After Lydia left, Jay headed back out to the studio to carry on working, leaving Kate and Rosie in front of the TV.
Not gonna lie,types Leonie,that sounds kind of dreamy
Emma:Yeah, take me to Stars Hollow NOW please. Although maybe pass on the laundry …
Leonie:I’d even take the laundry. You know I find it soothing. P.S. Lorelai forever!
Kate:I used to think there was no such thing as too muchGilmore Girls, but I think my brain might be turning to pumpkin-spiced mush. Is it just me or is it somehow always autumn in Stars Hollow? What are you both working on today?
There’s a pause and Kate stares at her phone, waiting for the replies to come in and give her just a glimpse of the life that was hers up until recently. Is this how smokers feel before their next cigarette? Please, just one drag, one hit of the sounds and atmosphere of the bustling newspaper office.
Lately, most of her conversations have been with Jay, and although maybe they used to talk about politics and social issues,now they mostly discuss their daughter’s bowel movements and sleep patterns. The person she spends most of her time with is Rosie and she might be cute, but she’s an absolutely terrible conversationalist.
The notifications ping and Kate’s heart leaps.
Emma:So sorry, Kate, but Big Boss has just called an all-hands meeting, looks like there’s a story breaking. Gotta go!
Leonie:Give that sweet girl a kiss from us! Xx
Kate abandons the laundry for good and sinks down into the rocking chair in the corner, pushing herself back and forth in order to keep Rosie asleep. If her friends are going to give her nothing, then she’ll just have to turn to Instagram instead.
The first image she sees is of her friend Jermaine on the side of Brockwell Lido, that post-swim smile on his face that Kate recognises because it used to fill her own face every morning. It’s almost as if she can smell the chlorine and feel the sunshine reflecting on the turquoise water.
Below the image from Jermaine’s personal account is one from the bookshop account he runs with his husband Frank. There’s a photo of Sprout sitting in the window, her golden fur practically glowing in the morning sunshine, and a pile of new hardbacks stacked around her to advertise an upcoming event. As well as the second-hand books they specialise in, recently they’ve also started running author events. Kate and Jay went to as many as they could back when they were living in Brixton. Kate even helped hook them up with some of their speakers, recommending experts she’d interviewed for thepaper who had new books coming out. She posts a comment, wishing them luck for the event, then continues scrolling.
Her favourite restaurant in Brixton Village has uploaded a new menu and she reads it thoroughly, spending a long time deciding exactly what she would order. There’s a photo in Emma’s Stories of her and Leonie and a few other colleagues at after-work drinks. Kate instantly recognises the décor of the pub just around the corner from the office. She’s been there countless times and can almost smell the craft beer and hear the buzz of the London pub that is busy every night of the week.
Her phone feels like an anchor tethering her to her old life and she grips it tightly, scrolling her way through reminders of the choices she has made.
Until Rosie begins suddenly to cry. Kate puts her phone away and wraps her arms around her daughter, rocking back and forth a little more vigorously.
‘I didn’t mean it,’ she says quietly as she kisses Rosie’s head. ‘I don’t really want to be back there. I’m happy right where I am.’
But Rosie continues to cry, as if she doesn’t really believe her mother’s words.
‘Mum, you do know you don’t have to clean every time you come over, right?’
Within five minutes of Kate’s mother arriving in the cottage that afternoon, she has got the hoover out. Her electric-blue earrings that match the exact blue of her boxy shirt jangle as she leans to unwind the wire and plug it in. Kate watches fromthe kitchen table, wanting to help but currently tied to her chair as she feeds Rosie. Again.
‘I know that, but I like to be helpful.’
Her mum plugs the hoover in and then stands up, tucking a strand of her sharp grey bob behind one ear. She only recently decided to give up her honey-blonde highlights and let her hair go its natural grey. It suits her. She looks great generally, in tight indigo jeans and colourful trainers, a leopard-print skinny belt giving the outfit a little edge. Kate can’t help but think how much cooler her sixty-three-year-old mother looks than she does. Earlier, she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the microwave and really wished she hadn’t.
‘And youhavebeen helpful. You’ve already made me a cup of tea.’ Kate lifts it up, leaning to one side to take a sip without risking spilling any on Rosie’s head. ‘You’ve done so much for me, Mum.’ Her voice wavers slightly as she says it, going through the endless list of kindnesses in her mind. The day they moved in to the cottage, Kate eight months pregnant, her mum and stepdad Brian had come over to help them unpack, insisting that Kate sit down while they helped Jay with the boxes. When Kate was in labour in the hospital, her mum had used her spare key to the cottage to let herself in and cleaned the house from top to bottom. She’d left a fish pie and a bottle of champagne in the fridge. And the last time she visited, she’d pretty much forced Kate to go and have a lie-down while she watched Rosie. When Kate re-emerged, blurry-eyed, having been pulled suddenly from sleep by a phantom cry that turned out to be just in her imagination, there was a wash in the machine, the bins had been taken out and Rosie was still sleeping soundly.
‘If she wants to do it, why don’t we just let her?’ Jay had said when Kate later talked to him about how she was worried they were taking advantage of her mum’s help. ‘The placedoeslook like a tip and I know the last thing either of us wants to do when we have five minutes is clean it.’ There are so many things Kate could do in those brief pockets of time that occasionally come when Rosie is settled in her basket or with Jay. Wash herself, catch up with theHerald, read a book. Mostly, she just lies down on the carpet and closes her eyes.
‘I don’t know how I’d have got through these past months without you, Mum,’ she says now, her voice properly wobbling.
Her mum abandons the hoover and sits down beside her, reaching for her hand.
‘Oh, sweetheart! You know I’m happy to do it.’
Kate sniffs, wiping her face with her sleeve.
‘Is everything OK?’ Her mother’s forehead furrows into a frown and she places a hand on Kate’s shoulder and gives a little squeeze.
Kate takes a steadying breath, lightly patting Rosie’s back. ‘I’m fine, just a bit hormonal, I think. And tired.’
