As soon as the door closes behind Jay, Rosie opens her eyes and begins to cry. Loudly. The walls of the cottage suddenly feel as though they’re pressing in on her and Kate finds herself thinking back to the freedom and fresh air of the river.
‘Come on, let’s get you fed and go out and get the things we need,’ she says in a sing-song voice.
One feed and two nappy changes later, Kate is bundling Rosie into the car seat. Once Rosie is settled, a striped hathand-knitted by Hope on her head, Kate takes a quick photo and sends it to Jay. His reply comes immediately.
Ahh, our girl, look at her! On the train safely. Good luck and have a good day. I love you xx
When Kate arrives at the supermarket car park, she hesitates for a moment before pulling into a parent and child bay, feeling a bit like a fraud as she does so, despite the baby grizzling in the back seat.
‘Right. How do we get this car seat out then?’
She tries one of the buttons, but nothing happens. There’s another on the other side, but however much pushing and wiggling she tries, the seat doesn’t shift. Grabbing the handle on the top does nothing either. Rosie looks up at her with wide, questioning eyes.
‘It’s OK, sweetie. I just need to figure this out …’
But the harder she tries, the more determinedly the car seat remains fixed in the back. Her skin begins to prickle. Could she simply carry Rosie in her arms around the store? But then how would she push the trolley?
‘I suppose I could leave you in the car for a minute, I won’t be long …’ But as soon as she thinks it, she shakes herself. ‘No, of course not.’
It’s only the start of her first day alone with her daughter and already Kate wishes Jay was here. Why can’t she justdothese things?
‘Come on, you bastard!’ she shouts, giving the seat another vigorous wiggle.
A passing shopper turns in her direction with a frown, glancing from Kate to Rosie and back again.
‘I didn’t mean …’ she begins, but the woman shakes her head and continues pushing her trolley at a brisk pace.
Finally, a specific push of the button and a wiggle of the handle manages to get the car seat free. ‘Right! Let’s go get the things we need.’
There are only a few items on Kate’s shopping list, but it takes longer than she had expected, because every few minutes, she is stopped by someone wanting to peer and coo into the trolley and ask Kate for a name (the baby’s, not hers, of course). They are usually older and always smiling, the good intentions audible in the softness of their voices.
They grow up so fast. Just you wait until they’re walking/talking/a teenager… And the most common of them all, the phrase that is the mantra of well-meaning strangers to new mothers everywhere:cherish every moment. It’s a message that was also written in so many of the cards that she was sent when Rosie was born. The kindest of words that still manage to stab her right in the heart.
As each new person stops her, Kate smiles and grits her teeth, nodding politely.
By the time she has selected nappies, a few ready meals and an emergency stash of chocolate, she is exhausted. Rosie is clearly tired from the attention too as she has fallen asleep, her eyelids flickering gently. Kate stands in the bread aisle in front of the wall of plastic-packaged loaves, overwhelmed by the selection. When did buying bread become so difficult?
One of the things she grew to love the most about London was the endless choice, all the foods she could eat and places she could go, but right now she doesn’t want to have to decidebetween white and wholemeal or half-and-half, regular or thick-sliced. She just wants someone to tell her what to buy. And perhaps how on earth to be a good mother, too.
‘Oh, she’s lovely,’ comes a voice at her side and Kate braces herself as she looks up to see a woman a little older than her peering at Rosie with a faint smile on her face.
‘Thanks.’ She just has to pick a loaf and then she can get out of here.
‘How old is she?’
‘Three months.’ Kate doesn’t mean to be short, but she really needs to get home. She never thought that a quick food shop could feel so overwhelming.
‘Oh wow, so very new still then,’ replies the woman with a smile. ‘My own daughter is nearly ten. I can’t believe how quickly it’s gone.’
Kate nods silently, bracing herself for the woman to tell her that she must – she absolutely must – savour every single second of it. It doesn’t matter that she hasn’t slept for more than a two-hour stretch in three months or that many of the seconds she should be savouring are spent changing nappies or listening to her baby screaming and having no idea what to do about it. None of that matters. If she is not enjoying it,cherishingit, then she is doing it all wrong.
But, to her surprise, the woman doesn’t say any of that. Instead, she tilts her head slightly. ‘Of course, it doesn’t feel quick at the time, does it? The days can feel absolutely bloody endless.’
‘I …’ Kate is so startled that it takes her a moment to think of what to say. She glances at the woman more closely this time.Her expression is sympathetic and thoughtful and makes her feel she can open up a little. ‘They can sometimes,’ she admits.
‘God, I remember that early bit so well. It’s so, so hard, but everyone tells you how much you should be enjoying it, don’t they? But what are you actually supposed to enjoy? Having a newborn is like having a tiny dictator ruling your life – a cute one, sure, but still. It’s absolutely relentless. You’re amazing to be out and about, I don’t think I left the house for months. And when I did, I was definitely still in my pyjamas.’
‘I mean, I wouldn’t exactly call this a chic outfit,’ Kate replies, gesturing at her tracksuit bottoms and top with its pale sick stain on one shoulder. The woman laughs slightly, but in a way that doesn’t make Kate feel as though she’s in any way a joke.
