‘Look, I can call an ambulance – but I think it’d be just as quick to drive you there ourselves. I don’t want to do that, though, if there’s any chance that these little ones are going to make an appearance sometime soon. Like in the next half an hour. So I need you to take a few deep breaths, think about what’s going on with you, and tell me how you feel. I need you to help me make an educated decision. If necessary, we can … you know, have a little look. All right?’
I’m really, really hoping we don’t need to have a little look. If we do, I’m passing that job onto Katie. I’m the boss, after all. One of the perks has got to be not looking at your friends’ privates.
Laura nods and puffs in air, and slowly puffs it back out again. I see the tears slow down, and she finally lets go of Seb’s hand. He masterfully controls his sigh of relief, and starts to rub his own hand to get the circulation back. He may never massage again.
‘Okay … okay …’ says Laura, rubbing her belly. ‘I think I’m having contractions – but so far only the one. It doesn’t feel like it did with Lizzie and Nate, when things were imminent. I think I’m all right. I think … where’s Matt? Can you get Matt? I need Matt!’
‘Katie’s on that,’ I reply, sneakily checking her pulse. ‘And we’ll find him, don’t worry. Now, though, we need to get you moving – okay?’
She nods, and I look at Seb, and the two of us help her to her by now quite unsteady feet. She glances back at the sofa, and her hands go to her flaming cheeks.
‘Oh God! What a mess! I’m so, so sorry …’
‘I repeat – don’t be daft. Now, come on, madam, your chariot awaits …’
We make our way towards the door, and Katie shouts out: ‘Good luck, Laura! It’s going to be fine! And don’t worry, I’ll find Matt for you …’
We manage to manoeuvre Laura out to the van, and after a small debate, she opts to get into the back of it because she can’t stand the thought of putting a seat belt on. It’s only a small step up, and we heave her in between us, Seb clambering in by her side.
There are no seat belts back there – just some random boxes and a spare stock of whistle pops for emergencies – and it crosses my mind that this isn’t the most health and safety conscious choice. I now have a lot of very precious eggs in my basket. I can’t crash. I can’t swerve. I can’t go too fast. Slow and steady wins the race.
The drive to the hospital takes about twenty minutes, with me driving like a granny on a Sunday, and all the way there I can hear Seb talking to her. She tells him how much she hates hospitals, because she killed her husband in one, which I know must sound really weird. The reality beneath that statement is that she had to make the decision to switch David’s life support off after his accident, but in Laura’s mind I don’t think there’s ever been much difference, the poor thing.
‘Well today, the hospital is your friend,’ I hear him say in soothing tones. ‘Today, they will help you stay out of pain, and keep your babies safe, and make sure everything goes well. By the end of today, Laura, you will have two beautiful new children in your arms. It’s going to be wonderful!’
She grasps onto this, and he engages her in a conversation about names, and their plans, and the nursery, and a dozen other pleasant and positive things.
I remain unconvinced that by the end of the day, all will be perfect – the babies are a bit early, and might not even be born today, and she might need a section, and they might need special care – but it would be cruel to say anything. Instead, I concentrate on driving, the low murmur of Seb’s voice also calming me,and eventually pull up right outside the maternity unit with very minimal tyre screeching.
I tell them to stay where they are while I find help, filling in the duty midwife on what’s going on, flooded with a sense of relief as she springs into action. There are men and women in green uniforms and there are calm reactions and there are doctors being alerted and there are wheeled stretchers and there are lots and lots of people on hand to take over. Thank God – the services of the Budbury Pharmacist can only be stretched so far.
I stay by her side as she’s admitted, her eyes wild and rolling in terror, Seb holding one hand and me holding the other. I can see the effort she’s making not to panic, and I admire her so much.
Just as she disappears off into a private room for an examination, Matt arrives. He runs into the lobby, still wearing muddy wellies, looking almost as crazed as his wife.
He spots us and dashes over, his face pale and his eyes wide.
‘It’s okay,’ I say, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. ‘She’s all right. She’s getting checked over now, and then they’ll come and tell us what’s happening. You can go through and see her. Just … take a breath first, all right?’
