Just Between Friends: Page-turning fiction to curl up with in winter 2020

by Rosie Nixon

  Me: Really well, thank goodness.

  O: Excellent. How is it then?

  Me: Fine. Although the teacher is obsessed with vaginas.

  O: A woman after my own heart.

  Me: Haha.

  O: Well I suppose it’s a legit thing for a midwife to be obsessed with.

  Me: True

  O: I’m thinking about your vagina now.

  Me: Are you on the plane? Are you drunk already?

  O: Yes and slightly. I wish you could join the mile-high club with me. I miss you.

  Me: You’ve only just gone! But you’ll be back soon enough. Class is about to start again – me and my vagina had better go.

  O: Call you when I land.

  Me: OK, safe flight.

  O: Still thinking about your vagina.

  Oscar had left for New York early that morning.

  ‘I’ll miss you, but I’ll cope,’ I’d said as he stopped for a moment and asked whether I was really feeling okay about him going off and not coming to The Baby Group, especially when my due date was getting so close. He had reassured me that his phone would stay on all night and he’d drop everything and come home immediately, if anything started to happen.

  As he’d walked away from me down the hallway to retrieve his shoes, I’d watched his slightly gangly walk, and marvelled at how I’d ended up with a man so kind and considerate, albeit lanky.

  Then he came back into the kitchen, shoes on, and gave me a peck. ‘See you in a few days – I’ll go straight to the office probably, I’m on the red eye. Proper kiss?’ He lifted my head to his lips. He was a good kisser. But I couldn’t press my body into his like I used to do when kissing him. I ran my fingers over the front of his trousers and he ran his over my bump.

  ‘I really wish I didn’t have to rush off this morning,’ he whispered.

  And then we kissed again. When our lips pulled away, he was still holding my head in his hands. He fixed me with a look; a look of lust mixed with wonderment.

  ‘You’re having a baby!’ he cooed.

  I smiled and shrugged. It was wonderful to see him genuinely engage with this pregnancy – a scenario I once feared would never happen. I pulled my chin from his fingers, conscious that time was ticking and I needed to get ready.

  He hesitated. ‘Good luck today. WhatsApp me when you get out, tell me how it goes, and if there’s anyone you’re considering being friends with. I’ll be able to reply from the plane.’

  After the break, Maggie tried to make us believe that the delivery of a baby through a surgical incision in the abdomen and uterus was a barbaric torture involving a long recovery process and thus should be avoided at all costs. I closed my ears and kept quiet for most of it, having already decided on an elective C-section. It was surprising how judgemental people could be about childbirth, when surely the aim was just to have a healthy baby, however it might be born. Half of me wished Oscar was here now; he would have struggled to keep silent and would likely have challenged Maggie on that. I wondered if there were any other secret caesarean sisters in the room. Carol’s expression had failed to give anything away all day, although my guess would be her as the most likely candidate.

  During the afternoon break, I nipped to the bathroom, took the red lippy out of my prized handbag and topped up my lips with three strokes in the mirror. Perhaps Gucci had been a bit too fancy for today.

  ‘You’re so glamorous,’ said a quiet voice at the sink next to me. Lost in thought, I had barely noticed Aisha come out of the cubicle. She turned on the tap beneath her and we smiled awkwardly at each other in the mirror.

  ‘Well I suppose I won’t be wearing it much once the baby arrives,’ I replied. ‘May as well make the most of it.’

  ‘Yes, the red lippy will have to go – your baby won’t appreciate it when you’re smothering him in kisses, believe me!’ came Maggie’s booming voice from behind a locked cubicle door. ‘Unless you both want to look like clowns, that is.’

  Aisha and I looked at each other and smiled broadly. ‘Does she literally hear everything?’ I whispered, as Aisha silently giggled.

  ‘Noted, Maggie!’ I yelled back. ‘No more rouge for me.’ I slung the lipstick back into my bag for dramatic effect.

  Aisha had put her hand over her mouth to stop her laughter.

  Maybe I might make some friends here, after all.

