Robert looks apprehensive. But then he shrugs.
‘Sure. At least we save some money on hotels.’
He looks around pointedly. I don’t do four star. Five only. I reach to the side of the bed for my champagne glass.
In truth too, Robert doesn’t care if I leave an earring or a lipstick at his house: he’s so flagrant about his affairs, and Emma still ignores anything she finds. They are back together in name only really.
So I pack my expensive lingerie and I go on holiday to Emma’s house. And when Robert is in the shower on Sunday morning, I go on the laptop where Emma told me she found the video of him and Scarlett, and – she was clear on this part – probably everyone else he’s ever slept with.
Which included his partner. I know that as Emma told me, sickened that she was filed away with ‘everybody else’. Sure, Emma; that’s the problem. Not your husband having sex with other people and filming it, but his filing system.
I hear Robert singing in the shower – something from the old days, Noughties dance music that would send you crazy if you were on edge anyway. Bloody hell, Robert, let it go. I spray a little of Emma’s perfume on my wrist, smell and wince: not good. The kind of thing we used to spritz in Boots on Saturdays together when we were thirteen. Emma, hon, time to move on.
And then I shut everything down. Because I’ve emailed the file I need to myself now.
Dearest Emma, who sat next to me in double history and then twenty years later at NCT classes.
Emma might not be as rich as our friend Scarlett but at least she should give me something to pay off a couple of credit cards, buy me some time, keep me in coffee.
Give me the money, and I promise not to post the video of you and your partner Robert with your naked body that you’re so self-conscious of anyway, exposed to the world. And you’ve just seen how that can topple over a life, Emma. Nobody wants to be the new Scarlett Salloway.
If you enjoyed The Baby Group, you’ll love Through the Wall. Click here to find out more.
Acknowledgements
These acknowledgements come to you from the lockdown of 2020, so don’t be surprised if I get extra sentimental; I’ve not hugged anyone outside of my immediate family for over a month. Book acknowledgements feel like a chance to give a few virtual hugs and a virtual cheers with a definitely not virtual glass of wine, at least.
First, a note to my own ‘mum friends’. All of you are lovely, none of you have tried to ruin my life, all of this is a work of fiction. A special shout-out to my own NCT crew too, especially my good friends George and Anna who are always there with a strong cup of tea, wise words and reassurance that no, it’ll be fine that he’s eaten the Play-Doh. And to Beccy, my partner in crime through the newborn years, ‘mum friends’ don’t come much finer than you, my love.
There are quite a few people to thank for help with research on this book. Yair Cohen at Cohen Davis Solicitors for legal knowledge, Matt Pyke from Fly High Media and Melanie Smith at Run 2 Media for the digital marketing background. My dear friend Charlotte Kewley, AKA The Little Stylist who patiently conducted a blogger/ Instagram 101 lesson to someone who can barely remember to add a hashtag. To all the people that got back to me on Twitter about noughties dance music, you improved my book and my Spotify playlists. Both are appreciated.
Mike, thanks for Manchester knowledge and tip-offs. If I trust anyone to know where the cool spots are, it’s you, so keep eating brunch and drinking wine, just for me, in case I need help again, will you? And to Mike and the rest of my school friends, Vic, Zo, Helen and Suse; the support you gave me when my first book came out was such a special thing and I’m lucky to have had you all in my life since we went to school together about, erm, eight years ago. Yes, that’s the right number. Definitely eight(een. And the rest). The same is true for all of my friends, especially the power crew of women’s magazine alumni, who’ve spent the last year championing my books and whooping in my corner. Thank you.
When I wrote my epic acknowledgements for Through The Wall – that’s allowed for your first book, isn’t it? Don’t worry, I’ll try and keep it shorter for this one – one person I didn’t mention was THAT teacher, you know the one, the one that makes a difference. So just on the off chance you ever see this, the Miss Brophy who taught English at Rainford High School around, erm, 2012 (ok fine, the late nineties) and dragged me away from Point Romance and over to the Brontës, you made a big impact on me and the breadth of my reading and that’s something I have reason to be grateful for from both a personal and a professional perspective. I’m sure I’m not the only one. What a teacher.
To Lucy and Daisy, the support crew of the Diana’s Dames WhatsApp group for a policy that we must always start a conversation mildly hysterical, paranoid and irrational and end it as vaguely reasonable human beings. You know, for writers.
On the publishing side of things, thanks to my editor Phoebe Morgan for her patience, expertise and brilliance. As I’ve mentioned, this book was edited during Covid-19 lockdown when we were all in shock and finding our feet with a whole new way of working, but Phoebe ploughed on regardless and utterly professional to make this a better book, as she