‘Yes. Okay. I can do that. I was … well, I was elbow deep in Bessie when Katie tried me first. Then she got Van instead. And then we drove here really, really fast. And … is she going to be okay? Are the babies going to be okay?’
‘I’m sure they are,’ I reply, putting as much certainty into my voice as I can muster. ‘They’re in the right place now.’
Matt nods, and breathes, and finally seems to notice that Seb is there.
‘Thank you,’ he says, ‘both of you. And Katie. For looking after her. I need to go and see her, but I’m …’
He gestures down at himself, and his muddy wellies. Seb immediately slips off his black boots and offers them up to Matt. Matt stares for a minute, looking confused, then finally nods gratefully and does a weird hopping about on one leg dance while he changes his footwear.
‘Thanks. Again,’ he says, looking around him for a toilet sign. ‘I’m going to have a quick wash, then I’ll go and find her, and …’
‘And then it’ll all be okay,’ I say, hugging him briefly. ‘Call us when you know anything, all right? It might be a long haul, but we’re here if you need any help, or if you want us to have the kids for the night. Anything at all.’
He nods, and suddenly grins. The smile changes his face completely, transforming him from harassed dad-to-be to incredibly handsome.
‘I think it’s going to be a good day,’ he announces, in explanation. ‘Those twin calves were absolutely perfect. And the twin humans are going to be even better.’
Chapter 19
Budbury is a small place, and news tends to sweep through it like wildfire.
Matt calls me a little after eight that night, and by the time I arrive at the hospital, with Willow and Lynnie, I’m certain that everyone else will have been alerted to the good news as well. Van has come separately, bringing Katie and Saul, and I spot Frank’s jeep in the car park.
We’re all giddy and excited as we traipse through the reception area, doing it in pairs and not as a huge group so as not to upset any staff who might want to stop us. Laura is in her own room, but it’s not huge, and it’s not visiting time, and there are always rules about how many people are allowed in at the same time.
Naturally, we’re about to break all those rules, and we don’t care – it’d be a brave person indeed who tackled Cherie Moon. We all congregate outside the ward, with its electronic doors, me and my siblings and Katie and Saul.
Matt spots us outside, and pops his head out to let us in. His hair is sticking out at weird angles, his shirt untucked and creased, a euphoric grin on his face.
‘Quick, quick, come on in … there’s not much room!’ he says, almost giggling as he does. Giggling is not Matt’s default setting, and I suspect he might be ever-so-slightly hysterical still after the drama of the day.
‘We can wait,’ I say sensibly. ‘We can see her tomorrow. She’s got to be exhausted.’
Willow shoots me a resentful stare, and is already edging towards the door, desperate to meet the new arrivals.
‘No, no, she asked me to contact everyone. Said it was the Budbury way. But yes, she is exhausted, so we’re setting a fifteen-minute limit.’
I can hear from the laughter and chatter inside the room tha
t the others have already arrived, so I nod, and smile, and am filled with excitement.
We follow him through, and barely squeeze in. Zoe and Cal and Martha are here; Lizzie and Nate; Cherie and Frank and Edie, perched on a chair next to the bed. Becca and Sam are squashed in the far corner, and Little Edie is snoozing in her mum’s arms, oblivious to the excitement.
Saul worms his way through the crowds, and inserts himself onto the end of the bed, crawling slowly towards Laura.
Laura, who is sitting propped up on pillows at the centre of it all. Laura, who looks pale and tired and ecstatic. Laura, who is cradling two utterly tiny but utterly perfect babies in her arms. They’re both very small, and both wrapped in pink blankets and wearing weeny little pink hats, and I can barely see their equally pink faces peering out at their new habitat.
I know from talking to Matt earlier that the babies made their way into the world a couple of hours after we left. Laura was a champion, he said, his voice bursting with pride – she got through the whole thing with only gas and air, even though the doctors would have preferred an epidural in case they needed to intervene.
