Me and My Sisters (22 page)

One woman disagreed. JayneyB wrote:
Seriously, ladies, get a grip. Do you think your husbands go to the pub with their mates and sit around talking about how they wish they could fall in love with their wives again? That they want to hold hands and kiss? No, they don’t. They’re talking about sport and cars. We should be out drinking wine and having fun, not sitting around moaning about lost romance. It’s pathetic.

Needless to say, there was a big reaction to that too.

I started a new posting:

Threescompany:

Hi, Mums,

I was delighted to see the response to my last message. There were some lively debates, which is always healthy!

I’ve just been on the phone to my sister. She lives in London. She’s forty-one, had a baby three weeks ago and is going back to work tomorrow. Can you believe it? I think she’s mad, she thinks I’m mad. My life to her is hell, her life to me is hell. She works twelve-hour days in an incredibly stressful job. She said if she didn’t go back to work after three weeks, they would presume she’d lost her edge. She’d be considered a lost cause, a mother, a woman no longer married to her job, distracted, unreliable, unfocused, unworthy of being a partner in the law firm.

So, after three weeks, she’s going back. She thinks it’s going to be fine. She thinks the baby will just slot into her life. But anyone who’s had a child, no matter how sweet and angelic they are, knows that babies march to their own drum. You might get them into a routine, but one ear infection, one cold, one night of teething and it’s back to square one.

I’m worried about her and the baby. I’m worried that she won’t have time to bond with the baby and the baby won’t know who her mother is. The child is going to a crèche, starting tomorrow – she’s only three weeks old! It’s a super-posh one with loads of maternity nurses and all that, but can you imagine putting a newborn into a crèche for ten hours a day? It just seems cruel. I suggested she should get a childminder into the apartment, but she shot me down. The crèche is open all year round – it only closes on Christmas Day and Easter Monday. My sister always works during the holidays, so I guess it’ll suit her to be flexible. Did I mention the dad isn’t involved? She got pregnant on a one-night stand. So she’s on her own, which is so tough. Although if anyone can do it on her own, it’s my sister. She’s so capable.

And now for a little moan. Both of my sisters were back in their jeans three weeks after giving birth. It makes me sick. How come I didn’t get those genes (pun intended)? They are so disciplined and focused. Then again, they do only have one child each. I often wonder if the triplets had been just one baby would my life be completely different? Would I have got my figure back and enjoyed the early days? I honestly can’t remember anything about the first year but the searing pain behind my eyes caused by exhaustion. I wonder if I would have enjoyed the happy-clappy playgroups with one baby, instead of dreading them because my three kids were the noisiest and the most boisterous, and all the other mums avoided me like the plague. I stopped going after a while because I knew that the boys and I weren’t welcome. Even the playgroup leader used to roll her eyes when I staggered in, three babies in tow.

I’m always beating myself up for not being as together as my sisters but, actually, I’d like to see how they would have coped with triplets. I’d like to see how slim and toned and well dressed they would be after giving birth to three feisty little boys, who were always hungry and rarely slept. Maybe I should give myself a break – maybe I didn’t do so badly. I can say this now because the really hard drudge is almost over. The triplets will be going to proper school next year from 9 a.m. until 1.30 p.m. with the option of after-school care. I am determined to start getting my life back then. I swore I’d drop two dress sizes before my fortieth. I wanted to look well in Paris, but when the trip was cancelled I ate because I was depressed. Now I’ve probably gone up a size. I know I need to be more disciplined. I know I need to stop making excuses and just get fit, but it’s hard. Isn’t it? Don’t you think? Or is it just me? Am I just lazy and pathetic?

I don’t know why my husband even wants to have sex with me. I’m all flabby in the wrong places. But he still seems very keen. If I look at him sideways, he jumps on top of me. Maybe if I was thinner and fitter I’d feel sexier and be more up for it too. Maybe if I had more sex I’d be thinner and fitter. I don’t know. Maybe I just need to stop pontificating and get off my arse and do something about it. If my sisters can do it, why can’t I?

