by Katey Lovell
“Sounds like you’ve got a girl crush,” Eve teased, and I could feel my cheeks hotting up.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed. “All I was saying is she’s captivating to look at. I’m a bit intimidated by her, if I’m being honest.”
“But she wasn’t bitchy to you or anything?” Eve asked. “Sometimes beautiful people are so used to getting their own way that they don’t have any manners.”
She didn’t mention my ex, Darius, but I thought that was yet another not-so-subtle dig at how, despite his good looks, he was only out for what he could get for himself. Thank goodness I was now immune to him. In the past he’d turn on his charm and I’d be putty in his hands.
“It’s not ‘Mean Girls’ for mums, it was just a get together. She was really nice, they all were,” I said protectively. “It’s just strange to make a whole new group of friends at our age.”
“It’ll be good for you,” Eve said encouragingly. “Us two will always be here for you, but neither of us have had a baby. We can’t tell you whether what you’re going through is part and parcel of being pregnant or if it’s something you need to get checked out, so for what it’s worth I think it’s great that you’re reaching out and meeting new people.”
Tawna still looked like she’d been sucking on something sour, but she said, “Eve’s right. It’ll do you good to be around people who understand what you’re going through.”
There was an uncomfortable tension in the air, although I wasn’t quite sure why. Changing the subject seemed a good option, so I quizzed Eve. “Any interest in the house yet?”
“Two young families came to look at it on Wednesday night and one of them was really keen.”
“That sounds promising,” I said, holding tightly crossed fingers aloft. I knew how much of a difference it would make to both Eve and her mum if the house could be sold – Mrs McAndrew’s care was necessary but expensive. “I guess the estate agent will chase it up?”
“They’re coming for a second viewing on Sunday. I really hope this is it,” Eve said, “because being a homeowner is an expensive business and I know once I move into the flat it’ll be a case of continually throwing money at it in one way or another – insurance, decorating – and that’s without even mentioning the mortgage itself. It’s endless.”
“Your mum’s house will sell soon, and it’ll be easier then,” Tawna assured her. “Things will fall into place, I know they will.”
“I hope you’re right,” said Eve, scooping a large dollop of mayonnaise onto her salad. “Life’s chaotic enough with work and visiting Mum, and what with going for the promotion and trying to sell the house on top of it, I’m slowly losing my mind.”
“You’re not,” I assured her, reaching out and rubbing her shoulder. “You’re doing great.”
“Sophie’s right,” Tawna added. “There’s no way you’re losing your mind. You lost that ages ago.”
Eve gave Tawna some serious side-eye, but the corners of her lips were curling up into a smile. “Very funny. So, what’s new with you, Mrs Hamilton?”
“Only the usual. Nothing exciting.”
“No holidays booked?” Eve asked, and when Tawna shook her head we both tried and failed to hide our surprise. Holidays were a big part of Johnny and Tawna’s life – Johnny worked incredibly hard and had always been of the mindset that to counteract that he should play hard too, with multiple holidays each year to exotic climes, but looking back their last big holiday had been their honeymoon to Cuba. They’d had a couple of weekend trips away in this country, one to a cottage in the Cotswolds and another to St Andrews for Johnny’s university reunion, but there hadn’t been the usual regular extravagant holidays.
“We’re going to Norfolk for a week for our anniversary,” Tawna said, fondling the pendant on her necklace. “We’ve booked a gorgeous stone cottage within walking distance of the beach.”
“Sounds romantic,” I said with a smile. “Lots of hand-holding and moonlight strolls along the sand?” I teased.
“Maybe,” Tawna replied, “or maybe we’ll spend the evenings watching the sun go down from the garden. It’s got gorgeous views.” She pulled out her phone to show us the photos, and I had to admit the cottage looked gorgeous and cosy, and the views across the coast were spectacular. “Either way, it’ll be good to escape from here for a while. Shame it’s ages away.”
The comment set off a flicker of concern inside me but, knowing Tawna’s reluctance to ever admit that life was anything other than perfect and in her control, I let it go. She knew where I was if she needed someone to talk to.
But although Eve and I stayed at her house for five hours, Tawna didn’t mention anything that would raise alarm again, instead being the perfect hostess as she ensured we were well-fed, always had a drink (fruit juice for me) and had a backing track of our favourite songs to keep us upbeat.
February
Chapter 11
For the whole drive to the hospital Max and I continued the discussions we’d had about finding out the gender. It had been a real debate, with me desperate to know and Max wanting to wait until the birth.
The second scan had come around quickly, having not found out we were expecting until so late on.
“You could go out of the room and they could tell me in private?” I suggested, to which Max had looked horrified. “Or we could ask them to write the sex down on a piece of paper and put it in an envelope, in case you change your mind and want to know?” I asked hopefully, thinking I could steam it open when Max was out. He often got home from work later than I did, so I’d have plenty of opportunity.
“I won’t change my mind.” His tone was gentle but firm. “What’s the rush in knowing? It doesn’t make any difference to me whether we have a son or a daughter and we’ll buy neutral clothes.”
