I’m quite tempted to go myself to be honest but I’ll be in Ibiza … shagging a hot DJ hopefully ;)

I reckon you should go along, take notes and write something juicy up. Don’t let anyone know you are a journalist though obvs. Undercover style, please!

Toodles,

Gill

.dot magazine, editor-in-chief

I take a sip from my topped-up wine glass and start typing my response, fizzing with excitement. I can feel this whole topic getting deeper under my skin.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE: YOUR ASSIGNMENT

Yesssss – fab idea! Enjoy your hol.

O x

Ping. Gill replies.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE: RE: YOUR ASSIGNMENT

Great. Make sure you get some juicy testimonials from these childless women pls ;)

Best wishes,

Gill

.dot magazine, editor-in-chief

I feel Colin lurking behind me, waiting to interrupt. I can smell his pungent cheap aftershave. Love him, but not his choice in male grooming products.

‘Yes Col?’ I say, still typing.

‘Do you fancy going for food in a bit, babe? You’ve been looking a bit stressed out lately,’ Colin says, sitting on the side of my desk.

‘Ah, maybe – where are you going?’ My eyes are glazed over.

‘A few of us are just gonna go to that Thai place on the corner. It’s a bit dingy but the food is really good.’

‘I might join you later. Still got a load of stuff to get through,’ I say, still not really taking my eyes off my screen.

‘You’ve literally only got Google open,’ Colin laughs.

‘Yeah, well,’ I say defensively, turning on my chair. ‘I’ve got to Google some stuff. For an article.’

‘OK.’ Colin takes my reading glasses that are on my desk and starts cleaning them with a cloth from his pocket. ‘These are filthy.’

‘What would I do without you, eh?’ I laugh.

‘I’m gonna send you an angry shouty email in ALL CAPS if you don’t come join us in the next hour. OK?’

‘Fine, OK.’

‘You work too much,’ Colin shouts as he walks off, putting his leather jacket on.

We both know that I won’t go. Too much to do. Too many rabbit-holes to dive into. My mind flickers for a second: have I become slightly obsessed?

People start to trickle out of the office and, finally, I’m the only person left. I start to do some undercover Googling, ready for my night out at the CFBC night ‘Moth style’. I crack my knuckles. I am excited by this. A chance to meet new, interesting people both online and at the club.

I’m surprised the first thing that comes up when I Google ‘Support for child-free women’ is the CFBC – I’ve never come across this before. I click on the CFBC website and it’s just a landing page. To see the rest of the website I have to ‘request access’ by signing up as a member. All I can see at this point is that the group was founded by a woman called Iris who had set up a private Facebook group called ‘Child-Free Women by Choice’, but again I have to request access first. On the website the only thing I can read is the ‘about me’ and the ‘contact’ section, with Iris’s email address. The ‘about me’ section is dedicated to explaining why everyone must respect child-free as the correct phrasing and wording. I look around, just checking again that no one is lingering and looking over at my monitor. I’m not embarrassed to be searching for this stuff, but something’s telling me to keep it close to my chest. It feels oddly private.