'It looks good to me,' Dad said, picking up a newspaper.

'I can't wait to see my room.' Julie clapped her hands. 'It's so exciting to be away with only one child.'

I checked in first. 'Hi, I'd like a double bed, not twins,' I told the receptionist. 'Also, I don't want to be near a busy street or close to the air-conditioning vents or the kitchens. I'm sensitive to noise.'

'You can put me anywhere. I can sleep in a tornado,' Julie said, over my shoulder.

'Can we just get on with it?' Dad huffed.

I went to my room. We had arranged to be downstairs at seven fifteen. We were meeting Louise for dinner at seven thirty and she hated anyone being late. I looked at my watch: it was twenty past five. I had time for a nap and would still have an hour to get ready.

There was a knock on the door. It was Gavin. 'Dude, you need to sort out my hair.'

'Sorry, I forgot. Come on in.'

He sauntered in and saw my outfits laid out on the bed. 'Did you need to pack everything you own? You're only here for a few days.'

'I like to have choices so I always pack extra.'

'You have enough choice there for three weeks.'

'You like trees, I like clothes. Sit down. Let's fix this mess.'

I ironed out the awful ringlets and made him presentable. 'There, she won't dump you now.'

'Thanks. I owe you big-time. I swear, Sophie, I am so into Acorn. She's my perfect woman.'

'Are you in love with her?'

'I dunno about love, but definitely in lust. She has a body to die for.'

'You must like her if you're willing to live in a tent with her. I wouldn't even do that for Jack.'

Gavin laughed. 'Come on, Sophie, you'd do anything for Jack.'

'Not anything.'

Gavin shrugged. 'Look, I think it's cool you guys have a great thing going. He earns shedloads of cash, you live in an amazing house, drive cool cars, he gives you loads of money to spend and you never nag him or say no to him.'

'I do say no to Jack.'

'When?'

I frowned. When was the last time I had said no to Jack? I couldn't remember. I suppose I didn't say no to him, but he never said no to me either. Come to think of it, we never argued.

'Dude, you guys have the perfect relationship. Of all my sisters, I think you've got the best set-up by far. You won the lotto when you married Jack. I'd love to marry a millionairess it'd be so cool never to have to worry about money. Look at poor Julie she's always stressed about being broke.'

'You're right. I am lucky.'

'Well, thanks again for sorting my hair. I've got to fly. I'm meeting Acorn in twenty minutes.'

'Hey, Gavin?'

'Yeah?'

'Treat her to a few cocktails.' I handed him a fifty-pound note.

'You're the best.' He kissed my cheek.

'Have fun, but don't be late for dinner you know what Louise is like about time.'

'I'll be there.' He strutted out, flicking back his straight hair.

I climbed into bed and listened. It was quiet. I'd been given a good room. I lay back on the pillows and closed my eyes.

'"E-I-E-I-O, and on that farm he had a cat, E-I-E-I-OOOOOO!"'

No! Julie was singing bloody 'Old MacDonald Had A Farm' to Tom. They must be in the room next door. I put a pillow over my head and groaned. I couldn't exactly call Reception and complain about my own sister's singing. Damn! I'd wanted to rest before dinner. I put in my ear-plugs but I could still hear her. How did she do it? She looked exhausted and there she was singing and clapping.

I tried to imagine Louise with a toddler. I couldn't see her sitting at play-groups singing 'Row, Row, Row Your Boat'. I couldn't picture her singing at all. I don't think I'd ever heard Louise sing. I used to love singing to Jess. When she was tiny and I was burping her after her feeds, I'd sing to her. She always smiled. She was such a sweet baby, so easy. But even so I'd found it hard, very hard ...

At first I was ecstatic: a healthy baby girl. Jack was thrilled he had wanted a boy, but the minute he set eyes on Jess he fell in love with her. However, when I got home from hospital three days after the birth, I realized that Jack wanted everything to be the same. He'd presumed the baby would just sleep in its own room and that Mimi would look after her in the evenings when he was home from work and we were having dinner and also at night if she woke up crying.

