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Clara to school, and would rush straight back once she’d done her thing at the studio. It was a gamble but what choice did she have? She couldn’t cancel Morning Coffee at the last minute; the show aired at eleven and she needed to leave right after the school drop-off.

      Chances were Clara would be grand – kids were always up and down with these things and usually rallied well – but just in case Clara felt worse, she could mitigate the risk by asking Lucy to do her a turn. No point (or indeed time) in getting her husband to trek all the way home from Dublin, and she couldn’t ask her mother-in-law for a dig-out either, because Harriet didn’t have a car.

      Ever the trooper, Madeleine’s friend immediately agreed to collect Clara just after eleven and stay with her at their house until she got back. ‘It’s no bother. Knock ’em dead and Clara will only love being able to watch you on TV.’

      The two had been friends for ever – Lucy’s eldest was the same age as Jake so she and Madeleine had shared the whole Newborn Mania thing – and routinely helped each other out when it came to their offspring, often alternating school runs and sports practice drop-offs. Her friend was also decidedly non-judgemental about Madeleine’s columns, something that was rare enough in Knockroe. Many of the other women in her circle (in particular Christine Campbell) had already been a bit suspicious and defensive about how Madeleine had mostly kept to herself when Jake was born – very quickly dropping out of local mother/baby groups, and unwilling to get into discussions about the trials of sleepless nights or feeding routines, or engage in the seemingly endless debate between breast and bottle.

      At the time, she felt it was hard enough getting to grips with the huge changes a newborn wrought without overanalysing every last aspect. Their own parents’ generation didn’t have that luxury, and for the most part just took things as they came, which suited Madeleine down to the ground. She hated how motherhood was so damn competitive and judgemental. She’d heard about that aspect from other friends before, of course, but nothing could have prepared her for just how damaging and destructive it could be to insecure newbies. ‘There is no “right way”,’ Madeleine’s mother used to tell her, when in the very early days with Jake she fell into the trap of worrying and comparing herself to other women who seemed so sure about what they were doing. ‘Same as marriage, you just take it one day at a time. But the most important thing of all, pet, is to enjoy it.’

      It was the best piece of parenting advice Madeleine had ever received. Thankfully, Tom too held little truck with outsiders interfering or undermining, and agreed that the two of them should trust their instincts for what they did know, and just research anything they didn’t.

      Some days were great, others absolute shit, but from then on Madeleine refused to put pressure on herself to make everything ‘perfect’ or ‘normal’. Like her mother said, to a baby every experience was their perfect and their normal, so no sense tying yourself up in knots about it.

      Lucy was of a similar mind in some aspects, but was also much better than she at finding common ground with others who didn’t share the same philosophy. Whereas Madeleine’s own failure to do so had driven her to find solidarity with like-minded mums online via her blog, rather than suffer her more judgemental local counterparts who refused to admit that motherhood could be anything other than unicorns and rainbows.

      Though she admitted she’d got things badly wrong with Clara this week and, worse, hadn’t she known deep down that her daughter was coming down with something – especially when they’d heard a dose was doing the rounds?

      She probably should have kept her at home – and on any other day would have – but if she’d cancelled at the last minute the Morning Coffee producers would likely never invite her back.

      As it was, the team were delighted with the reaction to her appearance on the panel, and had already asked her back for another stint. It could only lead to bigger and better things as the show’s viewers were exactly her target audience and, following the slot, Mad Mum’s blog and social media engagement had skyrocketed. Good all round, apart from the fact that that journalist, Gemma Moore, seemed to have taken an immediate dislike to her, which she couldn’t understand. Everyone knew how these things worked and surely Gemma realised that Madeleine was purposely hamming it up for entertainment?

      In any case, based on the social media response, it had worked.

      So while she still felt terrible for sending Clara to school when her daughter truly was ill, all in all Madeleine stood by her decision to bite the bullet and take things as they came. Tom had agreed with her, which made her feel somewhat better at least.

      ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself – sure, for all we knew, Clara was just coming down with yet another bout of the sniffles,’ her husband reassured, kissing her on the forehead, when Madeleine had remonstrated with herself for the decision.

      There was no denying the various iterations of coughs and colds had indeed seemed endless since the kids started school, and in fairness their youngest was strong as an ox most of the time…

      Clara coughed violently then, and Madeleine stroked her little girl’s hair, feeling guiltier still. She truly hadn’t believed there was anything to worry about, and even now, a few days on, there was no sign of any telltale sores.

      But if her daughter did in fact have chicken pox, there was nothing to do now but wait it out and let the thing take its course. Heartbreaking to see her little girl so ill though, she thought, softly caressing Clara’s cheek. At least she only had one sick child to concentrate on – Jake had had the dose before, so Madeleine sent him to school the next morning without the worry at least that she would get another recriminating phone call…

      At that moment, her mobile phone sounded from where she had placed it on Clara’s dresser, and a sudden surge of panic rushed through her. Hell, what if she’d just jinxed herself and her son was in fact now down with something too?

      But when she looked at the caller ID, she felt herself calm down. It was Lucy. Likely calling to get the scoop on Clara. She was a good friend and, after picking her daughter up from school on Tuesday, had gone out of her way to reassure a panicky Madeleine that all was in hand. ‘No need to break any speed limits on your way back. Take your time – she’s fine.’

      ‘How’s Clara doing?’ her friend demanded now, before Madeleine could even issue a greeting. Taken aback at her tone – it wasn’t like Lucy to be so short – she looked again at her daughter who seemed to be dozing off.

      ‘She’s fine, thank goodness – you know yourself, you’ve been through it with Steph. Poor thing will be itchy and miserable for the next few days but—’

      Lucy cut her off. ‘Have you talked to anyone from the school since?’

      Madeleine furrowed her brow. What did that have to do with anything? Everyone knew the thing was going around, hadn’t they got that note on Monday…

      ‘Well, I obviously phoned to tell them that Clara wouldn’t be in for the rest of the week, that the poor little thing had caught the blasted pox and—’

      ‘Oh God, you really don’t know, do you?’

      What the hell? Madeleine thought, irritated. Why all the drama for crying out loud? Was there a reason why Lucy wouldn’t let her finish a sentence? It was actually starting to sound like she was phoning for a gossip and Madeleine didn’t have any time or inclination for gossip. Just then, Clara was her only concern. ‘Well, I kind of have my hands full here. I don’t know what else is going on at the school and, to tell you the truth, I don’t particularly care—’

      ‘Maddie,’ interjected Lucy harshly, ‘I don’t think Clara has chicken pox.’

      Her eyes widened in disbelief. ‘What are you talking about? Of course she has chicken pox. Ellie got it first, and now Clara has it. Her temperature’s subsided and granted there’s not many sores showing up yet, but all we can do now is let it take its—’

      Again, her friend cut her off. ‘Madeleine, let me finish. I just got off the phone with Kate O’Hara. Rosie is

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