The Calendar Mums

by Lauren K. McKellar

Genres: Humor & Satire

Synopsis

Meet single mum Samantha, entrepreneur Rhea, and first-time mother Tahlie, all from different walks of life, brought together by their weekly mum and baby group in the town of Hickory Creek. Here they all find support - and a moment's peace - in the haze of raising their new-borns.

But when the group is cancelled due to a lack of funds, it looks like the invaluable support they received will be no more.

Until they decide to band together to save the community centre, their group and a whole host of other services that keep Hickory Creek running.

Their plan? Create a fundraiser calendar featuring themselves... in the nude.

Baring all for charity requires bravery at the best of times, but as all of them have given birth in the last few months it feels unthinkable. Which is exactly why they decide to do it.

They will challenge not only what is celebrated about women's bodies but what each of them think they are capable of.

Circle the date on your calendars because for these women, and their town, nothing will ever be the same again...

A laugh-out-loud, hilarious, heartfelt and unflinchingly honest exploration of new motherhood, friendship and the hidden strength within us all. This contemporary take on the classic Calendar Girls is perfect for fans of Why Mummy Drinks, Alexandra Potter and Fiona Gibson.

Release date: May 15, 2025

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 432

Sample

It seemed strange that a room full of women with nothing in common except the dates they’d had sex should share their deepest, darkest secrets with each other.

It seemed even stranger that they were expected to become friends.

And yet there Tahlie was, in a room full of women so different and yet apparently so alike, ready to share the kinds of details about her body she wouldn’t normally spill to her mama. Her beautician, maybe, but she saw a lot of vaginas, and that seemed to broker some of the gap that existed between formality and true intimacy.

‘This morning, we’ll continue sharing birth stories. Who wants to go first?’ Nurse Jane looked around the circle, shrewd eyes glittering under thin-rimmed glasses.

‘I will.’ A woman seated a few chairs to Tahlie’s right waved one hand in the air.

‘Fabulous. Start by introducing yourself and your baby.’ Jane nodded in her direction.

‘Okay. I’m Samantha, and this is Jayde.’ She smiled kindly at the small sweet-faced baby lying on the white sheet in front of her. ‘She’s six weeks old, and I went into labour without medical intervention. When my contractions were close, three minutes apart, which happened after just a few hours, I drove myself to the hospital.’

‘You drove yourself? While you were in labour?’ a woman with curly red hair asked, her eyes the size of Tahlie’s engorged nipples—Thanks, breastfeeding. Super hashtag-blessed for that enlargement.

‘I pulled over every time I was going through a contraction, of course. I’d never risk my baby.’ Samantha’s voice was cool, calm, and collected, almost as if she were describing a trip to the supermarket instead of the horrors of labour. ‘I gave birth naturally, but I did have some pain relief—the gas. I have stitches from a tear, but only three. They say the endorphins can relax your muscles so I guess everything was quite elasticised.’

Elasticised.

Tahlie chewed on the word like a piece of gum. Her body hadn’t felt elastic during the birth, and now she felt like a doll, sewn too tight at the seams, unsure if she’d be able to ever stretch properly again.

She was the opposite of elastic. Was there a word for that? Could you be unelastic?

‘Did you try perineal massage in the lead-up? That can help reduce tearing,’ the woman directly next to Tahlie said.

‘Of course. With coconut oil and lubricant,’ Samantha replied.

‘It really does work wonders. That and deep breathing.’ The perineal massage expert ran one hand lovingly over her baby’s head. The child nestled farther into her arms, the picture of sleeping Zen. ‘I’m Rhea, and this is Kai. We had a water birth and it was just beautiful. So peaceful and lovely—just me, Kai, his big sister Athena, and my partner.’

Tahlie had considered a water birth. That was, until Hamish had talked her out of it. You want to give birth in a pool of your own blood and bodily fluids? he’d asked her. You know almost all women shit during labour. Do you want us to be in a pool of your blood and your shit?

