The No-Kids Club (12 page)

‘Come on, follow me. We can chat on the way.’ He took her arm as they walked towards the door. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t see you sooner,’ he said as they navigated through the maze again. ‘It’s been a crazy morning, what with the last-minute cancellation and
everything
. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you stepping in to fill the gap.’

‘No problem,’ Clare huffed, trying to keep up with him. She’d thought running around hospital corridors had kept her in shape, but that was nothing compared to the pace he was setting—not to mention her challenging footwear.

‘So as I said, you’ll be chatting about the club and how you think it meets a need in today’s society,’ Nicholas said as he led her through a series of swinging doors towards the set. ‘I’ve also managed to get Mary Crowley to join us—just to add a bit of balance to the segment.’

‘Mary Crowley?’ Clare croaked, her mouth going dry. Mary Crowley was Britain’s best-loved expert on all things domestic. A former nanny to the royals, she’d had a popular show embracing traditional family values—featuring everything from
keeping
kids entertained on rainy days to children’s importance to the
economy
—and had been featured as a pundit ever since.

‘Yes, we managed to reach her last minute.’ Nicholas put a hand on her back. ‘Relax, take a deep breath, and forget all about the cameras. You’ll be fantastic, I know it.’

Clare felt her stomach shift again and she swallowed back the rising nerves. Talking about the club was one thing, but engaging in a debate with Mary Crowley live on camera was another! Maybe it’d be good, she told herself. It would give her a chance to combat the image she’d been forced into and explain there were many reasons why women choose not to have kids. Poppy’s sad face filtered into her mind. For some, it wasn’t even a choice.

They pushed through another set of swinging doors, and Clare could see the darkness of the set. Bright lights illuminated a huge, semicircular jade-green sofa, with three hulking cameras pointed at the two presenters who were confidently bantering and smiling.

‘And we’re out!’ A man with a headset motioned to the presenters. ‘Back in three minutes.’

‘Break for adverts,’ Nicholas said in Clare’s ear as they watched from the side. He turned towards her. ‘Ready? I’ll take you over to meet Dennis and Debs and we’ll get you settled on the sofa.’

Clare took in another breath. ‘Ready.’

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

C
lare pasted on what she hoped resembled a confident smile as she followed Nicholas over several thick cables and onto the raised platform of the set.

‘Dennis and Debs, this is Clare Donoghue,’ Nicholas said when they reached the sofa.

Dennis grinned, showing off his trademark crooked teeth. ‘Nice to meet you, Clare. Thanks for coming.’ He took her hand in his meaty one, and she prayed he wouldn’t remark on the clamminess of her palm. Nerves were swimming through her stomach with the ferocity of a killer whale, and already she could feel damp patches forming under her arms. God, those lights were strong.

‘Yes, thank you for making it at the last minute.’ Debs smiled with all the warmth of a snake. ‘So you’re against children, then?’ She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.

‘Well, I’m not really against—’

‘Don’t mind her,’ Dennis broke in. ‘Debs just hasn’t had her vodka breakfast yet. Ah, here she is!’

Clare turned to see Nicholas coming back in with Mary
Crowley
at his side. Clare’s heart dropped as she took in the older woman’s neat blonde bob and periwinkle suit. Grimacing, she tried in vain to adjust the neckline of her blouse. Next to Mary, she’d look like the Whore of Corporate Babylon.

‘Hello, Dennis, Debs.’ Mary smiled warmly at the two
presenters
. ‘How are little Dolly and Lucas doing?’ she asked
Dennis
. ‘It’s been way too long since I’ve seen them.’

Clare gulped. Oh, God. Mary knew Dennis’s kids? This was going from bad to worse.

Dennis grinned. ‘Not so little anymore. Dolly is twelve and Lucas just finished his GCSEs.’

Mary shook her head incredulously. ‘My, my. How time flies. It must be wonderful watching them grow into the fine young adults I’m sure they are. Children are such a blessing.’

Even though the comment wasn’t directed at Clare, she couldn’t help stiffening at Mary’s words. She was going
down
—Mary was everything people loved about mothers: warm, kind, and
nurturing
. Maybe Debs would back her up? She hadn’t seemed supportive
initially
, but the woman was more apt to have pet tiger cubs than children.

But her hope deflated with Mary’s next few words.

‘And you, Debs? How’s your little princess? It was such a privilege to be her maternity nurse for her first months in this world.’

Debs’s face shone with a warmth Clare hadn’t seen until now. ‘Isla’s fantastic, thank you. You’ll have to come by and see her soon.’

‘Back in thirty seconds! Please take your places, everyone.’ The floor manager cut in before Clare had the chance to introduce herself to the older woman, and the two of them took a seat on the curved sofa directly across from the presenters. Mary nodded at her briefly as she crossed her legs, and before Clare knew it, the floor manager was counting them in. She wiped the beads of sweat from under her nose, feeling her cheeks flush from the heat of the lights. What on earth had she got herself into?