I also have one brother – an afterthought. He’s sixteen years younger than me and is currently living in a tent near Heathrow, with a girl who looks like Angelina Jolie. He has no responsibilities, no dependants, no bills (well, he has Visa bills, which my mother pays for him), no mortgage, no car, no baggage. He just packed a small knapsack and took off to London. I envy him his freedom. He can go anywhere and do anything. He is not permanently stalked by four children. He can shower and go to the loo in peace. On the other hand, he doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing with his life. He’s currently going through an eco-warrior phase, which I know won’t last.

He’s at that stage where he’s just left college and still has no idea what to do. I was the same. I drifted to London and ended up in recruitment because I was offered a job and it seemed easy. I think if I could turn the clock back, I’d focus more on finding a career I really enjoyed. Something I could pick up again after the boys are in school. I’d hate to see my little brother drift through life. It’s harder for men because they are traditionally the bread-winners, hunter-gatherers, protectors. I see it with my husband – he feels so guilty every time he gets a pay cut. Even though it’s not his fault, he feels responsible. He feels he’s let the family down. But he hasn’t and I don’t feel that way at all about it. But if I’m being totally honest, sometimes I do fantasize about being married to a millionaire …

Anyway, I hope my brother figures out what he wants to do with his life while he’s in the tent – in between shagging the stunning girl and trying to save the planet! It’s important that he likes his career: he’ll be working in it for forty years. I look at my older sister and I see how much she loves her job and what satisfaction and fulfilment it brings to her life. I want that for my little brother too.

I thought being a mother would bring me that – and sometimes I do feel fulfilled and content, but if I’m being totally honest, a lot of the time I don’t …

20

Louise

It felt great to be back in work. I had set my alarm for six, gone for a short run before the night nurse left, then taken my time getting ready. I wanted to look good. I wanted to look unchanged. I wanted to look in charge. I put on a new black Jaeger trouser suit and high heels.

Walking into the office I felt a huge surge of adrenalin. I could see everyone checking me out. The women were looking at my stomach to see if I’d lost the baby weight and the men were impressed that I was back so soon.

My secretary, Jasmine, jumped up and hugged me. It was awkward: we’d never hugged before, it wasn’t that kind of a relationship – she was my secretary, not my friend. I just patted her shoulder and stepped back.

‘How are you? How is little Clara? Can I see a picture?’ she enthused.

‘I’m fine, she’s fine, and I don’t have any photos.’

She stared at me, open-mouthed. ‘Didn’t you take any at all?’

‘Um, no, I just forgot. I think my mother took a few but …’ I trailed off. Jasmine was looking at me as if I was a freak. I’d never thought about photos: I’d been too busy trying to look after Clara and get myself ready for work. I’d take some at the weekend.

‘Well, congratulations,’ she said, and handed me a present.

‘Oh, God, you shouldn’t have.’ I felt rotten. I’d never bought any presents for her kids. I always gave her a very generous voucher for Selfridges at Christmas, but that was it.

‘It’ll come in useful. My babies loved being in it.’ Jasmine pointed at the present.

She was clearly waiting for me to open it, so I did. It was a – ?

‘It’s a sling,’ she said, coming over to show me how to put it on. ‘If Clara gets fussy and you want to calm her down but still need to do things, you put her in the sling and you still have two free arms. It’s great for doing things around the house or going shopping or going on the tube, all those kinds of things.’

‘Very useful. Thanks, Jasmine, it was really thoughtful of you.’

‘No problem. It must have been hard leaving her today,’ she said, her voice full of sympathy.

‘Oh, yes – yes, it was,’ I lied. I hadn’t found it hard at all. The difficult part was trying to get out of the house without forgetting something – soothers, change of clothes, bibs … I’d been determined to get to the office for seven fifteen. The crèche opened at seven, and I was standing outside at five to. I had literally handed her to the nurse with a list of instructions about adhering strictly to her routine and then I had rushed into work.