  Chapter Four

  Aisha

  As I was leaving the group, Dad texted to tell me he had transferred £500 into my account to buy us a cot. I had panic-texted him during the meeting, when almost everyone else mentioned they had prepared cribs for their babies, just in case they arrived early. Obviously, Jason and I didn’t yet own one. I was just trying to work out how to tell Jason about the payment, because I knew Dad’s hand-outs were a source of tension for him, when he phoned.

  ‘I feel like such an amateur,’ I told him as we chatted while I walked home. ‘The others seem so organized, whereas my only plan so far has been to survive the birth. As it turns out, not-dying isn’t a birth plan.’ I sighed loudly, for dramatic effect. ‘It’s made me realize that I – we – still have a lot to work out.’

  ‘Oh honey, we’ll get there,’ Jason replied. ‘People have babies every minute of every day and I bet loads of them are a hell of a lot less prepared than us. You attended a Baby Group for starters. Surely that counts for something? Isn’t the whole point of going to a Baby Group, to learn and plan?’

  ‘That and make some new friends. I’m not sure I’m going to succeed in that either,’ I said.

  ‘I can’t believe they were all psychos or boring, were they? Tell me about them.’

  I took a deep breath. ‘Well, there was “Perfect” Helen and “Earth Mother” Susie who both had their birth plans all laid out. One of them is going to have her placenta made into tablets. I’m not even entirely sure where to find my placenta,’ I stroked my bump, ‘let alone how to make its funeral arrangements. I mean, is that bad?’

  He chuckled in response. ‘Sounds quite mad to me.’

  ‘Then there was this “Deliciously Ella” one, who had prepared a salad that looked like it had walked off the set of its own cookery show. And she was wearing red lipstick. Jason, I don’t think I’ve worn any lipstick for the last three months, let alone a red one. I’ve never felt less cool. She turned up with a Gucci handbag too. She looked like an Instagram post.’

  ‘Aisha, it’s a Baby Group, not an influencers’ convention. I don’t think anyone cares what anyone else is wearing,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t give a toss. Excuse the salad pun.’

  ‘But I care,’ I sighed. ‘Anyway, how was your day?’

  ‘Philip offered to pay me double overtime when I mentioned I’d missed the meeting. I’ll get at least two hundred quid,’ he declared, sounding genuinely chuffed. ‘I’ll tell you more over dinner later.’

  ‘Every cloud.’ I sighed again. I didn’t dare tell him about the money from Dad, which we were going to badly need because Jason’s £200 wouldn’t cover kitting out the nursery, not judging by the baby list Maggie had said she was going to email us all this evening. ‘I’m just popping home for a quick change of clothes and a rest. I’ll see you in an hour.’

  When I reached Honest Burger, Jason was standing outside holding a bunch of yellow tulips. He looked so sweetly apprehensive.

  ‘Tulips for my love,’ he said, bowing down dramatically. ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t there with you today; it doesn’t sound like you had the easiest time.’

  ‘I suppose I can forgive you,’ I said, taking the flowers from him and lifting my head to give him a kiss.

  He knew yellow tulips were my favourite. They had been hard to come by in Hong Kong (whereas red roses had been ten a penny) and they had reminded me of home. Now I bought a bunch almost anywhere I found them. I loved them so much that when illustrating my last children’s book – yet another incarnation of a story about learning how to share – I put yellow tulips in almost every scene. When my new editor que
stioned it, I had my answer at the ready (I hadn’t been in this game for eight years and learnt nothing): ‘It adds another dimension. Once the adult reading the book becomes aware of them, the child can begin to search for them on every spread. I’ve done so many bunnies, cats and bears. Yellow tulips symbolise cheerfulness and sunshine to me. Please?’

  I got to keep the tulips.

  When we sat down, Jason slid an arm around me, enveloping me into a tight hug. ‘You’re going to be an amazing mum, you know,’ he said earnestly, turning my face so my gaze met his.

  My eyes filled with tears. ‘I hope so.’ I took a deep breath.

  ‘I was thinking, with my overtime money, we could shop for a cot.’ He fixed me with a look of pure love. ‘Perhaps we could go and find one tomorrow, a really great one.’

