Be My Baby

‘Oh baby, why didn’t you tell me?’ Mollie stroked Esme’s cheek, and watched as her daughter’s eyes met hers.

‘I didn’t see the point,’ Esme shrugged, ‘We must both be pretty horrible if he left both of us, but I know that’s not true because you’re lovely.’

At that point Mollie did pull her in close, squeezing her and letting her own tears fall, ‘You are not horrible. Your dad didn’t leave because of you, or me. We were just kids and he wasn’t ready to be a dad. You know how I’ve always told you girls are more grown-up than boys? Well I got pregnant with you, and I grew up so I could be a mum. But he wasn’t ready to grow up, so he didn’t become a dad. That’s all it was, baby girl. We have the loveliest life, don’t we? With Chelsea, and Evie and now Evelyn and Killian and Kit. All these people who love you and think you’re amazing. So what’s one man who couldn’t grow up?’

Esme nodded, sighing deeply and squeezing her mum’s hand, and saying, ‘Okay, but if you have to pick me up from Olivia’s again, will you say yes to the glass of wine?’

‘Maybe. Depends if you’re hanging out with Olivia because you actually like her.’

Esme shrugged as they started walking along, ‘She’s nice enough, she doesn’t read though. Which is weird.’

‘Very weird.’

They walked along in silence, Mollie stopping herself from reaching out and grabbing her daughter’s hand. She wanted to wrap her in cotton wool, keep her safe, she began to wonder why she hadn’t put herself out there earlier, whether she’d been selfish in thinking she’d been enough for her daughter. She should have started dating earlier, maybe she’d have found a suitable father figure by now.

‘Mum, don’t you miss him?’ Esme asked suddenly, looking up at her, ‘My dad, I mean?’

‘No baby, I don’t miss him. I don’t ever really think about him.’

Mollie felt her stomach clench as they carried on walking. It was the first lie she’d ever told her daughter.

Chapter Two (#u968e9870-d043-540d-8870-3275ca8b34ae)

Mollie had barely slept that night, the fear of the next morning’s TV appearance – coupled with the overwhelming guilt that she had failed her child in offering her an alternative family – plagued her until the early morning. Evie had shrugged it off on their run, reminding Mollie of her own feelings about it as a kid, wondering who her own father was, but Mollie remembered the only reason she even wanted a dad was because she couldn’t stand her mother. Is that how her daughter saw her? As someone she wanted to escape from?

It was still dark when she got up and started putting on her make-up and her clothes, double checking her outfit and going downstairs to the studio, to await the camera team. She put the kettle on and got out the semi-healthy mini pastries she’d made the night before, putting them in the oven to puff up, gloriously brown and crispy, filled with chocolate and banana slices. She’d try to save one for Killian, especially if he was taking Esme to school that morning. It was hard to know how long the segment would run for, or what exactly they wanted. She’d set out some of her baked goods and recipes on display on the long table in the gallery, each item looking Instagram perfect and ready for the camera. Baked sweet potatoes piled high with roasted red peppers, Omelette Bites, Black Bean Brownies, Banana and Choc Chip Muffins – the whole arsenal of her healthy recipes, ready to defend what she was doing absolutely.

Max’s voice kept circling, asking what was so special about her, what was so great about what she was doing, why was she unique? She had no answer.

But there was the knock at the door, and there was the team, with them the plucky reporter – recently upgraded from weather-girl – Maureen McTavish. She smiled sweetly and her teeth gleamed, huge and white, taking up most of her face.

‘You must be Mollie! Ilyaria’s told us so much about you and the great work you’re doing! I can’t wait to see everything!’

Mollie welcomed them in, told them where to set up and passed round teas, coffees and fresh pastries to everyone. They treated her like she was an angel, fussing over the pastries and asking for the recipes.

‘Tell me about this place, Mollie, how did you end up here?’ Maureen smiled, those teeth slightly less unnerving as long as you didn’t allow the Jaws theme tune into your head.

‘Oh, well this space was left to us by our childhood friend, Ruby Tuesday, the singer? This used to be her studio, and she left the lease to us, to start up an arts centre. So now we’re up and running, with community events, classes, lots of stuff for kids, and I wanted to bring my passion to the front.’

Mollie was pretty proud of herself.

‘Ah, so there’s the angle,’ the presenter grinned to herself, nodding her head, ‘I’ll be sure to mention Ruby. And you run this with a partner?’

‘No, two friends from school, Ruby brought us all back together again, and here we are.’

‘Damn I wish we were filming already, I’m not going to ask any more questions, you’re much better natural,’ Maureen smiled again, flicking her dark, silky hair and positioning herself in front of the camera.

‘Ready?’ she grinned at Mollie, ‘So I’ll ask some questions, we’ll do some shots of the food and stuff and we’re good to go.’

‘Oh, okay.’

‘So, good morning people of Britain! Have you ever thought about what your kids are eating? Well, of course you have, with childhood obesity such a big thing in today’s society, and junk food being more prevalent. We’ve got food specialist and creator of Mollie Makes... here with us today. Good morning Mollie!’

‘Hi!’ Mollie squeaked.

