by Rosie Nixon
When she had brought the class to a close, with a sage reminder to stock up on savoy cabbage, Mila hurriedly packed up her bits. ‘Got to get back for my sitter,’ she announced, clapping the lever-arch file shut and shoving in a few rogue bits of paper. ‘Well done all of you. Feel free to email me at any time, should you have any questions.’ She dropped a small pile of business cards onto the coffee table, before leaning towards me a fraction. ‘And special thanks to our hostess, you did great this evening.’
Lin put her hands together and led everyone into a small applause. ‘To boobs and milk production!’ she said, cherishing the role of class joker.
Mila picked up her empty mug from the coffee table and glanced in my direction. ‘I’ll leave this in the kitchen, shall I?’
‘You just head off,’ I told her, ‘there’s hardly anything to put away.’
Soon after her, Lin and Susie left too, then Helen. When it was just Lucy and me left in the flat, she offered to stay and help me clear up. We gathered up the Pringle crumbs and left-over chocolate fingers in silence for a few moments, until something seemed to catch her attention on one of our book shelves.
She was staring fixedly at a photograph – a framed one of Jason posing with the Bristol University football team. I hadn’t looked at it in any great detail for some time myself, and now I realized its silver frame looked in dire need of a polish, almost turning black at the corners. I felt embarrassed about that.
When she sensed I was looking at her, Lucy quickly averted her eyes. ‘Your photo frames,’ she remarked. She seemed startled I’d noticed her looking. ‘They’re so pretty. I love all the different styles.’
I smiled awkwardly. ‘Thanks. Although I’m sure they’ll all be full of baby photos before long.’
‘I expect so – mine too. You make a gorgeous couple,’ she added, studying our wedding photo, which stood pride of place in the centre of the shelf above the football one.
‘Are you married?’ I asked, keen to move the attention off myself.
For a moment she seemed surprised by such a forthright question.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Not out of choice, but Oscar was married before. He’s in no hurry to…’ Her voice trailed off.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,’ I added. With my right hand I picked up two mugs from the table by their handles and they clanked together loudly. ‘Photos don’t ever tell the whole story though, do they?’ I muttered, trying to make her feel better. ‘Deep down I’m terrified about how Jason is going to cope with a baby.’ I stopped myself, fearing this was too deep for what had been such a fun evening.
She looked concerned. ‘I’m sorry – are you going through a rough patch?’
‘A bit – I mean, no, not really. It’s nothing.’
‘Because, it’s okay if you are— Do you want to talk?’
‘We’re fine, I meant how we will cope. You know, on a practical level. I had no idea what “weaning” actually meant before tonight – I thought it was something to do with mopping up wee!’ I cut her off, keen to lighten the conversation.
Lucy giggled, and I felt pleased to have won her around again. ‘Don’t,’ she said, ‘I once googled “weaning” only to wish I hadn’t. Who knew that grapes were a potential death trap? And that there can be terrifying allergic reactions to strawberries?’
‘Not to mention that, according to Mila, it can take just a few seconds for your baby to choke to death on a raisin,’ I added. ‘Let’s hope that “how to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre” is on the agenda for the next meeting, shall we?’ We both chuckled.
‘Knowing Maggie, she’ll have us paired up and practising it in no time,’ Lucy laughed.
‘I wouldn’t put it past her,’ I said. ‘But perhaps we should all add “do a Baby First-Aid Course”, to our already extensive to-do lists. If I’d have known it was all this complicated, I might have put it off for a bit longer!’
Lucy smiled, as that last flippant comment hung in the air between us for a moment. The length of time taken to get pregnant could be a contentious issue, I knew that, and I sensed I had hit a raw nerve when Lucy didn’t offer any response.
We both busied ourselves by taking out the last bits to the kitchen. When I had stacked the dishwasher, I glanced at my phone and noticed Jason had texted:
Is the coast clear? X
‘Looks like the time has come to allow the other half back in,’ I said.
