by Anna Bell
‘True,’ says Helen, nodding. ‘And I bet you’d get pervy men catfishing. You know, ones who have a thing for pregnant women.’
‘Do men have a thing for pregnant women?’
Helen nods again. ‘I bet they do.’
The woman in the royal blue dress walks up to us and has a quick read of the card on the wall before she looks us up and down and then breaks into a polite smile. ‘So, November babies, huh?’ she says, pointing at the bumps. ‘When are you due?’
I look at her incredibly neat bump that almost looks like she’s just shoved a beach ball up her dress.
‘Fourth,’ says Helen.
‘Third for me,’ I say.
‘Oh, that woman over there is due on the fifth. Isn’t it an amazing coincidence that you’re all due around the same time?’
‘I know,’ says Helen. ‘It’s like there’s some kind of romantic day that happens in February that results in all these early November babies.’
We all giggle, even though I know mine was more to do with Sasha’s birthday party on 12 February rather than Valentine’s Day.
‘I’m Anneka,’ says the woman, and Helen and I introduce ourselves.
‘When are you due, Anneka,’ I ask.
‘Twenty-fifth of October, although I’m having a C-section the week before.’
‘How are you smaller not bigger than us?’ asks Helen.
‘My gynaecologist says that I haven’t put on one pound of non-baby weight.’
‘Sod that. If I’m not allowed gin for nine months I’m damn well eating cake,’ says Helen.
‘Me too,’ I say.
‘Gestational diabetes is a real thing you know,’ Anneka says horrified.
‘Oh, so you’ll be the first one out of us to have the baby then,’ I say, trying not to spoil the group harmony I’m so desperate to create.
‘I guess you’ve saved us from any awful ice-breaking games of guessing who’s going to be the first to have their baby,’ says Helen.
‘Well, you never know. I did one of these classes last month and one woman went into labour just after the class, at thirty-two weeks,’ says Anneka.
‘Was the baby OK?’ I shudder at the thought.
‘Oh yes. It turns out that there had been a bit of a miscalculation of the dates. But mother and baby are doing fine – or at least as fine as you can be after your boyfriend walks out when he realises that he can’t be the father of the baby.’
‘Crikey. Sounds a bit dramatic.’
‘I know, if only Jeremy Kyle was still on air, they would have been a shoo-in for the show.’
‘So how come you’re doing this group twice?’ I ask.
‘Because my baby is due late October, it straddled the two groups, so I thought I’d do both and pick which group I preferred.’
‘And how are we doing compared to the last group?’ asks Helen.
‘Gosh, they weren’t my type of people at all. Didn’t have a single thing in common, and did I mention the whole Baby Daddy scandal?’ she says, coming across as a bit of a snob. ‘Despite that, I’m sure I would have picked your group as you all seem lovely.’
‘Hmm,’ I say, not knowing quite what to make of her.
‘I’m going to go and talk to the other ladies over there.’
She points at the other two members of the group who are chatting away.
‘FYI,’ says Anneka, ‘the string you were going to use here for the baby’s head is actually the length of your birth canal. Try this one instead,’ she says, selecting one of the larger lengths of wool in her pack.
I gasp in horror at the length of it as she pins it up.
‘I think I preferred it when I only thought it was a watermelon coming out,’ says Helen. ‘Isn’t this class supposed to ease our tensions, not scare us silly?’
‘I know. I’ve actually been through this all before with my little girl, but I think there are some things I’d rather not know.’
‘Come on, ladies, rotate, rotate,’ says Mary, clapping her hands.
‘How much more have we got of this?’ says Helen, raising her eyebrows as she goes off and talks to one of the husbands who’s looking cluelessly at another card.
I start to relax, feeling like this whole making friends malarkey might not be so hard after all.
By the time the intensive course draws to a close I’ve met all the other couples. I’ve particularly warmed to Helen with her sharp wit, and Polly reminded me of myself in my first pregnancy – like a rabbit caught in headlights. Anneka took a shine to Max and his charming personality, and despite his risqué jokes she still prefers us to her previous group. Then there’s Nina with the cascading curls who’s funny and friendly.
