by Neal Doran
James figured the first question was aimed at him, the second comment an encouragement for freshly-nappied William to go and collect more bits of plastic to give to his guest.
‘I’ve got texts about any check-ups I’ve asked about. Factual ones about how the baby’s doing. That’s it.’
‘Well, that’s something.’
‘Meh. I feel like an alternate weekend dad and Bomp hasn’t even been born yet.’
‘You weren’t doing that one from work were you?
‘No!’ said James, guiltily glancing around at the kids pottering about the room as Kam talked.
‘What were you thinking even thinking about it? You’re not cut out for that kind of thing you know.’
‘I know that. And it was never going to be anything. I just needed to be out of reality for a while. It was flattering. And she’s got an encyclopaedic knowledge of horror movies.’
‘That’s how it starts. One minute you’re discussing the merits of Christopher Lee, the next you’re in a seedy hotel room off Holborn, crying in the bathroom and trying to wash off the stench of guilt. You’re not made for it.’
‘Neither of us are, are we?’ said James. ‘Bang-up job on the cover-up with Becs, by the way. “I told her you were with the guys and she bought it” you said. “I could be a politician” you said.’
‘All right, we’d both be hopeless. The good news is we don’t need to do it. You know from work what the guys most likely to shag around behind the missus’s back are like. Always seem to be barely suppressing rage. Or not suppressing it, if you ever see them with any of my IT support boys. All the frustrations of a broken marriage get sublimated into a broken laptop. And the amount of mucky stuff on the hard drives that gets blamed on “trainees borrowing their log-ins…”’
‘Right,’ said James.
‘How’s your father-in-law by the way?’
‘Whatever made you think of that?’
‘Coincidence.’
‘I dunno. They weren’t talking before I left. They had a bust-up the day of the funeral. She wasn’t putting up with any of his nonsense any more either.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘She’d said enough’s enough, she’s not being a witness at the trial. Turns out he’s done this sort of thing before.’
‘Jeez. So he’s come out?’
‘Not yet…’
‘But wasn’t she just vouching for some medical condition or another? He had trouble taking a piss?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Do you think he had ever told her that, or was she in on it?’
James remembered then how, when he’d accused her of fudging the truth on her dad’s trial, he’d somehow got the blame for not setting a good moral example. He’d been trying to be supportive because he knew how stressed the idea of court had made her feel in the circumstances. That had worked out well for him. He was about to say something along those lines to his friend when he noticed Kam tapping away at something on his phone.
‘Bollocks,’ said Kam.
‘Something up?’
‘Work,’ he said, putting the phone down next to him, ‘you know this childminding gig thing?’
‘I know, I’m sorry. It was a stupid idea. I wouldn’t know where to start. I’m not even ready to look after a child of my own. But I wanted something that could keep me close to Bomp. Just since Dad, my head’s been…’
‘Yeah, well maybe you need to get a bit of hands-on experience just to be sure.’
‘I dunno, I—’
‘I’ve got to go into the office. A shitstorm in the cloud, or something. Basically everything’s fallen over, and nobody seems to know who’s supposed to be fixing it. I’m needed to spread calm and wisdom.’
‘But I’ve never been left alone with children before. Wouldn’t Kate—?’
‘Kate will be delighted to see you bonding with ’em when she gets home about four. You might even get babysitter privileges.’
‘Can’t you take—’
‘This is the kind of system fallover that could see somebody, possibly me, joining you on the unemployment scrapheap,’ said Kam as he grabbed a case for his laptop and pulled together his stuff for getting out the door. ‘Not sure that’s the best time to try bringing your daughter to work.’
‘But—’
‘You’ll be fine. Hannah basically looks after herself, and just keep feeding Willy organic rice crackers and his juice and he’ll follow you anywhere.’
‘Kam.’
‘Any emergencies you’ve got our mobiles. You’re the daddy now, you’d better get used to it.’
