I’ve always looked at highly strung women like my own mother and wondered why they were so crazy. Why they couldn’t just walk away from arguments? Now I realise it might be beyond their control. What if I never go back to normal?
She’s reassured me that it’s probably the cleaner’s new perfume and that I should stop worrying. Yeah, like anyone ever stopped worrying just because they were told to.
I’m just wondering if I should order a Chinese when Arthur walks in, carrying what looks and smells like a takeaway.
‘Oh my god, you read my mind.’ I jump up and grab the bag from him.
I quickly microwave our plates, grab cutlery and then lay it out for us. I open the bag. My heart sinks when I realise it’s not your average takeaway. It’s grilled chicken, brown rice and asparagus. Ugh, so not what I fancied.
Regardless, I help myself. Okay, so it tastes a lot better than it looks. Still would have preferred a Chinese. He looks on, amused, his lips quirking at the edges.
‘So how was your day?’ I ask around a mouth of chicken.
He looks down at his plate. ‘Interesting.’
My stomach drops. Something happened.
‘Oh dear. Why do I get the feeling that’s code for shit?’
He puffs a laugh. ‘Look, I have to tell you something.’
Oh my god this is it. When he tells me he’s had some woman over here, he’s running away with her, and that I should move out.
‘What is it?’ I ask, already feeling so jittery my tongue trembles.
‘My PR office had a call from a newspaper. They’re printing our story tomorrow.’
Thank god. Not another woman.
My mouth gapes open. ‘Our story? What do you mean, our story?’
He sighs, scratching his neck. ‘That you officially work for me and I got you pregnant.’
Well that sounds worse than what actually happened.
‘But… but it happened before I worked there.’
He smiles and gives a gentle shake of his head. ‘You know as well as I do that it doesn’t matter. It’ll still be seen as bad for the government. This was what I was scared of.’
‘I don’t understand. No offence, but you’re hardly a celebrity. I’d never seen any article or picture of you before I met you.’
‘That’s because I keep my head down and get on with my job.’
Realisation settles over me. ‘Until I came along and fucked up your life?’
My stomach churns at the thought of it. This good man is going to have his name pulled through the mud because of one night of carelessness. Because we both thought those condoms would work. I’ve ruined his career. His life probably.
‘You haven’t fucked up my life,’ he says, but I can see behind his eyes that he’s so very tired. His soul is tired and I’m the reason for his exhaustion.
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
He smiles and avoids eye contact. ‘Actually, there is.’ He runs his hands through his hair.
‘What is it? Just name it.’
He sighs, sits up straight and then looks me in the eye. ‘We could get engaged.’
I frown back at him. Engaged? Not this again.
‘Haven’t we been through this?’
‘Not a proper engagement,’ he insists. ‘Just an engagement for the public. An engagement of convenience if you will.’
A million thoughts run through my head. He doesn’t love you, he barely likes you. He doesn’t want to actually marry you, he just wants to look like less of a douche when that story drops. But getting engaged, even if fake, is a big deal.
‘Will everyone have to think I’m engaged? Eloise? My parents, your parents?’
He nods, chewing his lip. ‘I think it’s the only way it’ll work.’
I mean I suppose I do understand. I would look less of a slutty single mother in the press. To my old school mates. Everyone I’ve ever met.
‘Okay, I’ll do it.’
His eyes light up. ‘Seriously?’
‘Yeah. Anything to make your life easier.’
‘God, you’re an amazing woman.’ He pulls me closer, enveloping me in a hug.
If only he held real affection for me I wouldn’t feel such a burden. Unfortunately I fear the man has no heart to give.
Tuesday 6th October
Arthur
I can’t believe she agreed to it so easily. I was sure she’d put up a fight and I wasn’t planning on pressurising her into it. I sent Sally a text to let her know that I’d release a statement first thing this morning.
