by Amy Bratley
‘Shit,’ she said, lowering herself down to kneeling position, hoping Alan wasn’t reading her medical history.
‘Let me help,’ he said, suddenly so close to her she could smell his cologne and feel the heat from his body. Her body felt charged with electricity. If he touched her, she would surely die. Did he feel it too? She couldn’t look at him, hating him for reducing her to melting butter. She felt herself turning taramasalata-pink.
‘No,’ said Lexi firmly, sweeping up the papers in one determined armful. ‘I’ll cope alone, thank you.’
I’ll cope alone. Lexi’s mantra. The philosophy she’d pledged allegiance to since the age of seven, in the bath with her My Little Pony collection, her miserable mother slumped in bed, crying into her unwashed, flat-as-a-pancake pillow. Alan flinched and moved away, back to Katy. Lexi longed for him to come back. Wedge his head between her breasts and weep.
Chapter Four
He can’t leave me, thought Mel as she shuffled into the antenatal classroom, accepting a sticky-label name-tag and slapping it on her chest as she went. I won’t let him leave me.
Swallowing down the rising acid taste in her mouth, her heart beating too quickly, cheeks throbbing from crying, she scanned the seating options. Two sofas and several single chairs were set out in a crescent shape in front of Ginny Croft, the bee-hived, truly amazing-looking midwife taking the class, who was perched on the edge of a table, smiling broadly and gently swinging her legs back and forth. Next to her was what looked like the skeleton of a small mammal, a few plastic dolls, a jigsaw puzzle of the female anatomy, a stack of information leaflets and a freestanding TV and DVD-player which reminded Mel of being at school. Everyone found seats and Mel eyed their sticky label name-tags. Katy and Alan, designer clad, were holding hands. They emanated success and should probably have been in a London boardroom, sealing deals and talking shop. There was a young couple, Rebecca and Lenny, who could be on the books of a modelling agency. Mel thought their baby had to have been the result of high jinks, just like her own. And then a slightly older couple, Erin and Edward, who had kind, intelligent faces but were quiet and stiff as lamp posts in their chairs. And Lexi, with pink cheeks and painted lips, sitting with her arms folded above her bump, was a shiny glacé cherry in her red maternity dress.
‘Make yourselves comfortable,’ said Ginny, beaming. ‘Then we’ll begin. We’ve got a lot of information to cover today about understanding the signs that labour is near, plus the different stages of labour and birth.’
Mel’s heart sank. She didn’t want to be there. She couldn’t go through with this. All she wanted to do was go home, crawl under the duvet, get on the phone to her mum and eat a bag of Kettle Chips. She could tell she was nothing like any of the other women – and how could she possibly act normally after the bombshell Leo had just dropped? She just felt like bawling and banging the floor with her fists.
‘Here you all are, ready to embark on a very exciting journey,’ continued Ginny as the group quietened. ‘You might be feeling completely terrified or really excited about the birth. Maybe you feel a mixture of both. But whatever you feel now, it’ll all change again when you actually meet your baby and become a parent.’
Everyone in the class stared intently at Ginny, smiling a little but saying nothing.
‘Having a baby is a lot about sacrifice – giving up on sleep and your social life for a while – but it’s also about learning. Having a baby is the most natural thing on earth, but it’s also the most confusing. That’s why you’re all here today. When your contractions hit at three a.m. or your waters break over your shoes in the supermarket, it’s good to know what the hell is going on. Hopefully, my sessions will help you on your way.’
‘Knowledge is power,’ said Alan, grinning like the Hoff.
Absolutely right,’ said Ginny, crossing and uncrossing her legs and laughing her low-key laugh. ‘So, you’re all fairly close to the end of your pregnancies and that’s why you’ve chosen this four-week intensive course. This week we’ll talk about the different stages of labour; next time we’ll discuss pain management, in session three we’ll talk about breastfeeding; and then, finally, in the last session, how to care for your newborn at home. Do any of you know whether you’re having a girl or boy?’
Mel shook her head. She and Leo had decided against knowing what sex the baby was, though she felt sure she’d seen something distinctly penis-shaped on the scan. Leo insisted it was the umbilical cord. He had been so nervous that day. Oh, Leo. He had to come back. They were having a baby, for heaven’s sake. No one walks out on a baby, do they?
‘We’ve decided not to find out,’ said Erin, with a small, cautious smile, and Lexi nodded along with her.