They didn’t need to. The babies were delivered well and safe, one of them at four pound ten and the other at five pound one, a really good size for slightly early twins Neither of them needed any special care, both of them are breathing well and have passed all their tests so far with flying colours. They’re small, and they’ll need to stay here in hospital with Laura for a few more days just to be sure – but they’re healthy. All the signs are good.
Laura looks up and spots us lurking by the door, and the smile that spreads across her face is nothing short of serene.
‘Come and meet them!’ she says, making her voice heard over the din. ‘Come and meet my beautiful babies!’
Willow makes a path through the many bodies, and we eventually find ourselves at the side of the bed. I reach down, and pull one of the baby’s blankets to one side. I’m rewarded with the glint of one blue eye, looking up at me as though it knows all the secrets of the universe.
Lynnie is delighted to be in the company of babies, as ever, and suggests that they should be called Teeny and Tiny. She named all of us after our physical characteristics at birth, and apart from the fact that Van’s funny ear doesn’t look funny any more, they seem to fit. I’m definitely still Auburn and Willow’s definitely still Willowy.
‘That’s a lovely idea,’ says Laura gently, ‘but we’ve already decided on names. This is Ruby and Rose. Ruby is the slightly smaller one, and Rose is the chubby one.’
Neither of the babies is even remotely chubby, but I suppose it’s all relative. I stroke their tiny cheeks with one finger, velvety soft and peachy, and can’t believe how adorable they are.
‘Thank you,’ Laura says, smiling up at me. ‘For getting me here. And I’m sorry about the sofa. And please thank Seb for me as well, won’t you?’
I nod, and kiss her curly head, and move out of the way so that the others can shuffle forward and have their turn looking at Ruby and Rose.
I make my way to the back of the room, and stand there with a stupid grin on my face as I watch the next few minutes unfold. Saul is spellbound by the babies, gentle despite Katie’s worried expression. Edie is delighted, clapping her wrinkled hands together in glee every time they gurgle or waggle a tiny finger, proclaiming them the very best babies ever.
The teenagers are trying to look bored and failing, and Lizzie keeps darting back to Laura’s side to check if she needs anything, so engrossed in her new role as a big sister that she seems to have forgotten to apply her eyeliner.
Cherie and Frank are standing off to one side, looking on happily, watching over it all like proud parents – which, in a weird way, they kind of are. The Comfort Food Café mum and dad, with Edie as our gran, and the rest of us interconnected and linked in so many invisible ways, like a spider web of friendship. We might not all be related by blood, but we are a family. One big, weirdly shaped, but usually happy family. It all feels like a small miracle to me.
I’m feeling a bit emotional, which I put down to a lack of sleep and a tempestuous day and the fact that I’m basically a mess. Seb was so tremendous today, and I feel like he should be here. I also feel like Finn should be here.
Thankfully, neither of them is – which means I can sneak outside and have a little cry in private.
I’ve only been gone for a few moments when Matt emerges from the room. He takes in my dishevelled state but doesn’t say anything about it, for which I am extremely grateful.
‘The babies are beautiful, Matt,’ I say. ‘Perfect.’
‘I know,’ he replies quietly, that soppy smile appearing again – I’m not sure he’ll ever lose it. Or maybe he will once the sleep deprivation kicks in. ‘And thank you, for everything you and Seb did. Are you … okay?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ I say, reassuringly. ‘A bit tired and emotional, that’s all. Is everyone ready to leave you guys to it, before the hospital management send in a SWAT team?’
‘Yes. I think there may be some kind of plan to go to the pub. I’d stay here all night if I could, but I’ve been warned they’re going to kick me out, so I might even join you all at some point. Unless I can persuade them to let me sleep on the chair …’
He doesn’t sound even a tiny bit sad at the thought of not coming to wet the babies’ heads, which is a tribute to how happy he is with his new-found fatherhood.
As he speaks, the door opens, and everyone starts to trek back out. There is a lot of hugging and laughing and kissing as the party breaks up, temporarily, and the various groups make their way to their vehicles with promises to see each other in the Horse and Rider.
I peak through the door, and see Laura still snuggling the babies, contentedly kissing their tiny foreheads.
