Chapter One – Lipstick and Lullabies

In the blink of an eye, mascara was a memory, flushed away with the figure-hugging dresses and glossy red lips of the past. These days it was an accomplishment if Leah managed face cream before her daughter’s tantrums reached the pitch that could send social services to the door.

She abandoned the dressing table once again, throwing on a tattered hoodie and wiping her tears with the cuffs.

‘It’s OK…’ she sniffed, reaching for Kiki as she thrashed and howled on the floor. ‘I’ve got you.’

She fastened her into the car seat, and even that was a chore. Arms and legs smacking into her face and her back arching in protest as she wrestled with the straps.

‘You think I want to go, either?’ Leah shouted, reversing off the drive and eyeing Kiki’s shrivelled face in the rearview mirror. ‘I can’t do a thing anymore. Can’t take you anywhere because you never stop!’

She slammed on the brakes just in time, as a car slowed in front of her.

‘See? I can’t even drive properly now.’ She sobbed. ‘It’s me that needs a healthcare check, not you!’

Sucking in a slow breath, she moved forward and tried to stay calm, hating herself for being so angry when Kiki was tiny and defenceless. But life was impossibly hard.

No struggling mother should suffer in silence. It was the golden rule of every parenting handbook. But the only thing lonelier than being stuck at home with a screaming baby was taking her out in public. Routine health checks like this one were the worst, forcing her into a community where she didn’t belong. Delayed appointments and prolonged waiting time with Kiki bawling her eyes out in a room of quiet strangers. And they were usually other parents with more-than-perfect offspring.

Leah approached the entrance of the building, but the Welcome sign made her want to back away. There it was again, that logo of a woman with sunshine all around her as she cradled a tiny child.

She searched the sky, watching the pearl succumb to grey like a giant crochet throw. Her chapped fingers stung in the wind as she clenched the buggy. Pushing down with all her weight, she tilted Kiki backwards, only just managing to steer her safely into Dankton Family Centre.

Wedging the wheels into a crevice of the crowded porch, she flung a rucksack over her back. Kiki gazed up with her rounded hazel eyes and dribble oozing over her bright pink cheeks. Then her brows stiffened and Leah winced as the grizzly cry started to pierce the air.

‘Shhhh…’ she whispered tensely. ‘You’re coming out now.’

She hauled Kiki onto her hip, trying to steady her daughter’s feet as they flailed madly in their frilly ankle socks.

‘Oh dear!’ called a chirpy voice from the reception desk. ‘Are we a bit tired today?’

Leah tried to avoid eye contact.

‘Kiki Frost. Here for her check.’

‘Perhaps she’s hungry?’

‘She had porridge for breakfast and she napped on the way here. This is just what she’s like.’

‘Oh, she’s a sassy one, is she?’ The woman tickled Kiki’s hand. ‘There are some toys and books in the waiting area. That’ll cheer her up.’

Leah gritted her teeth and pretended to appreciate the advice. ‘I’ll try those, then. Thank you.’

Her grateful expression sank away as soon as she turned her back. And as the growing wail of nursery rhymes chimed along the corridor, she almost thought she preferred the sound of Kiki’s constant whining. It was Wednesday morning. Baby Rhyme Time taking centre stage in the other half of the waiting room. Just what people needed while they were anxiously waiting for health checks.

Leah took a seat on the quieter side where the chairs were set out for appointments, observing the ring of ecstatic parents and the oblivious babies being jiggled on their laps. She watched them moving like puppets, their hands being made to clap. Tiny babies, who were too young to even know what a nursery rhyme was.

She perused the cliquey mums with their dungarees, effortless bobs and happy lack of makeup, knowing their carefree world was one she could never be part of. Yes, she too had no time for cosmetics, for hours on hairstyles or dressing to impress. But the difference was, their babies were blissfully unaware little blobs, who probably gurgled tunefully in their highchairs and slept from the moment they were put down, whereas Kiki had always been a screamer, no matter what Leah tried to do.

This room was the same place where she had brought Kiki as a three-month-old. Where she had thought she might have fitted in when she’d tried out the baby groups. Instead, she had sat in a corner on her own, holding a dummy in Kiki’s screeching mouth, while the others had thrown her the odd pitiful stare as they’d chatted about weaning and those miraculous first words.

