Amber tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. It feels thin and greasy, reminding her that she hasn’t washed it for several days and probably won’t have time this morning. Sadly, her old beauty routine for nails, skin and hair – both the wanted and unwanted variety – is a thing of the past.
She hopes George isn’t expecting them to make love tonight. The signs are worrying. He’s booked a luxury suite at a boutique hotel in the middle of nowhere with its own Michelin-starred restaurant. If the website photos are to be believed, their room has an enormous four-poster bed and a deep free-standing bath surrounded by furry white rugs. It’s too flashy for her taste and the bath looks especially provocative, daring guests to splash about together having wild, passionate sex.
Their last attempt at lovemaking was months ago and ended in failure. Amber insisted on turning the lights off and burrowed under the duvet like a shy animal, her confidence completely deserting her. She still can’t bear to look at herself naked, let alone parade in front of George – not with those silvery-white stretch marks on her thighs and the folds of papery flesh around her stomach. She felt so beautiful when she was pregnant, her bump as firm and shiny as a conker, but since giving birth, everything has collapsed. George is being very patient, but as her mother says, men have needs. If she isn’t careful, he’ll leave her for somebody else. There are plenty of attractive girls at the gym where he works who’d be delighted to take him off her hands – staff and clients. Amber loves George and doesn’t want to lose him, but right now it’s the thought of being a single parent that frightens her most. She saw her mother struggle after Dad died when Ruby was a baby. She knows she won’t be able to cope with Mabel on her own.
Yes, she thinks as she wipes down the kitchen surfaces, George will be hopeful of some sex tonight, and in theory, she wants to please him. It’s important at least to try. If she gets drunk, perhaps she’ll feel less inhibited and might even enjoy it. She can drink alcohol now that she’s given up breastfeeding – another failure to add to the list.
‘That bath wore her out,’ says George, entering the kitchen and interrupting the latest round of self-deprecating thoughts. ‘She fell asleep before she was even dry. Made it a lot easier to get her dressed, though.’
Amber grimaces. ‘You shouldn’t have let her sleep; she hasn’t had her morning feed yet. Now she’ll be all out of sync for Ruby.’
‘She’ll catch up.’ He goes over to the window and winds up the blind.
‘Don’t do that, it’s still dark outside.’
‘We can watch the sunrise together,’ he says. ‘It’s coming up over the rooftops.’ She looks at him blankly. ‘Or do you want to go back to bed?’
‘Can’t, can I? Got to get ready for this stupid trip.’ Amber can feel the panic rising. ‘The place is a tip. I need to hoover the stairs, make up the bottles, change the sheets so that Ruby can have our bed, put some more washing on and write out some instructions or she won’t have a clue.’
‘It’s okay, babe, we’ll sort it,’ he soothes. ‘Rubes won’t care if it’s a mess. It’s not like it’s your mum babysitting …’
‘Why did you have to choose such a posh hotel?’ she continues, her voice laced with anxiety. ‘I’ve nothing suitable to wear, nothing that fits anyway. I’m so fat. And don’t say go out and buy something, because there isn’t TIME!’ The last sentence explodes in tears, and she covers her face with her hands.
George sighs heavily. ‘What are you saying? That you don’t want to go?’
‘Of course I want to go,’ she replies from behind her fingers. ‘But I haven’t had a chance to prepare – I’m not ready, not in a fit state …’
‘I don’t care how you look or what you wear.’ He tries to put his arms around her, but she backs off, unable to bear his touch. ‘You can have dinner in your pyjamas for all I care. We’ll order room service.’
‘No, I want to go to the restaurant. We haven’t eaten out in ages.’
‘Great, we’ll do that then.’
‘But I don’t want to let you down. I look so hideous.’
‘You never look hideous. You’re beautiful.’
‘No I’m not. My hair needs cutting and I’m fat!’
‘You’re not fat, and even if you were, it wouldn’t stop me loving you.’ He moves forward again and this time she allows him to hold her lightly. ‘I’ll tidy up and make some notes for Ruby. You concentrate on getting yourself ready.’
‘Okay … thanks. I’m sorry.’
‘You need this weekend. We both do. We’re going to have a wonderful time, I promise.’
‘Yes, yes,’ she murmurs. ‘I do want to go – I’ve been looking forward to it. And Mabel will be all right without us, won’t she? She loves her Auntie Ruby.’
‘Mabel will be absolutely fine,’ he assures her. ‘In any case, it’s only one night away.’
Chapter Three
The weekend before
Ruby wheels her bike off the train and onto the platform. She intended to cycle the whole way but overslept and ran out of time. Lifting it onto her shoulder, she walks slowly down the steps, then swipes through the ticket barrier. It’s downhill all the way to Amber’s house – the ride won’t take more than five minutes.
Fastening the strap of her helmet, she pushes off down the high street, making sure to keep to the cycle lane wherever possible. There’s a lot of traffic about, as always, and she needs to stay alert for jaywalkers. She relaxes her leg muscles as the bike gathers pace. The weather’s cold but the sun is starting to break through the clouds. Luckily, it’s not raining. She’ll take Mabel to the park this afternoon to feed the ducks.
She feels both excited and nervous about looking after Mabel on her own overnight. At least it isn’t for a whole week, as she originally offered, rather rashly. She’s surprised that Amber and George have agreed to go away at all. Until now, she hasn’t been trusted to babysit for more than about half an hour while Amber pops to the shops or has a bath. She tried several times to persuade her to leave Mabel for longer, to meet up with the girls from the antenatal class or have a drink with friends from work, go for a swim or watch a film – anything – but until now she always refused. It’s as if taking a break is a mark of failure, and Amber doesn’t do failure.
Her sister is a high achiever, always has been, ever since she was a little girl – probably since the day she was born. Naturally, Amber assumed she would be as brilliant at motherhood as she was at everything else. All it required was research and preparation. As soon as she became pregnant, she embarked on a programme of self-directed study, reading numerous books and online articles until she was an expert in current parenting theories. But none of them can account for the mighty force of nature that is Mabel Rosebud Walker.
Ruby loves her only niece, admiring her feisty spirit and determination to get her own way. If Mabel isn’t happy, she’ll sure as hell let you know about it. Perhaps she’ll be more contented now she’s being bottle-fed, thinks Ruby as she waits to cross the main road. Poor Amber, she tried so hard, but Mabel was a hungry bunny and Amber couldn’t seem to produce enough milk. Ruby suspects the problem was stress-related. She’s no expert, but it’s clear that her sister is suffering from postnatal depression. Amber, usually the first to google symptoms and pronounce a diagnosis, is in denial. Or rather, she knows full well what the matter is but doesn’t want to do anything about it.