‘Better get back to it,’ says Matt, patting me on the arm. ‘Drink a few for me, won’t you?’
Chapter 20
By the time I drop Willow and Lynnie back off at home, then walk over to the pub, it’s dark and starry-skied. Especially as I lurk around in the house for a while, drinking peppermint tea and chatting and toying with the idea of going to bed.
I’m not sure I want to go to the pub, but it seems churlish to refuse, and I allow myself to be swept along with the tide of communal enthusiasm. I receive approximately seven thousand texts about it while I’m in the kitchen, and Willow basically shoves me out of the door. She wants to stay in with Lynnie, who is still very tired, and talk to Tom on Facetime while he’s away in London.
I tell myself I will have a nice time. I will have a pint, talk to my friends, and celebrate the arrival of Budbury’s latest wonders. I will at least show willing – and besides, Finn will be there and it will be good to feel his arms aroundme. Assuming there’s not a cuddle ban as well.
As I walk into the village pub, I’m greeted with a whoosh of warmth and noise and laughter. It’s full, as usual, locals perched on tall stools at the bar and the staff dashing around behind it. It’s an old place, with an old character, packed with nooks and crannies and a fireplace that roars away in winter. There’s a darts game going on in the corner, and the sound of someone playing the fruit machines in the background.
I let my eyes adjust, and glance around looking for my friends. They’re not hard to spot, taking up most of one of the side rooms, one of the most raucous gatherings in the pub. There are two empty Champagne bottles on the table, several pint-glasses, and Edie’s traditional tot of sherry.
As I walk over, I guess she’s maybe not on her first, the dirty stop-out. She’s holding forth on the revival of ‘lovely traditional names’, animatedly saying how she had both a Ruby and a Rose in her family back in the 1930s.
‘I’ve seen them all come and go,’ she says, between sips. ‘The Lindas and Debbies and Sharons and Tracys and Jackies. And now we’ve come full circle – so many Charlottes and Emilys, and Edies too! Maybe one day, even my middle name will come back into fashion …’
; She pauses, and Zoe jumps in: ‘Go on then. I’ll oblige: what’s your middle name?’
‘Maud!’ replies Edie, clapping her hands together in glee and watching for everybody’s reaction.
‘Ugggh, no,’ says Zoe, pulling a face. ‘Edie, I love you, but that is one of the ugliest names ever!’
‘Isn’t it just!’ Edie cackles. ‘But if you ever have a baby, Zoe my love, bear it in mind …’
‘Ha!’ answers Zoe firmly. ‘That is never going to happen.’
‘Never say never,’ adds Cal, sitting next to her, looking exotic and edible in his usual cowboy hat get-up.
That provokes a round of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from around the table, and I make the most of the distraction to sidle over towards them. Finn has already spotted me, and gives me a cheeky wink that makes me laugh.
He’s out of his work ‘uniform’ of smart shirt, and instead is modelling a long-sleeved T-shirt in a shade of pale blue that’s almost exactly the same colour as his eyes. His long thighs are encased with denim, and his blond hair is freshly washed and silky. He’s had it cut, and it’s shorter than usual – a bit Daniel Craig in Bond. It’s pretty much begging for me to touch it, in fact.
He stands up and walks towards me, and wraps me in his arms. I look up at him, and slip my fingers into his hair.
‘Lovely,’ I say, grinning. ‘Like sprayed-on liquid sunshine. I’m liking the new look. Did you take pictures from Casino Royale with you when you went to the barber?’
‘Why thank you,’ he replies, tugging me closer. ‘And of course – I’m getting ready for our Miss Moneypenny-finally-gets-some session.’
‘I’m looking forward to that. When will it be?’
He smiles at me, and it’s a smile full of promise. In fact it makes Miss Moneypenny melt in all the right places.
‘When the time is right,’ he says simply. He disengages from me, and we both sit down. Cal goes to the bar, which he’s very good at. Must be an Australian thing. He can even carry four pint-glasses at a time, which never ceases to amaze me.
A Wedding at the Comfort Food Cafe Page 18