No. No, she had not.

And clearly, neither had he—so there’d been no point pursuing it.

‘Kai is our second child, and we are just so in love. He’s perfect.’ Rhea smiled down at her little boy. He sighed in his sleep, and Samantha made a little ‘aw’ noise, as if her heart were melting.

Tahlie was sceptical. His face looked like a cauliflower—kind of lumpy and bumpy, and very purple.

Ugh. She shouldn’t think like that. Thoughts like that weren’t very motherly. All children were supposed to be beautiful.

Thunk. A loud noise came from the roof overhead. Samantha jerked her hand out, shielding her baby.

Tahlie shot her eyes to the low ceiling. ‘What was that?’

‘I believe there’s an air-conditioning technician in the roof, trying to get the system repaired.’ Jane winced. ‘Sorry. He shouldn’t be too long.’

‘Hasn’t it been broken for a while? It was out of order when I came for my hypnobirthing session in April,’ Samantha said, easing back into her seat, her ponytail falling over one shoulder.

‘Eleven months, three days, thirteen hours and forty-six minutes. But who’s counting?’ The nurse gave a wry laugh. ‘Oliver, the operations manager, said it would take a while to get fixed, and he wasn’t wrong.’

Another loud clunk came from overhead followed by a stream of words that made Jane blush.

‘Fingers crossed he fixes the problem and doesn’t fall through the roof,’ she said drily. ‘Now, where were we?’

Tahlie shrank into her seat. Perhaps they could skip her.

‘It was you, wasn’t it, Tahlie? What’s your birth story?’

‘It’s a little boring,’ she hedged.

‘Is that a Scottish accent I detect?’ Jane asked.

‘Irish. I’m from Dublin,’ Tahlie replied. First Ireland, then Sydney, and now … Hickory Creek, population 16,000. The small town in the continent in the middle of the big ocean.

‘What brings you all the way here?’ a woman in a bright floral jumpsuit asked as she finished breastfeeding her baby, clipped the top of her clothes back together, and placed her child on the mat.

‘My fiancé grew up in this town—you might know him? Hamish McMasters?’

A ripple of acknowledgement passed through the room.

‘Isn’t he like the boss of the local police or something now?’ the jumpsuit woman asked, and Tahlie nodded.

‘District commander. But yes. That’s the one,’ Tahlie replied to a chorus of impressed murmurs—the kind Hamish usually inspired.

‘Please share your birth story with us, Tahlie,’ the nurse said.

Tahlie glanced down at her baby, nestled in the capsule. His cheeks were round, so round and red, with a series of raised red bumps over them. Dark hair tufted from his head except for a little bald spot in the middle, as if he were a monk. He was nothing like the Anne Geddes pictures Tahlie had loved as a teenager, back when she’d dreamed of becoming a mother one day. He wasn’t sweet with big eyes like Samantha’s baby, or sleeping contentedly like Rhea’s.

His face contorted with rage, his lips twisting in hate. A loud fart came from the capsule, and everyone giggled.

Somehow, despite her best intentions, Tahlie had given birth to a farting, fat-cheeked, midget monk. And now she was expected to share all the details of that birth with this room full of virtual strangers.

‘Go on. This is a safe space.’ Rhea placed a hand on her arm, and the scent of sandalwood drifted over Tahlie.

Here goes nothing.

‘I … I gave birth in hospital. I had an epidural. And an episiotomy, and a vacuum, and forceps.’ Tahlie crossed her legs, sweat sticking them together. Nineteen long hours of labour. Of a low ache that had howled through her body with the force of a lightning bolt every few minutes. Of Hamish ducking in and out, bringing her coffee, drinking her coffee, leaving the room, then coming back and asking if he could help by touching her back right there—Do not touch me there. She’d sucked on numbing ice, and scorched her body in too-hot water from the shower. But she’d known there’d be pain, and known it would likely be long.

She just hadn’t thought she’d feel so … alone.