‘Me, too,’ she said. ‘I want a surprise.’
‘We’re having a boy,’ said Katy proudly. ‘I like to be prepared for everything in life. I have a name, too, but I’m not telling a soul before he’s born. I don’t want anyone stealing it!’
Rebecca grinned at Katy then glanced at Lenny. ‘We’re having a boy, too,’ she said. ‘A mini-Lenny.’
‘Lucky world,’ said Lenny, beaming. Another one of me.’
Ginny laughed and neatly slipped off the edge of the table on to her feet.
‘So, every woman’s labour is different and, for first-time mums, labour usually takes between ten and twenty hours, though it can last longer or be over much more quickly,’ she continued, holding her head to one side. ‘How are you all feeling about the actual birth?’
‘Like I want to move to Mongolia,’ muttered Lenny in a low voice. He gave everyone a waspish grin when they laughed, letting his gaze linger on Ginny, who seemed to blush a little every time she looked in his direction.
‘Lexi?’ said Ginny.
Lexi pointed to the massive blue birthing ball at the side of the room.
‘My baby is quite big, so I’m wondering how it will actually get out,’ said Lexi. ‘I think I’m giving birth to one of those balls.’
Everyone laughed.
‘Thank you, Lexi, but you’d be surprised by how women’s bodies can stretch,’ said Ginny. ‘Some tiny women have big babies as easily as if they’re squeezing out a peanut. How about you, Katy? How do you feel about it?’
Katy’s mobile phone beeped on her lap. She checked the message and flushed before composing her answer.
‘Calm,’ she said, nodding determinedly, with Alan’s big hand now resting protectively on the back of her neck. ‘Calm about the labour, but stressed up to my eyeballs about work. Back-to-back meetings at the moment. Maybe if I didn’t have a busy job I’d be more worried about the labour, but I’m feeling good about it. It might actually be a rest.’
Ginny nodded slowly, trying to conceal the ‘Yeah, right’ part of her smile but failing miserably. Mel sighed. Katy was one of those dynamic women who did everything, wasn’t she? Mel couldn’t help feeling a bit annoyed by her. Behind Ginny was a window, with a view of the hospital where Mel would have her baby. She felt hot and cold at the same time, not wanting to speak, knowing she could cry at any moment. This was supposed to be a happy day, but Mel felt self-conscious and bemused. Why had Leo said he didn’t want the baby? Inside her, the baby’s feet were pressed up against her diaphragm, making her feeling slightly breathless. She moved, trying to make herself more comfortable.
‘Erin?’ said Ginny. ‘What about you?’
‘I’m having an elective caesarean at thirty-nine weeks, so it’s going to be different for me,’ said Erin quietly. ‘I’m desperate to meet the baby. These last few weeks are going so slowly, I feel like the days keep on rewinding themselves, just to aggravate me.’
Mel looked at the clock on the wall. They’d only been in there for five minutes. She willed the time to hurry up, so she could get out and call Leo.
‘Most women find the last few weeks tough, but it’s supposed to give you time to prepare for what’s to come,’ said Ginny. ‘Anyone else? Rebecca and Lenny? Mel?’
M
el glanced over at Rebecca, who smiled at her kindly. Mel tried to return the smile.
‘I don’t know what to expect,’ said Rebecca. ‘I’m slightly concerned I’ll moo during labour.’
Lenny burst out laughing, and Rebecca smiled again.
‘Everyone moos,’ said Ginny, waving her hand through her hair. ‘It’s normal. When you moo, you know you’re nearly done. Mooing is good.’
Katy cleared her throat, lifted a bottle of perfume out of her bag and sprayed three squirts on her wrists and neck. Pregnancy had given Mel a super-sensitive sense of smell, and now, the air cloying with an expensive, pungent fragrance, she could hardly breathe. Lexi coughed and heaved herself out of her seat. She opened a window with a thump and a cool breeze sliced into the room.
‘I’m seriously scared,’ said Lenny. ‘All that blood and guts and pain and screaming. Have you seen that programme One Born Every Minute? Jesus, I can’t watch it. As soon as it’s on, Rebecca’s in tears and I’m hiding under a cushion . . . Did you see it last week? There were about twenty people in the room trying to get the baby out of that woman, pulling it about like a farm animal. It was like a bloody horror film!’
The women gasped.
‘Lenny!’ Ginny said. ‘That was enlightening.’