Then there was the Little Suckers breastfeeding club when Kiki had gone through a latching issue. Leah had felt sure she would meet new friends who were all in the same boat. But in a room filled with mothers roaming hands-free while their babies were clamped on with slings, she had never felt more of an outsider.

‘Keep her strapped to you at all times,’ the founding member had instructed as she’d handed out a six-metre-long perplexity of fabric. ‘You get your life back and she won’t cry.’

So, that was having your life back these days. A baby bandaged to your body. Leah had left the building feeling worse than before she’d arrived. Since then, she had only returned to this place for obligatory weigh-ins and appointments.

‘Alfie Kemp?’

A lively health visitor called over to a couple sitting a few seats away. They stood their son up and held his hands, but he toddled ahead unaided.

Leah looked down at the bundle in her arms. Kiki was lying almost flat across her knees and frowning back in response, the endless threat of another outburst etched over her face. If only her beauty could be matched by a calm disposition. She had astonishingly glowing olive skin and her full head of dark hair had been admired since her birth. Her two perfect hands rubbed her teddy over her eyes. Perhaps she was tired, after all.

‘Kiki Frost.’

It was Janet, another health visitor, who had checked Kiki many times before. Leah heaved Kiki up her body while she balanced the bag on her back.

‘So, how are we getting on?’ asked Janet, beaming straight at the tot.

‘Fine.’ Leah feared her expression would betray her.

‘Eating well? Sleeping?’

‘Yes, that’s all OK.’

‘Good for you, Kiki!’ Janet praised. ‘Have you got her health record?’

Delving into the rucksack, Leah pulled out the all-important book. The one with the fluctuating weight charts that had made her feel like a failure in the early days of feeding.

‘So, she’s eleven months and five days now, isn’t she?’ Janet leafed through the pages. ‘How is the crawling going?’

‘Well… it isn’t.’

Janet laughed. ‘Still a bit wobbly, is she? Bashes into things while she’s getting around. Don’t worry, that’s all normal.’

‘No, I mean, she isn’t mobile at all.’

‘Right.’ Janet’s face fogged with doubt. ‘That is a little concerning. She should definitely be on the move by now. Pop her on the couch and let’s look at her.’

Leah placed Kiki down on her back and stepped away while Janet leaned in. Almost immediately, she began the jagged wriggling, with hands screwed up into two thrashing fists. Her nose reddened as the deafening sound rang out from the tunnel of her mouth.

‘Oh, she is a grumpy girl!’ Janet sounded surprised as she prodded at Kiki’s thighs and rotated her legs in a cycling movement. Then, working her way to the shins, she stopped as she reached the feet. ‘I must say, she’s very flexible in the ankles. Look how far I can turn them!’

Feeling sure Janet would snap a bone, Leah flinched as the screams multiplied and she could no longer hear a word of the comments. Unbearable as it always was to deal with the grating noise, nothing was worse than watching Kiki being bent and yanked in all directions.

‘All done now,’ shouted Janet, so Leah grabbed Kiki and tried to calm her down.

‘I’m going to refer her for physio at the hospital. She’s clearly not meeting her milestones, so we’ll need to get that checked out.’

‘Hospital? You mean there’s something wrong?’

‘Not necessarily.’ Janet typed some updates. ‘They get there in their own time, but we need to be on the safe side.’

Leah stood Kiki up on her knees as if trying to make her bear weight, but instead she flopped down and cried even louder, kicking out hard in the air.

‘But how likely is it that something isn’t right?’

‘I can’t say… I’m sorry. This is one of those things I don’t often come across.’

‘How often?’ Leah tried to swallow but her throat had dried out. ‘How many times have you seen this before?’

Janet jotted a note in the book and clicked the top of her pen.

‘In all honestly, I haven’t. That’s why I’m getting a second opinion.’ Her expression softened. ‘Please don’t worry at the moment, Mrs Frost. She’s in the best hands now.’

‘Do you think this is why she cries all the time? She just never seems to stop.’

‘What kind of crying? As if she’s in some sort of pain?’

‘No… but it’s constant. She starts up all over again if I dare to put her down.’

Janet shot Leah a knowing look. ‘Then I’m afraid you just have a very clingy baby. It’s all about entertaining her.’