He didn't think Jess would be sleeping with us, or waking up five times a night screaming for milk. After a few nights of very little sleep he got annoyed. He said he needed his rest. He couldn't go to work exhausted. He said he'd made a mistake that day, due to lack of sleep, and it had cost the firm money. I suggested that I move into a different room with Jess until she settled. He didn't disagree.

I didn't mind in fact, it was much easier. I could breast-feed her in peace and we bonded well. But when Jack came in from work on my third week home and found me still in my pyjamas, not showered, bleary-eyed, with leaking breasts, he didn't like it. He started to make comments, like 'Where's my beautiful wife?', 'Didn't you have time to get dressed?', 'Give the baby to Mimi, for God's sake. She's here to help you.'

But I didn't want to give Jess to Mimi. I was afraid that if I didn't look after her myself, she'd stop breathing, or choke on a burp, or pull her blanket over her head, or get too hot or too cold ... I was afraid all the time. I was obsessed with the idea that Jess was going to die if I didn't watch her like a hawk. I couldn't sleep at night. I'd wake up every ten minutes and check she was breathing. It was completely irrational, but I couldn't control the fear and it got worse. I found myself crying a lot because I was so tired and worried. I didn't tell anyone how I was feeling. I pretended everything was fine and put people off from visiting, saying I had an infection and was laid low. I didn't want anyone to see me out of control ... failing as a mother ... falling apart.

When I tried to explain it to Jack, he didn't understand. 'Don't be ridiculous, she's not going to die. She's a healthy baby. You need to leave her with Mimi, get dressed and get out of the house. You've been locked up here for more than a month no wonder you're getting paranoid. Call one of your girlfriends, go out for lunch, go for a run, buy some new clothes do whatever you want but get on with your life. Try to get back to normal. You're letting it all get on top of you.'

Normal? I no longer knew what normal was. My vagina still stung every time I peed. My breasts ached and leaked. I was sweating all the time and my hair was falling out in clumps.

Jack continued dispensing advice: 'Come on, Sophie, perk up. We've got that ball for the children's hospital next Friday. It'll be good for you to get dressed up in that sexy red dress with the plunging back that I love, and have a few drinks. You need to relax, get yourself back. This neurotic person is not the Sophie I know and love.'

I tried on the red dress. It was too tight. I cried for three hours when I couldn't fit into it, but I didn't have the energy to go out and shop for a new one. So I just stopped eating. I survived on apples and pears for a week. I was even more exhausted and barely producing enough milk for Jess, which upset me even more. I had to start giving her formula so she wouldn't starve.

Mimi tried to talk to me, but I didn't want to talk. She made me lunches that I never ate and begged me to take naps that I never took. The only people who had visited were Mum and Julie. I'd tried to put them off, but they had insisted on coming to see me. They sensed I was struggling. But on the day they came, I forced myself into the shower, got dressed, put makeup on and pretended I was fine, just a bit tired. I was able to convince them because, for those few hours, I convinced myself that everything was fine. The minute they left I fell apart again.

After starving myself for a week I was able to fit into the red dress. I put on lots of makeup and added a small hairpiece to make my own hair look less limp. I stuck pads on my breasts to soak any leakage. When Jack got in from work that Friday, I was ready.

'There's my gorgeous wife. She's back. I missed you.' He kissed me.

Somehow I got through the night, and everyone kept saying how great I looked. All the women stared at my stomach to see if I'd lost the baby weight and then asked me how I'd done it. When we got home Jack wanted to have sex, but I said it was too soon. I told him we had to wait until after my six-week check-up. I told him I was still too sore. He sighed and rolled over. I went to the spare room and was up half the night with a hungry baby.

My days consisted of crying, feeding Jess, crying and then passing out whenever I couldn't stay awake any longer. But every day at five o'clock I handed Jess to Mimi, showered, got dressed, put on my makeup and was ready to greet Jack when he came home. I played with my dinner while he ate his and then at eleven, when I couldn't keep my eyes open, I went to bed with my baby daughter, not my husband.

At my six-week check-up, I couldn't keep the facade in place any longer. I was hysterical with exhaustion and anxiety. I told my obstetrician everything and she was very understanding. She said lots of women struggled with newborn babies and I needed help to get me over the hump. She prescribed a mild dose of Prozac. I went to the chemist and got it, then sat in the car staring at the tablets. Prozac: anti-depressant, mood-enhancer, happy pill.

