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

by Suzy K Quinn

  A baby princess outfit. A rag dolly and alphabet blanket. Mini ballet shoes and tutu, baby tiara, personalised dressing gown with her name on it, personalised hooded bath towel (that came half-price with the dressing gown). A silver christening bracelet and necklace. And then a few toys – a Noah’s ark playset, pull-along horsey, V-tech baby walker (that’s pretty much an essential – every baby seems to have one). And then some bath things – splash fun dolphin, Mr Bubbles penguin and a baby grooming kit.

  Dad lectured me about how spoiled babies are these days. He grew up with one broken train set and a single football boot, both of which he had to share with his brothers.

  Thursday September 3rd

  Whenever I think of Nick, I get this sort of aching in my chest. It’s not exactly that I miss him. But … we were together so long.

  It’s weird not having him around. It feels a bit like having a leg missing. Except it turns out that leg was kicking me up the arse this whole time …

  Friday September 4th

  The paternity test arrived today.

  Mum tried to smash it up with a beer tap wrench, but I stopped her.

  The instructions made the test sound sophisticated, but really it was just a giant cotton bud.

  I suppose at least it’s over and done with now.

  Saturday September 5th

  Daisy’s birthday.

  Should have been a lovely day, but got all worked up about Nick not calling. I thought at least Helen might call on his behalf. But nothing.

  Nick sent presents – a robot dog that you can train with your voice and an ankle-length velvet dress (I know Helen chose that last one because it’s hideous). But that’s not the same as actually seeing Daisy in person.

  Waited until 8pm, then phoned Nick to say he was a shit bag who missed his daughter’s birthday.

  Nick whispered that today had been difficult.

  In the background, I could hear Sadie screeching that she wanted ‘Fresh fucking grapefruit juice, not the crap from concentrate.’

  I think Daisy liked my presents. She got a bit irritated in the baby princess outfit and kept pulling off the bracelet and necklace. But she gave the walker a good chew and butted her head against the Mr Bubbles penguin.

  Mum bought Daisy a Swarovski crystal pacifier that lit up different colours. And a big frilly baby bonnet with roses all over it.

  Brandi made a birthday cake covered with bright red ready roll icing.

  Laura got Daisy a lovely tasteful dress, tights and shoes from Marks and Spencer.

  Althea gave us a rainbow cardigan and some jangly bells on a stick.

  All in all, I think Daisy had a good day. Luckily she’s too young to know that her dad has shacked up with the bridesmaid.

  Sunday September 6th

  Woo!

  Mum won the bingo last night and wants to buy a ‘family memory’.

  So she’s taking us on an all-inclusive holiday.

  She told Dad, ‘See. It pays to gamble.’

  Dad put on his glasses, got out his calculator and added up everything Mum’s spent on bingo over the last ten years. It was enough to buy three holidays.

  But Mum’s mood wouldn’t be dampened. She told him his calculator was always getting things wrong, and reminded him of the cherry brandy order that’s still propping open the cellar door.

  A holiday will be lovely, but going away with my parents has downsides.

  For a start, Mum is so LOUD. And she wears teeny bikinis and fluorescent hot pants.

  Also, Mum and Brandi don’t believe in sun cream. They think turning slapped-face red proves they’ve been on holiday. So everyone knows we’re British and tries to sell us things.

  Dad always reads up on the local culture and bores us to death with a load of pointless facts.

  (‘Did you know that feta is a native Greek cheese?’)

  Brandi is ‘well chuffed’ about the trip. She ran right out to buy spray tan and travel miniatures.

  Laura wasn’t sure at first. But Mum and Dad are booking an extra suitcase for her study books, so she said okay.

  Mum is already talking about holiday clothes. She’s packing her day-glo pink dress from Cyber dog – the one even Brandi tells her off for wearing.

  Dad said, ‘Oh that’ll look a treat at the disco.’

  It’s like neither of them know she’s fat.

  I suppose it’s quite sweet in a way.

  Monday September 7th

  AWESOME news!

  Laura told Zach about the holiday, and he’ll put us up in any Dalton hotel free of charge. All we have to do is choose a location.

  Mum and Brandi spent hours on the Dalton Hotel website ‘oooing’ at pictures.

  They’ve decided we should go to Dubai, because it is ‘hot as f***’ and we can go on a camel ride.

  Dad was happy because he wants to find out more about the history of cinnamon.

  I’m a little bit nervous.

  I have visions of Mum in pink Lycra, barging into the posh hotel restaurant and asking if they have tomato ketchup.

