familiar face peering in, framed by chestnut ringlets. ‘Room
for one more?!’ Chloe called out with a smile. A close friend from my old office, she was now better known as the woman who
stole my brother Chris’s heart. I’d never seen him so smitten before, and she’d seemed calmer and happier in the year that
they’d been together too.
‘Come on, then,’ I said, beckoning her in.
The bell on the door rang as she stepped inside. ‘Hi guys,’ she said, pulling up a chair. ‘Sorry to gatecrash, but the boss
is away and I managed to sneak out for a few minutes. So, how are you all doing?’
Maggie
Tuesday, 3rd September
Maggie juggled Stan on to her other hip, and scooped up what she could of the carrot puree that had trickled down his high
chair. A big lump landed on her stripped-pine floorboards, and Stan started to giggle.
She heard a key turn in the front door and felt a wave of relief.
‘Hi,’ Owen called out.
‘Right on time,’ Maggie called back. ‘Your son’s been asking after you.’
Owen put his head around the kitchen door. The moment that Maggie saw his smile, the stresses of her hectic day with Stan
faded away.
‘He has, has he?’ Owen said, reaching out his arms and taking Stan, seemingly oblivious to the orange mush he was covered
in. Stan reached out a chubby hand for one of Owen’s dark curls.
‘It sort of sounded like “Da-da”,’ Maggie said, ‘and I’m dying for a wee.’ She gave Owen a gentle kiss on the lips and dashed
past him on her way to the bathroom. She stripped off her puree-spattered cardi and threw it into the laundry basket on the
way up the stairs. She closed the bathroom door behind her and sat down on the toilet, relieved.
Five months since Stan had arrived and it seemed as if every day of it she’d been a sleep-deprived mess. When was it supposed
to get easier? Sometimes it was only the thought of Owen coming home at the end of the day, or her regular meet with Alison
and Jenny, that kept her going.
She flushed the toilet and put down the lid, resting on it for a moment. She glanced around her bathroom – the place that
had once been a pristine oasis of scented candles and expensive bath oils. It was where she and Owen had shared romantic baths
after they first got together, the previous summer. It made her smile to think of it, because now the room was littered with
farm animal bath toys and wet towels. Things had changed so quickly. After just a few short weeks, she’d found out she was
pregnant and that carefree time in their relationship had ended.
In less than a year, Maggie’s wardrobe had switched from crisp silk blouses and tailored dresses to pyjamas and tracksuit
bottoms, often with dubious stains on them. Long baths made way for hurried showers – and that was on a good day. Owen hadn’t
batted an eyelid at the changes, but Maggie was all too aware of them.
In her house, on the outskirts of Charlesworth, the glass ornaments and vases had swiftly been boxed up and replaced with
activity mats and squeaky toys. A bouncy chair in primary colours sat next to her immaculate white sofa, and her Billie Holiday
CD lay upturned beside the stereo, with a nursery rhymes album in there on loop.
She bundled the towels up and gave herself a quick glance in the mirror. Her auburn hair was in a hastily fastened top-knot,
strands falling loose, and there were dark circles under her green eyes. Her skin looked tired and dry. Before leaving the
house for work for Bluebelle du Jour, her flower shop on the high street, she used to carefully blow-dry her hair, or style
it into a French pleat, ready to greet customers. Now, on the rare days she made it out of the house, she barely had time
to put on a slick of lip gloss before Stan needed changing again, sending them back to square one.
She swung the bathroom door open, and heard Stan gurgling as his dad played with him – a full, round and heartfelt laugh.
for one more?!’ Chloe called out with a smile. A close friend from my old office, she was now better known as the woman who
stole my brother Chris’s heart. I’d never seen him so smitten before, and she’d seemed calmer and happier in the year that
they’d been together too.
‘Come on, then,’ I said, beckoning her in.
The bell on the door rang as she stepped inside. ‘Hi guys,’ she said, pulling up a chair. ‘Sorry to gatecrash, but the boss
is away and I managed to sneak out for a few minutes. So, how are you all doing?’
Maggie
Tuesday, 3rd September
Maggie juggled Stan on to her other hip, and scooped up what she could of the carrot puree that had trickled down his high
chair. A big lump landed on her stripped-pine floorboards, and Stan started to giggle.
She heard a key turn in the front door and felt a wave of relief.
‘Hi,’ Owen called out.
‘Right on time,’ Maggie called back. ‘Your son’s been asking after you.’
Owen put his head around the kitchen door. The moment that Maggie saw his smile, the stresses of her hectic day with Stan
faded away.
‘He has, has he?’ Owen said, reaching out his arms and taking Stan, seemingly oblivious to the orange mush he was covered
in. Stan reached out a chubby hand for one of Owen’s dark curls.
‘It sort of sounded like “Da-da”,’ Maggie said, ‘and I’m dying for a wee.’ She gave Owen a gentle kiss on the lips and dashed
past him on her way to the bathroom. She stripped off her puree-spattered cardi and threw it into the laundry basket on the
way up the stairs. She closed the bathroom door behind her and sat down on the toilet, relieved.
Five months since Stan had arrived and it seemed as if every day of it she’d been a sleep-deprived mess. When was it supposed
to get easier? Sometimes it was only the thought of Owen coming home at the end of the day, or her regular meet with Alison
and Jenny, that kept her going.
She flushed the toilet and put down the lid, resting on it for a moment. She glanced around her bathroom – the place that
had once been a pristine oasis of scented candles and expensive bath oils. It was where she and Owen had shared romantic baths
after they first got together, the previous summer. It made her smile to think of it, because now the room was littered with
farm animal bath toys and wet towels. Things had changed so quickly. After just a few short weeks, she’d found out she was
pregnant and that carefree time in their relationship had ended.
In less than a year, Maggie’s wardrobe had switched from crisp silk blouses and tailored dresses to pyjamas and tracksuit
bottoms, often with dubious stains on them. Long baths made way for hurried showers – and that was on a good day. Owen hadn’t
batted an eyelid at the changes, but Maggie was all too aware of them.
In her house, on the outskirts of Charlesworth, the glass ornaments and vases had swiftly been boxed up and replaced with
activity mats and squeaky toys. A bouncy chair in primary colours sat next to her immaculate white sofa, and her Billie Holiday
CD lay upturned beside the stereo, with a nursery rhymes album in there on loop.
She bundled the towels up and gave herself a quick glance in the mirror. Her auburn hair was in a hastily fastened top-knot,
strands falling loose, and there were dark circles under her green eyes. Her skin looked tired and dry. Before leaving the
house for work for Bluebelle du Jour, her flower shop on the high street, she used to carefully blow-dry her hair, or style
it into a French pleat, ready to greet customers. Now, on the rare days she made it out of the house, she barely had time
to put on a slick of lip gloss before Stan needed changing again, sending them back to square one.
She swung the bathroom door open, and heard Stan gurgling as his dad played with him – a full, round and heartfelt laugh.
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