‘Oh, I do! Every minute of every day… but it’s just never good enough. I can’t ever get on with anything else.’

‘Well… what else is there?’ Janet looked confused.

‘Cooking, shopping, and sorting out the house. It’s never going to get done if I don’t have a chance to…’

But Janet was already shaking her head. ‘That’s not your responsibility anymore. You’re a mother now, remember?’

‘Of course, but I’m at home all day. I need to be getting other things done. I want to. I want to be able to at least move from room to room without being screamed at for trying.’

‘Traditionally, when a woman had a baby, the family rallied round to do all the mundane tasks. The mother’s only duty was to be exactly that. What you need to do is forget about everything else. Just nurture your precious daughter and let others take care of the rest.’

‘It’s not just housework. I can barely get ready in the mornings. Have a shower, do my makeup—’

‘Makeup?’ Janet interrupted with a patronising laugh. ‘That’s hardly a priority with a little cherub who depends on you.’

‘I feel better with it on. You know, more on top of things when I’ve freshened up a bit. I know I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge right now, but that’s all I get time for. It’s like I’m… not myself anymore.’

‘And that’s part and parcel of being a parent. You can’t have these early years back again and the sooner you get used to that, the less pressure you’ll put on yourself and the happier you will be.’

‘But self-care is a basic need!’

Janet pursed her lips. ‘There is always the possibility that Kiki is picking up on your resentment. You wouldn’t want to be the root cause of her misery… would you?’

Leah stared in response as the guilt flooded in. She squeezed Kiki tighter, exacerbating the whimpers.

‘No, of course not. I just thought life would be back to normal by now.’

‘Kiss goodbye to normal and say hello to motherhood,’ Janet said matter-of-factly as she shut down Kiki’s file. ‘Keep an eye out for the physio date. At least you’ll get some answers about what’s going on with her mobility.’

Leah nodded slowly as she stood up to leave. ‘I’ll wait to hear then. Thank you.’

‘And just remember, Mrs Frost…’ Janet winked. ‘Let yourself go.’

The door closed with a parting bang and the corridor smudged to water. Tasting salt on her lips, Leah dabbed her eyes with the hand that clutched Kiki and rushed along the stepping-stone tiles, trying to mask the shrieking from the body pressed against hers.

Every forced vowel of the nursery rhymes came to an abrupt standstill as she slunk past the open archway of the waiting room. The permed leader’s open mouth matched the pose of her hand-stuffed crocodile. Each fuzzily unbrushed head and shoved-up bun all turned to face her, covering their babies’ ears as if to protect them from this ghastly noise that had wrecked their jolly session.

Leah plunged Kiki back into the pushchair, frantically untangling the seatbelt straps. Where the hell was her dummy? Forcing open the drawstring of the backpack, she felt her way through folded nappies, plastic spoons, and crinkly toys, desperately grappling for the elusive little soother.

‘Sorry, but do you think you could take her outside?’ The receptionist met her with an overstated cringe, her lanyard swinging as she bent across the desk. ‘We don’t want to disturb Baby Rhyme Time, do we?’

‘No worries,’ Leah answered, smacking the exit button. ‘I was just leaving.’

The wind lashed out as she thumped the wheels down the ramp, fighting against gravity as the pushchair gained momentum. When her feet found the flat concrete, she slumped over the handlebars, allowing her sight to climb away into the bitter mist above. A tarry bleakness stirred its way through the fluff, like food dye tainting the freshness of a cake mix.

At the bus stop, more mums queued up in the shelter, their toddlers wide-eyed in coats and wellies, pointing to the raindrops that painted the murky glass. Their giggles echoed behind her like a sound she had never heard. The essence and ease of daily life when you had a contented child.

Clicking Kiki into the car seat, Leah folded the pushchair away and watched in the mirror as she turned on the ignition. Like magic, Kiki’s eyes fluttered closed as she nestled into her bear. Leah drove slowly home through the downpour, wishing she lived further away than the five-minute trip it would take.

Skirting around the bump in the driveway, she brought the car to a halt. Perhaps she could get Kiki indoors without a sound. But the handbrake screeched much louder than she’d intended, and Kiki’s yowl sounded out like a choir of fighting foxes.