazine. At the worst, she’d argued, if she decided not to take the job afterwards, Eva would get another few weeks’ breathing space to find someone else. At best, Jenny would agree to take her old job back. Either way, Eva would benefit.

  It hadn’t been the weekend away itself that Eva was dubious about, as they had done specials like this before: Jenny had visited Edinburgh, Cardiff and Manchester in the last two years. No, Eva’s sticking point was that Jenny wanted to take the other mums away with her this time, and she wanted the magazine to foot the bill for all of them. After a bit of negotiation they’d agreed Flair would pay for travel and other costs, on the proviso that the five of them found somewhere to stay themselves, which seemed fair to Jenny.

  A weekend away for the five of them – no babies, no husbands and a shedload of alcohol – might reap a rich reward of the revelations which Jenny knew were bubbling beneath the surface. When she returned from Brighton, she would give Eva the ‘Girl About Town’ columns she had promised, but she would also present her with an Undercover Mother column that would blow her away.

  Now all she had to do was persuade the other mums to come with her.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Before I settled down and had a baby, I used to get annoyed by the constant questions of nosy relatives and friends: ‘When are you going to settle down/get married/buy a house/have a baby?’

  It turns out that, when you have done all the above, the questions just take a different direction: ‘Is he sleeping through the night? Can he pick up small objects? Have you weaned him yet? Has he said his first word? Turned over? Crawled? Walked?’ It’s relentless. And, much as I try to ignore them, it’s difficult not to herald the arrival of a first tooth for one of the other babies with a rummage around The Boy’s mouth to check whether his are threatening to make an appearance.

  I tried to have a conversation with Sporty about the pressure I’m feeling, but she got all hippy on me: ‘I just want her to be happy.’ Well, of course I want The Boy to be happy, too. But how happy could he be if he got to eighteen with no teeth?...

  From ‘The Undercover Mother’

  * * *

  Jenny was up at 6 a.m. with Henry, trying to tidy the house one-handed whilst balancing him on her hip. Dan had tried his very best to get out of being present for the get-together. For the previous week, he had been muttering that he might need to work that weekend, but Jenny had been unrelenting: all the other dads were going to come, and she was pretty sure that she had even managed to persuade Gail to bring Joe.

  Which made it even more irritating when Antonia turned up without Geoff.

  ‘Geoff had to work,’ was all Antonia said on the matter, in a tone which suggested that she had said a great deal more to him but to no avail. Jessica had been left at home with the nanny, and Antonia looked stunning in a tailored navy-blue dress with matching shoes. Maybe this was not her only social engagement of the day.

  ‘How come he gets out of it and I don’t?’ whispered Dan, on his way to take Antonia’s coat to their bedroom.

  ‘Because it’s your bloody house!’

  ‘Because you’re my bloody wife, more like,’ he grumbled as he walked up the stairs.

  ‘And don’t you hide up there!’ she hissed at his back.

  Naomi and John arrived next; Jenny could have kissed John for coming. She scanned them both as they came in: they seemed happy enough. John helped Naomi with her coat and gave it to Dan (who mimed hanging himself to John –
Jenny would need to talk to him about that later) and then placed his hand on the small of her back as they walked into the lounge. That looked positive.

  ‘Your lounge is lovely,’ said Naomi.

  ‘Thanks.’ Her Earth Mother proclamations aside, Jenny was really beginning to warm to Naomi.

  She had just got a drink for everyone when the doorbell rang again. This was the moment she had really been looking forward to, and she could feel the others tense, too. Well, the women anyway: John and Dan had already taken refuge in the kitchen. ‘That must be Gail!’ she said. ‘Are we ready to finally meet Joe?’

  ‘Very ready,’ said Antonia, sarcastically. Jenny was too excited to pay much attention to her tone.

  She couldn’t explain why she was so intrigued to finally meet Joe. As Dan had rightly pointed out, she didn’t know the husbands of the girls she worked with and she had known them a lot longer than she’d known Gail. It was the mystery, she supposed.

  Dan got to the door before she did and opened it – to find only Gail and Jake. Gail noticed Jenny glance over her shoulder. ‘Just the two of us, I’m afraid.’

  ‘The mystery continues,’ Dan whispered at Jenny on his way back to the kitchen, as she followed Gail into the lounge.

  ‘Hello! Oh – no Joe?’ Naomi sounded disappointed to see Gail walk in alone, carrying a sleeping Jake in his car seat. You could say what you liked about that girl, Jenny thought, but she wasn’t afraid to ask the hot questions.

  Antonia smiled smugly, as if she’d been expecting this. ‘Let me guess, tied up at work?’

  Jenny jumped in quickly. ‘Is he unwell?’

  Gail shook her head. ‘No. He’s fine. We just broke up.’

  There was a moment of silence and then a clamour of voices: ‘I’m so sorry!’ ‘Are you okay?’ ‘What happened?’