When I wake up I immediately open the front door to my morning delivery of every national newspaper. My face is on most of them. Dammit. There I was hoping for page twelve. Must be a slow news day.
‘Cabinet Secretary Knocks Up PA.’
Well fuck, that sounds even worse than it is. I scan over the writing.
‘Charlotte Bellswain is expected to be around twenty-five weeks pregnant.’
There’s a grainy picture of her walking along the street, the wind blowing her coat away so that her small bump is visible. Dammit. I run my finger over the little bump. How can I feel so much love for a baby I haven’t met yet?
I turn the coffee machine on and jump into a hot shower, letting it soothe my tight muscles. When I get out Charlotte’s awake, already reading the papers in just her vest top and pyjama shorts. I can almost see her arse.
‘Wowza,’ she says, her eyes like a rabbit in headlights.
I still find it adorable how she’s so shockable. So un-ruined by the cruel world out there.
‘Yep. Don’t worry. I’m going to draft a statement this morning.’
She pouts her lips, as if smelling something bad. ‘Really? A statement?’
‘Yes, why?’ Has she changed her mind? Please God no. Not that she doesn’t have every right.
‘I just think it would look better if we did a picture and a heartfelt post to Instagram.’
‘Are you serious?’ I snort. Social media? She’s crazy.
She glares back at me. ‘Remember that I’m the normal general public. I know what we look for. The world wants a love story, not a blanket cold statement. That will just make you look even worse.’
I go into the bedroom and get changed. I suppose she might be right. God knows she’s sacrificing enough by agreeing to be fake engaged. She should have some say in how its announced. This will change her life.
I walk back out to find her in a plum wrap dress, her hair still deliciously bed head, not a scrap of make up on. She’s still breathtakingly beautiful, all the more for being natural.
‘Okay. We’ll do your photo thing,’ I announce, leaning across the breakfast bar.
Her face lights up. ‘Amazing.’
God, I love making her happy. It scares me.
‘Come on the sofa.’
I frown but follow, sitting down next to her. She gets her phone out and puts it on selfie mode.
‘Don’t you want to do your hair and make-up?’ I ask. I mean, I thought she wanted to do this so that everyone could coo at her. Not that she doesn’t look stunning.
She shrugs. ‘The quicker we nip this story in the bud, the better right?’
I nod.
‘I mean, unless you think I should?’ She scans over herself self-consciously.
I hate that I’ve made her doubt her beauty. I look at her natural radiance, her skin practically glowing.
‘You look perfect.’ Never have I spoken a truer sentence.
‘Good,’ she nods, clearly not believing me by the way she fidgets with her necklace. ‘Now shut up.’
She takes my hand with hers but then stops. ‘Shit, we don’t have a ring.’
My Grandma’s voice pops into my head. Give my ring to the woman you marry. The woman you love like no other.
‘Actually… I kind of have an old one.’
‘Sorry?’ she asks, narrowing sceptical eyes at me. ‘You have an old ring lying around the house?’
I
grin. Is she really thinking I’m some Casanova proposing left and right?
‘It’s not what you think. My grandma gave it to me before she passed, she wanted me to give it to the woman I marry.’ I don’t include the love bit. Don’t want her to get the wrong end of the stick.
She smiles but it’s only a small upturn of her mouth. ‘Fine, go find it.’
Half an hour later we’re sat back down on the sofa, this time with my grandma’s solitaire diamond on a gold band fitting perfectly on her finger. She has very delicate hands like my Grandma. I ignore her voice in my head telling me it’s a sign.
She takes my hand, intertwining our fingers, and places it on her small bump, Grandma’s engagement ring glistening in the light.
‘Now act happy,’ she instructs. I like it when she’s bossy. When she’s telling me what she really wants and not what she thinks she should say.
We both beam at the camera while she takes what feels like a hundred pictures from different angles.
She drafts something in her notes and hands it over to me. ‘What do you think about this?’