I kept my lips buttoned tightly, but after seeing Alicia and Imogen dressed head to toe in pale pink – soft corduroy pinafores with floral tops underneath – I’d swayed towards the idea of the traditional gender colours, especially if we had a girl. Pink had always been my favourite colour, ever since I’d been given a Firefly My Little Pony for my sixth birthday. It had been a present from Eve, actually, and was probably still boxed up with my other childhood toys in my parents’ loft.
“It’d be nice to know though, wouldn’t it?” I persisted. “It’d make it easier when choosing names.”
Max had been spending his evenings poring over the baby names book Nick and Chantel had passed on to us, folding down the pages of any names he liked. Some of his choices were suspect, but he was taking it seriously.
“It’ll be a boy,” he said, as though that was the only option. “I’m one of four boys, my dad’s one of two boys, my grandad was one of six, all boys. Grant and Chris’s children are boys. It’s in the Oakley genes.”
“Do you really think so?”
I wasn’t unhappy at the thought of a boy – if anything I loved the idea of a mummy’s boy to dote on me and gross me out with jokes about poo and willies. But there was a tinge of sadness too at the things I would miss out on; wedding dress shopping with my daughter and crying like a baby at the first glimpse of her head to toe in white.
Snap out of it, Sophie, I told myself. This child hasn’t even been born yet and already you’re marrying them off. And boy or girl, all that matters is that they’re happy and healthy.
“We’ll find out, won’t we?” he said, and I jolted with joy, thinking he’d come around to my way of thinking about finding out the sex. He must have detected my excitement as he added, “When Baby arrives.”
My shoulders sank.
“It’s not that long to wait. It’s your birthday next week, then it’ll be Easter. May will be here before we know it.”
May felt like a very long way away to me. A very long way away indeed.
The snot-like jelly was cold on my stomach once more, and although I should have been prepared for it, I wasn’t. I don’t think Baby was either, because a weird sensation
took over my stomach, almost like a bubble popping within me.
“I’m sure I just felt the baby move.” I laid still in anticipation of a repeat performance, but nothing happened. “Maybe I imagined it,” I added quietly, as Max and the sonographer watched, waiting.
“Have you been getting much movement?” the sonographer asked. “Usually by this stage you’ll be feeling a few wriggles.”
“Nothing yet.” I sighed. I’d been desperate for the reassurance feeling Baby move would bring, even though Rachel had said it was a bit like having an alien inside you that you had no control over. “I’d thought I’d be able to feel something by now.”
“It might be the position Baby’s in, meaning you’re not feeling the movements. Once there’s less room in there the kicks are more obvious.”
“I guess I’ll just have to be patient,” I said with a smile, but the disappointment was obvious in my tone.
“Let’s take a look,” the sonographer said, pressing the probe firmly against the now-slippery surface of the taut skin of my stomach. My shape had changed considerably over the past week. Although I’d never classed myself as thin, nor even curvy due to the soft folds of skin around my middle, whereas before I’d looked podgier (part of the reason I hadn’t realised I was pregnant until I was so far along – I’d put the weight gain down to contentment and Max’s knack of rustling up all manner of culinary delights in the kitchen of an evening), I now very definitely looked pregnant. Not because my bump was huge – it wasn’t by any means, but where I was carrying the weight was different, the swell starting immediately beneath my boobs whereas before it was all around my stomach and bum.
“There we go,” the sonographer mumbled to herself. “One baby.”
She moved the wand around, varying the amount of pressure she applied, before tilting the screen so Max and I could get a view of what was going on inside my body. Seeing baby head-banging in my stomach when I couldn’t feel a thing was bizarre to say the least, and a laugh escaped my lips.
“Baby looks to be having a good time in there.” The sonographer smiled. “I need to take a few measurements to make sure everything is as it should be. I’ll be as quick as I can, but it sometimes takes a while so just relax.”
I couldn’t peel my eyes away from the screen, my heart full of love for the little person writhing around within me. I tried to decipher whether they looked more like me or Max, even though the picture wasn’t especially clear and in all honesty it was most likely too early to be able to tell. I was in awe of the arms and legs moving away like an uncoordinated raver, and wondering if we were going to have a dancer on our hands when I felt the sensation again, as though my stomach was rotating. It wasn’t unpleasant as much as it was unfamiliar.
“I can feel it again,” I whispered, turning to face Max. “It’s a really strange feeling.”
“Probably Baby telling me to stop poking,” joked the lady, although she didn’t stop probing and click-clacking on the computer as she took the measurements.
“Now,” she said finally, “do you want to know the sex? Because if you don’t, I’ll turn the screen away from you. Sometimes these babies like to flash their parents.”
I looked pleadingly at Max, turning on the doe-eyes.
“There’s no need to turn the screen,” Max said, and I let out a squeak of excitement. “We want to know if we’re having a son or a daughter.”
As he squeezed my hand, the love pulsing from his body to mine, Baby moved again, a more definite movement, as though aware of how momentous the occasion was, or maybe I was beginning to recognise that the swirling sensations inside me really were my future son or daughter’s movements.