With a kiss on the head for his children, and a reminder that Uncle James was in charge, Kam was out of the house, swearing enthusiastically at someone from the office on his mobile as he went.
‘All right, kids?’ James said, trying to sound as upbeat as possible. Hannah stared at him with a finger up her nose, William said something entirely unintelligible and handed him a Peppa Pig.
‘I’m just getting a cup of tea. Play nicely!’ James headed to the kitchen and put on the kettle. This was not what he had planned for today. But then again, he had reckoned he could do this for a living. It was going to have a learning curve and just because he was scared of the reality, didn’t mean he couldn’t do it.
He turned with the kettle and almost tripped over Hannah, who was standing silently next to him. Stepping back he almost fell as he kicked one of William’s trucks against the skirting board, which caused the toddler, who had also followed him, to say something else James still couldn’t understand. He got the gist he was a bit grumpy, though. Gingerly putting the boiling liquid on the bench top, he turned around.
‘It’s a lovely day, let’s go outside for a play!’ I’m accidentally rhyming, he thought as he twisted the lock on the patio door out to the garden, I’m a natural.
‘Come on, let’s try the trampoline,’ he said as he led Hannah and William outside. At least, he assumed he was leading Hannah and William. He took a sneaky look at his phone as he walked, to check how long he had to keep the two of them occupied before snacktime. Turning around, he saw Hannah beside him, already putting in some practice bounces.
But William was still inside holding onto the door.
James watched as the boy leaned his weight against the handle and it slammed shut.
William then flicked the lock across.
‘Willy’s not allowed to play with doors,’ said Hannah sombrely.
James ran back to the house and tugged on the door handle, which was definitely locked.
‘Willy. Willy, mate. Open the door now for Uncle James.’
William grabbed his truck protectively and, giving James a scowl, began driving it around the kitchen floor.
‘I’m not cross, Willy, can you open the door? I’ll get you a rice cake!’
William carried on regardless. The phone in James’s hand buzzed. Please let it be Kam on his way home, crisis averted.
It was from Rebecca.
Waters broken. At the hospital. Baby on the way.
Chapter 41
‘I wasn’t expecting to see you here so soon, Rebecca.’
Maureen the midwife was checking charts at the side of Rebecca’s bed. The first time she had met Suzanne’s boss, she’d expected a matronly dragon, but the reality couldn’t have been more different. They’d crossed paths on hospital appointments through the pregnancy, and she’d always been warm and lovely. She also had that power headmasters seemed to have of remembering the names of the hundreds of people that come under their care.
‘Did you not have your bag with you when the action got started? Not to worry, your husband can bring it in later.’
‘I’m not sure he’s coming in,’ said Rebecca, ‘but I’ll sort something later.’
Maureen glanced up at her briefly, but carried on the work on the file.
‘OK, love. We’ll work something out. The hospital gown looks lovely on you for now.’
‘Is the
re any news?’
Maureen attached a couple of large bands around her belly, and plugged her into a foetal heart rate monitor. Rebecca was very conscious that without her PJs everything she was wearing had to be hiked up above Bomp level. She felt like Donald Duck.
‘So we’ve had a look, and those waters are broken all right. Labour’s not really got going yet, though. The doctor will be in to see you soon, but you know your blood pressure was a teeny bit on the high side too. I think we’ll be looking at inducing you.’
‘I see. Righto!’ It was going to be talking like a chirpy pregnant fifties housewife for the labour it seemed to Rebecca. ‘I don’t suppose I’d be able to pop home to pick up my stuff before that happens would I?’
Maureen gave her a raised eyebrow. It hinted at a bit of the steel that Suzanne had been so scared of.
‘I’d take a taxi and get him to wait.’
‘You can go for a walk around the grounds if you like, but no further than that.’
The thwokka thwokka of Bomp’s heartbeat started up on the monitor. Although Rebecca couldn’t exactly say she was used to it, it had become every day, almost a part of herself. Then her own heart rate quickened as she realised it wasn’t going to be long before it wasn’t a part of her any more. Checking the readout that went with it, Maureen turned down the sound and soon it could only be heard in her head.
