‘Well, I hate to mention it, but maybe they’d be more child-friendly if you had an actual, you know… child,’ Claire said, nodding to the buggy. They both turned to look at it. A large Paddington Bear was strapped securely into the seat.
‘Hmm, you may have a point,’ Catherine said.
That was why Claire knew her secret would always be safe with Catherine, even if she hadn’t already found her to be a completely trustworthy person. Claire knew secrets about her, too, and as Catherine was fond of joking, mutually assured destruction was the best collateral. In fact, Catherine had the most to lose if it ever got out that the happily married young mother who wrote so entertainingly about life with her firstborn was, in fact, a childless lesbian. Her popular mummy-oriented blog had attracted a lot of advertising, and she made a good living from that and her journalism. She was always in demand for features on parenting issues, valued for her quirky insights into child-rearing as well as her solid, practical advice.
They had ‘come out’ to each other slowly, Claire being the first to admit, during a drunken conversation in a Mexican bar, with her guard lowered by too many tequila slammers, that she made up all the stuff on her blog. Catherine had been delighted and countered with her own confession that she had never given birth, wasn’t married to a computer programmer called James, and her baby son, Paddy, was a fictitious creation, a cobbled-together combination of Paddington Bear and the Grouch fromSesame Street. (He looked more like the Grouch, she explained, but he had Paddington’s sweet nature.)
‘Is that for review?’ Claire asked, waving at the buggy.
‘Yeah, I was sent it to road-test. That’s why I brought Paddy today – thought I’d kill two birds with one stone. So far it’s performed pretty well. The straps are easy to do, and it’s excellent for ramming wankers in the shins,’ she said, scowling at the man who had shouted at her. ‘But I suppose I should try it out on an actual child. Paddydoesn’t wriggle around so much when you’re strapping him in. Maybe we should borrow one of your nephews and come back for another visit, in the interest of fairness.’
‘I don’t know how Michelle would feel about her children being in the service of the enemy.’ Claire laughed.
‘How is your beloved sister-in-law? Still writing “Diary of a Smug Mummy” or whatever she calls it?’
Just then, the waitress returned with a high chair. ‘You’re in luck,’ she said sullenly, shoving it at Catherine.
‘Thanks.’ Catherine took it from her.
‘But if anyone else needs it, I’m going to have to ask for it back,’ the girl warned, then stomped off towards the kitchen.
‘They’re not very adult-friendly either,’ Catherine mumbled to Claire.
‘Well, she probably thinks you’re a victim of care in the community.’
‘You’d think she’d be more sympathetic, then,’ Catherine said, as she got up to assemble the high chair. ‘At least this will give me a chance to see how easy the buggy is to collapse.’ She grunted and huffed as she wrestled with the chair, but she finally got it open and positioned it at the side of their table. Then she lifted Paddington into it (‘I won’t bother strapping him in’) and began to collapse the buggy.
‘God, I’m ready for a lie-down now,’ she said, when she’d finally got it flat. She rested it against the side of the banquette and sat down again.
‘A mother’s work is never done.’ Claire smiled.
‘Tell me about it!’
When the waitress returned with their coffee, she eyed Paddington sitting up in the high chair, but said nothing.
‘So,’ Catherine said, leaning across the table, ‘what’s up?’
Claire took a deep breath. ‘Mark Bell contacted me – about the blog.’
‘Mark Bell! Wow!’
Claire smiled. She’d known Catherine would get how big this was immediately. She took a sip of her coffee. ‘He wants me to do a book based on it.’
Catherine gasped. She straightened in her seat, eyes wide. ‘What? Oh my God! This is huge!’
‘I know!’ Claire grinned.
‘We should be having champagne. Anyway, congratulations!’ She bumped her mug against Claire’s.
‘Thanks. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Nothing’s been finalised yet.’
‘Still – Mark Bell! I’m sure it’s only a matter of time. I’m so pleased for you.’ She gave Claire’s arm a squeeze. ‘You totally deserve it.’
‘Thanks.’
‘So, what’s the story? What happens next?’
‘Well, he’s coming to Dublin at the weekend. I’m meeting him for dinner on Saturday.’
