Coming off the stage after a gruelling three hours of Shell-Belles, Shelly was deflated. It was such tough work and, at twenty-six weeks pregnant, all the hopping in and out of outfits was like cardio. The SHELLY bump control pants made her feel like a zeppelin in a condom. And it wasn’t just the constant changing that left her feeling so sapped. It was the relentless pep she needed to maintain all through the day.
She slumped in the hotel bedroom for a few minutes’ peace while Amy wrapped up details with the hotel management downstairs. The Insta-mums WhatsApp group was hopping as Polly and Hazel shared links to the steady stream of articles about @MammasLittleMissus since her outing on Under the Influence.
Polly: Oh my God this has to be the worst one yet. www.notions.ie/Disgraceful-act-by-MammasLittleMissus-proves-there-is-nothing-attention-obsessed-Insta-mums-won’t-stoop-to.
Hazel: Oh God. She’s been on looking for an invite to the playdate tomorrow. I blocked her. If either of you have any shots on your grid with her in them delete delete delete. She is TOXIC.
Shelly rolled her eyes. Really, people in glass houses should not be throwing stones. She flicked out of the WhatsApp and back to Insta. Her DMs were being hammered with mentions from all the Shell-Belles who had attended the Bella Bumps Roadshow. She flicked over to her notifications. There everyone was loving her outfit from this morning as per usual. Amazing! Amazing! Amazing! in the comments. We need a new ‘amazing’, she thought ruefully, and she scrolled down, barely taking in the likers and commenters. She was trying to keep more of an eye on new followers. Amy had been closing in on a few of the bigger UK Insta-mums, dropping strategic likes and comments, and Shelly knew she needed to cultivate these kinds of connections. She went to London a handful of times a year to fashion events, but it was very hard to break the English market. Angela Scanlon had been very supportive, but she needed to break in on her own not just by riding the coat-tails of someone else. Sadly none of the new followers were anything to get excited about. Then a strange Insta handle caught her eye: @TheRealShellyDevine.
She snapped to attention, her weariness immediately drowned in an onslaught of unpleasant, anxious adrenaline. She tapped the account icon, which was, of course, her own smiling face.
‘Oh God, oh God, oh God,’ she gasped under her breath as the page loaded. Don’t be public, please don’t be public.
The account was private. She felt dizzy with relief, however short-lived it might be. She analysed what was visible. Two followers. Following one person. The bio read:
I think it’s time to come clean. I can’t go on like this.
She shuddered. It sounded dark. If anyone stumbled across this page, they’d be immediately stuck in. No one could resist that cryptic bio. Jesus. It was probably only a matter of time before word got out about this account. The anonymous ones grew so fast. Amy had told her they could go from zero to a hundred thousand followers in a matter of weeks. After all, they dealt in the drug of the masses: gossip. BloggersUncovered had gotten so big lately it was apparently close to imploding because whoever was behind it was mired in threats of legal action and couldn’t keep up with the admin of the DMs.
Shelly snapped a screenshot and WhatsApped it to Amy. She tapped the two followers, but it was a futile effort. She knew that the followers wouldn’t appear unless she requested to follow the account and was accepted. She needed to know what was on there, but she didn’t know if requesting to follow would only make things worse. If the account got out and people noticed that she followed it, it would set off a tsunami of speculation and make it much harder for her to deny whatever it was they were saying about her on there.
Oh goddammit.
She checked on her WhatsApp. Amy hadn’t seen the message yet.
A new update in the Insta-mums group had come in.
Hazel: Shelly? You there? You’re still on for tomorrow, I hope? We need you. We all need to stick together right now.
Shelly’s earlier irritation had evaporated, and she felt comforted by this now in the light of the @TheRealShellyDevine account. Sure, Hazel was toxic but maybe they were all as toxic as each other. Shelly had as much to hide as any of them. She probably needed to get off her high horse and stop thinking she was any different.
‘Yep I’m here,’ she typed.
Hazel: Good good. I’m adding @AlisBaba to the group, gals. Welcome. Ali.
Ali: Hi Insta-mums! glad to be back in the fold looking forward to going on a playdate tomorrow and actually pregnant for real this time!
Polly: Hi Ali. Hi Shelly, well done today on the Shella-Bella Bumps Roadshow, looked fab. I shared it in my stories.
Hazel: Of course. The SHELLY Bump Shapewear looks magic. @Ali be sure to repost Shelly’s event. We mamas SUPPORT each other. Speaking of, now that you are really pregnant, don’t forget to download my app H-App-y Mama by Holistic Hazel. It’s full of my favourite guided meditations, affirmations for expectant mamas and nutrition advice, etc. You’ll put it on the ’gram this week.
Ali: Can’t wait Hazel.
Hazel: And don’t forget, while tomorrow is emergency strategy, there’ll also be lots of lovely piccies for the ’gram so dress code is Malibu Mamas with a tonal palette of blush and white. Ali, I know you’re fond of your ‘band tees’ but these little get-togethers need to be cohesive, aesthetically speaking, for the ’gram. Also, there’ll be a costume change for the W Y N D rollout. We’ll have hair, make-up and wardrobe on hand. @Ali we’ll fill you in tomorrow when you get here.
Ali: Gotcha.
Shelly X’d out of the group and checked in with Amy. ‘Fuck. I’m on my way’ was all she’d written.
The door burst open and Amy staggered in panting.
‘Ran here. Sorry. I was supervising security bodily removing the last of the Shell-Belles. Had to pay them off with some old SHELLY stock.’ Amy flopped into the seat opposite Shelly. ‘Car will be here in five. Now, you didn’t request to follow, did you?’
Shelly shook her head violently. ‘No! I’m not an idiot.’
‘OK, OK, deep breaths, hun.’ Amy was refreshing her phone furiously. ‘I set up a quick burner and requested to follow to see if they’ll bite. All we need is a quick look at what’s on there and, if we can find out who these other two followers are. It’d be good to see @__________ there, as the best-case scenario for us is that this is them branching out.’
‘Great.’ Shelly couldn’t believe this was what they were reduced to: hoping it was just one psycho being innovative in their approach, as opposed to many coming after her all at once.
‘Boom.’ Amy punched the air. ‘We’re in.’ For a few minutes there was silence but for the clicks as Amy, hunched over her phone, snapped screenshot after screenshot of the account.
Shelly sat on her hands tensely. She was dying to rip off the maternity shapewear and get back into her joggers.
‘Fuck, we’re rumbled.’ Amy sighed. ‘That was quick. She blocked us. There’s a DM, though. It says: “You think I don’t know a burner when I see one? Hope you got a little taster of what’s in store, Shelly. BYEEEEEE’’.’