The Family Friend, C. MacDonald [ereader for android TXT] 📗

want to take her phone off her and just be like “look at the sky, play with your son, talk to your husband”, you know? She’s so, so lovely, but she’s completely in its thrall.’ Erin swallows a boulder-sized lump in her throat.

Bobby wrenches his whole body towards where the women are sitting, almost sliding out of the seat. He squawks at still being constrained and Erin hears the women clear their throats and shuffle in their seat when they realise someone’s next to them. Erin pushes the buggy away from them, up towards the counter.

‘Erin!’ Amanda’s voice, elated, betraying nothing of what she’s just been saying about her. Erin turns to see her with Sophie’s boy Able in her arms and Sophie, Mercedes and Kristina, lounged over oriental scatter cushions on a pair of sofas, assorted kids ambling around the table. The floor’s littered with wooden blocks, the table with coffee cups, a board of hummus and pakoras along with three brown, what look like, medicine bottles.

Bobby squawks like a furious seagull so Erin lifts him up out of the buggy. He throws his fist towards Able in Amanda’s arms and begins to flip around on Erin’s chest like a fish on the floor of a boat.

‘Someone’s amped to see you, Mand,’ Sophie says. Amanda hands Able back to his mother and Erin, flustered, finds herself depositing Bobby into Amanda’s open arms. Her baby nestles his head in the nook between Amanda’s head and shoulder. She turns to Sophie and her friends, scrunches her face up in that way she does to indicate something along the lines of isn’t he a darling. Mercedes catches Erin’s eye, a hint of furtiveness gives away some sense of concern at her having heard some of their conversation. Amanda sniffs theatrically towards Bobby.

‘Ooo, stinky-dinky bum. Shall I go change him?’ Erin nods, still not quite sure what’s going on here. Amanda fishes into a black patent leather bag, Sophie’s, Erin thinks, for a nappy and wipes and sweeps past towards the outdoor toilet. Why was Bobby so desperate to see her? He’d practically punched Erin in the face to try and get into Amanda’s arms. Sophie and her perfect spherical pregnant belly stand up and beckon her to come and join them.

‘Didn’t know you were around, love,’ Sophie says, pincering Erin’s shoulder as she sits down on the seat where Amanda was. ‘Has Manda got you on any of these?’ Sophie leans over to one of the bottles. Erin shakes her head, looks towards where Amanda’s gone off with Bobby.

‘What is it?’

‘Verbena, fennel, a load of flower oils.’ She takes the lid off and offers a sniff to Erin. It smells like sambuca. ‘I told her I was feeling anxious the other day so she made me this up. So sweet. I’ve been looking for a good herbalist for ages.’

‘That’s what you’re all doing here?’

‘What?’

‘Is she giving you –’ Erin searches for the word – ‘a herbal thing, a consultation?’ Sophie looks over to Kristina whose baby is now attached to a surprisingly large boob. Erin has only ever seen her in workwear, boiler suits and the like, and now struggles to return her attention to Sophie.

‘We were just having a morning hang. Amanda brought us all something –’ she indicates to the bottles – ‘just for things we’d spoken about.’

‘Mine’s for my back,’ Kristina adds. ‘Don’t know what it’s got in it but it’s funky as fuck. Think it’s got booze in it too because I’m feeling a’ight.’ The girls laugh.

‘She’s lent me this bracelet –’ Mercedes waves her wrist showing off a chunky band made of gemstones – ‘and sent me a link to this great website. Sustainably sourced, verified healing crystals, quite reasonably priced too.’

‘I didn’t know you knew each other?’ Erin says, trying to seem as enthusiastic as they are about healing crystals and herbal tinctures.

‘We’ve been doing Pilates – she came out to Phoenix Wines the other night.’

‘She’s tried to recruit us for yoga on the beach,’ Mercedes adds, her plummy voice and blackberry-stain lips always making her seem a bit drunk. ‘But I’m not fucking touching that till the spring.’ The other women laugh again. Erin absent-mindedly picks up a pakora and pops it in her mouth. It tastes like a salsa verde bath-bomb. She looks up at the cafe’s decor, prints by local artists, posters of French films, a palm-tree-themed wallpaper, the furniture either upcycled or intended to look like it’s been.

‘And, shit, actually, God.’ Sophie prods her lip-ring with her tongue. She has a pixie cut that she’s recently dyed rose gold. It looks great. ‘I should have checked it was OK with you, I only just asked her.’ What now? Erin thinks. She feels entirely discombobulated by this little gathering. She’s just spent the last hour and a half at a dated restaurant soaking up the earnest acclaim of a bunch of strangers, but there was a whole other party going on, the one where the cooler mums were discussing herbal remedies and reminiscing about nights out at wine bars she didn’t even know had happened. ‘I’ve asked Amanda to be my doula. Is that OK?’

‘I thought you were due in April?’

‘End of March. Did you need her for something then?’

‘Um, no. No.’

‘She’s just so great. How she is with Bobby? Must be heaven having her at home. And, I don’t know if you get the same, but I feel like I relax, like my whole body just relaxes, being around her. Able’s birth was so traumatic. I think it could make all the difference having her to help.’

‘Yeh,’ Mercedes says as if Sophie’s just revealed a unique insight, ‘I totally get what you mean.’

‘But –’ Sophie turns to Erin – ‘only if it’s cool with you.’

‘Yeh, course, I’m not her boss,’ Erin says, laughing nervously. It’s the beginning of February. The end of March is nearly two months away. Amanda said she was stopping off with them before going on some travels around