‘Yeah, fine,’ Courtney said, with zero enthusiasm.
I waited until the drinks were ready and we’d cleared enough debris off the sofas to sit down before resuming my interrogation.
‘And how are you?’ I asked, attempting a careful balance between warm and casual.
‘You know. Knackered. Bored. I was meant to be going to this thing at my mate’s house. Like, it was really important to me, everyone was going, and I’ve not been round to theirs in ages. But Toby refused to skive his college assessment, and Hazelwouldn’t let me leave the baby in the salon. I mean, it’s hardly a big deal if she sleeps in the corner for a few hours.’
Courtney was scrolling down her phone as she talked, sending off a couple of quick-fire messages. ‘She’s always on at me. Why haven’t I done this, gone shopping, waited on them hand and foot? She just wants a slave.’ Courtney screwed up her face, continuing to scroll as her voice grew increasingly bitter. ‘Always interfering with me and Toby. I reckon she’s jealous because I’ve got a man and she tried three and they were all losers.’
‘Wow. I hope you didn’t tell her that.’
Courtney narrowed her eyes, still on the screen. ‘Why not? It’s true.’
She suddenly sat up, face brightening. ‘Oh, wow. My mate went and got the sickest tattoo. Check this out.’
And so the next half an hour went on. When cries started drifting down the stairs, Courtney swore, ignored it for three more TikTok videos shehadto show me, then stomped upstairs to fetch her daughter.
‘You want a cuddle?’
I most certainly did.
‘Oh, bless you,’ I cooed, after patting her bottom. ‘She’s sopping wet, Courtney.’
Normally I wouldn’t hesitate to change a baby’s nappy while visiting a mum, but I wanted to see whether Courtney showed any emotion towards her daughter while caring for her.
It was worse. She glanced up, saying, ‘Marnie will be back in a few minutes. She’ll change her. I told you, I’m going out as soon as they’re back.’
‘When the kids are back?’ Marnie was fourteen. It wasn’t illegal for her to be left responsible for a baby, but I’d met Marnie and I wasn’t sure it was advisable. ‘You aren’t waiting for Toby, or his mum?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Nah, they’ll be gone ages. We’re meeting at four for predrinks.’
After finding a pack of nappies behind an armchair, I got on with it.
I had to leave well before baby Hazel’s uncles and aunties finished school, but my visit had done nothing to ease my worries about Courtney. She didn’t seem especially depressed – she’d been positively enthusiastic when talking about her new outfit or a friend’s new boyfriend. But she’d not referred to her daughter by name the whole time I’d been there. Generally speaking, new mothers talked about their babies all the time. Especially with their antenatal and parenting group leader, who wouldn’t get bored as her peers might.
Courtney’s example of motherhood up until now hadn’t been great. But she had Grandma Hazel, and Toby, and numerous friends at Bloomers, and while pregnant had directed a fair amount of her enthusiasm towards her baby, rather than her social life.
I was very concerned that Courtney was deliberately dissociating herself from Hazel. I’d seen this type of behaviour before, and it rarely ended well.
The Friday night before the kids saw their dad, I always tried to keep things calm and cosy. On the way home from school we stocked up on ingredients, and, due to the main oven being broken, made a sort of pizza toast we’d invented, Isla and Finn going to town with a multitude of random toppings – carrot and pea pizza, anyone? No? They took turns in the bath, then we grilled the cheesy toast before eating in front of a favourite film. Once Isla hit that sweet spot between snuggly and overtired, Itucked her into bed. Finn was allowed a secret extra half-hour downstairs on a Friday, and this evening he asked if I could read to him for the first time since he’d learned to process the words faster than I could say them.
‘Are you feeling all right about seeing Dad tomorrow?’ I asked, once we’d finished two chapters and despite his eyes growing soft and heavy he’d asked for another one.
Finn shrugged. ‘Yeah.’
‘You don’t sound too sure.’ I tried to keep my voice casual, but my mum antenna was on full alert.
‘No. I am sure. I like seeing Dad, mostly.’
‘Why only mostly?’
I followed him up the stairs, but he did the classic move of waiting until he’d brushed his teeth, been tucked in and my hand was on the light switch before answering the question.
‘It’s just if Isla starts screaming in Café Fried Chicken like last time.’
‘What?’
A ripple of panic skittered up my back.