I change it slightly, but overall I’m impressed. She’s right. This way seems more personal. I send it via WhatsApp to my phone along with a few pictures to choose from.
I upload two of my favourite pictures. The first is of us both beaming with happiness at the camera, her unique hazel eyes glowing with warmth. The second is my personal favourite. She caught me off guard smiling at her, as if I can’t get enough of her. They look so real. The public are going to love her.
We have news! We’re over the moon to announce that we’re expanding our family early next year. Myself and @charlottefashion couldn’t be happier and thank everyone for their well wishes.
I told Charlotte to go through her Instagram as quickly as possible to delete any photos that might be considered risqué. That and any comments about government but luckily she stays away from all of that.
‘Okay, I’m going to post it. Are you ready? After this everything changes.’
My stomach jumps around in nervous anticipation.
She smiles and it’s so refreshing. She really is a brave woman. Willing to do all this just for me.
‘As I’ll ever be.’
I press post. It’s out there now.
‘Now comes the hard part. Telling Eloise and my parents.’ She grimaces.
‘And mine.’ I grin, already considering the fallout from my mum.
Well, she did want us engaged.
Charlotte
I ring Mum straight away.
‘Darling,’ she answers. ‘What’s going on? You’re on the news.’
‘Yeah. Sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you. But we’re… getting married.’
‘Oh, darling that’s fantastic! Phil! Phil!’ She shrieks into the background.
My dad is there?
‘Charlotte is getting married! Yes of course to the father of the baby!’
I laugh to myself as Arthur himself answers what seem like a hundred calls.
‘Why is Dad there?’ I ask. Bit suspicious if you ask me. They’re supposed to hate each other.
‘Oh he just popped round to fit a lightbulb for me.’
That’s random. They’re normally at each other’s throats, not popping around for a cuppa and some home maintenance.
‘Oh wait, darling. They’ve just put a new picture of you both on Good Morning Britain.’
‘That quick?’ I shriek. Their research department must be amazing. I fumble for the remote control and turn it on. There in HD is our picture and announcement. But they’re talking about the second picture. What second picture? They show the outtake of him smiling down at me. He uploaded that one too, why?
‘Listen to them darling.’
Kate Garraway is congratulating us, saying what a lovely couple we make. The other presenters are agreeing, saying he clearly looks smitten. There’s some open discussion about how far along I am, when I got pregnant, if it was planned, when we got engaged and how long we’ve been together. Overall, it’s positive.
Arthur hangs up the phone.
‘You are a bloody genius,’ he says hugging me round the waist. He stoops down to my belly. ‘Did you know your mummy is a PR genius?’
I giggle, feeling deliriously happy. I must remember it’s not real.
‘Oh, I’ll let you love birds get back to it,’ Mum says, sounding delighted. ‘Call me back soon and let me know all the details.’
Now I have to think of a fake engagement story. The good thing about it being fake is I can make it as elaborate as I please.
I hate having to lie to them, but I remind myself that this is for the best long term. Well, that is until he finds someone he actually wants to marry and kicks me and the baby to the kerb. I force the thought to the back of my mind and try to remain positive.
12
Charlotte
I’m barely into work when Eloise accosts me, her gaze accusing, lips pressed flat.
‘Char, what the actual fuck?’ she demands, far too loudly for an office environment.
‘And good morning to you too,’ I answer.
‘You’re engaged now?’ she demands, hand on her hip.
‘Yes, okay?’ I whisper hiss, hating the added extra attention. I’ve already had everyone staring at me on the way in.
She peeks into Roger’s office and when she finds it empty grabs me by both arms and drags me in, slamming the door behind us.
‘Okay, cut the bullshit. What’s going on?’
I sigh. How is it I can lie to my parents no problem but one look into Eloise’s probing gaze and I shrivel like a raisin.
‘Okay, it’s a publicity thing. It’s not real.’
‘I knew it!’ She does a triumphant fist pump in the air. ‘I knew you weren’t going to allow him to pressure you into a real one.’