Just as I was trying to get the baby-sling off, Alex arrived. He looked at it and frowned. ‘Welcome back. How is the little fellow?’

‘Fine, thanks,’ I said, not bothering to correct him. Alex wouldn’t care if I’d had sextuplets: he just wanted to know that I could function. I showed him into my office, ripped the sling off and threw the stupid thing under my desk.

‘Where are we with the Gordon Hanks acquisition?’ he enquired.

Gordon Hanks was an American client, who also just happened to be married to Alex’s sister. Alex had his brother-in-law on a bit of a pedestal. I could see why – Gordon was a charismatic man. He was also a hugely successful entrepreneur, a multi-millionaire and a philanthropist. He was a personal friend of Bill Clinton. He played golf with Jack Nicklaus, tennis with Jimmy Connors and had dined at the White House with three different presidents.

I turned to face my boss. ‘I spoke to Gordon yesterday and he seems very keen to forge ahead with the purchase of Lifechange TV. He wants us to negotiate on his behalf.’

Alex looked relieved. ‘Excellent. You know how important it is to me that we do a good job on this. That’s why I chose you to be in charge. It’s good to have you back, Louise. I was worried you’d come in sleep deprived and longing to be at home with the baby. I can see I was wrong. Let’s do lunch and discuss the finer details of the purchase. I’ve got meetings all morning so I’ll meet you in Goff’s at one.’

‘Perfect. See you then.’

As Alex left, Dominic slunk in. ‘Hell of a round on Saturday, Alex,’ he smarmed.

‘Ah, yes, I was on form.’ Alex beamed.

‘You were on fire – three birdies in a row on the back nine is very rare.’

God, Dominic was sickening. Could he crawl any further up Alex’s arse?

‘It was a very enjoyable day. Your father was excellent company, as always,’ Alex said.

‘He said the same thing about you. We must have a rematch soon.’

‘Absolutely, excellent idea. I might ask Zachary to join us.’

Bloody hell! Alex had just offered to get Zachary Gray, CEO of the firm, to play golf with Dominic. Damn, damn, damn! Why hadn’t I taken up golf in college? It was the one area I fell down on. I couldn’t play, and every time I had tried to get lessons and practice, work had got in the way.

‘That would be wonderful,’ Dominic purred. ‘I know my father and Zachary would get on famously. They have a passion for classic cars in common.’

‘Ah, yes, of course. Well, let’s set it up in the next week or so.’

‘I look forward to it,’ Dominic said, smirking at me.

‘I’ll see you for lunch at one, Alex,’ I reminded him, determined to show Dominic that he wasn’t the only one spending time with our boss.

Alex waved over his shoulder and hurried off to his meeting.

Dominic looked me up and down, his green eyes boring into me. ‘Well well well, look who’s back,’ he said, and plonked himself down in one of the club chairs in my office. ‘So it’s true, you are Superwoman. I’m impressed. Three weeks and here you are.’

‘Are you disappointed that I didn’t decide to stay at home singing nursery rhymes and pumping breast milk? I know you’ve had your eye on my office, but I’m afraid you’re just going to have to wait.’

‘
Au contraire
, Louise, I’m glad to see you back. We lose far too many good women to motherhood. It would have been a travesty to see you go. I just hope you can sustain the pace. Babies can be very demanding.’

‘Don’t worry your pretty little head, Dominic. I’ll manage just fine.’

‘So how is little Tara?’

‘Clara is thriving, thanks for asking.’

‘Who’s looking after her?’

‘She’s in a crèche.’ I didn’t like talking to him about my daughter. I hated discussing anything personal in work.

‘Crèche? Isn’t she only a few weeks old?’

‘Yes. Now, tell me how the meeting went yesterday with Gordon Hanks.’

