One
Amy Wright is lying in bed, staring at herself in the mirror on the wall and counting her chins. Her long dark hair is curled up on top of her head like the chocolate doughnut she ate in secret yesterday and, if she squints, she could be a sumo wrestler. But Amy isn’t going to let a Fat Day spoil her mood. Not today. Instead, she blinks her blue eyes and takes a mental snapshot of the best day of her life.
What Amy doesn’t realise is that the best day of her life will turn out to be the worst.
She takes her phone from the bedside table and opens Instagram to see who’s got engaged, married or pregnant in the last eight hours. She breathes a small sigh of relief when there are no diamond rings or baby emojis in sight. She’s been followed by some random called @shrinkitquick, and Jane’s posted another close-up of the twins. This morning they’re smeared in a rank blend of banana and carrot, and she’s commented about missing lie-ins. It says ‘poor me’, but it means ‘praise me’.
Amy resists the urge to post a vomit emoji with #pleasespareus. She wonders what would happen to her social life if she was honest online. She’d be cast aside as a kid-hater, which would be unfair given she quite likes them. Some of them. What she doesn’t love is being force-subscribed to a daily update of dribble, snot and tears. When she has kids, she’ll limit her posts to real milestones, not mindless observations like Henry did a poo! #growingupsofast, which is what Jane posted yesterday. For one grim second, Amy had thought she was seeing the evidence, but when the photo loaded it was just the prodigal son grinning with a bowl of chocolate ice cream. She flushes when she thinks about her Don’t eat it! comment. The other mothers were full of congratulations, and Jane had liked everyone’s comments but hers.
‘Do you lose your sense of humour when you have kids?’ Amy had mumbled rhetorically to Jamie, as he was chopping kale for his morning juice.
‘Along with your figure,’ he replied instantly, which made Amy hate him for a few minutes and then worry about him for a few hours. Jamie always jokes about not wanting kids. But why would he be with her if he didn’t? It’s just his sense of humour. And if she doesn’t laugh, he’ll accuse her of being ‘so serious these days’.
Amy sighs at the banana smear post, double-taps and comments #suchcuties and #lovethem, as is the done thing. She doesn’t want Jane to think she doesn’t like the twins. She does like them. From a distance, where they can’t stare at her, scream so loudly that adult conversation is impossible or squirm when she tries to hug them.
#SOprecious.
Scrolling down her feed, she comes across a company trying to flog her a Neck Flab Fighter. She tuts at it, then saves it for later. One day she’ll buy it, along with that weight loss thermal suit and the appetite-killer tongue patch.
Next up is Lottie Forrester, aka @lottietheexplorer, who’s posted a selfie at a gong bath in Seminyak. Perma-tanned and all-round-perfect human specimen, Lottie started a travel blog after quitting PR two years ago. Her account has reached 280,000 followers and she posts daily from paradise with her #lottieexplores hashtag. It’s more interesting than Jane’s banana update, but it’s just as nauseating.
Amy tosses her phone to the bottom of the bed.
Why should she feel jealous? Tonight she’ll be living the dream, sipping champagne in business class, jetting off to her own paradise with Jamie, and posting #jamy (he hates that) to all 260 of her adoring followers.
It’s been two years since Amy and Jamie matched on Soulmeets, and she has a sneaky feeling he might pop the question on this trip. Sure, they don’t even live together yet, but he’s been acting strangely around her recently. Quiet and nervous. Which isn’t normal for someone who’s so confident that when he first met her parents at her dad’s retirement party, he gave an impromptu speech. He’d known them for an hour. His uneasy behaviour is a sign that something’s on his mind. That he’s preparing for something big, which could mean one of two things. He’s going to dump her – or ask her to marry him. But he gave her a key to his flat a few months ago, and dumping her on holiday would be way too awkward. It has to be the second thing.
Rolling over, she buries her face in the pillow, hides a smile and stifles a long squeal. It pierces the silence and the sleeping beauty next to her stirs.
‘Turn your bloody alarm off.’
Amy shuffles towards Jamie’s ridiculously broad back. It looks like a cardboard cut-out and it makes her feel tiny, which is exactly what you want on a Fat Day. Photoshop-smooth, Instagram-filter tanned and cage-fighter firm. She stares at her fingers as she strokes her freshly gelled nude nails against his olive skin and imagines the diamond he’s chosen. Flash Harry here will want it to make a statement. And while massive diamonds are more Jamie’s style, she doesn’t care about the ring.
What she cares about is that their relationship is making progress, at long last. She can finally prove to Jane and the other mothers that she isn’t getting left behind. By this time next year, she’ll be a married working supermum just like them. Goodbye espresso martinis in Soho, hello espresso mornings in suburbia.
God, that sounds tedious.
Amy loves this time of the day. When Jamie’s lying right next to her, but she still feels alone. When it’s quiet, and she can let her mind wander. It isn’t the only time she feels alone in her relationship. She also feels alone when he’s cooking, when he goes to bed earlier than her, when he looks at her in that way that suggests she should go back to her place for the night. But at least she doesn’t look alone. With Jamie in her life, she manages to squeeze into their married couples social club. And she’ll get full membership when there’s a ring. The pressure to get married will ease, and then the pressure will be on to have kids. The next stage of the race she didn’t sign up for.
Of course, there is another way. The way she doesn’t like to think about for too long and the one she’s always daydreamed of. The path she was about to take when she met Jamie, who convinced her to stay. It takes her straight to Heathrow with a one-way ticket on the next flight to Bangkok. Jamie would be fine. He has his start-up, his gadgets, his routine. Last month, Amy had teased him for talking to his Alexa more than he talks to her. He’d laughed and asked Alexa what she was wearing.
And last week, when Amy forgot to pack her toothbrush, she finally lost her patience and plucked up the courage to confront him about why they never stay at hers.
‘Piggie, I would stay at yours, but you know how important my morning run is. If I don’t run, my head gets foggy. I’m busting my balls with this start-up. You aren’t being very supportive.’
‘There’s a park at the end of my road. Why can’t you run there?’
‘What, the cemetery?’ he scoffed.
‘It has grass.’
‘Yeah, and like ten homeless people. No thanks. Don’t you like it here?’
‘I do like it here, Jamie.’ She sighed, wondering how she was suddenly the bad guy. ‘It’s just a pain having to pack a bag every time I come …’ She paused, hoping he’d take the hint and offer her a drawer. But he didn’t. What he did do was wrap her in his arms, nibble her ear and ask her to whisper that last word again.
‘Can I borrow your toothbrush?’ she whispered instead.