The No-Kids Club Read Online Free PDF Page A

weekends anymore. Okay, so this was a club and not a romantic rendezvous, but they had to start somewhere. A new social circle, different activities . . . this was just what they needed to push past their slump. And she could do with some female company who didn’t feel the need to play twenty reproductive questions every time they saw her.
    Quickly, Anna clicked the link, devoured the information on the Facebook page, then sent a message to the founder.
    If this didn’t entice Michael to leave the house, Anna thought, she hadn’t a clue what would.

CHAPTER FIVE
    ‘O kay, class, now you need to trace your hand on the front of the card.’ Poppy Elliot swished the pencil around her fingers, then held up her paper as an example. Thirty 7-year-olds squinted at her in concentration, and she couldn’t help smiling. They were so cute at this age: they wanted to please you and loved learning something new . . . if they sat still long enough. As trying as being a primary school teacher was sometimes, Poppy couldn’t imagine anything better—except a child of her own.
    She walked around the tables, peering over the children’s shoulders to make sure they were on track. Mother’s Day wasn’t for another week and a bit, but she’d learned from experience creating cards was a time-consuming task.
    ‘How’s this, Miss?’ Faisal, one of her secret favourites, held up his card for examination.
    Poppy nodded as she glanced at the shaky tracing of a hand without a thumb. ‘It’s fantastic, Faisal. Your mum will love it! Make sure you remember to give it to her first thing on Mother’s Day.’
    ‘I will, Miss,’ he said. ‘I’m going to cover it in sparkles, too.’
    ‘Even better.’ Poppy patted his shoulder.
    ‘Will you get a card for Mother’s Day?’ Faisal’s big brown eyes met hers, and a familiar dart of pain went through her.
    ‘Not this year.’ She kept smiling, even as grief contracted her insides. Every Mother’s Day, she hoped this would be the one she could finally call herself a mother. And every year, despite the endless parade of herbal remedies, acupuncture, then doctor’s visits leading to fertility drugs and even four rounds of IVF, she was still not a mum.
    But she would be one day, she told herself, willing her eyes not to fill with tears. Ever since she and Alistair had married, she’d imagined a tiny baby with her curly blonde hair and Alistair’s grey eyes, the perfect fusion of them both. Alistair had started making noises about investigating adoption, but Poppy wasn’t ready to quit just yet. Despite countless tests and investigations, experts still couldn’t explain her inability to conceive, and although Alistair had a low sperm count, she wasn’t going to give up until a doctor told her getting pregnant was impossible.
    She realised with a start that Faisal was staring at her expectantly. ‘Sorry, sweetie, did you say something?’
    ‘Earth to Miss!’ He grinned. ‘I said, maybe next year?’
    Poppy nodded and crossed her fingers. ‘Yes, maybe next year.’ In fact, if she started another IVF cycle sooner rather than later, she could very well be cradling her baby next Mother’s Day. She made a mental note to broach the subject with Alistair when the timing was right.
    Poppy cleared her throat and looked up at the clock on the wall. ‘Right, class, five minutes to finish up and clean your table before home time!’
    The classroom erupted into chaos as kids rushed to complete their cards and tidy up. Finally, the bell rang and after all the students had been shepherded out the door and into the waiting arms of parents and nannies, Poppy sank into the chair behind her battered wooden desk and breathed in the silence. There was something about the stillness of the room at the end of the day which calmed her soul. She’d love to go home and have a huge glass of wine to relax, but with the next IVF cycle looming, it was better not to indulge.
    Sighing, Poppy rounded the