‘Thanks for this evening,’ Lucy smiled, and I watched with awe as she gracefully lifted her Gucci bag over her head and across her body. It fell neatly to one side of her bump. She was effortlessly stylish. ‘Gorgeous home, I love all your personal touches,’ she added. I felt myself stiffen. If the designer handbag and posh salads were anything to go by, Lucy was probably just being kind – her home was likely to be something straight out of Elle Decoration.
I smiled politely, ‘Thank you – and thanks for helping me clear up. See you at the next one.’
Chapter Eleven
Lucy
As I walked home after the class, I felt edgy. I played over the moment Aisha had caught me looking at her photos. Sometimes I felt like a pressure cooker, the internal tension rising and rising inside me. But thankfully I didn’t blow it. Not yet. I was holding things together okay and no one seemed to think I was weird – if they did, they didn’t show it. The knitted boobs were much weirder, let’s face it. To take my mind off things, I FaceTimed Oscar, who was in New York on business. I told him about the rugby ball incident and he found it amusing. I also mentioned how Aisha had burnt the bruschetta.
‘Well, you can’t expect everyone to be as culinarily endowed as you, my sweetheart,’ he teased.
‘Culinarily endowed, is that even a phrase?’ I asked. ‘Typical of you to turn everything back to sex.’
‘Excuse me, you’re the one with the dirty mind!’ he retorted. ‘Thinking about how well endowed I am, are you?’
‘Oscar!’
‘Well, you can tell me in person tomorrow. I’ll be home off the red eye mid-morning. Why don’t you go in late?’
‘But I’ve got a meeting—’
‘I’m the boss, so it’s fine,’ he cut me off. ‘I can’t wait to see you.’
I didn’t realize until I had reached our house that I’d left the empty salad dish at Aisha’s. I was too tired to go back, so decided it would be the ideal excuse to ask her out for a coffee.
Thursday 6th May
The following evening, sat on the sofa, Oscar flopped his arm around my belly and nestled into my body. He cocked his head to one side and looked at me; I mean really looked at me. ‘I missed you darling,’ he cooed.
‘I missed you too, honey.’ I planted a kiss onto his lips and took his hand in mine. I silently marvelled at how we had become a pregnant couple who referred to each other as ‘darling’ and ‘honey’. It should have made my heart sing, but instead it made me feel uneasy.
My desperation to be a mother had been so strong, for so long. But now I was here, on the brink of my dream finally coming true, it wasn’t quite the perfect situation I had hoped for. There was one big problem.
I went upstairs to look at the nursery. I had been a woman on a mission all week, working full days in the office before racing home to nest like a mother hen. The five vests from Petit Bateau and ten sleepsuits from the Little White Company were folded neatly in a drawer of the dresser I’d ordered from John Lewis, with a few outfits for ‘best’ hanging in the small matching wardrobe. A ‘family’ of soft, brown, cuddly bunnies sat in height order down one side of the cot. It was all extremely satisfying. If this were the backdrop for a celebrity’s baby photoshoot in a glossy magazine, the reader would think it all absolutely idyllic. But how misleading first impressions can be.
I flicked on the light switch, then stopped and caught a glimpse of myself in the large mirror I had somehow managed to successfully hang over the cot earlier today, using a row of ten tacks bashed into the wall. Miraculously, it was straight.
I hadn’t noticed until now that I had flour down my black dress from cooking earlier. My hair had nearly all fallen out of its ponytail.
I stroked my large bump. I had been lucky with the pregnancy, suffering no morning sickness. The lack of alcohol had done wonders for my complexion and I loved my new curves. I found myself dressing to accentuate them, wearing dresses far tighter than I would have dared before. Before, I’d always considered my figure ‘boyish’ rather than voluptuous, and I’d never had much of a waist to speak of, but now that I had curves in all the right places, I wanted to make the most of them; I really wouldn’t have minded staying this shape forever. But it wasn’t just about the curves, it was far deeper than that; it was everything – I just felt so grateful to be having a baby at last.