‘Sssshh,’ said Rebecca, nudging him. ‘Stop talking rubbish.’
Rebecca smiled apologetically to the group while Lenny put his hand over his mouth and jokingly widened his eyes. A few nervous, half-hearted laughs ensued, then all eyes shifted to Mel.
‘Mel,’ said Ginny. ‘Shall we hear from you?’
‘I’m nervous.’ Mel shrugged, her eyes moving to the closed door, praying Leo would burst in. Tell her he’d made a terrible mistake. Say that he was just stressed out at work or something. Yes, that was it. His job as a website designer was full on. And there she was banging on about pregnancy like a woman possessed. She’d neglected him, hadn’t she? Why hadn’t she recognized it before now?
‘All these feelings are to be expected,’ Ginny said kindly, ‘and are absolutely normal.’
Mel tuned out of Ginny’s talking, pulled out her mobile phone and compiled a text: Hi Leo. Is this about your job? I understand how hard you’re working. Maybe I haven’t been supportive enough? Come back, Mx.
Before she could think any more about it, she sent it, then stared at the screen, waiting for an immediate response. None came. Her scalp started to prickle with dread. Who was she kidding? Leo wasn’t the type of man to make a decision lightly; he must have been thinking about it for weeks. Months. And he loved his job. Even when he had to work at the weekend, he rarely complained. Her stomach plunged into her boots. Especially when he had to work at the weekend? Did he actually enjoy being away from her? No, it wasn’t that bad, was it?
‘If you’re wondering,’ said Ginny, holding up the skeleton that looked like it came from a small mammal, ‘this is a model of a pelvic bone, the area your baby will travel through in labour. Here’s an information sheet, with diagrams explaining how the baby moves through your birth canal, and of various birth positions, which we will discuss next week.’
Ginny handed out the leaflets. Mel’s eyes rested on an illustration of a woman on all fours, a baby’s head poking out of her vagina like a hotdog sausage sticking out the end of a bread roll. She felt slightly revolted.
‘I’m glad you said that was a pelvic bone,’ said Alan to Ginny. ‘I thought someone had lost their dog.’
More tittered laughter – especially loud from Lexi. Mel frowned. Alan seemed somehow out of place in the classroom. He was too hairy, too action-hero male, as if his watch might double up as a pistol. Mel wished that he’d go and Leo would come back. Leo was far more suited to this environment, much more gentle. Ginny carried on talking about pelvic bones and Mel withdrew into her thoughts. Would he come back? She tried to envisage herself as a lone parent. Her mum had been a lone parent after her dad had died, and life had been horribly quiet without him. Her mum had tried to make it look easy, but she knew it had been hard for her on her own. Could she cope without Leo? Her mind filled with a sad little picture of her and the baby in the future, perched on a beach towel together sucking ice lollies, pretending to enjoy themselves but wishing Leo was there.
‘Okay, everyone,’ said Ginny. ‘Now, can anyone tell me how you know that labour is near?’
‘Does your bump kind of drop down further?’ began Rebecca.
As Rebecca spoke, Mel zoned out again and thought back to the day she’d told Leo she was pregnant. She’d been throwing up – morning sickness – when he’d come into the bathroom to see how she was. She mumbled something incomprehensible and pointed at the home pregnancy kit she’d secretly done, the blue line bold as a strike. Leo hadn’t said anything either, just pulled her to him and kissed her head. She’d felt his tears in her hair and held on to him. She remembered what she’d said to him.
‘I’ve always wanted a big family like yours,’ she’d said. ‘After my dad died, I vowed that one day I’d have a big, noisy family, with kids running around in the garden, or with everyone sitting round the kitchen table talking at each other. I felt I owed it to my mum as well, you know? And now this has happened, we can be a family. We can get started. Leo, you do want to be a family, don’t you?’
It had been a saccharine speech for Mel, who rarely talked about family like that. She was too realistic to indulge in childhood fantasies of re-creating the Waltons. She knew life threw a lot of shit at you, but, in her innermost desires, she wanted a chance to belong to more people and have more people belong to her. With Leo, she thought she’d been in with a chance. Was it such an outrageous expectation?
‘It’s a surprise,’ he’d said. ‘A big surprise.’
That was all. No objection. No crisis talks. No smashed coffee cup. No debate. Just quiet acceptance. How could he say she’d bulldozed him into having the baby? Aware of voices in the room growing quiet, Mel felt all eyes on her again. She flushed with heat.