‘It wasn’t like I’d expected,’ Tahlie finally said, realising everyone was still looking at her.

‘That’s a lot to go through,’ Samantha said sympathetically, her ponytail pin-straight and frizz-free despite the heat. ‘Was Hamish supportive?’

‘I remember him saying in primary school he wanted to be a dad with one son and one daughter.’ The redhead gave a gentle laugh, beating Tahlie in the race to reply. ‘I’m sure he’s the perfect father.’

‘Well, it’s early days, but so far …’ Tahlie shrugged. Heat prickled at her décolleté.

‘Oh, did he tell you about the time he helped a cow give birth at the ag farm? He’s very paternal.’ Another woman continued the Hamish love fest.

‘I heard about that! I’m sure he used to volunteer at the rescue shelter too,’ Samantha said, tapping one French-manicured nail against her lips.

‘Sounds like Hamish,’ Tahlie replied, waving a hand at her face. ‘It is quite stuffy in here. Could I please have a glass of wat—’

The door swung open. A short middle-aged man in royal blue slacks and a white shirt that stretched around his rotund midsection bustled in, wiping at the sweat shining on his bald head.

‘Oliver?’ Jane furrowed her brow in question.

‘Bit of bad news, everybody.’ Oliver clapped his hands as he glanced around the room. ‘The aircon tech discovered some black mould up there. I hate to interrupt the session, but we need you out.’

‘Out where?’ Rhea asked.

‘Out of the room. Right now,’ OIiver answered. ‘Our insurance won’t cover something like this, and if one of you lot get sick …’ He grimaced, as if he could see the dollar signs adding up in his head. One of the women on the other side of the room sprang into action, placing her baby into a capsule.

‘Okay, ladies.’ Jane stood from her plastic chair in the centre of the room. ‘Seems like our session today has come to an unexpected end, but we’ll resume again next week, same time, same place.’

‘Not the same place, unfortunately.’ Oliver’s tone didn’t add authenticity to his words. ‘I’m afraid we don’t have a budget to clean the mould and replace the aircon. This will take time and money. You can continue the sessions over the phone for the rest of the parents’ group.’

‘The phone?’ Tahlie asked. Lord knew she wasn’t qualified to look after a baby. She needed all the help she could get—and she needed it in person. ‘How will we have our babies’ weight checked?’

‘Kitchen scales?’ Oliver shrugged.

‘What about the educational videos on caring for your baby? Jane, didn’t you say there’d be videos?’ Samantha asked, restrained alarm in her tone.

‘Watch them on YouTube,’ Oliver answered confidently. ‘Now, if I could get everyone out of here—’

‘What about my other groups? The feeding and speech therapy? And the playgroup,’ Jane continued. ‘And will the immunisation clinics be cancelled too?’

‘Uh, best you all book in to that place in Lismore for the immunisations.’ Oliver tugged at the neckline of his shirt. ‘And yes, the other groups may be cancelled as well, but we can discuss this all later in private, Jane.’

‘One moment, please.’ Rhea spoke calmly, yet she commanded the room. ‘Isn’t there another hall on the other side of the reception area? Is the aircon working there? Perhaps we could use that instead.’

‘I’d love to offer you the space, but that’s the men’s fishing club room.’ Oliver shrugged, what can you do style.

‘Surely they’re not meeting in there all the time,’ Tahlie said, clutching at straws. ‘We could be flexible with our schedules, couldn’t we?’

A few women murmured their agreement.

Oliver shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. It’s where they store their equipment too.’

‘Can’t they just move it?’ Tahlie asked.

‘I’ll help them,’ Rhea chimed in.

Oliver gave a small shake of his head, as if the very suggestion were preposterous. ‘Women shouldn’t be moving heavy things from room to room.’