  I smiled. There was a time when a bonus would have meant going straight to the pub, and blowing it all on margaritas and later a Thai meal at our favourite local restaurant, and now here he was getting excited about buying a cot. Even though I would give almost anything for a margarita right now, it felt good, after his initial wobble when I got pregnant, to see Jason enthusiastic about the baby. It meant he was finally getting his head around becoming a daddy and it made my heart swell with happiness. This was quite a moment, because it was the first time it had been his suggestion to go shopping for nursery items. The last time I mentioned getting a cot, he had suggested we use the time to go on a date instead. He had looked exasperated when I had explained that the baby was likely to be in a cot for up to two years so it was important to do the research. But really, it wasn’t even about the cot – it was about us coming together to plan. Jason seemed to think having a baby was a fleeting moment in time.

  ‘A cot – can I just check I heard you correctly?’ I asked sardonically.

  ‘You did,’ he said proudly, moving a stray piece of hair that had flopped across my face. ‘I know it probably sounds ridiculous, but it’s like I’m finally really excited about all this. I was genuinely gutted not to be able to come with you today. I felt like I’d let you down.’ He paused. ‘But more than that, I felt as though I’d let our baby down. It felt horrible – and I don’t want either of you to feel like that again. I promise I’m going to be a good dad, Aish, I’m going to give our baby everything he or she needs – nothing will be too much.’ He looked down at my swollen belly and whispered behind his hand. ‘You hear that, little bean and your little placenta, wherever it may be?’ He glanced at me comically. I beamed. Jason had always been able to make me laugh. ‘I’m going to give you everything you need. Including a gold-plated cot, if that’s what you want. Well, maybe not gold-plated, but a super-cosy one. I love your mummy very much, you know.’

  Although still not addressed directly to me, they were, at least, the words I had been longing to hear, but there was still a nagging worry: that Jason was managing to give the conversation a financial slant. He was still not over the fact his salary since moving back to London was quite a way beneath what he once earned in Hong Kong. Jason had been obsessed with earning money when we lived abroad; I had hoped things might change when we moved back to London, but when he failed to find a role with a large basic salary he put in for all the overtime available. I tried not to dwell on it, telling myself that all our baby really needed was love and his presence. And we were planning now, at least.

  The conversation moved on to kitting out the nursery, and I downloaded the overwhelming list from Maggie entitled, ‘What to buy for baby and you’. It contained buggies, bottle sterilisers, changing mats, something called a ‘jungle gym’ and a number of strange gadgets – I mean, do you really need a machine to get wax out of the baby’s ear? I tried to push to one side the strong doubt that £200 would come anywhere near covering the cost of all this. I decided not to tell Jason about the money from Dad – plus the fact I might need to ask him for more – because I didn’t want to spoil Jason’s happy mood.

  Chapter Five

  Lucy

  I had missed Oscar loads this week and it wasn’t just because of a mild concern that I might go into early labour and would end up having to ask our creepy neighbour to take me to hospital if I couldn’t make it into an Uber on my own. I missed having him around the place. I missed him wrapping an arm around what used to be my waist and planting kisses on my forehead. I missed his conversation.

  There were some plus sides to him being away though – having as many pillows as I liked in bed was one. Also especially satisfying was the fact that it took me all of five minutes, with a hammer and some tacks, to put up the pictures I had chosen for the nursery walls, rather than a convoluted whole afternoon involving a painful discussion about why it was best to do this properly – i.e. the time-consuming way, involving a spirit level, drill and proper picture hooks. DIY techniques were a constant battleground for us.

  ‘What’s cooking?’ he asked, nose in the air like a sniffer dog the moment he had set his suitcase down. I took his hand and led him towards the kitchen, where he guessed correctly that I’d been busy cooking my speciality boeuf bourguignon this afternoon.

  I puckered my lips. ‘Supper, for my man.’

  Oscar smiled and put his arms around me. Despite the fact he was six foot three with long arms, I’m pretty certain they didn’t meet at the back. ‘It smells beautiful – but not as beautiful as you look, darling Lucy.’ He paused to look at me. I enjoyed accepting his compliments and stopped for a moment to bask in his besotted gaze, before shuffling out of his hands and turning to retrieve the oven gloves from the side. I gave the pot a stir, releasing some more juices, to labour the point that I really was a bloody good cook.