“Right then,” she said, prodding even more determinedly, “let’s take a good look.”
Baby wriggled, a flash of bottom mooning at us on the screen, and I caught my breath as the sonographer angled the probe to get a better view and enable us to discover the sex of our child.
“You’re having a girl,” she said finally, before removing the probe. “Congratulations!”
“A girl,” Max echoed, a faraway look on his face. “We’re going to have a daughter.”
I couldn’t reply, scared that if I so much as tried I might burst into tears. Instead I nodded, my heart swelling with love for Max and our little girl. Our daughter.
Chapter 12
“Who are we going to tell first, your parents or mine?” I asked, secretly hoping we’d be able to go to my mum and dad’s. It wasn’t that I didn’t want Hector and Andrea to know, and I knew they’d be thrilled about the first female addition to the family in a very long time, but this was something I wanted to share with my family as quickly as possible. After so long feeling like I was on the fringes of my family, worrying that my lack of vision and ambition was a let-down, I couldn’t wait to share our news. It felt like this baby was my greatest achievement, the one time I was following convention.
“We can tell your parents first, if you like,” Max said amiably, and my heart gushed with love. I knew he must feel the same about wanting to tell his family. Even though he got on perfectly well with my mum and dad, the Oakleys were so tight-knit that he must have been bursting to give them the vital update. “Do you want to go now?”
I looked at my watch, the winter sunlight catching on the glass of the face. Three o’clock. Since Dad took early retirement he was home most of the time anyway, but Mum flitted in and out of the house with her job as a make-up rep. Afternoons tended to be quieter though, with her waiting until the workers got in from their heavy days at the office before collecting their orders and dropping off deliveries.
“And you’re sure you don’t mind?” I said, remembering how my parents had also been the first point of call when we’d had the initial scan.
“Whatever makes you happy.”
And that was why I loved him so much, because he genuinely did value my happiness above his own.
“Let’s go to my parents on the way home,” I said with a smile, placing my hand in his. “And then we’ll go to your parents too. They’ll all be wanting to know how we’ve got on.”
I could feel the pops in my stomach as we made our way to the car, like a million tiny bubbles bursting at my core. I had Max by my side and our daughter happily tucked up in my womb. It was the best feeling in the world.
“A girl? Are you sure?” Hector Oakley looked mildly bemused by our announcement, his heavy brow furrowing in confusion. “Us Oakleys don’t do girls.”
“We do this time,” Max affirmed. “They showed us the images and it was most definitely a girl. Sophie and I are having a daughter. You’re going to have a granddaughter.”
Andrea’s eyes were brimming with tears, and she clutched her hand to her chest, her trembling lips pressed tightly together to stop the tears from falling. “A little girl. What brilliant, brilliant news.”
She stepped forward and threw her arms around first Max and then me, her grip so tight it was almost suffocating.
“And everything is as it should be?”
“Everything is perfect.”
“Andrea’s going to spoil this baby so much,” Hector said. His voice was gruff but teasing. “The first girl in our family. She won’t know what to do with herself.”
“I don’t have the experience of girls, do I?” she said, patting my arm gently. “But I will now. You know we’ll be here for you and helping out whenever we can. If you want a night out we can babysit, you just need to say the word.”
“Give them a chance.” Hector laughed. “Let our granddaughter make her appearance into the world first.”
“Thanks, Mum, we’ll remember that,” said Max, although I couldn’t imagine leaving my baby with anyone, not even Max’s mum. It wasn’t anything personal against her – she was obviously a very maternal woman and had done a great job with all four of her sons – but I wasn’t ready to think about being apart from my child just yet.
“I bet your parents were over the moon too, weren
’t they?”
“They were ecstatic.” I laughed, joy washing over me at the happiness on my mum’s face as I’d shared the news. “Mum was in tears before I’d even told her, and as soon as I mentioned it was a girl she was a mess.”
“It must be emotional,” Andrea agreed. “It’s one thing finding out your son’s going to be a father, but quite another to know your daughter is becoming a mother. Knowing they’re carrying a baby and have the birth to go through must be both exciting and nerve-wracking all at once.”
“What were your births like?” I asked tentatively, because although I’d made fun of the openness of the women from the antenatal groups for their out-and-out oversharing, I had become mildly obsessed with hearing about other women’s birth stories, even the horrific ones. It was as though to be forewarned was to be forearmed, knowledge holding power.
“Grant was big – 9lb 6oz – and it felt as though my labour was going to last forever. When my waters broke I was in denial, because I hadn’t thought about the birth. I had to call Hector home from work to drive me to the hospital and he asked me if I could hold the baby in until his shift finished.” She threw her husband a dismissive roll of the eyes. “When I got to the hospital I was exhausted and they had to use forceps to help him out, which was the scariest part – I didn’t even know what forceps looked like until the doctor was holding them up, and the thought of them being put into my nether regions…”
The look on both Max and Hector’s faces were pictures, and I wished I had my phone to hand to capture their horrified faces.
“Anyway,” she continued, “it was worth it in the end, and he was perfect. Big, but perfect.”
“What about Max?” I asked.