Once I had got over the initial shock of finally falling pregnant, the planning had kicked in and I had embraced every moment of it. I was barely two months gone when I began obsessively checking out cots from Mamas and Papas and covertly shopping on the Petit Bateau website when I should have been preparing pitches at work. As the weeks passed, I relished any opportunity to discuss my growing foetus around the coffee machine when someone politely enquired how I was feeling at work. Sometimes I would catch myself sounding like the baby bore I once swore I would never become. Could this be the same Lucy Raven – the ambitious PR professional on a trajectory to Managing Director? I barely recognized myself some days, having never guessed I’d be in this situation.
I stared at my reflection.
Can you really do this? I asked myself internally.
I didn’t have the answer, but I knew that I was getting closer to finding it.
Chapter Twelve
Aisha
The day after the breastfeeding class, my phone buzzed with a message:
WhatsApp:
Lucy Raven has added you to: ‘The Baby Group’.
The symbol was a baby bottle full of milk. There were a few more notifications as numbers were added, before another message:
Lucy: Hey everyone, finally got round to connecting us all on here. Looking forward to seeing you for the next class on Saturday. I don’t seem to have Carol’s number, can you give it to me please, Will, so I can add her to the group? And let me know if I should add Jason and Ian? Lx
Helen: Thanks Lucy! Hope everyone (and bumps!!) are doing well. No need to add Ian (he’s a grump on WhatsApp!). Helen xx
Susie: Great to be connected, see you all on Sat. S&L x
Me: Thanks Lucy, don’t worry about adding Jason either. See you all soon. Ax
Will: No need to add Carol. I’ll just pass on any relevant info. Thanks Lucy. Will x
Then I received a private WhatsApp message from Lucy:
Lucy: I’m off work tomorrow, so thought I could pick up the dish I left at yours in the morning, if that’s ok? We could also go for a coffee, if you’re free?
It didn’t take much to distract me from work at the moment and I had enjoyed chatting with Lucy yesterday, so I replied quickly:
Me: Love to! Does 9ish at Gail’s work?
Lucy: Perfect. See you then. Lx
Me: Great, don’t worry about picking up the dish. I’ll bring it. Ax
Friday 7th May
‘Would you like tea or coffee?’ Lucy asked. She was already in the queue when I arrived at Gail’s at ten past nine.
‘Tea would be great, thanks. Builder’s,’ I replied. ‘I’ll get us a table.’
‘Drinks will be here shortly,’ Lucy said when she joined me.
‘Thanks. I haven’t managed to kick the caffeine completely – unlike some.’
‘Ha! Lin and Susie are such earth mothers,’ she smiled. ‘Good for them, but that weird burial plan for the placenta. Really?’
I smiled back. ‘I’d forgotten about that. Ooh but what about Will and Carol? I wonder how many babies she’s carried for other people? It’s fascinating.’
‘I bet she’s making a fortune,’ Lucy said. ‘I mean, it can’t be something you’d do unless the reward was huge. But I wonder if she ever finds it hard to give the baby up? It can’t be the easiest thing to do.’
‘I know. I just couldn’t imagine it. And especially with a baby daddy as handsome as Will. I mean, who wouldn’t find that hard?’ We both giggled in unison and looked up at each other, registering the connection.
I got my purse out of my bag to offer Lucy some money for the drink.
‘No way – it’s on me. You did more than enough hosting the other night.’
‘Thanks so much, I’ll get them next time then,’ I replied. ‘So, are you feeling ready for the baby?’
‘As ready as you can ever be, I guess. I mean, there’s always more to do, but I’ve almost got the nursery sorted,’ she replied.
I was beginning to realize my initial assumption of Lucy as the power-dressed, organized CEO-in-waiting, wasn’t quite on the mark. She was actually a lot softer than that.
‘What about you – is the cot up?’ Lucy asked me.