‘You see,’ says Max, as we climb back in the car, twenty minutes later. ‘That went pretty well. And I wasn’t embarrassing and at least I showed up, unlike Anneka’s husband, what’s his name?’
‘George… I think he went last month with her and what do you mean you weren’t embarrassing? At one point you licked the poo from the nappy.’
‘I didn’t lick it; I licked my finger, which it had leaked on, and it was Nutella. But despite that, I think everyone liked me and you, so that’s the main thing, right?’
‘Yep, I guess so.’
We all swapped numbers after the session and Anneka had put us all in a WhatsApp group, and set up one for the men, before we’d even made it to the car.
‘See, I told you there was nothing to worry about, and, as Mary says, you’ve got a couple of months to sit back and chill out before the little one arrives.’
‘Ha, ha, ha,’ I say, laughing. ‘I’m going to still be working, even if it is from home.’
‘Yeah, yeah, you’re going to be working in your PJs on the sofa with This Morning on in the background,’ he says, taking the mickey. ‘Plus, you’ve only got another month of it, then you get a whole year off,’ he says.
‘You know maternity leave isn’t actually a holiday, right?’
‘Come on, this new little baby will be as easy-going as Sasha.’
I splutter a laugh. ‘Sasha, easy-going?’
‘Yeah, she is when I have her.’
‘And how often do you look after her alone?’ I say, meaning it as a joke, but it comes out a bit sarcastic.
‘I’d take her more, but you always want to do things as a family at the weekend.’
‘Yeah, because I want to see you too,’ I say, trying to soften the mood. ‘It’s all going to be fine, isn’t it?’
‘Relax, Ellie,’ says Max, starting to mimic Mary’s dulcet tones. ‘Your last two and a half months of pregnancy are going to be completely calm and stress-free, I’ll make sure of it.’
I laugh and hope that he’s right.
Chapter 2
I absolutely love waking up to the feeling of not needing to rush around, which is why Saturdays are always my favourite day of the week. Today it’s even sweeter because I had my last day in the office yesterday, and whilst I’ve got a month left before my proper maternity leave kicks in, the fact that I am going to be homeworking and no longer have to commute is reason enough to celebrate.
‘What do you fancy doing today?’ I say, strolling into the kitchen. Max is sat at the table with a coffee in his hand, scrolling on his phone. Sasha’s sat in her high chair eating some toast that I’m guessing was off his plate. I sigh; now she’s not going to touch the porridge I was just about to make her. I try and let it go, not letting it ruin my good mood. ‘The weather’s going to be nice, we could go for a picnic?’
Max follows my gaze out of the kitchen window and we both wince at the sight of the waist-high weeds and grass growing in our tiny garden.
‘Actually, I’ve got to head into work.’
‘Into work? On a Saturday?’ I say, leaning my back on the horrible kitchen cabinets, which are different varieties of wood. Max is a project manager at a large asset management company and, whilst Saturday work isn’t unusual when they’re coming to the end of a project, it’s very
rare for him to go into the office at a weekend when so much can be done remotely.
‘I know, I’m sorry. It’s just something cropped up late last night, and I went to tell you but you were already asleep.’
He gives Sasha another bit of toast and she takes it greedily.
‘Oh right,’ I say, popping the kettle on. ‘And it couldn’t wait until Monday?’
‘No,’ he says. ‘But I won’t be in all day. We could do something late afternoon.’
‘It’s your mum’s birthday dinner tonight.’
‘Oh, that’s right. First special family dinner with Graham, how did I forget that?’ he says, pulling a face at the reference to his mum’s new boyfriend, his dad’s former best friend.
‘It’ll be good; she’s really happy with him.’
‘I know, I know, and it’s not like he’s not been there for other birthdays when Dad was there, but—’ he shrugs his shoulders ‘—I guess I should be glad she’s with him – at least he’s a nice guy.’
‘Yeah, he is,’ I say, popping Sasha’s sippy cup on her high chair. ‘Juice,’ I say to her, as she starts to babble away to me. ‘Yummy juice.’
