Page 5 of A New Family at Puddleduck Farm (Puddleduck Farm #6)

‘You can’t do every night and every day.

That’s definitely not fair.’ He smiled at her.

‘Let’s try it tonight. We’ve got formula milk on standby.

We can make some up and try it, and hey, at least tonight it’s just Lily and not three squalling puppies as well.

Did you tell Jade what she was letting herself in for? ’

‘She knows. She’s not silly. Even if she did go all misty-eyed when she saw them.’ Phoebe managed a smile despite herself. ‘And she’s got that nice Finn to help her. He seems a decent bloke. I wish we were nearer to Duck Pond Rescue. I think Jade and I could be good friends.’

‘You’ve certainly got plenty in common.’

‘We have. And talking of friends, I should touch base with Tori and ask her about the whole feeding thing. I don’t remember her having any problems at all, but maybe that was just me looking at the whole new mum thing through rose-tinted glasses.’

‘Or maybe she just didn’t tell you about her problems. Maybe she was doing what we’re doing and telling everyone she knows that everything’s hunky dory and blissful.’

Right on cue, Lily started to yell, and they exchanged glances.

‘She’s got a fantastic sense of timing.’ Sam made himself heard above the din. ‘I’ll see to her. And I’ll make up the milk. You go and phone Tori.’

Phoebe took his advice and she grabbed her mobile and escaped to the room at the front of the house, which they kept tidy for guests, but hardly ever used because most guests sat in the kitchen, which was huge and warm and animal-friendly and muddy-boots-friendly.

Maggie hadn’t used the room much either for the same reason.

Phoebe felt as if she was doing something a little bit forbidden as she pushed open the door, beckoned Roxie in with her – the dalmatian had also been keen to escape the din – and headed for one of the two brown corduroy sofas that sat at right angles to each other.

Even the terracotta and cream cushions were nicely plumped up, and the patterned rug that lay in front of the wood-burning stove didn’t have as much as a dog’s hair on it.

Phoebe sank onto the sofa and beckoned Roxie up beside her. The dalmatian complied elegantly and rested her head on one of Phoebe’s legs, fixating on her mistress with adoring dark eyes.

‘You’re so good,’ Phoebe told her as she called Tori. She decided if she didn’t answer, she would stay on the sofa anyway. It was so comfy. A half-hour nap would be wonderful.

Tori answered almost straightaway. ‘Hey, stranger. Synchronicity. I was just about to phone you.’

‘Were you?’

‘Yes, I’ve missed you. But I didn’t want to hassle you. Or wake you up if you were having a kip. I know what it’s like with a baby. You grab your sleep whenever you can.’

Phoebe felt warmth stealing through her at the gorgeously familiar sound of her best friend’s voice. ‘I’ve missed you too. How are you? How’s little Vanessa-Rose? How’s Harrison?’

‘Never mind us, I want to know about you. How’s it going?

Do you feel like your eyeballs have been removed from their sockets, dipped in something hot and then put back in again?

Or that your entire brain has been given a good shake and none of the pieces went back in the right place?

Or do you feel like you’ve woken up on a different planet where you don’t know any of the rules? ’

‘All of them.’

Tori gave a peal of throaty laughter.

‘It’s not funny. I’m sure you never felt like that. It’s awful.’

‘Pheebs, my lovely, of course I felt like that. It was bloody terrible and I wanted to give her back. I would have done if that had been an option.’

‘But you always looked so peaceful when I came round.’

‘Semi-conscious, don’t you mean?’

‘No, that’s not true. I distinctly remember sitting on your bed while you fed her once, and you told me it was wonderful.’

‘Did I? I was definitely lying. But do you want the good news?’

‘Oh, yes, please. I really need some.’

‘It gets better. The first six weeks are the worst.’

‘Are they really? Or are you just saying that because she’s six weeks old?’

‘No, I’m not just saying it. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die. It gets better because you adjust and you get into a routine and they settle.’

‘I can’t breastfeed,’ Phoebe interrupted. ‘I’m sure you didn’t have any problems with that.’

Something that sounded like a snort came down the line.

‘Oh my God, that’s so not true. I must have told you that.

We had to change onto formula in the end.

That helped massively. You don’t want to listen to all that “breast is best” bollocks that’s spouted.

The reality is that less than 50 per cent of new mothers continue breastfeeding past six weeks.

Seriously. We ran a feature on it last week in the mag. I’ll send it to you.’

Phoebe let out a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding.

‘Oh, wow,’ she said with something akin to wonderment. ‘That’s such a massive relief. Why on earth didn’t I call you before?’

Tori laughed again. ‘Look, I’ve got to go in a sec. Harrison’s just done us steak and chips, but why don’t I swing by at the weekend? We can catch up properly then.’

‘That would be absolutely wonderful.’

‘And Phoebe. Change to formula. And take every offer of help you can get. I bet your mum and Maggie are champing at the bit to help. And I bet you haven’t let them.’

‘You’re right.’

‘Invite them round.’

As she disconnected, Phoebe felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

She wasn’t a failure, she wasn’t unique.

She was OK. Everything in the room looked better.

From the flat-screen TV to the golden pine French dresser to the slatted wooden blinds at the tall windows.

It all looked shinier and brighter and sparklier, and the whole room felt full of hope.