  ‘Something tells me some nesting has been going on,’ he declared, with an air of sarcasm.

  There was no point denying I had become a pregnancy cliché. ‘Wait until you see the nursery.’

  He followed me upstairs.

  I reached behind the nursery door and turned the light off for some added drama as we both stood on the landing outside the smaller of two spare rooms, which had been turned into the nursery. He planted a kiss on my lips. As I edged open the nursery door with my foot, he whispered, ‘Maybe we should leave the lights off…’ Then he pushed himself into my back and ran his fingers over my breasts and over the bump. It occurred to me that my body was not too dissimilar to a camel’s, with two humps, right now. ‘I just find you so sexy.’ As he pressed himself into me, I felt he was hard.

  ‘Sexy now – but will I be sexy to you when my breasts are lactating and I’ve not slept for weeks?’ I muttered.

  He gently turned my face towards his. ‘What do you mean?’ he said. ‘Of course I’ll find you sexy. You’ve never looked more womanly – I love it.’

  ‘You’ll still want me, when I’m a mum?’

  ‘Even more so,’ he whispered, hungry for me. ‘You’ll be sexier than ever to me when you’re a mum. You are blooming, Lucy.’

  I turned to face him and we kissed slowly and passionately.

  ‘The Baby Group woman was saying that sex can bring on labour at this stage,’ I whispered, my bump between us, stopping us from pressing into each other as closely as we wanted to.

  ‘I don’t care, I need you,’ he panted, before gently biting my lip with a passion I had felt many times before.

  ‘Even with boeuf bourguignon in the oven?’ I smiled into his lips as we went in for another long kiss, soft and warm. Swapping sex for food was the only thing guaranteed to work with Oscar.

  ‘You’ve got a point there, Miss Raven, but your curves make me feel horny,’ he said. ‘I’m going to be even crazier for you when this little one arrives, but I know I’ll have to fight for your attention, because I’ll have competition. I need to make the most of having you to myself.’

  I pulled back to take in his face. His eyes were sparkling in the landing light. He looked handsome. I was aware that the dinner really was going to be spoiled if we carried on right now. I peppered his lips with shorter kisses until o
ur mouths separated again. When I opened my eyes once more, Oscar was beaming at me.

  ‘Why are you laughing?’ I asked, thinking something about my appearance must be humouring him.

  ‘I’m so happy,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think it was possible.’ I knew it was his way of acknowledging not just the passion we shared, but our deepening bond. ‘Our future is so bright.’

  I smiled into his lips once more. ‘I love you, Mr Bright.’

  Chapter Six

  Aisha

  Saturday 1st May

  A week later, Jason and I were on our way to the second Baby Group meeting when his phone rang. I knew instinctively it was bad news.

  ‘Seriously?’ he said loudly, stopping in the middle of the pavement. I watched him put his hand to his forehead and took an educated guess that it was his boss, Peter, on the other end. Then Jason said: ‘I’ll be there in thirty,’ and hung up. My heart rate quickened.

  ‘The system’s gone down again,’ he said. ‘It’s a nightmare, Aish, I thought we’d fixed the problems yesterday, but apparently not. Peter is going nuts because no one’s getting any emails.’ He blew air out of his mouth harshly. I wanted to feel sorry for him because he genuinely was having a work nightmare, but right now, I was more sorry for myself – and our baby.

  I sometimes wished Jason worked for the ambulance service. At least then the unsociable hours and emergency calls would have the payoff that he was saving lives in the process. Instead, I have an IT manager who gets all the stress and upheaval, but with none of the genuine heroism.

  ‘At least you’re not actually in labour, hey?’ he said lightly, as if this was a sweetener.

  ‘Yeah, because if I was in labour, I’m assuming you wouldn’t be going in!’ I snapped.

  ‘If you were, I’m sure I could remote in, and keep working,’ he retorted.

  I failed to see the joke and looked around self-consciously, hoping that no one else from The Baby Group was witnessing this. I was royally pissed off. Jason was going to miss another meeting. Not to mention he knew how anxious I was about going into labour.