‘Mel?’ said Ginny. ‘Do you know of any other signs?’
At the same moment, the phone in Mel’s hand beeped. She glanced down at the text from Leo: It’s not about work. It’s about me. I’m sorry. With sweat pricking her forehead and disappointment making her arms ache, Mel opened her mouth to speak, but nothing more than a croak came out.
‘I’m . . . I’m—’ she struggled, swallowing. ‘I think ... I’m sorry, I—’
Mel swiped at a tear rolling down her cheek.
‘Are you okay?’ asked Ginny, frowning in concern. ‘You’re bound to feel emotional. Don’t forget, your hormones are all over the place.’
Everyone nodded and murmured in agreement, then they fell silent again, waiting for Mel to speak, waiting for her to agree that, yes, it was just hormones making her cry. Her stomach churning, Mel lifted a hand to her cheeks and shook her head, pulling at her bag for a tissue. Typically, she couldn’t find one.
‘Here,’ said Lexi gently from beside her, handing her a bundle of tissues. ‘Have one of mine. Have lots of them.’
Mel thanked Lexi, took the tissues and held them to her leaking eyes.
‘Sorry,’ she said, in a tiny, high voice. ‘I’ve just had some bad news. I shouldn’t have come in, but I didn’t know what to do. I don’t want to miss this class – and . . . outside, just before we came in, my boyfriend Leo, well, he . . . he . . . he—’
Mortified that she couldn’t hold it together, that she was about to tell these strangers everything, that her tears were beyond her control, Mel broke down into sobs. Why couldn’t she be more like Katy over there? Cucumber-cool.
‘Oh dear,’ said Ginny, moving to kneel down in front of Mel and take hold of her hands. ‘Whatever it is, don’t get yourself too worked up. You’re going to be just fine.’
Don’t be kind, thought Mel, blushing. If you’re kind you’ll make it worse. Tell me to shut up. Shut up and pull myself together. Slap me.
‘Oh,’ she croaked in between sobs, p
ushing her knuckles against her head, ‘what am I like?’
All she could do was shake her head and push the tissue against her nose, which was streaming with snot and tears. The information sheet was soggy and damp on her lap, the woman on all fours disintegrating before her eyes.
‘Leo, my boyfriend, has just left me,’ she said, hiccupping now. ‘He’s left us, me and the baby. He says he doesn’t want a baby. I lost my dad when I was six. I can’t do this on my own. God, I’m so sorry, I just can’t stop—’
There was a communal gasp from the women in the room. The men looked as if they wanted to teleport themselves to the moon.
‘He told you just now?’ said Lexi from beside her, her hand on Mel’s back. ‘You poor thing.’
‘Yes,’ said Mel. ‘Just now.’
‘That’s terrible,’ said Rebecca, from the other side of the room.
‘Awful,’ said Erin, shaking her head sadly. ‘Awful for you.’
‘Oh no, sweetheart,’ said Ginny, her voice full of sympathy. ‘No wonder you’re upset.’
Mel managed a small smile, buoyed up slightly by the women’s reactions, before warily raising her eyes to the group. They were all staring at her with wide, sympathetic eyes. Even though she knew nobody in the room, she felt the women’s warmth like a duvet and, for a second, was grateful to them.
‘I’ll happily kill him for you,’ said Alan’s cheery voice, from beside Katy. ‘What a jerk.’
There was a ripple of comments and a peal of laughter from Lenny at Alan’s threat. Mel tried to raise a smile, but she couldn’t. Sudden, unexpected anger rose in her. Not about Leo leaving, she told herself, but because of what Alan had said. The rude bastard! She instinctively wanted to defend Leo. He’s not a jerk! He was one of life’s good, honest people, with moral fibre and backbone. He was talented, too. Brilliant at all that technical stuff he did, and musical. He always carried Mel’s suitcase when he met her at the station, back from visiting her mum in Edinburgh, achy and tired. Last week, she’d watched him physically restrain an irate customer in the Coop who had been about to punch the manager, while everyone else pretended nothing was happening. He rubbed her back almost every night. The first of her birthdays they’d been together he’d bought her twenty-four little presents for every year of birthdays he hadn’t known her. He told her she was his one and only. He opened the window every morning, so they could smell the sea air while they lay in bed. Leo wasn’t a jerk. He couldn’t be. She loved him. He was the father of her child.