Maureen continued her spiel at the camera, ‘We’re here today at the Ruby Rooms in Camden Square, where Mollie and her friends have set up an arts centre in the space left for them by – wait for it – none other than musical superstar Ruby Tuesday! What do you think Ruby would say about your healthy eating programme Mollie?’

That there were worse things you could do to a kid than give them an extra-large chocolate bar, and she’d experienced most of them? Mollie sighed.

‘Um, Ruby really cared that every kid got the same opportunities, that health and hope weren’t just reserved for the kids with rich parents, which is why –’

‘Well, that’s an excellent point, so can you tell us what you want to do with Mollie Makes...?’

‘Everything is fresh, wholesome and healthy, but there are still treats kids can have. My little girl is pretty open-minded when it comes to food, but I’m pretty sure if I’d told her these chocolate brownies were made with black beans, she wouldn’t have gone near them. But she loves them,’ Mollie shrugged, ‘I’m catering birthday parties, after-school clubs and hoping to look into making lunch boxes. Our kids are suffering because parents don’t have enough time to go through the packaging on food and figure out what’s had sugar added to it, what’s unhealthy, what’s going to leave them struggling to concentrate at the end of the school day. Believe me, I know how exhausting it is to be a parent!’ Mollie smiled, ‘My aim is to make that choice simpler, by providing fresh, creative alternatives to treats.’

Maureen turned back to the camera, ‘And we can attest to how delicious these treats are, folks! So Mollie, what’s next?’

Mollie tugged on her blonde ponytail and looked anxiously at the camera, ‘Well, I’m running a parents-and-kids cooking class, focusing on some of the nicest treats, and easiest dinner options, so kids and parents can connect through cooking healthy food together. The course starts in a couple of weeks and is run here, at the Ruby Rooms.’

‘Well that’s all we have time for, but thanks Mollie, for talking to us about your wonderful treats, and feeding us some of them! Look on the Morning AM website for Mollie’s Black Bean Chocolate Brownie recipe and for more information on the workshops.’

Mollie wasn’t sure whether to say ‘thank you’ or not, so she just smiled inanely until the little red light on the camera went off.

‘The guys will just get some shots of all of the food. Our team will email you for the recipe – it’s a good way to promote!’ Maureen smiled, ‘And I like that you didn’t feel you had to overplay the “I’m a mum” card, showing a bit of skin, I liked it.’

Maureen nodded at Mollie’s shirt. She looked down and noticed the severe amount of cleavage on show and almost fell over, ‘Oh, Maureen, sorry, do you think we could do it again? I didn’t realise...’ she gestured at her top and the woman simply smiled knowingly.

‘Oh, you’re very good. I really do wish you the best Mollie, I think what you’re doing is great, and you obviously know how to sell it.’

‘Oh no, it wasn’t –’

‘You’ll go far, Mollie,’ Maureen winked, ‘I think we’ll be hearing from you again.’

The team left soon after, the cameramen grinning at her, thanking her for the food, and Mollie collapsed onto the sofa, wondering how she always managed to make a fool of herself.

In Crouch End, not far from the studios, a man sat aimlessly watching morning television. He hadn’t slept that night, or the night before, and the mindless chatter of the television kept enough of his attention to stop his mind wandering. There were things he didn’t want to think about. He was back on leave from the army, and he knew the routine – it would take another two weeks before he could properly sleep.

But god, morning television was asinine. Top ten tips to your winter wardrobe, let’s chat to this nineties pop star who is now in a West End musical... why weren’t they talking about war, about politics? Why did no one know about the horrible things happening in other countries and what he’d been fighting for? That said, a bit much to watch whilst chomping away on your Weetabix.

He needed something to keep his mind active, he knew. He needed a distraction, a reason for hope. A new hobby, maybe he could volunteer at a charity or something. That’s what his counsellor said. He wouldn’t be confirmed ready to return to active duty unless he got his head in order.

He often felt that this wasn’t meant to be his life, that if he could follow it back to the root, that moment when everything changed, he might be living in a different place, doing something different. Instead, he had started a life of misguided gut instincts and limited choices, and here he was. A damaged soldier in a dark room, with no one to visit.

‘We’re here today at the Ruby Rooms in Camden Square...’ the perky news reporter with the scary teeth started and the man blinked at the screen, leaning forward and turning on the light so that he could see more clearly. Ruby Tuesday, they definitely said Ruby Tuesday. Which meant... that was really Mollie on screen. His Mollie.

She looked beautiful but awkward, her long blonde hair the same as it had always been, curling slightly at the ends, and her face had softened. She was wearing subtle make-up, and a smart white shirt with black trousers that made her look a little like a waitress for a catering company. Her eyes were still piercing, dark against her light hair. That shirt showed off how her figure had developed since they were teenagers, she looked womanly, warm and soft and strong. She was still as beautiful as he remembered.

He listened intently as she spoke, laughing awkwardly and looking into the camera at certain moments. It made sense she’d go into healthy cooking, her mum was terrible at feeding her. She said she’d once survived for two weeks on turkey dinosaurs for dinner, because her mum got eighteen boxes for a pound when the corner shop freezer broke. Suddenly all those memories started returning, all those moments with Mollie that he hadn’t forgotten, but stored away somewhere safe.