‘Do you think Dad knows about Graham?’
‘Oh,’ I say, distracted from my little conversation with Sasha. ‘I don’t know. You see, if you were talking to him, you could ask him.’
‘Or you could when you skype him. So, is Rach coming tonight?’ he asks, deliberately changing the subject. I know not to push about his dad. Max has barely spoken to him since he went on a golfing holiday to Portugal a few years ago, met a young Pilates instructor named Ruby and never came home.
‘Yeah, she’s coming but Gaby can’t make it because she’s on call.’
‘The downside of being a doctor. Or maybe it’s an upside; she gets a get-out-of-jail-free card for any family social gathering.’
I laugh.
‘Why don’t you give Rach a call, see if she’ll come up before?’ he says.
‘That’s a nice idea,’ I say, wondering why I didn’t think of that.
When I got together with Max I didn’t really factor in how much it would change my friendship with Rach. I still see her a lot, maybe even more than I did, but it’s usually in a family setting. It’s rare for us to spend time just the two of us, and when we do it’s not the same as it was. She was worried that he was going to hurt me in the early days and I guess that’s made me more guarded when I talk to her, not wanting to present anything but a perfect view of our marriage. Plus, it’s not like she really wants to hear about her brother’s sex life.
‘It’ll be good for you to spend some time together and hopefully she’ll give me less crap about stealing you away from her,’ he says, draining his coffee and standing up. He gives Sasha a kiss on the head and ruffles her hair as he leaves the table.
‘Oh, I meant to say Rach and Gaby are going to a festival down in Dorset in a couple of weeks. It’s supposed to be family-friendly and they wondered if we wanted to come along with Sasha.’
Max laughs out loud and then stops when he realises I haven’t joined in.
‘Sasha in a tent? And you? Ellie, sleeping with you at the moment is like going nine rounds with Tyson Fury. You can’t get comfortable at the best of times; how the hell are you going to get comfortable in a tent?’
‘I think I’d manage.’
He raises an eyebrow.
‘Think of all the kit we’d have to lug from the car. I’m weighed down like a pack horse going out with Sasha as it is without having all our camping gear too.’
‘I’m sure Rach and Gaby will give us a hand. Plus, Pilot Dawn are headlining.’
Mentioning one of his favourite bands has piqued his interest but he’s still pulling a face that looks like it’s going to be a no.
‘I’ll think about it,’ he says, which is his way of shutting something down.
‘OK,’ I say, feeling deflated.
He clearly picks up on my disappointment as he sighs theatrically.
‘Why don’t we talk to Rach about it tonight, see how it might work?’ he says, and I do a little fist pump. ‘I’m not promising anything. I mean, wouldn’t you rather go away somewhere with four walls, an en suite and a babysitting service?’
‘Where’s the fun in that?’ I say, laughing.
‘I’ll try and get home as quick as I can,’ he says.
‘You better do, as now I’m not going to be commuting I’m going to have all that extra energy – and weren’t we talking about having more sexy time?’ I say the last bit in a bit of a whisper, not wanting sexy to be the next word that Sasha starts trying to mimic.
He laughs from the pit of his belly and it’s nice to see him less stressed about work.
‘The role playing, gotcha. You never know, I might bring you back something from London. Do you think you can get kinky maternity outfits?’
I flick him with a tea towel.
‘Don’t you dare.’
He winks at me and kisses me on the top of the head, much like he did Sasha, but I’m glad that he doesn’t ruffle my hair like he did hers as it looks messy enough already.
Sasha’s getting bored in her high chair so I scoop her out and sit her on the tiled floor. She starts tipping out the Tupperware from the bottom drawer – which is one of her favourite pastimes – and I pick up my phone to text Rach.
‘Let’s see if your auntie Rach fancies coming for a walk.’
‘Walk, walk,’ Sasha repeats the best she can, and I grin. Perhaps today’s not going to be a write-off after all.
Luckily for Sasha and I, Rach is free this afternoon and she jumped at the chance of coming with us to Fleet Pond, a large nature reserve with a rabbit warren of paths on the outskirts of town.