‘How do you know what I can and cannot do with my own body?’ Rhea’s dark eyes flashed. ‘I assure you, I am perfectly capable—’

‘Regardless of your athleticism, the men pay a generous amount to use that space. We need those funds to provide the services the centre does, including supplementing Jane’s wage. Why should the fishermen be inconvenienced just because your room is out of order?’ Oliver held out both his hands as if he were creating a shield between himself and the women. ‘Look, I’m sorry about this—I truly am. But we have exhausted our budget when it comes to family services, and frankly, I don’t know that we’ll have enough to reinstate them. We only have enough money to fix the mould issue—and with the humid weather in these parts, the mould will reoccur if we don’t have a working ventilation system in this room. I’m sorry, but unless you can come up with the funds to repair the air-conditioning unit yourselves, we’re going to have to cancel the women and children in-person sessions indefinitely.’

Samantha sucked in a sharp breath of air. Rhea raised her chin, a challenge in her gaze as she stared at Oliver, who rapidly retreated into the foyer.

Tahlie pressed her eyes closed for a moment. She hadn’t been so naive as to think she’d find a friend in this room full of strangers, but she’d hoped for something—a connection. Perhaps an acquaintance, someone she could go for coffee with every now and then in this new small town. And she’d certainly expected some detailed in-person information on how to care for a newborn baby.

Tahlie’s mam had once told her that motherhood could be isolating.

Turned out she was right.

Rhea took a deep breath. She prided herself on being in touch with her emotions. Years of therapy and listening to her body had allowed her a sense of self-awareness that her partner, Cole, envied. But still …

Fucking fishing.

They’d been bumped for a group of men who were devoted to their rods.

She ran her thumb over the smooth surface of the amethyst ring on her index finger. It’s okay to feel my feelings. Anger is a surface emotion used to mask deeper hurt beneath.

But that surface emotion made her feel like taking one of those rods and showing Oliver where he could put it. She pressed the amethyst stone again until it carved a small groove into her finger.

All around her, women packed babies into prams and wraps and wipes into nappy bags, getting ready to leave.

‘I’ll go talk to Oliver. There must be something we can do.’ Jane skirted around a woman strapping twins into a double pram as she headed out the door.

‘I can’t believe they’re cancelling the class,’ Lizzy lamented as she tucked an errant red curl behind her ear. ‘I know Harry’s my second child, but I need this. I’ve forgotten so much about what to do and expect.’

‘Me too. And the breastfeeding support was invaluable when I had Athena. That’s the sort of thing you really need to do in person.’ Rhea closed her eyes as memories flashed through her mind of trying to feed a young baby when she’d had no idea how it worked. Jane had been a lifesaver then, and the other mothers, too. The Hickory Creek Community Centre was where she’d met Lizzy, who was now a good friend. That was what had made the group special—that sense of connection.

‘At least it’s not cancelled completely. We do have the phone,’ the woman with twins offered with a smile.

‘How helpful will that be? Can you imagine?’ Rhea held an imaginary mobile to her ear. ‘Hey, Jane, Kai’s poop is a strange green colour. No, not pea green. More khaki. Or maybe it’s like eucalypt leaves. Have you got a Pantone board handy? I’ll send you some colour codes.’

‘You could take a photo,’ Twin Mum helpfully suggested, and Lizzy laughed.

‘Sure, I could. But it’s just … it’s frustrating, the way we’ve been bumped but the fishing club gets to keep their space.’ Rhea searched the room until her gaze found Lizzy’s. ‘Doesn’t that annoy you?’

‘It does,’ Lizzy agreed as Rhea took another deep breath and touched her ring once more. ‘Perhaps we can petition the board to reallocate the funds or reassign the rooms.’

‘There’s a board? The centre isn’t run by the government?’ Tahlie asked, a melodic Irish lilt in her tone.

‘The centre was founded in 1972 by my grandmother,’ Samantha supplied as she clipped the seatbelt of her baby’s capsule in place. ‘It relies on some government grants but also fundraising, fees from room hire, and community club memberships. A board runs the place and manages the financial side of things.’

‘And how many of those board members are female?’ Rhea asked pointedly.