‘Hello again.’ Dennis shot a toothy grin at the camera and put an arm on the back on the sofa. ‘Well, nowadays, more and more young people seem to be making the decision not to have children. Are we witnessing the decline of the family unit and society’s traditional values, or quite simply a rise in the importance of the individual?’

‘Sounds philosophical for so early in the morning,’ Debs interjected, smiling.

‘That’s not something I’ve ever been accused of.’ Dennis laughed heartily as he leaned forward. ‘Let’s cut the mumbo jumbo and get right to our guests. With us today, we have Mary Crowley, a former nanny, a mother herself, and an expert on families. And alongside her, Clare Donoghue, the founder of a new organisation to celebrate child-free living, the No-Kids Club. Welcome, ladies.’

Clare managed a nod, a trickle of sweat sliding down her spine. Beside her, Mary looked cool and collected, as if she’d done this a million times before. She probably had.

‘So, Clare, we’ll start with you. Tell us, what is there to celebrate about a life without kids?’ All three heads swivelled to stare intensely at Clare.

She paused, wondering how to answer in a way that wouldn’t antagonise this trio clearly in favour of children. ‘Well’—her voice came out quavery and uncertain, and she cleared her throat—‘it’s not so much to celebrate that way of living, but to provide a social network for people who don’t have kids.’ There. That was innocuous enough, surely.

‘And you yourself have decided not to have children?’ Debs’s eyes lasered onto Clare, and Clare shifted on the sofa.

‘Er, yes, that’s right. I’m child-free.’ And please God, may she not have to deal with any unexpected turn of events to stay that way. ‘But back to the club, we’re—’

‘Mary, you’ve been working in the childcare field for many years,’ Dennis interrupted, turning to the older woman. ‘What do you think about this new dynamic: young women who are choosing not to have children?’

Mary smiled playfully. ‘I haven’t been working in the field for that long, Dennis. You’ve made me sound ancient!’

Dennis touched her arm with a murmured apology, and Clare almost rolled her eyes. Were they actually flirting?

‘But anyway, I’d like to point out this isn’t a new dynamic. There has always been a certain segment of women who decide to focus on themselves and not fulfil their given role as mothers.’

Clare blinked. Wow
, fulfil their given role as mothers
? What were they, back in the eighteen-hundreds?

‘And why do you think that is?’ Debs asked. ‘Speaking as a mother myself, I can’t imagine a greater joy nor a more satisfying job than raising my daughter.’

Yeah, right, Clare wanted to interrupt. That’s exactly why you hired a maternity nurse to take the load off. And hadn’t she heard something about Debs going back to work after only two weeks?

Mary shook her head. ‘Well, I suspect these women are too embroiled in their present lives to consider making a change for children. And I can tell you that the women I’ve spoken to—those who make a conscious choice not to have kids—always regret the decision when they’re older. Of course, by that time, it’s too late to experience the joys of motherhood.’

Clare couldn’t hold back any longer. ‘I’m sorry,’ she cut in, ‘but I don’t think having a child on the off chance you might regret it when you’re older is a good reason. And by the way, the club is open to both women
and
men who don’t have children, all for a variety of reasons.’ Hopefully that would send the conversation in a different direction than the same old ‘selfish woman who doesn’t want kids’ refrain.

Mary turned to her. ‘Yes, of course, everyone has their own reason not to have children.’ She tilted her head. ‘You say you choose not to. Why?’

Clare fidgeted on the sofa. Was it just her, or were those lights becoming brighter? ‘Um, well . . . ’ Her mind flipped through what to say without getting too personal. ‘It’s not in my life plan,’ she responded finally, giving the pat answer as usual.

‘And why is that?’ Debs asked as all three leaned in towards her.

Clare met their gaze, her brain whirling with responses. She could say her career—that had always been her default response if people probed more—but she didn’t want to play into the stereotype they’d created. And anyway, when it came right down to it, she wasn’t even sure it
was
work. In today’s career-driven society, pregnancy did put women in a very precarious position, like Ellie was unfortunately experiencing. Babies could impact career prospects, no one would argue with that. But there were ways around that—like Debs and her maternity nurse—and Clare knew that if she wanted a baby badly enough, she’d find a way to make it work.

So what was the reason? Now that she really thought about it, Clare couldn’t remember actually making the decision not to have kids. It just wasn’t her thing; never had been, and that was that. And anyway, why did she need to justify her choice to the nation?

‘Just because you
can
get pregnant doesn’t mean you should have a child,’ she said finally, steering the conversation away from her own decision. Clare thought of her mother and how she’d abandoned the family to pursue a separate life. No one could argue that every woman was fit to be a mother, that was for sure.

‘That’s true,’ Mary said. ‘And I’ve seen some shocking examples of bad parenting in my time. But mothering is a learned skill.
Society
today would have us believe if women don’t feel the
maternal
instinct or urge, they shouldn’t have children. Bonding comes from care, from the hours and days spent with your newborn.’

‘And that’s great for people who want to,’ Clare countered. ‘But not wanting to—or not being able to—doesn’t automatically make you a bad person.’

