‘You have a podcast?’ I ask her. This is news to me. If I’m honest, I’m not even really sure what a podcast is, or why everyone suddenly has one. I don’t have high hopes for Risky’s. She is very sweet, and I know her heart is in the right place. But she generally has a lot to say about nothing. Her version of feminism is well-meaning, but quite innocent and inexperienced. She has absolute faith in all women.

‘Yup. I’ve done three episodes. My last one has had nearly eighty listeners.’

‘Wow, that’s huge,’ I say, offering nothing but encouragement.

‘Yup, I’m really brave with my subject matter. I say it like it is and I’m all about female empowerment and women supporting women, and all that stuff. And you’re such a big part of why I feel like one day I could have it all. A career, and baby, a marriage in which I am respected. You’re so lucky.’

To the sound of the low hum of my breast pump, I let those words linger in the air for a moment or two. She looks at me, love hearts and protest posters flashing in her eyes. A sparkling twenty-six-year-old whose dream it was to work for a wedding planning company, who thinks that one day her own marriage will be everything she ever dreamed of. Equal. I’m not going to be the one who tells her otherwise.

‘I sure am,’ I say. ‘Lucky, lucky me!’

Ruby

‘I have an eleven a.m. with Vera,’ I say to the receptionist, out of breath. I feel like I’ve climbed a mountain to get here this morning. I just need to get this done, and then I can calm down. I let Bonnie out of her buggy and tell her to sit on the sofa. I give her a bag of gummy bears to keep her busy. I ducked into a shop on the way here and bought nearly all of their confectionary to bribe her with for the next few hours. I need her to sit still.

‘Your name?’ the receptionist asks, even though I am here every five weeks and she damn well should know it. I put my Balmain handbag onto the desk. I find expensive handbags are a great distraction and a good way to gain status. I often present them to people when I don’t want the focus to be on me. She barely even looks at it, demonstrating a distinct lack of taste.