‘I have no idea. My family haven’t worked here for a very long while.’ Samantha bit her lower lip and ran a hand along her crisp white shirt as if to press away any wrinkles. ‘I do know, however, that petitioning the board to let us use the other room is unlikely to be successful. The president of the fishing club is the chair.’

‘What a joke.’ Lizzy harrumphed. ‘I’m not surprised though. I’ve seen things like this happen time and time again—I work as a HR consultant.’ She addressed the last part of the line to Tahlie, who nodded in acknowledgement. ‘Starts with something like not enough cash for the aircon—next thing you know? Everything else for women is too pricey as well, while the fishing clubs and the woodworking groups thrive.’

‘It’s a shame there’s nothing that can be done,’ Tahlie said. ‘Especially when it comes to the immunisation clinic. I don’t fancy the two-hour drive into Lismore for a couple needles.’

‘We should do something,’ Samantha said quietly but firmly as she joined Tahlie. ‘If we could just finance the air-conditioning, we’d be able to stay. They’d have no reason to kick us out.’

‘If we financed the air-conditioning, it would take a while to be installed.’ Rhea ran through the timeline in her mind. ‘But it would keep the program alive for the next lot of parents. And it would allow us to continue with things like the starting solids program, and the playgroup Jane runs for toddlers.’

‘I’d love to help and buy them central air, but for a room this size, it could cost upwards of eight grand. I’d know—we looked at it for our place recently. Toby and I just don’t have the cash.’ Lizzy made a kissy face at her baby as he snatched handfuls of air.

A squawk pierced the air as Tahlie’s baby cried. ‘Hush, wee one,’ Tahlie sang softly as the mum-of-twins finally manoeuvred her pram through the door. ‘It’s okay, Eli.’

‘Time for a feed?’ Rhea asked sympathetically.

‘I think so. I guess I’ll just do it in the car …’ Tahlie walked into the reception area with Rhea following right behind her. The rest of the mothers from the group were clustered in the small foyer already—it seemed no one was quite prepared to leave the centre just yet. The teenage receptionist studied her laptop intently, as if her workspace was invaded by eleven women with prams every day.

‘Why don’t you breastfeed there? They’re not closing this room, so it must be fine.’ Rhea gestured to a chair beside the door and Tahlie slumped into the seat, right as Samantha snorted. Rhea continued, ‘Apparently there’s no black mould in the foyer.’

Rhea stood to the side as Tahlie unclipped the seatbelt on her child’s capsule. Her baby seemed to shake with rage, his little face bright red as Tahlie held him to her chest, fumbling with her shirt. A few of the women looked at her, and her cheeks turned almost the same shade of red as her baby’s. She was younger than they were—perhaps in her mid-twenties? She looks so worried.

‘What if we organise some sort of fundraiser?’ Rhea asked, trying to draw attention away from the chaos of an apoplectic child and Tahlie. ‘Not just to fix the air-conditioning, but to show the board that we’re important too. That people value services like this.’

‘That’s a great idea.’ Samantha nodded. ‘I’m sure if more people knew how important these services were they would want to get behind them.’

‘Absolutely.’ Lizzy leaned against the exposed brick wall beside Tahlie just as the other woman latched her child onto her breast and the crying melted into silence. ‘What should we do?’

‘We could make organic playdough and sell it at the markets,’ Rhea suggested.

‘We wouldn’t make enough money. We need thousands,’ Lizzy said.

‘A cake stall! It has to be a cake stall,’ one woman said—Rhea was fairly certain she was the one who’d given birth on the side of the road.

‘What about the chocolate-for-charity boxes? The ones you get from Cadbury? My Hayden’s basketball team always makes a motza with those.’

‘A dance. I think a dance would be perfect.’

‘A raffle? Do people still raffle things these days?’

‘We could sell the VCR player Jane was going to play videos on. It’s vintage. Could be worth millions,’ Lizzy said, and a few women laughed as they continued brainstorming ideas.

