‘Amy! Ben needs something!’ screams Hattie from the bedroom.
‘Uuuggghhh,’ Amy groans into her lap.
‘You OK?’ Gemma asks. ‘Want me to go?’
‘No, it’s fine, I’m just so tired.’ She rubs her red, itchy eyes. ‘Am I the only one here who hates their baby?’
‘Bel’s a right bellend.’ Gemma smiles, pleased with herself. ‘I came up with that earlier. Just think of the money, Ames.’
When Amy gets to Ben, he’s lying in another pile of puke. She’ll be glad to see the back of this smelly little plastic prat when the motherhood challenge is over.
As she walks through the living room with Ben on her hip, a thread on The Wall grabs her attention.
@tonytalks65 Amy needs to man up and grow a pair! #lol #theshelf
‘Ugh, that’s exactly the kind of idiot comment Jason would make,’ says Gemma, lunging. ‘Bet he would have run for the hills if I’d dumped him on here. It takes guts to stay.’
@smashthepat She has a pair already @tonytalks65. They’re called boobs. You’re not funny #sexismisneverfunny #theshelf
@tonytalks65 Oh boy, here we go. Why can’t women laugh at themselves? Go on, give us a smile @smashthepat #feministscanttakejokes #theshelf
@smashthepat We’ll laugh when you say something funny. Warning: it has to be intelligent. Something you might struggle with @tonytalks65 #theshelf
@tonytalks65 What’s wrong, @smashthepat, a bad bout of PMS? Or just Mad Cow Disease? #funny #haha #theshelf
‘Oh shut up, you tosser,’ Gemma mutters.
Twelve
‘There’s a circle of yoga mats in the garden,’ says Hattie, staring out through the glass and sipping on a tea, later that day. The others join her at the garden door with their babies in one hand and their mugs in the other.
‘Yoga makes me fart,’ comments Lauren. ‘My apologies in advance, lads.’
Gemma laughs, giving her a side hug. ‘I fucking love you.’
Doooong.
Jackie jumps back from the window, dropping Alice on the floor.
‘Shit!’ she says, bending over to pick her up and simultaneously spilling hot coffee over her scalp. ‘Shit shit shit!’ she stammers, rubbing the doll’s head with her sleeve. Alice starts crying.
‘Is that the front doorbell?’ asks Kathy.
Doooong.
‘Coming!’ shouts Hattie, making a move towards the door.
‘I can take her, Hatster,’ Jackie says, putting her mug down on the side table and grabbing her baby Sophie’s arm, which promptly pops out of its socket. Hattie shrieks and looks horrified.
‘Oh my God, sorry, little mate.’ Jackie laughs, throwing Alice towards the sofa behind her and ignoring her wail as she flies through the air. ‘I’m rubbish at this, aren’t I? Maternal instincts, my arse.’ She sticks her tongue out as she reattaches the limb the wrong way round and creates a zombie Sophie with a dislocated arm, a near-detached head and a low moan.
Doooong.
‘Hello? Anyone home?’ a muffled voice shouts through the door.
Doooong. Doooong. Doooong.
Hattie reluctantly leaves Zombie Sophie with Jackie and hurries to the front door, while the others gather expectantly in the living room. They hear the front door open, followed by a loud chorus of greetings in a familiar voice.
‘Is that … Hugo Jones?’ whispers Amy.
‘Sounds like him,’ says Gemma, rolling her eyes and throwing herself onto the sofa with Bel on her lap. ‘He’s such a knob,’ she sighs. ‘I met him at an influencer conference last year. He tried to explain to me how I could grow my following by targeting. Like I didn’t know that already. How else did I get to twenty thousand followers? Patronising moron.’
‘Is he the “drop calm” bloke?’ asks Lauren.
Celebrity mindfulness coach Hugo Jones – or HuJo – became famous by sparking #dropcalm, a movement that went viral last year. The idea is to stop whatever you’re doing and, wherever you are, meditate for one minute and then post it on Instagram. HuJo amassed a huge fanbase, with people everywhere sitting cross-legged in newsagents, on train platforms and – most irritatingly – in tube carriages at peak rush hour. One woman even made the headlines by drop-calming at a funeral, with her family weeping in the background. He’s since scored a weekly meditation show on morning TV and a daily Metro column. And when he isn’t posing shirtless on his rooftop terrace overlooking Primrose Hill, he’s being papped with pop stars on beaches in LA.
Amy’s too embarrassed to admit she follows him, even though she only does it passively. Not now, HuJo, she thinks, every time she scrolls past a post asking her to ‘find a meditation minute’.
Hattie runs back to the living room, puffing.
‘It’s … it’s …’ She bends over and rests her hands on her knees, breathing hard.
HuJo glides into the living room behind her with a yoga mat under his arm.
‘HuJo!’ he finishes her sentence. ‘Namaste, ladies.’ He softens his voice. ‘How are we all this afternoon? Feeling blessed?’ He holds his palms together and takes a bow, his topknot bouncing forward and hitting him on the forehead. It reminds Amy of a ball sack.
He’s greeted by a mixture of unenthusiastic hellos.
‘Oh dear, girls, are we not feeling grateful for today?’ He looks around. ‘What are all these frowns?’
‘I am,’ says Hattie, smiling. She’s standing next to him and looking star-struck.
‘That’s the spirit, Hattie. Now, everyone, follow me. I’m here to make happy happen!’
A second later, all the babies fall silent and switch off at once.
‘God, you are fookin’ creepy,’ says Lauren, putting Seb into his cot.
The housemates take their seats on the yoga mats outside and HuJo removes his shirt. Being naked from the waist up for a mindfulness session seems unnecessary.
‘First of all, ladies’ – HuJo arches his back, stretches his arms and flexes his six-pack – ‘thank you for being here with me today.’ He shuts his eyes and inhales through his nose.
‘Do we have a choice?’ mutters Gemma.
HuJo opens his eyes.
‘Choices are exactly why I’m here. Do you want to know one of life’s biggest truths? We can’t always choose what happens to us, but we can always choose how we react. Today I’m going to teach you, girls, how to stop overreacting. I call it Keep Calm.’
He looks around at the group, expecting a response. He’s disappointed.
‘Now, when I say keep calm, what do you think I mean?’ he continues.
‘Ooh, I know! Keep Calm and Carry On!’ shouts Hattie, excitedly. ‘My mum got me the mug for Christmas!’
‘My mug says: Stay Angry and Smash Balls,’ replies Lauren.
He ignores the sniggers.
‘I’m jokin’. It’s actually a flag above my bed.’
Still nothing.
‘What I mean by calm is C-A-L-M,’ he spells out the letters. ‘C is for Consider your reaction. A is for Answer with a smile. L is for Let it go. And M is for Make it better. Being C-A-L-M is the key to responding with the right level of emotion in every situation. Especially in relationships. It’s about disciplining your minds, ladies, regulating your moods and controlling your natural urges to lose your rag.’