Mary raised an eyebrow. ‘I never said anything about being a bad person, my dear.’

Clare’s cheeks flushed as she realised the older woman had scored a point against her. But before she could respond, Dennis grinned broadly into the camera.

‘Ladies, as much as I’d love to continue this debate—clearly an emotional issue—we’re running out of time.’ He turned to face Clare. ‘Before we go, can you quickly tell us about the club in case any of our listeners would like to join?’

‘Of course,’ she said, forcing her voice to remain steady and calm. ‘We meet every Wednesday night at seven at All Bar One, just off Oxford Circus. Once our numbers are big enough, we’ll move to a more permanent venue. If you’d like to get in touch, search for the No-Kids Club on Facebook and you’ll find our page.’

‘Sounds great,’ Debs said, although her tone suggested the opposite. ‘Thank you for joining us, ladies.’ She smiled into the camera. ‘As always, please feel free to text or email any comments to us. We’ll be back after this short break.’

‘And we’re out!’ the floor manager called.

‘Well done, well done,’ Dennis said, shaking Clare’s hand then leaning over to pat Mary’s dimpled knee. ‘I’m sorry we didn’t have more time. Normally we’d give this kind of topic a few more
minutes
, but since we were filling a shorter segment I’m afraid that’s all we could squeeze in.’

‘Don’t you worry for a second,’ Mary said. ‘You know I’m always happy to come along and see you and Debs.’ The way the two of them were beaming up at the older woman, Clare almost expected to see her pat them on the head and throw them a
biscuit
.

‘Fantastic job, ladies, just excellent!’ A smiling Nicholas swooped down on them, and Clare shook her head. It might have made great television, but she hadn’t done much to advance the cause of child-free living. ‘And you should see the Twitter feed!’ he said, touching her lightly on the back. ‘You’ve sparked off a very lively debate.’

Clare gritted her teeth. She could only imagine.

‘Let me take you both to the green room.’ He turned to Mary. ‘Thank you for coming.’

‘My pleasure,’ Mary responded as they walked through the dark wings and the maze of corridors once again, then into the welcome calm of the green room. For a second, the space swam in front of Clare’s eyes and her legs felt like they might give way.

‘Are you all right? Here, have a seat.’ Nicholas manoeuvred her towards a nearby sofa and Clare collapsed onto it gratefully. The heat and lights of the set had really taken it out of her.

‘Drink this.’ He put a cup of cold water into her hand, and she shakily brought it to her mouth, sipping the liquid as the room stopped spinning.

‘Thanks,’ she said, dizziness draining away as exhaustion swept through her.

‘Rest and take it easy for a few minutes. I’ll finish up here, and then we can head for lunch.’ He turned to face Mary, who was smoothing down her bob in the mirror. ‘You all right to find your way back to reception? Let them know when you’re ready to leave and they’ll get a car to take you home.’

‘Perfect.’ She gave her hair a final pat then smiled at Nicholas. ‘Thank you, my dear.’

Nicholas nodded, then hurried out the door. Silence fell, and Clare shifted uneasily on the sofa.

‘Well.’ Mary sank onto the sofa across from her. ‘I’m knackered. The older I get, the harder these things become.’

Clare nodded, unsure what to say. The woman was sharp as a tack and Clare doubted she felt anywhere near as tired as she’d said.

‘I hope you didn’t find it too tough in there.’

Clare’s head snapped up. ‘What?’ She waved a hand in the air. ‘Oh, don’t worry. I’ve been through much worse than that.’

Mary sipped her tea, then delicately set the cup on the saucer. ‘I just want to say, I know people are quick to judge. And childlessness isn’t a choice for everyone, like you said. It certainly wasn’t for me.’

‘But . . . ’ Clare met the woman’s gaze, noticing for the first time that despite the upbeat demeanour, sadness lurked in her eyes. ‘I thought Dennis said you’re a mother?’

Mary smiled gently. ‘I was. My son died of a rare kidney defect shortly after birth.’

Clare winced. Despite not wanting children herself, she couldn’t even imagine the pain of losing one. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Thank you. It was a very long time ago, of course, but the pain never leaves you.’ Mary paused, patting her lips with a napkin. ‘My husband and I tried very hard to have another, but it wasn’t to be. Maybe that’s why I became a nanny. Although I was a mother, I never had the chance to raise a child. And that’s why I urge young women to seriously consider their decision not to become a mother, too. It’s a gift, if you’re lucky enough to receive it.’

Clare couldn’t help but think of her own situation. Supposing if—on the very very
very
off chance she was pregnant—could she ever consider it a gift? Not bloody likely. She’d very swiftly return the gift to sender, if that was biologically possible. She felt for Mary, she really did—and for Poppy, and for all those women who wanted kids but couldn’t. But that didn’t mean she was anywhere near ready. She didn’t even have a serious boyfriend!

She’d go home, take that silly test, and put these thoughts back on the shelf where they belonged.