Baby, Me, OMG: Motherhood fiction (Surprise Baby Romance)

by Suzy K Quinn

  She winced at the word ‘knackered’.

  Poor Helen. It must be very stressful having me as a daughter-in-law. Here she is wanting to give the appearance of a perfect well-to-do lady, and her son is marrying a commoner.

  Helen told me she had ‘a few ex-ballerinas tips’ to get slim. They were basically, ‘Drink only Diet Coke, and if you feel very faint have a spoonful of honey.’

  I told her I would never completely starve myself.

  She said, ‘You don’t want to get married looking bulky.’

  I told her that Nick loved me no matter what my size. But the truth is he’s always hinting I should lose weight.

  Helen went on about the wedding photos and said maybe she should talk to Mum about the dress code.

  I told her there wasn’t a dress code, and that Mum had already bought her dress.

  Helen asked where from.

  I said, ‘Forever 21.’

  Helen squeezed her eyes tight shut and said, ‘Heaven help us.’

  Friday February 6th

  Wedding cake shopping at Marks and Spencer’s today.

  Nick wanted an extravagant, show-offy cake from some Chelsea bakery, but it’s stupid to waste money on wedding stuff when we need a house.

  We had a fun time in the end. Finally agreed on the cake, and Nick danced me around the food hall singing, ‘We’re Getting Married in the Morning’.

  I do love him sometimes.

  Saturday February 7th

  Decided to try the PureLife milkshake diet.

  Had one for breakfast and lunch, but by teatime I was absolutely starving. So I cooked spaghetti bolognaise and ended up eating Nick’s portion because he was late home.

  Then I took Daisy to the 24-hour supermarket and bought a melt-in-the-middle fondant chocolate pudding and a bag of toffee popcorn.

  Will carry on the diet tomorrow. Maybe strawberry milkshakes will taste better.

  Sunday February 8th

  Tried the PureLife strawberry milkshakes. They taste like chalk mixed with women’s deodorant.

  Nick came home with another huge toy for Daisy today – a swinging chair with disco lights.

  He was all excited, saying it would teach her to be a musical genius.

  ‘If I’d have grown up with toys like this,’ he said, ‘I’d get way more parts.’

  It turns out he got rejected for a musical today for not being able to dance. Which I think is unfair, because Nick is a pretty good dancer. He’s the only person I know who knows all the moves to the Macarena.

  He sighed and said, ‘Another rejection. But you love me no matter what, right?’

  I told him of course I did. And that Daisy loved him too.

  We’re a family. Together for richer or poorer. For better or worse.

  Monday February 9th

  Funny how life changes. I used to love pubs, vintage clothes hunting, bingo nights and music festivals.

  Now one of my greatest joys is squeezing Daisy in just the right way so she does a massive burp.

  All the bills went out today and I watched our bank account sink a little lower.

  Everyone always jokes about Nick being ten years older. But I sort the bills and all that adult stuff.

  It’s not that I don’t trust Nick exactly. But I’ll never forget the day the electricity got cut off. I was blow-drying my hair for a regional manager’s meeting, and had to leave the house with my hair half straight, half curly.

  Nick’s job means he isn’t always in work. So we’re basically living off my savings and maternity pay a lot of the time. And when we’re really desperate, Nick borrows money from his mum.

  When I met Nick, he had an agent in LA and we were invited to all sorts of premieres. But times are hard right now. We’ll get through it.

  Nick is Daisy’s daddy and I love him.

  Tuesday February 10th

  Trying the Nutri-Soup diet today: soup for every meal, no white carbs, no caffeine, no alcohol, etc.

  The plan is to be all puritanical and wonderful and cleanse my body with lovely nourishing vegetables.

  By eleven o’clock I was starving.

  Lunch was parsnip and ginger soup.

  In the book it looked really nice. A lovely white bowl of bright orange soup with a single parsley leaf floating in it. But after boiling the parsnips, all this scummy stuff appeared. I couldn’t be bothered to clean the blender AGAIN. So I just mashed everything up with a fork and got this lumpy brown stuff that looked like a muddy puddle.