Was I weak? Was I pathetic? Why couldn't I cope with my baby? Why was I falling apart? What the hell was wrong with me? Although my doctor had been very sympathetic to my struggles, she had three children and worked full-time. She wasn't crying all day. She was able to get dressed and hold down a serious job. Even Julie, with triplets, was able to cope. I didn't see her popping pills. She was tired and worn out, but she was managing. She had three times the work I had. Three times less sleep. Three times more worry. Why was I such a basket case?

I'd always been able to control my emotions in the past. As a model I had faced rejection daily. I'd learnt not to take it personally. I'd just moved on to the next job. I'd never looked back, only looked forward. No matter what happened, no matter how much I wanted a job, or how hurt I was when I broke up with someone, I never got depressed. I just blocked it out and moved on. I'd never felt out of control before. I'd always had a game plan, a goal, a solution. But now ... now I found myself drowning and I needed help. I had to get back on track or I'd lose Jack. I had to get myself together. I had to ...

I started taking the tablets and hoped for the best. Initially there was no difference and I panicked even more. But slowly they began to take effect and after a couple of weeks the dark cloud started to lift. I began to stop panicking about Jess dying. I began to want to get up. I began to care about how I looked. I began to exercise. I read Gina Ford's The Contented Little Baby Book and got Jess into a nice routine. I began to get my life back. I began to sleep with Jack again, have sex again, be a couple again. He was delighted, and so was I. But most of all I was relieved and very grateful to have come back from the brink.

I continued to take Prozac for a year; no one ever knew. But I swore then that I would never have another baby. I knew in my heart that, if I did, the depression would come back and I might not be able to control it or hide it from everyone. The next time it might pull me under.

16.

Julie.

I lay in my bubble bath and closed my eyes. It felt wonderful. Tom was plonked in front of the TV in the bedroom watching Peppa Pig. All potentially dangerous objects hair-drier, Bible, pen, notepad, lamp, hotel information booklet, telephone and TV remote control had been unplugged, put out of his reach or removed from his sight, and I was able to relax and enjoy a bath for the first time in years. As I only ever had ten-second showers, this was a real luxury. I looked around the bathroom. It was so soothing white, clean and uncluttered. The bubble bath smelt gorgeous and the towels and bathrobe were soft and fluffy. It was such a treat to be away for two days, almost alone.

The hotel was very swanky it must have been costing Louise a fortune to put us all up there. I should have studied harder in school and had a successful career or married a millionaire like Sophie did. Would I always be the pauper sister? I felt as if I was doomed to a life of penny-pinching. I'd love to hire a personal trainer to come to my house and make me thin, I thought. He could tape my mouth shut, padlock the fridge and tie me to him while we did laps of the park. It would be wonderful to go shopping for clothes and not have to check the cost of everything, putting back ninety per cent of the items I liked because they were too expensive. I'd love to be able to go to a good hairdresser for regular cuts and blow-dries. Having to let my hair dry naturally meant my curls were wild and unruly, not soft and bouncy like they were supposed to be. It would be great to live in a house with a playroom, where all the boys' toys could be kept out of sight, instead of flung all over the kitchen, hall and TV room. I'd love to drive one of those fancy mummy cars, like an Audi or a BMW, instead of my battered people-carrier.

I looked at my toes. I'd love to have regular pedicures and manicures and facials and back massages, I thought. Deep massages to get all the knots out of my shoulders and back would be utter bliss. It would be fantastic to have a nanny who would come in and make the boys eat their vegetables, tidy up their toys, give them baths and put them in their pyjamas. I'd float through the door in my fabulous clothes and kiss their scrubbed faces goodnight, leaving the nanny to read them stories and persuade them to go to sleep without the Third World War erupting. It would be brilliant to go away for a weekend with Harry without having to plan and save for ten years.

I had the money Dad had given me, but that was sacred. I'd happily forgo holidays, nice clothes and a fancy car to make sure the boys went to a top-notch private school and got the best start possible. It was something I was absolutely adamant about. I reminded myself to check with Louise again about the investment hopefully it was still making money. The last time I'd asked it was doing well, thank God.