What a morning, thought Rebecca. When she’d felt her waters go on the bus, she’d been paralysed at first, unsure what to do. But her new resolve kicked her through, and standing up and saying ‘excuse me, I’ve gone into labour’ cleared a space to walk down the corridor instantly. It was a tip worth remembering for the future. She let the cocky young fellah jump back into her seat without telling him what had just happened on there. He’d work it out soon enough. She had more important things on her mind as she walked up to the driver and explained what was happening.
A rather overweight middle-aged guy, the driver perked up a bit when she’d told him the news, asking her what hospital she needed to get to. Rebecca was sure he was all set to divert the bus for a high-speed mission, his bus-driving career building to this point. But Rebecca dashed his hopes when she told him the clinic where she’d be able to see the midwife team was two stops along, but if he wouldn’t mind letting her off right outside the door, rather than a few hundred yards down at the stop itself, she’d appreciate it. He checked how far apart her contractions were. She admitted she wasn’t sure they’d really started yet, so she thought she’d be OK. He grudgingly agreed she was probably right on that front.
But not to be denied his moment, he’d refused to stop to let anyone off or on before he reached the clinic, and took the speed bumps on the road a little faster than Rebecca would’ve liked. Still, as they arrived at the antenatal centre she got a round of applause and some cheers of good luck from the passengers who she’d been afraid would be annoyed with her. The bus driver pulled up and got out alongside her and offered his arm as she walked into the clinic. She was fine but it was sweet, if slightly awkward, of him to do it. As they got towards reception he said his name was Dave, and asked if she knew it was going to be a girl or a boy. It was only after he’d seen her to the front desk and made a surprise move to give her a hug that she realised maybe he was angling for the baby to be named after him. He’d be disappointed to learn that Dave was not on the list.
At the clinic, there was a bit less urgency from the staff than Dave the bus driver had felt. The nurses had checked whether she was having contractions, just like Dave, but Rebecca felt better placed to let them know she wasn’t sure they’d started at all. She’d had a few crampy pains, but not really different from the Braxton Hicks ‘practice’ ones she’d been having for a few weeks now. She’d told them she’d begun to have doubts her waters had even broken, and whether it might not have been some sort of unfortunate small accident on the bus. It wasn’t even her due date yet, and she thought first timers were supposed to be late.
They’d been reassuring though, that it wasn’t that unusual for waters to break early, and she’d be underway with full labour before she knew it. Although that idea filled her with as much fear as it did excitement. They’d done all the usual checks, and asked if she had her bag and anyone to take her into the maternity hospital she was due to give birth in. That was the first of several times she had to admit that no, she didn’t have her bag, even though yes, she had been advised to bring it in for every appointment for the last few weeks. It felt like forgetting her PE kit, and she was waiting for someone to tell her that she’d just have to give birth in her vest and pants.
She’d also had to explain that there’d be nobody to take her across to the hospital, and she couldn’t even drive herself as she’d taken the bus in. That was fine, they’d said, although Rebecca was sure she’d seen a few looks exchanged between the midwives. Before long one of those non-emergency ambulances she usually expected to deposit elderly people from place to place was there to transport her. And now she was here, in the maternity unit to have the baby, but not really having the baby yet. After all the excitement of earlier she was having some kind of adrenaline crash, because all she really wanted to do was sleep.
‘So any reasons for this raised blood pressure at home?’ Maureen asked with practised cheerfulness. ‘That husband of yours causing trouble?’
‘We’ve separated.’
It was weird to say that to a person.
‘It’s a stressful time,’ said the midwife, unfazed. ‘Have you told him what’s happening?’
‘I’ve texted.’
And he hadn’t responded, Rebecca noted. That seemed weird to her too.
‘Think about giving him a call. We all have rows, you don’t want it to spoil something forever.’