  Wednesday February 11th

  Still feel guilty about not breastfeeding.

  It’s hard being a mum. I’d wanted Daisy to have the very best of everything, but the milk just didn’t happen.

  It was like my boobs were broken.

  In the hospital they strapped me to this 1970s pump the size of a Ford Fiesta, but no milk came out.

  I got so upset and worried.

  Mum said, ‘Oh sod it, Jules, give her a bloody bottle. You and your sisters had bottles and turned out just fine.’

  Althea said I had a lucky escape.

  She said, ‘Breastfeeding makes you fucking thirsty all the time. You wake up in the middle of the night with weird Indian takeaway BO. Your sheets smell of sour milk. And you’re like a sodding human dummy. It’s bullshit.’

  When I asked her why she was still doing it, she said breastfeeding gives her ‘amazing porn star boobs’. Plus she hates washing up.

  Thursday February 12th

  Made the wedding invitations today.

  Helen found me trying to scrub PVA glue off Daisy’s baby gym.

  She pursed her lips and said, ‘As long as it hasn’t gone on the Berber carpet.’

  Then she asked me how many invitations I’d made.

  I had to admit I hadn’t actually made a whole one yet.

  There were bits of ones all around the room, though.

  She gave me her ‘you’re an idiot’ look and said, ‘This is a wedding, not make do and mend. For heaven’s sakes, buy the invitations. I gave Nicholas three hundred pounds yesterday – you can’t have spent it already.’

  When Nick came home, I asked him about the money.

  He said he’d taken a theatre director for a meal at Claridge’s. And the director had drunk a lot of wine. Nick got a new role though – a dancing biscuit in a Jaffa Cake advert.

  I told him Helen was criticising my beautiful handmade invitations.

  He said, ‘They do look a bit Blue Peter. Where’s bubba?’

  I told him to fuck off (sequins are very fiddly!), adding that it was nine o’clock so Daisy was sleeping.

  Nick said, ‘Can’t I just give her a quick cuddle?’

  I said no. Then I felt like one of those mad control-freak mothers. So I said he could go in and see her sleeping.

  Of course, Nick ended up singing ‘The Circle of Life’ right over Daisy’s cot. So she woke up.

  I shouted at Nick.

  He did his whole puppy-dog-eyed, ‘I just wanted to see my little girl.’ Then he grabbed me in a big Nick cuddle and kissed me all over my face.

  Was a bit hard to be angry after that.

  And Daisy is very lovely when she smiles.

  Saturday February 14th

  Valentine’s Day

  Nick tried to cook a romantic Valentine’s Day meal today. I say tried, because Helen ended up doing it.

  She ‘popped round’ mid-afternoon and micro-managed Nick’s cooking for the next three hours.

  ‘No darling, that’s not how you use a tin opener. DON’T PUT THAT IN THE SINK! I don’t care what the recipe says, ketchup has no place in bolognaise sauce.’

  The meal was nice, although (typical Helen) the portions were tiny.

  I wanted to tell Nick how much I loved him. But it was a bit hard with Helen hovering over us, asking if we wanted more parmesan.

  Sunday February 15th

  Went wedding dress shopping today and found THE DRESS!

  And we only went to one shop.
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  All the girls came.

  Helen too :(.

  Brandi and Althea went mad when they found out Helen was coming.

  Althea said, ‘She’d better not say anything nasty.’

  Brandi said, ‘That old witch. She thinks it’s her bloody wedding.’

  At the wedding dress shop they gave us glasses of Prosecco.

  We went all silly. ‘Oooo! Booze at eleven in the morning. Can we? Should we? Oh go on then!’

  Then Nick turned up.

  I shouted at him about it being bad luck seeing the dress.

  He said, ‘We don’t need luck. We have true love.’

  We smiled at each other and held hands. And I actually got a little fluttery at the thought of marrying him.

  Nick was really bossy, actually. Almost as bad as Helen.

  ‘NO diamante. I absolutely forbid it. Classy. Think classy. You’re not marrying a footballer.’

