One afternoon late last year, at home in Dublin, I was sent a link in an email from a sender I didn’t recognise. We all know not to click on those, but this was different – it was the first episode of All Her Fault, the TV adaptation of my 2021 novel.
Four years earlier, a different email had arrived in my inbox, announcing that a production company wanted to option my book. Then I heard that Sarah Snook of Succession fame would play the lead and I screamed. More screams followed when Dakota Fanning signed up, too. And now here it was – the first episode.
I clicked the link. I wanted to see it alone first, without wondering what anyone else was thinking. But, six minutes in, my 14-year-old son rang asking me to collect him early from school. I closed the laptop. Duty calling.
An hour later, I was back to un-pause the episode. This time in my kitchen, as I prepared dinner. I watched a scene where the two main characters chat about parenting, and the division of labour. A reminder went off on my phone – time to collect my 16-year-old daughter from hockey. I put down the knife, stopped the episode, and shook my head at the irony. I thought about how All Her Fault had changed my life; at the age of 45 it got me my agent, my book deal, this TV show. But also I thought – as I fielded texts and chopped peppers – actually, not much had changed.
When my family watched the first episode, I paused it and joked to my husband, ‘I tried to tell you that I needed more help with the kids, but you didn’t listen. So I wrote a book, but you didn’t read it. So I had to get a TV show made.’ Everyone laughed, but, like all jokes, there was a kernel of truth in it.
A marriage of two halves: Julia and Paul in Motherland
The thing is, my husband is brilliant. We met in our mid-20s, both working in financial services with similar demands and hours. When we moved in together, there was no question – everything would be equal: rent, housework, cooking. And it was. Then came marriage and kids, and it was still equal – nursery drops, bedtimes, cleaning, meals.
It changed when the kids started school. I was in all the parent chat groups and aware of the PE days, permission slips and last-minute requests to wear green for St Patrick’s Day. My husband, for the most part, was not. But this disparity of involvement meant I worried about friendship problems and school issues in a way that my husband didn’t. Not because he didn’t care, but because he wasn’t aware. It’s true for my female friends too – and, instead of ‘Tell me what to do and I’ll do it’, we want to hear, ‘This is what I’ll do’.
I remember one evening when I was writing All Her Fault, wondering if I could run away. The stress of looking after three kids while managing a house, working as a freelance writer and editing a book was getting to me. Did I tell my husband I wanted to flee? Not really, but I did pour it into All Her Fault and other novels, too. In my new thriller, Such A Nice Girl, a character called Grace remembers managing all the early years of parenting alone, while her ex-husband built his business.
There was a night, three years ago, where I told my husband that our eldest was out and would need a lift home later. I let him know that our youngest was upstairs playing Minecraft, the dog had been walked, everyone had been fed, and my middle child and I were going to the den to watch TV. A key point: he was watching the football as I said all of this. An hour later, my husband arrived at the den door. ‘There you are! Where are the others?’ He had no recollection of anything I’d told him.
I can make light of it because, ultimately, my husband is a good, kind, thoughtful person – and still it was hard.
We laughed that night when I paused the episode because I didn’t write the book just to send a message to my husband. But he isn’t someone who shies away from messages. Quietly and quickly, he took over managing medical appointments for one of our kids and a big chunk of school admin for another. I’m learning, too – I know now that before I tell him what’s going on, I’ve got to pause the football.
Such A Nice Girl by Andrea Mara is published by Bantam, £16.99. To order a copy for £14.44 until 7 JUNE, go to mailshop.co.uk/books or call 020 3176 2937. Free UK delivery on orders over £25.