Eli fussed on Tahlie’s breast, making great big slobbery sounds as he drank. Tahlie winced, as if she were embarrassed or in pain—or perhaps a combination of the two. Rhea pressed her eyes closed for just one second then glanced at the woman again. A muddied blue aura seemed to radiate from her.

‘Isn’t breastfeeding beautiful?’ Rhea smiled at Tahlie, trying to make her feel at ease. ‘It’s amazing that your body can do this.’

‘It’s something,’ Tahlie muttered quietly as her baby wriggled in her grasp. ‘I just don’t think I’ll ever feel comfortable getting my boobs out in—’

Pop!

The child slipped off her nipple.

Tahlie’s breast was exposed to the entire room. And—the pièce de résistance—a long arc of white milk spurted from her chest all the way across the green carpet floor.

Every single mother in the room stopped to watch the spectacle.

The teenage receptionist focused even more intently on her computer screen.

‘Damn it,’ Tahlie muttered as her baby wailed, his little fists hammering at her chest. Tahlie stretched her shirt across her boobs, creating a damp patch that was expanding by the second.

‘Hey,’ Rhea said softly, hands outstretched. ‘Let me take him.’

‘But how? You have a baby …’ Tahlie pointed to Kai, strapped snugly against the right side of Rhea’s chest in the cotton baby-wearing sling she’d purchased at the markets a few months back. ‘How could you take two?’

‘Easy.’ Rhea mimicked rocking a baby on the other side of her body. ‘See?’

‘If you’re sure you don’t mind …’ Tahlie said, and Rhea smiled her encouragement as Tahlie placed Eli into her outstretched hands. Almost straight away, he blinked his little eyes open, and the wailing that had been so loud just moments before receded to a whimper.

Around them, the other women began to speak again, the attention off Tahlie once more. Eli continued to soften his whimpers until even they stopped and he looked dreamily up at Rhea, a sheen of exhaustion glassing over his eyes.

‘Now he stops crying?’ Tahlie sighed. ‘Are you some kind of baby whisperer?’

‘It’s probably just the shock of seeing someone new,’ Rhea said kindly. ‘How are you, little man? You’re very cute.’

‘He’s probably recognised that you know what you’re doing while I’m just guessing.’ Tahlie flipped her bra closed and buttoned her shirt.

‘You’re doing really well, Tahlie.’ Rhea pulled Eli close to her shoulder, rubbing little circles on his back. ‘Feeding in public is hard.’

‘Absolutely,’ Samantha murmured sympathetically as she wheeled her pram closer to the two of them. ‘Take this.’ She handed Tahlie a thick white cloth. ‘To clean your shirt.’

‘Oh. Thanks.’ The red on Tahlie’s cheeks bloomed darker as she dabbed at the wet patch.

‘You’re doing great,’ Samantha said.

‘Pretty sure great doesn’t entail flashing your tits to the whole room.’ Tahlie snorted.

‘Why not? You have great tits.’ Rhea shrugged.

‘Hardly.’ Tahlie studied her black ballet flats.

‘I think you’re being too hard on your breasts,’ Samantha said a little stiffly, as if the word was foreign to her mouth. ‘They seem perfectly fine to me.’

‘Fine? That’s the best you can do?’ Rhea teased gently, and Samantha gave a good-natured roll of her eyes.

‘You know what I mean. I’m not used to complimenting women on their anatomy.’

‘Maybe you should be,’ Rhea said and—Goddess, that was it. That was the solution. Her mouth slowly shaped into a smile that she felt everywhere. Joy and possibility vibrated through her body. ‘Maybe we all should be more comfortable with that.’ She passed Eli back to Tahlie. ‘That gives me an idea.’

‘An idea? For what?’ Tahlie asked.

‘Fundraising,’ Rhea replied.

Samantha’s face turned pale.

Rhea clapped her hands to gain the attention of the other of mothers in the room. ‘Everyone! I have an idea. I know what we should do to fundraise.’