  Still. We’ll have a laugh. And a posh hotel will be nice.

  Last time we went away it was to an all-inclusive resort and it was a bad idea.

  Mum and Brandi started drinking at 11am every day.

  And Mum got in trouble for filling her handbag with chocolate chip cookies and apple strudel from the buffet.

  Tuesday September 8th

  Googled Dubai today.

  Getting a bit nervous. Apparently Arabic people dress very conservatively.

  I tried to tell Mum, but she just laughed and said, ‘If you think you’re getting me in a one-piece swimming cossie you’ve another thing coming. I’m only fifty-five. I’m not dead yet.’

  Wednesday September 9th

  Saw a documentary last night about wheat and now it ALL makes sense.

  Wheat is the reason I weigh so much! It’s been bloating me and stopped me digesting properly.

  Decided to go wheat-free until the holiday.

  Althea’s going to do it with me. She says she’s known for a long time about how damaging wheat can be for the digestive tract. ‘Not to mention the fucking planet.’

  Had a vegetable omelette for breakfast. No toast with it.

  Mum was cooking chocolate croissants, but I stayed strong.

  11am

  It’s amazing how many foods have wheat in them. Even that squeezy yellow mustard.

  7pm

  Had a wheat frenzy.

  Ate a Warburton’s thick-slice cheese sandwich, two packets of Iced Jems (feel bad about that because they’re for Callum’s packed lunch), a Findus crispy pancake and a bowl of super noodles.

  I’ve decided that denial isn’t the way forward. As soon as you can’t have something, you want loads of it.

  Phoned Althea and she’s decided the same thing. She’d just eaten a cream-cheese bagel and a packet of chocolate bourbons.

  Flying to Dubai TOMORROW!

  Can’t find my new swimming costume.

  Thursday September 17th

  Great trip.

  Bit of a shame it was Ramadan and all the restaurants were closed.

  Lucky Mum bought enough Pringles and Toblerone from duty-free to see us through.

  Spent a lot of time on the beach, being sprayed with Evian water. That was nice.

  Daisy ate a lot of sand. She loved playing in the shallows, giggling and slapping water with her hands.

  Wish I’d found my swimming costume before the trip though.

  The hotel shop only sold ‘birkinis’ – those things for Muslim women that cover your legs and arms.

  I had to borrow one of Brandi’s costumes – a sheeny silver G-string bikini that cut big grooves into my hips and back.

  We did manage a trip to the old town, but it got too much – everyone staring at Mum and Brandi in their bikini tops and denim cut-offs.

  I tried to tell them about the modest Muslim culture, but neither of them were prepared to r
isk their suntan (meaning sun burn) by covering up.

  Zach flew out for a day to see Laura!

  Awwwww …

  Friday September 18th

  Unpacking.

  It’s taking quite a long time.

  I shouldn’t have packed so much stuff for Daisy – I hardly used any of it. Those baby goggles were a waste of time. And she didn’t touch any of the water learning toys, rubber beach books or the water baby walker.

  Saturday September 19th

  Just saw Nick with Sadie in Great Oakley.

  Feel violated, like they’ve broken some unspoken pact.

  Great Oakley is MY place. They should stay in London.

  They were having lunch with Helen and holding hands over the table.

  It’s bad enough knowing they’re living together in London. But to have them flaunting their relationship on my own doorstep …

  They were even brazen enough to be on the patio outside, where everyone walks past. It’s like they wanted to be seen.

  I know they saw me, because they suddenly got really interested in their salads.

  I walked past, head held high.

  Dignity, dignity, dignity.

  Then I saw Nick’s car parked across the street and squirted one of Daisy’s apple and banana pouches all over the windscreen.

  Ha ha ha!

  Sunday September 20th

  Lost four more pounds!

  Whoop whoop!

  I can never get my head around weight loss. It seems to me the weeks I’m really good, I don’t lose much weight at all. And when I let the apron strings loose … poof! It all comes falling off.

  Laura reckons it’s the running.

  And she’s probably right – it can’t be what I’m eating.

  After I saw Nick and Sadie at the restaurant, Mum and I shared a box of Milk Tray, then ordered Domino’s pizza.

  I’ve been doing crazy over-thinking since I saw them.

  I suppose deep down I’ve always expected Nick and Sadie to split up.

  But what if they stay together? What if he’s a proper father to her baby and not to Daisy?