‘I’d forgotten how nice this place is,’ says Rach. She steps round a big puddle on the path and I wheel Sasha’s stroller through it, trying not to splash mud up my legs. ‘I haven’t been out here in years.’
‘I love it here too. It’s one of the reasons we moved back here, having this kind of nature on our doorstep. I’ve got so many happy memories of coming here as a kid.’
‘Me too,’ she says. ‘Do you remember when we ran away here when our parents wouldn’t buy us Robbie Williams tickets?’
‘I do,’ I say, laughing at the memory of the little den we built of an old sheet under a tree. ‘It was fine for the first hour or two, but then, didn’t we run out of food?’
‘Yes, although it probably wasn’t surprising when we’d only packed a big bag of crisps and a Mars Bar.’
‘And then it started to rain.’
‘We hadn’t really thought through the sheet not being waterproof.’
‘No, it was lucky Max came to find us,’ I say, laughing.
‘Yeah, but only because I’d stolen his Discman, not because he was genuinely worried.’
I haven’t thought about that in so long.
‘How old were we? Ten? Eleven?’ she asks.
‘Yeah, maybe eleven or twelve. I think we were in Year 7.’
‘Who would have thought then that you’d marry my brother, and you’d give me a niece? My beautiful, sleeping niece.’
‘Ssh, don’t jinx it; she never usually naps for this long,’ I say, and she smiles.
‘You know, Mum kept trying to cajole me into coming over to help her bake her birthday cake. But we all know how twitchy she gets when she’s baking. She won’t even let me lick the bowl out.’
‘I did offer to buy her one, but she insisted on making it,’ I say, laughing.
‘She sounded so excited, though. She’s really happy with Graham, isn’t she?’
‘Yeah, she really is. We’ve seen them quite a bit since we moved and they get on so well.’
‘Still, I’d never in a million years have put those two together.’
‘I know, me neither. But I’m so pleased; I think she deserves to be happy after everything she went through with your dad.’
Rach nods, looking sad
at the mention of her dad. His sudden departure to Portugal hit the whole of the Voss family badly.
We move out of the way for a woman who’s being tangled up in the leads of her Yorkshire terriers.
‘So, what’s Max up to today? Tackling that attractive hallway of yours?’ asks Rach.
‘No, funnily enough,’ I say, ducking under a low hanging tree, ‘he’s working today.’
‘Jeez, on a Saturday?’
‘Yep. He’s been working really long hours lately, finishing his projects so that he’s ready to take paternity leave.’
‘Is he just taking the standard couple of weeks?’
‘Yeah – could you imagine him looking after the two of them on his own if I went back to work?’ I say, chuckling. ‘I’d feel like I was working two jobs, having to prepare everything for them before I left.’
‘Ha, that’s true, but at least it makes it easy for you to decide what to do. I think Gaby and I will be fighting over who would have the leave,’ she says with a half laugh.
‘Ooh, I know you said you both wanted kids, but that sounds like you’re talking about it…’
Rach looks uneasy.
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have pried,’ I say quickly.
‘No, it’s fine,’ she says, letting out a deep breath. ‘It’s just… actually it might help if I talked to you about it, if you wouldn’t mind?’
‘Of course not. Why don’t we stop for a drink? We’re nearly at the little coffee van and it’s got tables and chairs for us to sit at.’
‘Wouldn’t that wake up Sasha?’
I peer through the plastic flap on the stroller hood.
‘She looks pretty far gone. I’ll just rock her,’ I say as the coffee van and its excellent flapjacks come into view.
‘Great, I’ll order then, so you can stay with her. What do you fancy?’
‘Decaf skinny latte and maybe a flapjack. For Sasha, for when she wakes up, of course.’
‘Of course,’ says Rach, with a conspiratorial smile. ‘I might go for one too, for that very same reason.’
She walks off to queue and I wander over to an empty table, making sure that I’ve got room to push Sasha’s stroller with my foot. The queue seems quite long and I hope it moves quickly as I’m intrigued to hear what Rach’s got to say.