The First Time Mums’ Club. Lucie Wheeler

The First Time Mums’ Club - Lucie  Wheeler


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       Chapter 26

      

       Chapter 27

      

       Chapter 28

      

       Chapter 29

      

       Chapter 30

      

       Part Three: Third Trimester

      

       Chapter 31

      

       Chapter 32

      

       Chapter 33

      

       Chapter 34

      

       Chapter 35

      

       Chapter 36

      

       Chapter 37

      

       Chapter 38

      

       Chapter 39

      

       Chapter 40

      

       Chapter 41

      

       Chapter 42

      

       Epilogue

      

       Acknowledgements

      

       About the Author

      

       About HarperImpulse

      

       About the Publisher

      For Gracie – you are the most precious thing in my whole world. Never give up on your dreams. You can achieve anything you want and I will always be right here beside you, believing in you.

      And for Craig – thank you for working so hard and making it possible for me to take the time out to study and to write. Without your support, I wouldn’t have had the chance to follow my dreams.

      I love you both xx

PART ONE:

       Chapter 1

       Ellie

      ‘Come on, Ellie, how long are you going to be in there?’

      ‘I’ll be out in a minute,’ she called back, pulling some toilet paper off the holder so that it made a noise and sounded authentic. She pulled her long blonde hair back into a ponytail so that it was off her neck – she was so hot, it made her feel sick.

      ‘You’ve been in there ages, is everything okay?’

      She had a little laugh to herself. Not because it was funny, more because she actually couldn’t believe what she was doing. If someone had said to her years, even weeks, ago that this is what she would be doing on a Friday in November, she would have laughed in their face and told them not to be so stupid.

      Yet, here she was. Locked in a bathroom at the hotel she was staying in for the photoshoot job she was on. The subtle cream walls were splashed with various shades of mocha, which did nothing but accentuate the sheer grandeur of the place. It was one of those places that had posh handwash and moisturiser for every basin – a far jump from Ellie’s tiny flat in the centre of London, in which her bathroom rarely had a towel to dry her hands, let alone moisturiser.

      She had hoped that it would have been at least another five minutes until Jenni, the photoshoot manager, noticed she was missing, though. Who was she kidding? People don’t just forget that there is a make-up artist on set. ‘Everything’s fine. I’m just… um…,’ she frantically looked around the bathroom for inspiration and spotted some tweezers on the windowsill, ‘plucking my eyebrows!’ She creased her face as she cringed at her terrible attempt of lying.

      ‘What? Why have you locked the door if you’re just plucking your eyebrows? I’ve got Suzie out here waiting for her make-up for the photoshoot and you’ve picked now to lock yourself in a bathroom to pluck your eyebrows? I pay you to do other people’s make-up, not sort your own face out!’

      ‘I know, I’m … uh…. doing it whilst I’m on the toilet – I must’ve eaten something dodgy.’ She really was clutching at straws now. This is what her life had come to. She felt stupid but she had to do this. There was no other time and she couldn’t face another day tearing herself apart inside with the constant worry and wondering about what the hell was going on – it had taken over her life. Yeah, sure, she could have done this at home, but she acted on impulse this morning at the chemist – her bag had felt like a lead weight ever since. She needed to just get rid of it and do it.

      She heard Jenni exhale impatiently outside the door and stomp off. She listened to her footsteps quieten and then, finally, a door slammed.

      ‘Eyebrows?’ she said to herself and laughed. ‘Bloody plucking my eyebrows?’ She looked up to the ceiling aghast and threw her hands up to her head to rub her cheeks.

      Finally she turned her attention back to the task in hand; still another minute to go. This was the longest two minutes of her life. She should be out there, doing Suzie’s make-up, laughing and joking on set and doing what she did best. She had been a make-up artist for about eight years now and she absolutely loved her job. The buzz she got from working with the models and photographers on set to help create some really beautiful masterpieces was pure indulgence. She could remember spending hours as a child, doing her own make-up with her mum’s stash. Her and Zoe, who was three years older, would sneak into their mum’s bedroom and take all her best make-up to practise with. The trouble they got into when Ellie once used their mum’s MAC make-up to make Zoe look like a clown for her ninth birthday party. Their mum had thought Ellie used face paint and


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