  Felt a bit hurt that EVERYTHING I liked Nick said looked ‘cheap’.

  The girls tried on bridesmaids’ dresses and Althea said, ‘You’d better not tell us what to wear, Nick, or you’ll be wearing this Prosecco.’

  After that, Nick was full of compliments. Except about Sadie, who he said looked like a dinner plate on a stick.

  She’d picked a different dress from everyone else. It was a bit white, but that’s Sadie. She always has to break with tradition.

  My wedding dress was low-key in the end. This long, silky thing. Pretty. A bit too much like a nightie/tent, but Nick loved it.

  Would have been a perfect day, except that Daisy woke up, took one look at my dress and started howling.

  Monday February 16th

  Keep trying on the wedding dress.

  It is a bit tent-like.

  But I think if I lose weight it will become the flowing, ethereal princess gown it’s supposed to be.

  Tuesday February 17th

  Very hungry.

  Wednesday February 18th

  Lost a pound since the weekend!

  Not bad.

  Had a low-calorie lemon cheesecake to celebrate. It tasted like fairy liquid.

  Wish I was like Laura, who can buy a whole New York cheesecake, carve off a dainty 100 calorie slice, then save the rest for later.

  But I’m like Mum. Buy cheesecake. Eat cheesecake.

  Thursday February 19th

  Ugh. Two pounds heavier this morning. How?

  Must remember to weigh myself BEFORE I drink any water or eat breakfast, but AFTER I’ve been for a poo.

  Saturday February 21st

  Went for a run with Laura this evening.

  For all her talk of being running partners, Sadie hasn’t actually made it out with me once. She’s been running with some acting friends – I saw her chatting about it on Facebook. But whenever I’ve tried to set things up she’s always busy.

  Laura was all vibrant and full of energy, even at 8pm in the freezing cold.

  I wore my fat girl’s running outfit – great big baggy sweatpants and one of Nick’s old T-shirts.

  Laura wore sleek black sports leggings and a skintight Lycra vest.

  We ran along the street, me huffing and puffing, Laura bouncing along like a gazelle.

  By the corner I had to stop.

  Laura was very supportive. She’d already run five miles to pick me up so she was on an exercise high. She kept talking about ‘ideal conditions’ for training and that this temperature would be just like the Christmas Marathon.

  Ugh.

  It was FREEZING!

  After half an hour, my body stopped working.

  We walked back, me limping a little, Laura offering reassuring words.

  ‘You just need to build things up slowly,’ she said.

  I asked how far we’d run.

  She said, ‘One kilometre.’

  I said, ‘Is that about a mile?’

  She said, ‘Um … nearly.’

  When I got in, Daisy was crying. Nick was desperately rocking her and singing ‘Consider Yourself’ from Oliver!

  I limped in and cuddled her to sleep, then hobbled down to the 24-hour supermarket for a chocolate bar.

  It’s amazing the motivation I have to exercise when there’s chocolate at the end of it.

  Sunday February 22nd

  Did a stupid thing today.

  I bet Nick that I’d finish the marathon.

  I blame Helen. She laughed (actually snorted is a better word) when I talked about training and made a snide comment about my baby weight.

  I got all puffed up and said, ‘It’s for charity. What was the last thing you did for charity?’

  Which was a stupid thing to say to Helen, because she listed all the charity luncheons, art shows, dinners and auctions she’s involved with.

  Nick said, ‘You’ll never finish it. In winter? Forget it. It’s twenty-six miles.’

  Helen said, ‘Actually darling, it’s twenty-seven.’

  Then Nick reminded me about the time he picked me up from the post office down the road because I had a heavy parcel.

  Which I thought was VERY unfair, because the parcel was his Christmas present.

  Somehow or other we ended up making a bet that I would/wouldn’t finish.

  I said if I finished the marathon, Nick should buy me lots of new clothes because I’d be slim and gorgeous after all the training.

  Nick looked a bit wrong-footed. Then he eyed up my baggy running clothes and said, ‘Okay fine.’

  I said, ‘You just wait. When I set my mind to something, I’m unstoppable.’

