‘I am loving being a mum, though,’ adds Charlie and Ivy’s mum, expertly balancing Ivy on her chest as she rocks Charlie in the pram. ‘I know it’s hard work, especially with twins, but I could just sit and stare at them both for hours.’
The expressions of the other women instantly change. Tired faces grow soft and smiley, eyes glisten and turn to look down at their squishy babies.
‘Oh, I’m the same with Mabel. I spend so long trying to get her to go to sleep, but then as soon as she’s down, I miss her. I end each day by scrolling through photos of her, I just can’t help it.’
‘Yes!’ chips in Lexi. ‘It’s likeplease can I have a breakbutalsoI can’t bear to be apart from you for a second because I love you so much.’
‘Although,’ says Jackson’s mum with a wry smile, ‘I do miss my old body. I’d love to get back to running one day, but right now I can’t imagine it. Even standing up too quickly makes me need a wee.’
‘Oh God, yes. I wince every time I see a trampoline,’ adds Lexi.
‘Lexi, I don’t think we’ve ever heard your birth story?’ asks Mabel’s mother and the others tilt their heads in interest.
‘Mine wasn’t too bad,’ she replies cheerily. ‘Twenty-hour labour and she was born in the pool. I did tear, though.’
‘Who didn’t?’
The others laugh.
‘I wish I could have given birth in the pool,’ says Mabel’s mum wistfully.
‘Yours was a C-section, wasn’t it?’ asks Lexi.
‘Yep. Emergency. Pretty awful, to be honest, but we’re all safe now, so that’s all that matters, isn’t it?’
Kate stands up so suddenly that her mug spills half its contents into its saucer on the table and Rosie begins to cry. The others look up in surprise.
‘Are you OK, Kate?’
‘Sorry, dirty nappy,’ she says, making a show of sniffing Rosie. ‘I better go.’
‘There are changing facilities here,’ says Lexi, pointing towards the corner. ‘Pretty good ones too, it’s why we meet here. I can help if you like?’
‘It’s OK, thanks, I’ve got to go anyway,’ she says as she grabsher bag. She is beginning to sweat, her heart rate rising. Rosie’s cries grow louder and she notices a few of the other groups in the café turning in her direction. She does her best to keep her head down.
‘Oh, OK, well, thanks for coming and see you again soon, I hope!’ Lexi calls after her.
Kate waves distractedly as she heads rapidly for the door. But she already knows she won’t be coming back.
Outside, she takes deep inhales, counting to ten in her head like her former therapist taught her. She has worked so hard on learning to control the panic that used to controlher. But now she can feel it wrapping its tentacles around her and tightening its grip.
With her arms wrapped around Rosie’s back in the sling, she sets off quickly through the village. She isn’t quite sure where she is headed, just that she needs to get away from the café as quickly as possible.
It’s only when Kate reaches the familiar gate that she realises where her feet have taken her. The river might have seemed magical in the misty early mornings, but now the water glitters in the sunshine. Everything appears in high contrast; the long grass in the meadow a vibrant green shot with pops of colourful buttercups, poppies and pink and white clover.
Kate makes her way over to the bank. An older woman lies on her back in the river, arms and legs spread in a starfish shape as she floats, grey hair spreading out around her. Another woman swims a head-up breaststroke in the opposite direction and, as she passes by, a dragonfly flits above her head, its wings flapping an iridescent green.
The desire to jump in is suddenly like a physical ache that spreads through Kate’s whole body. The water is tantalisingly close now. She can see it lapping against the reeds. If she could just get in the water, she knows she would feel better.
But a little noise from inside the sling reminds her that while the water might be right there, she can’t dive in.
Tears of frustration prick at her eyes.If Rosie weren’t here… But even as she thinks it, she hates herself for it. It’s the kind of thought she feels certain the other women at the Tired Mums Club never have, those mothers who clutched their babies so tightly.
Kate turns away from the water, blinking back tears of frustration and shame. But just as she is about to leave, her eyes fall on a noticeboard that she hadn’t spotted before. It is dotted with flyers and posters, some printed but most handwritten. Notices about lost swimwear, the number of someone offering kayaking lessons and, in the centre, an official-looking laminated poster that catches Kate’s attention with its bold, typed font.
The Farleigh-on-Avon River Swimming, Bathing and Recreational Water-Based Activities Club (FoARSBRWAC) invite you to join us every day at 8.00 a.m.
Kate reads the notice twice. Even after a second reading, she isn’t entirely sure what the group is exactly for. River swimming she understands, but what exactly constitutes a ‘water-based activity’? There isn’t any information to help her, other than the time that they meet.
