So although you can’t justify it now you’re a family of four on one salary and a maternity pittance, into Frankie’s in the covered market it is; one of the few places round here likely to be vaguely tolerant of little boys and babies, even in combination, at least until the lunch rush starts, for normal people who don’t eat lunch at 11.17.

Into Frankie’s, order at the counter, today’s lotto of foods that will or won’t be eaten, choosing a table, wrestling with a stack of recalcitrant highchairs, highchair rejected, menu, 3crayons, layers of nursing vests and stubborn clips of nursing bras and the howling baby finally latched on. Cutting up food left-handed, coaxing aeroplane mouthfuls in, baby breaking off and crying, burping baby, switching her sides, broken crayons, one more mouthful, sorry-I-mean-cargo-plane, into the hangar. Transferring baby to buggy, easing her down, coaxing the straps over her shoulders (why didn’t we get a buggy with a proper bassinet) and clicking them tight. Now finally your cup of tea, still warm because they make it with bloody steam—

‘I need a wee-wee,’ your toddler says.

You turn to him helplessly. The disabled toilet is out of order again, you can see the yellow sign on the door from here. The unisex loos aren’t wide enough for the buggy and if you take the baby out now, she’ll wake and howl, you’ll have to feed her back to sleep, and she’ll be sick because she’s already gorged herself milk-drunk.

‘I need a wee-wee now,’ he says.

‘Ok,’ you say. ‘Hang on.’

‘Mummy!’ he shouts in anguish. ‘It’s popping out so fast!’

‘Go,’ the woman beside you says. ‘I’ll keep an eye on the pram. Just go.’

‘Are you sure?’ you say gratefully, already reaching for your toddler’s hand, ‘thank you so much, thank you,’ and you’re hurrying with him to the toilets, and there, it’s already happened, just like that, not even a second’s split shiver of thought. 4

You have exchanged polite, distracted snatches of conversation with this woman, it should be said. In the midst of your caravanserai of chaos, she’s commented on the baby, said hello to the toddler and asked him what he’s drawing. Good on you for breastfeeding. Best start for them, no doubt about it. I couldn’t stick to it with mine. An obvious cue that you politely took up: Oh, you have children too? Oh, long grown up now. A boy and a girl. Just like you. It flies by. Really? Believe you me. It doesn’t feel that way in the trenches, but yes, it does. I’ll take your word for it.