I hate that she doubted me, and I can’t believe she has so little faith in him as a person. That’s my baby’s father she’s talking about. I feel strangely protective of him.
‘Whatever. My parents don’t even know so you’ll have to play along.’
She grimaces, leaning her head to one side. ‘How did they react?’
‘Well, first off they were in the same house.’
Her eyes widen to twice the size. ‘God, why?’
She knows too well how volatile they are together, back when I lived at home I often escaped to her house.
‘Apparently he was changing a light bulb.’ I roll my eyes.
She shakes her head. ‘Okay, let’s put a pin in that weird bit of information. What did they say about it all?’
I shrug. ‘They sounded pleased. I mean, they think I’m marrying the guy. That I’m living the fairy tale. You promise you won’t land us in the shit?’
Eloise is a great friend, but she has been known to spill a secret after a bottle of wine.
She sighs. ‘Of course I won’t. I just think its shit he’s making you do this. All to save face.’
‘Well…’ I chew on the inside of my cheek, ‘to be honest it does kind of look better for me too. Rather than a random unmarried mother.’
She scoffs. ‘I didn’t realise we were living back in the fifties.’
I raise my eyebrows at her and she sighs. ‘Fine, so you’re really okay with this?’
‘Yes. I just want to get on with my day.’
She smiles, but I know this isn’t really over. She’s going to ride me hard about every single decision I make concerning Arthur Ellison.
‘Charlotte,’ Roger says, walking into the office, his face furious. ‘A word please.’
Friday 9th October
Charlotte
Well Roger wasn’t impressed with my pregnancy so early on in my employment. Not that I’ve told Arthur that. I don’t want to be the whinny girlfriend, or whatever the hell I am to him. That and he’s already so stressed at work, I don’t want to add to the pressure.
Besides Roger was being very careful with his
words. It was all in the way he said them and how he looked at me with such distaste. I know what he’s thinking. That I shouldn’t have applied for the job if I knew I was pregnant. I tried to explain I only found out after I’d started work here, but it’s pretty obvious from the picture we posted that I’m further along than a few weeks.
I had to tell him my due date and send an email to HR informing them officially of my pregnancy. Then a lady came to see me and make sure that my work desk was comfortable and do a risk assessment. I’m pregnant not disabled.
Anyway, right now I’m in hospital hooked up to an ECG machine, with wires stuck to my chest on the insistence of my midwife.
‘And can I ask what you were doing right before you passed out?’ The doctor asks, checking his chart.
Oh God, not this again. The nurse on the phone must not have written it down. I feel bad for thinking so poorly of her.
‘I just stood up too quickly.’
He frowns. ‘Really? That is concerning. We may have to send you home with a machine. Make sure you’re not having any heart arrhythmias.’
Oh God. I don’t want to worry Arthur unnecessarily. He’s already acting overprotective, making sure I’m eating right. This would send him over the edge.
‘No, I really don’t think there’s any need for that.’ I smile, hoping he’ll take pity on me.
He shakes his head. ‘I’m afraid I have to insist. Unless you were doing something more consistent with a fainting?’
He stares at me expectantly. The nurse is scribbling away on a form.
‘Okay, I was on my knees giving my…’ I gulp. ‘The father of my child a… um, oral sex.’
I couldn’t have said that more awkwardly.
His jaw drops open. The nurse stops writing to stare. Both of their mouths quirk up in a smile.
‘It’s fine.’ I shrug on a sigh. ‘Go ahead, laugh.’
The nurse starts laughing so hard that she clutches her stomach. The doctor glares at her, but you can tell he wants to laugh too.
He turns to me, trying desperately to be serious. ‘I’m afraid we’ll have to include this in your official notes.’
Whitehall Baby: A Surprise Pregnancy, Fake Relationship Romantic Comedy Perfect for Chick Lit Fans Page 8