Maybe we'd win the lotto. Maybe Harry was at this very moment choosing the winning numbers and tonight we'd be millionaires. Oh, that would be lovely ... OK, Julie, stop fantasizing, I scolded myself. I was very lucky. I should count my blessings: four healthy children and a husband I loved. Harry and I had wanted babies, and I'd always said I wanted three children ... but I hadn't expected them to come all at once. I'd known having kids would change my life and that it wouldn't be easy, but three at the same time was like being hit head-on by a steam train. And little Tom's birth had pushed me over the edge. Just when I was getting some kind of life back, just when I was feeling like the old Julie again, I'd found myself back in the haze of breast-feeding and sleepless nights. Before Tom was born I'd actually wanted to have sex with Harry instead of doing it because I'd realized that two months had passed since the last time. After Tom had arrived, I'd taken a big step back.

I'd always thought I'd be a good mum. I'd imagined painting with my children, making towers out of Lego, reading them stories, baking cakes with them, going for nature walks ... I'd planned to raise fully rounded, kind, generous, caring, smart, responsible kids who were a credit to me. But when the triplets had arrived I'd done none of those things. There wasn't time to breathe, let alone spend hours baking cakes. It had turned out that I wasn't a good mother. I was grumpy and impatient and shouted a lot. I wasn't the Earth Mother I'd thought I'd be. The laid-back Julie had got lost somewhere along the way. I thought she was buried beneath mounting piles of laundry and bills.

Money wasn't the solution to everything, I knew, but a little bit more would have made things easier, nicer, less fraught ... If I had help, like Sophie, I'd be less grumpy and kinder to the boys. If I had more time to myself I'd shout less ... And if we had more money we wouldn't all be walking around our house in hats and scarves trying to keep warm while we saved on heating bills ...

As I dried myself, I heard Tom shouting, 'Mama, Mama, Mama.'

Damn! Peppa Pig was over. It was the only thing he'd watch on TV.

'Yes, pet, come here.' I held out my arms to him.

Tom stumbled over to me, putting his wet, dribbly face up to mine. 'I dove you.'

I picked him up and hugged him. 'I dove you too, sweetheart, and I'm sorry for thinking you were a mistake when you're just a little angel.'

The hotel babysitter arrived at seven. I made sure she wasn't a psychopath, put Tom down to sleep in his little travel cot and skipped out of the door to dinner. As I was walking to the lift, my phone rang. It was Harry.

'Where's the bloody remote control?' he demanded.

I could hear pandemonium in the background. 'It should be on top of the bookshelf.'

'Well, it isn't.'

'I'M TELLING DADDY ON YOU. YOU'RE A MEANER. DAAAADDEEEE, LEO BITED MY ARM.'

'Did you try the shelf above the cooker?' I asked.

'Yes.'

'Down the side of the couch?'

'Yes.'

'DAAAADDEEEE, LIAM TRIED TO CHOKE ME.'

'Under the couch?'

'Yes.'

'DAAAADDEEEE, LEO IS A POOHEAD STINKY BUM. HE PULLED MY HAIR REALLY HARD.'

'In the fridge?'

'What?'

'I found it in the fridge one time. I must have been holding it and then gone to get something and left it on the shelf beside the yoghurts.'

'DAAAADDEEEE, WE WANT TV NOOOOOW,' they all screeched.

'Get off me! I'm trying to find the bloody remote control,' Harry snapped.

I could hear the fridge door opening.

'It's not here.'

'Well, the boys must have hidden it. Ask them.'

'I have already. They say they don't know where it is.'

'You have to sit them down and tell them to focus on where they put it.'

'They don't know!' he hissed.

'Put me on loudspeaker,' I ordered.

'Fine. Boys, Mummy wants to say something.'

'HI, MUMMY, WHERE ARE YOU?' Luke bellowed down the phone.

'I'm in London with Auntie Louise. She's having a baby remember I told you I was going on an aeroplane?'

'Yeah, and they're going to cut it out of her tummy.' Leo loved that part.