‘We don’t have one yet – we’re going to choose it this weekend. John Lewis probably. My dad’s getting it for us.’
‘Aw, that’s nice, you’re close to your parents then?’
I paused. A tight feeling took a hold of my chest. ‘My mum passed away fifteen years ago.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Lucy said, looking into her coffee cup.
‘It’s okay. Dad’s still around, but he lives in Dubai with his girlfriend. He wanted to move closer to his parents in India. I don’t see any of them very often. He likes to send me lavish gifts to make up for that fact.’
‘That must have been a tough time, losing your mum in your twenties,’ Lucy said.
‘It was,’ I sighed. ‘When I was 21, life changed forever. All Dad’s money couldn’t prevent Mum from being diagnosed with Stage Four breast cancer at the age of 50. I would have done anything to keep her in our lives for longer.’
‘I’m sure she’d be so proud of you,’ Lucy smiled kindly. ‘A husband, baby on the way, successful career…’
‘Mum would have loved Jason – she probably would have seen the same spark and drive in him as my father had when she met him. But if Dad had been less concerned with earning money when I was a child, I often wonder whether we’d have had a closer relationship now. I’ve only seen him once in the last two years, and whenever I do see him it’s always stilted and formal. He keeps promising a father-daughter trip to India to meet long-lost relatives, but the invite never actually comes. Anyway – family! Enough about mine, what about you?’
Lucy exhaled sharply. ‘Families, indeed. We’re not close either. I mean, my parents are around, and in my life, but we’re different. So different. You know?’
‘I can relate to that. Funny how it can all go wrong. Up until my early twenties, there wasn’t a time I ever worried that my parents wouldn’t be around. I always got everything on my Christmas list and had birthday parties that were the talk of the playground for months afterwards. But I never imagined I’d lose my mum so quickly. It broke me and Dad.’ I felt a heavy sadness descend again.
‘I’m really sorry,’ she said, and she leant across the table and placed a hand on my forearm. ‘That must have been so hard. And especially now – being pregnant. It can bring so many feelings to the surface.’
I took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. ‘You can say that again.’
Lucy moved her hand and smiled graciously as a waiter interrupted this conversation by depositing our drinks, plus two almond croissants on the table. ‘I’ve had a serious craving for these recently,’ she said.
‘Snap!’ I exclaimed, sounding a little more enthusiastic than was necessary, I was so glad of the distraction. ‘Maybe it’s a pregnancy thing. This is sweet of you, thanks. Anyway – how are you feeling about getting close to your due date?’
She stroked her bump. ‘Yes, I’m really excited about meeting this little man. I’m sure he’s dropped in the last few days. Do you feel like that?’
; ‘I wish.’ I shifted on the chair. ‘My bump still feels so high, I can feel it pressing against my ribcage a lot of the time. I can’t wait for it to drop. Sleeping is becoming really uncomfortable. Jason keeps complaining I wriggle too much. And you should see the number of pillows in our bed.’
‘Your bump is perfect,’ she said, her eyes fastened on me. ‘I bet Jason thinks you look amazing – because you do. You’re glowing.’ Embarrassed by receiving such a big compliment, I looked away. ‘I just hope my other half, Oscar, is as ready as he says he is, when the baby actually arrives. You know, is he prepared for the sleepless nights and changes to our lifestyle?’ She stopped and gazed out of the window.
‘I’m not sure any of us have got our heads around it yet,’ I tried to reassure her.
‘Oscar already has two children, you see, from a previous relationship. It’s a lot to ask of him, to do it again. I just hope we’ll cope okay.’
‘I know what you mean,’ I admitted. ‘Jason’s been working late so much recently. I guess he’s only trying to clock up the overtime payments, but I do worry sometimes too. He didn’t react brilliantly when I got pregnant.’ I stopped myself. Perhaps this was also too heavy for our first coffee date. ‘Have you lived in Clapham for long?’ I asked quickly, keen to change the subject.