  He said, ‘Like when you wanted a natural birth?’

  I told him to go fuck himself.

  Then I went running.

  I managed twenty minutes. After that, I read magazines in the 24-hour supermarket so Helen would think I’d done an hour.

  I’ll do this marathon. I will. I WILL!

  Monday February 23rd

  5pm

  Back in Great Oakley after a HUGE row with Nick.

  I am SO angry!

  Asked him to look after Daisy while I went to the supermarket. (When I take her along, I get too distracted. I forget essentials like milk and wet wipes, and buy random things like mint-flavour Magnums.)

  When I got home, Nick had drunk eight bottles of original Guinness.

  EIGHT BOTTLES!

  I went mental.

  He said he had a high tolerance for alcohol. Then he said, ‘Look. I’ll walk in a straight line and prove it to you.’

  He walked in a line and fell over.

  As I was screaming at him, Helen walked in.

  She saw Nick on the floor and said, ‘Do sit up straight, darling.’

  I shouted at Nick for being drunk in charge of a baby.

  Helen said, ‘All men drink, Juliette. It’s part of the male condition.’

  I said, ‘When I need relationship advice from a divorcee, I’ll let you know.’

  Helen muttered about Nick needing to relax from time to time.

  I screamed at her. Then I screamed at Nick. Then I said I was leaving to think about my options.

  I packed a bag, grabbed Daisy and stormed off to Mum and Dad’s.

  9pm

  Nick just phoned in drunken tears begging for forgiveness.

  ‘I need you, Julesy, I need my little girl. I’m lost without you.’

  But I’m not going to start feeling sorry for him. He needs to shape up. It’s bad enough all these hangovers. But to be drinking when he’s actually looking after her …

  Tuesday February 24th

  Felt so upset today that I nearly didn’t run. But Laura got all strict and took the evening train to Great Oakley so we could exercise together.

  Great Oakley is a nice place to run. Lots of trees and stuff. But it’s also very dark at night and full of unexpected puddles.

  Laura and I went jogging in the woods by the train track.

  It was pitch black.

  I felt like a big, lumbering cow puffing behind a lovely, s
hiny-haired racing horse.

  Last night, I completely lost Laura in the dark.

  While I was running to catch her up, I saw this shadow that looked like a dog poo.

  I went ‘arg!’ and somehow ended up falling right into an icy puddle.

  The next thing I knew, an iPhone torch shone in my face.

  A curt voice said, ‘What are you doing out here? On your own?’

  It was Alex Dalton.

  Out running too – in his ninja-black t-shirt.

  **Alex almost always wears a suit, so it’s weird seeing him in more casual clothes – especially clothes that show his bare skin. He has massive burn all the way up his arm that still looks red, angry and sore, even though the fire was fifteen years ago.

  I told Alex I wasn’t alone. I was out with Laura.

  Alex helped me up and said, ‘Where is she?’

  I said she was up ahead somewhere.

  He said, ‘I’ll take you to her. This is a dark path and you’re alone. Take my arm.’

  **I held on to Alex’s scarred skin, which was hard under my hand.

  ‘This doesn’t hurt, does it?’ I asked.

  Alex shook his head.

  I said, ‘No vintage sports car today?’

  Alex gave his quirky half-smile and said, ‘No, not today.’

  I asked him if he liked running, and he said yes, adding, ‘It’s one of the few times I can be anonymous. I’m totally inconsequential when I run.’

  I said, ‘If you like being anonymous, why do you drive that silver MG?’

  He said, ‘To show I’m my own man.’

  I said, ‘I don’t think anyone would confuse you with anyone else.’

  Alex said, ‘Some people do. They confuse me with my father.’

  Then he said he’d never seen me running before, and I told him I was training for the London Christmas Marathon.

  He said, ‘I’m running that this year.’

  Like it was a perfectly normal thing to do, rather than a gruelling physical challenge.

  I told him I didn’t think I’d finish.

  Alex said, ‘That’s a terrific attitude, Juliette. Forecasting failure before you even start.’

  I said I was being realistic, and that Nick had bet I wouldn’t finish.