Rebecca guessed there were probably half a dozen guidelines on patient safety and privacy that Maureen was breaching with this homespun advice, but Rebecca didn’t want to say anything rude. It was like being nice to pushy waiters because you were afraid of what they might do to your dinner. Maureen was in a position where Rebecca didn’t want to piss her off.
‘We’ll get someone in here to have a look at you in a minute. Are you OK for water?’
Rebecca gave her a thumbs up, and wondered what made her think to do a thumbs up. She was being plucky, plucky, plucky…
As she left Maureen pulled the curtains from around Rebecca’s bed, and she was facing the rest of the ward again. For a second she imagined herself on One Born Every Minute, or one of those other reality maternity ward shows, and could almost hear a narrator in her head: ‘First-time mum Rebecca is alone in the hospital, after wetting herself on a bus’.
She glanced around at the four other beds with women looking equally large and not entirely thrilled to be here. It felt like a ward full of mums-to-be that hadn’t quite been doing it right. They nodded smiles as Rebecca looked around and hoped none of them would be big talkers. She was dying to close the curtain, but wasn’t sure if she was allowed, and didn’t want to look like the haughty new girl. ‘Rebecca’s feeling shy, and having trouble fitting in with the other ladies on the ward.’ But she didn’t have much time to worry that the TV voiceover in her head was never going to go away before she heard a more familiar voice getting louder in the corridor.
‘C’mon kids, this way. Leave that alone, it’s not a potty. Stop pointing at the pregnant lady, it’s rude. Look, that’s a breast-feeding guide not a story book. C’mon kids, please. Around this corner and there’ll be more chocolate.’
Her heart accelerated as she heard her husband’s voice, and she prepared herself to be strong and to hold her ground as he came in. She didn’t have time to think too much about the strange things he’d been saying as he marched into view, holding hands with Kam’s kids.
‘James, what the fuck are you doing with these children here?’
The eyes of the other women on the ward swivelled her way. And the kids’ ears pricked up too.
‘I mean, h
iya Hannah! Hiya William! Are you having a good time with Uncle James?’ she said to the kids, before adding to James, ‘Get that curtain around. Now.’
Chapter 42
Hannah, who Rebecca knew was always the chatty one, started telling her about a trip on a train, and doing a maze in the hospital, and about her being a secret agent and rescuing William like a burglar, and having lots of Smarties even though they hadn’t had their lunch or a banana yet. William chipped in with the occasional murderous muttering about James breaking his truck, and happier sounding references to riding escalators.
Rebecca marvelled to the kids about their big adventure before turning to James. She was still so angry with him, but so relieved to see him too. But she was going to be strong on this, once she worked out what the fuck was going on.
James stood there, taken aback by how talkative Hannah had suddenly become. It had been nods and headshakes the whole time he’d been minding her. Except when she was reprimanding him for messing with his privates. And now she was talking at the rate of a horse-racing commentator. He still couldn’t get a word William was saying, although Rebecca didn’t seem to be having a problem. He did think he could catch the occasional ‘fuck’ in there now though, thanks to Becs.
He looked around and saw the Bomp bump, and the monitor attached to it, and figured with a sigh of relief that he hadn’t missed the birth yet. Watching Rebecca’s face flitting between bewildered and concerned he thought it was best to fill her in on some of the details.
‘I was looking after these two rascals when I got your message.’
He was trying for upbeat and jovial, but he realised he wasn’t going to be able to pull it off.
‘Jesus, Becs, it was a nightmare. I got your text just as William locked himself in the house. Me and Hannah were outside. I upturned every plant pot in case they left a key, searched about for one of those catalogue rocks for hiding spares. Nothing. I tried every door I could…’
‘That poor boy!’
‘He was fine. He was having a great time waving at us, and playing with his toys, using his crayons on the patio doors. Hannah was a bit worried she might get into trouble, but once I convinced her I’d take the rap she went to play on the trampoline. While she was bouncing I had an idea. I saw the little bathroom window was open on the en suite next to Kam and Kate’s bedroom.’