‘What is it?’ Lizzy asked, her head tilted to the side.

‘We’re going to make a calendar. We’ll be the subjects in each photo,’ Rhea continued as she felt the eye of every mother in the room fixed upon her, and yes. This would be the perfect way to raise the funds, to bring the services back, and to show those men just how powerful a group of determined women could be at the same time. ‘And we’re going to do it naked.’

Naked?

Had Rhea lost her mind?

Samantha’s jaw was on the floor. Her heart—had it stopped beating? They would have to pick her up and cart her out of there. Or maybe that was how they could make their money—they could leave her there, like a museum exhibit, and people could pay to come see her, saying things like, See that woman, little Tulip? That’s what happens if you suggest that other people see her naked.

Ugh, of course she should be pro post-birth body and all that nonsense, and it was fine for other people, of course it was, but for her it just wasn’t. She had stretch marks. And her vagina was nothing like it used to be.

But surely everyone would feel the same way she did. No one else would fall for this idea … would they?

‘A photographer could take pictures of us. We could make it classy—no vaginas would make it to the page, and you could cover the parts you’d like to keep covered. You could expose just the amount of skin that you’re comfortable with,’ Rhea continued, like simply saying ‘no flaps on show’ would somehow make things better. ‘I think it would sell well. It’d be a celebration of the modern mother. Someone who’s given birth but who’s still a woman too.’

‘Embracing two sides of our feminine identity,’ Lizzy said slowly, nodding. A smile stretched across her face. ‘I like it.’

‘And it would raise awareness for women’s services while raising money at the same time,’ Rhea continued.

‘Wouldn’t a cute baby calendar raise more awareness of the services the centre provides?’ Samantha traced a fingertip down angelic Jayde’s face. She would be the perfect model.

‘I don’t think photos of babies in flowerpots would make money like this would. Sex sells.’ Lizzy grinned. ‘People would support this calendar. This is exactly the sort of thing we need.’

‘While I do think it’s a good idea—great idea, Rhea. Truly,’ Samantha said, not wanting to sound like too much of a prude. ‘And I do think it would get people talking, I just don’t know that anyone would pay money to have a bunch of naked women on the wall in their living room all year long.’ She shuddered. Just imagine her mother having a naked photo of her up on the wall in the nursing home, stretch marks and all. Or worse—what if they displayed a calendar in the doctor’s surgery?

She would die. She would actually rather die than visit the doctor if it meant being exposed like that.

‘Have you been to a mechanic’s? Plenty of naked women calendars there,’ Lizzy replied, adding fuel to the inferno of Samantha’s terror.

‘Those models are trained professionals,’ Samantha said as Jayde let out a little squawk. Samantha clipped her out of the capsule and held her close to her chest. ‘I don’t know that people would pay to see ordinary women naked.’

‘I bet they would. I bet you’d see a heap of women buying it for men too,’ an older woman—Leslie Richardson, Samantha was sure that was her name—said from her place on the other side of the room. ‘Could you imagine? Walking into someone’s kitchen and seeing your naked butt on the wall? It’d be a right hoot!’

Nausea surged in Samantha’s stomach. Good Lord, no! Were they actually agreeing with Rhea?

‘What if we did it with clothes on?’ Samantha suggested. ‘Beautiful doesn’t have to mean naked.’

‘I think we’d have to be nude in order to create the kind of impact we’re hoping for.’ Rhea calmly unbuttoned her shirt to feed her son as if to demonstrate quite how comfortable with the idea she was. ‘If we’re not naked, people won’t feel the need to buy it. Without that selling point, I don’t think we’ll attract media attention.’

‘Oh! Do you think we’d be on the local news?’ one of the others asked.

‘They might even put us on the billboard just before you come into town!’ Leslie’s eyes lit up.

‘That’s not how billboards work,’ Samantha rushed out. ‘You have to pay to be on them.’ And while she might have previously said none of them would be so utt. . .