nothing wrong with her,’ I say to a mother who looks at my child pitifully. ‘If I let her out we will never get there.’ She makes some stupid face that implies I am being cruel, then walks off. Her snotty little brat following in tow. The self-righteousness of parenting is what grates on me the most. I avoid other mums as much as I can.
‘She’s fine,’ I bark at someone else who thinks coming over and saying, ‘Ahhhhhh,’ and smiling at my crazy child is in some way the right thing to do. It is patronising and insincere. There is nothing to ‘Ahhhhhh’ about when a toddler is being a level ten.
‘Maybe she’s hungry,’ says an old lady waiting at a crossing next to us. I was doing OK until she weighed in.
‘Oh, you think maybe I should consider feeding my child?’ I ask. She doesn’t get my sarcasm.
‘Yes, the poor little thing is probably starving.’
‘Oh, well silly me. Forgetting to feed my child.’ I could stop there, but why would I do that? ‘There was me, listening to her delicate little screams, wondering what on earth could be the matter when all the while all I had to do was feed her. How could I have been so thick?’
The old woman looks at me with fear in her eyes. To be fair, I have gotten quite close to her face. I don’t like old ladies and the way they act like they’ve got all the answers.
‘Up yours,’ I say, crossing the road. It’s a retro phrase I use a lot. Firm, offensive but not sweary enough for people to ring an alarm. I find it very useful. I occasionally add a finger.
Lauren Pearce – Instagram post
@OfficialLP
The image is of Lauren in her kitchen holding a large glass filled with something green. She is wearing jeans and a tight pink shirt. She is fully made-up with perfectly highlighted blonde hair.
The caption reads:
Keeping healthy is so important to me. Feeling good in my body helps my mind feel better. I love my new #GreenMachineQT juicer. I get at least 3 of my 5 a day in one drink. Happy body, happy brain. #AD #selflove #love #together #women #acceptyourself #beyourself #knowyourtruth #womensupportingwomen #vegan
@florecent360: Why do Ads when you’re about to marry one of the richest men in the country? Give your fee to charity??
@missiondone123 to @florecent360: She is her own person! Would it be better to live off her husband? I have so much respect for a woman paying her own way. OWN IT Lauren, I love you!!!
@MineAintYours: AD? SELL OUT. GET A REAL JOB that doesn’t involve you only wearing pants.
@MatyMooMelly: I love you so much. Everything you say is what I need to hear. Thanks for being you
@pigeontoe: #relatable NOT.
@fabouty: Remember to love yourself. You are such an inspiration to me.
@Hartherlodge: Srsly, get a grip. Rich, thin, fit. What the fuck else do you need? That smoothie looks like when a dog eats grass then pukes it up.
@seveneh: I wish I had your figure.
Beth
I think to myself, right in the middle of it. If I am going to have all of this sex, with all of these strange men, I have to get some enjoyment out of it for me. I pull myself on top of him, and rub myself on his thigh. I forget about his pleasure, and just focus on my own. I’m bringing myself to the most phenomenal orgasm when I hear …
‘Beth? Beth?’ His voice is breathy and gentle. ‘Beth? Beth?’
My eyes open.
‘Were you having another one of your dreams?’
Shit.
‘Yes I was,’ I say. He thinks that the dreams I have, the ones that cause me to writhe around moaning in my sleep, are recurring dreams of me ballroom dancing. Because that is what I told him. I said that ballroom dancing is an unrequited ambition of mine. He got me classes for my last birthday. I am yet to use the vouchers.
‘I was doing the waltz, with you. We were going to win I reckon,’ I tell him, sleepily. Thinking it best not to mention the hot builder who was just paying more attention to my fanny than my foxtrot.
‘You’d have been a beautiful dancer,’ he says, smiling. ‘Here, he’s ready for you.’ He passes me my four-month-old baby, Tommy. I sit up, unclip my bra, and put my nipple in his mouth. Michael looks away. ‘Let me know when you’re done,’ he says. ‘I’ll come get him and you can get some more sleep.’
‘It’s OK, I better work. What time is it?’
‘Nine.’
‘Wow, thanks. That’s a legit lie-in.’
‘Well, you’ve pumped enough to feed an entire baby army. He took his bottle happily at seven, there was no need to wake you,’ he says, kissing my head gently.
‘Thank you. I’m very lucky to have you as my husband.’
‘And Tommy and I are very lucky to have you. Call me when you’re done.’
Michael leaves the room. I hold my baby to my breast with one arm and use the other to reach for my phone.
As expected, my inbox is bulging already. The caterers, the florists, the cake maker, the PRs. This job is extremely demanding. I’d hoped to get six months’ maternity leave when I got pregnant, but this came in a few months ago and I couldn’t turn it down. That’s the trouble when you run your own business, no one pays you for your time off. So I ordered the tablecloths when I was in the labour ward. I sacked a florist while my stitches were being done. I’m everyone’s best friend, but I can be a boss when I need to be.
Michael managed to negotiate three months’ paternity leave because he works for a start-up that sees itself as entirely modern in its approach to absolutely everything. Which is an ironic place for him to work. He is forty-four and not modern. Unlike me – I’m thirty-six but sit in an office with a twenty-six-year-old every day who gives a masterclass on how to be a millennial. But I am grateful for Michael’s random modern job, because it’s meant that I’ve been able to keep up with the level of attention needed to organise the celebrity wedding of the year. And I’m grateful I didn’t have to sacrifice my work, although having to be ‘grateful’ towards my husband hasn’t gotten me any closer to resolving our problem.
I was really enjoying that dream. I put down my phone and slip my hand between my legs. As if he knows what I’m thinking, my baby gurgles and pulls back from my nipple, giving me a judgemental side eye. He’s probably right.
I swap him onto the other boob and stroke his head. It’s a miracle I have him at all, and I am so