‘I emailed you the details last night. You must have been too busy changing nappies to read them.’

I’d never wanted to thump someone so badly. He must have sent it after eleven, because I had checked my emails just before I’d fallen asleep. ‘Well, I’ll have a look at them now. I hope you’ve kept the notes clear and concise. Gordon is a very important client and a valued one. I don’t want any slip-ups.’

‘I’m aware of that. I just hope you can find the time to read my notes. If it all gets too much, don’t hesitate to ask for help. I’m always available to oblige a colleague in need.’

‘That’s very reassuring to know. I could use some help right now, actually. I need a coffee, black, no sugar. Thanks, Dominic.’

He glared at me and flounced out. I sank into my chair. I needed to watch my back: he was ruthlessly ambitious. Still, I’d met his type before and had dealt with them the only way I knew how – I’d worked twice as hard, was more prepared, more thorough, more professional, more conscientious and more skilful. In this world of male domination, we women had to be even better than our male counterparts to get the respect we deserved.

There was a knock. ‘Just leave it with Jasmine,’ I shouted.

Someone peered round the door. It wasn’t Dominic, it was Meredith Baker. She was wearing a grey trouser suit with killer heels. Her hair and makeup were perfect. ‘Is this a bad time?’ she asked.

‘No, not at all, I’m delighted to see you. Sorry, I thought you were someone else – a weasel.’

‘There’s a lot of them around.’ She grinned. ‘How are you doing?’

‘Good, thanks. I’m relieved to be at work again. I was worried I might have squatters in my office.’

‘Believe me, there was a lot of talk about who was going to get your job if you couldn’t cope with the baby. I heard some chubby guy with marbles in his mouth – Dominic something or other – spouting on in the canteen about how he was going to get your job because no woman could juggle the hours you have to put in as a senior partner with a baby.’

‘The little shit.’

‘Don’t worry. I dealt with him.’

‘Fantastic. What did you say?’

‘I tapped him on the shoulder and introduced myself. “I’m Meredith Baker, senior partner and mother to a nine-month-old.”’

‘How did he react?’ I was loving this.

‘He came over all sickly sweet. He said of course he knew who I was. I was a legend in the office. He had meant no disrespect, but I was the exception rather than the rule.’

‘Arsehole,’ I muttered.

‘My sentiments exactly. I told him he’d better get used to having mothers around him, because women were managing to juggle high-powered careers with having children. I said that men needed to raise the bar. We mothers were coming after their jobs.’

We roared laughing.

‘I’d say that shut him up,’ I said.

‘Temporarily, but I’d watch him. He’s a snake.’

‘God, don’t I know it.’

‘Anyway, it’s good to see you back and looking fantastic. How’s the baby sleeping?’

‘So far, she’s great. I have a night nurse for another few weeks, so she’ll be in a routine by then.’

‘Well, good luck, and don’t let that Dominic creep get to you.’

‘Thanks, I won’t.’

I spent the rest of the morning going through memos and emails. I had kept on top of the urgent ones at home, but now I wanted to deal with all of my correspondence and clear my desk and in-box. It felt wonderful to be back in my role as a lawyer. This was me; this was who I was; this was my identity. I was an expert in my field; I was in my comfort zone. I was in control, in charge, in the driving seat. At home with Clara I was still learning and making mistakes. I didn’t like it. I wasn’t used to being at sea: it was a new experience and not one that I was enjoying much. I still felt no great love for my baby. I liked her, she was sweet, but she didn’t feel like part of me. I didn’t feel like a mother. She didn’t feel like a daughter. I felt protective and responsible for her well-being, but not particularly attached. She was just a baby.

I turned back to my computer. I didn’t have time for navel-gazing: I was too busy. Besides, I was sure Clara would grow on me as she became more interesting, when she started walking and talking. Right now she was just a blob who drank milk, slept and pooped.