  Helen must be over the moon. For all Sadie’s faults, she comes from the ‘right background’. She knows about cutlery. And sitting up straight. And I doubt she’d ever let a dog get hold of a shitty nappy.

  Monday September 21st

  Morning

  Little Callum started school today. I can’t believe it. He looked so grown up in his uniform.

  He’s had a few settling in sessions,, but this is his first full day.

  Brandi held it together, but I had tears in my eyes. It’s true – they grow up so fast.

  Somehow, Callum managed to vandalise his uniform before he’d even gotten to the school gate.

  Brandi was really proud. She said, ‘He’s such a little dude.’

  It was really strange going back to Oakley Primary as an adult. Everything looked tiny.

  I remember my first day at school so well. Our teacher, Mrs Bat, had an attack of nerves and forgot the alphabet.

  Callum went tearing across the playground and into the classroom without a backwards glance.

  We saw him through the classroom window, chatting up a little blonde girl. Then he chivalrously pushed another boy off the computer so the girl could have a turn.

  I think it’s safe to say he’ll be fine.

  That’s Callum – he takes life in his stride.

  Brandi was a bit cut up on the walk home. She said, ‘One day, he won’t need me anymore. Not today. But one day.’

  Weird to think of Callum needing anyone. If there was a nuclear war, the rest of us would die, but Callum would be alright somehow. He’s the toughest little kid I know.

  Evening

  It’s amazing, but I’m really loving running right now.

  And I can run for ages. I’m still pretty slow. But that’s okay. It’s not as if I’m planning on winning the marathon.

  I feel so much lighter after I’ve run. I don’t just mean weight-wise. I mean … just in my heart.

  Tuesday September 22nd

  Dad’s birthday.

  He said he didn’t want any fuss, but Mum arranged a surprise party.

  It’s not much of a surprise these days, since Mum does it every year. But Dad was as delighted as ever, hugging all of us and saying he’s the luckiest man in the world.

  Dad is easy to buy presents for. He likes anything practical, so I gave him a special rack for arranging his spanners.

  He got all teary and kept saying, ‘How did you know? How did you know?’

  Mum gave everyone in the pub shots of her homemade butterscotch vodka to ‘get the party started’.

  I only drank fizzy water, though. I can’t drink much these days. Not now Daisy is moving around. She’s a little demolition machine. It takes her less than a minute to unwind a whole toilet roll or pull the bin over and eat whatever she finds inside.

  Wednesday September 23rd

  Got a call from our solicitor, Ted Grunty, today.

  The paternity results are back. They show Nick is Daisy’s dad.

  Of course.

  Ted said, ‘Fancy Nick putting you through all this.’

  I told him I didn’t care anymore. Then I burst into tears and asked why Nick was doing this.

  Bloody pregnancy hormones. Shouldn’t they be gone by now?

  Thursday September 24th

  Visited Dr Slaughter today for my maternity health check-up.

  He ranted about Nick and what a ‘nasty piece of work’ he was.

  The whole village thinks so, apparently.

  Dr Slaughter said, ‘If it makes you feel any better, Nick was in here three weeks ago and his blood pressure was through the roof.’

  Then he ranted about Mum ‘not respecting’ her diabetes – apparently he saw her in Tesco’s with ‘a trolley full of sugary 2 for 1s’.

  I asked Doctor Slaughter whether he’d seen Sadie recently.

  He said no. Her family are paying for private care.

  I hope she gets varicose veins. And haemorrhoids. Really massive haemorrhoids.

  Saturday September 26th

  Daisy’s toes are poking holes through her baby gros.

  Nick really does need to start contributing to his daughter.

  I left a humiliating message on his answer machine asking for cash.

  Half hour later, I got a call from Penny Castle (his solicitor) asking me to ‘desist any financial requests until after the maintenance hearing.’

  Penny lives in the Great Oakley too. In a three-storey townhouse with two white cats. She shouts at the kids in legal speak, ‘Please REMOVE your ball from the perimeter of my property …’

  I told her that I couldn’t stop Daisy growing while we waited for the hearing. ‘She needs clothes now,’ I said. ‘Not in six months’ time.’

  She said, ‘Perhaps you could borrow the money from a family member. I’m sure your solicitor would be happy to draw up a loan contract.’

  I asked her what the legal speak for ‘fuck off’ was. Then I hung up.

  Didn’t really want to do Oxford Street shopping on my own, but Laura was studying and Brandi was doing her manicure exam.

  Getting the tube with a pram was no fun at all. No one helps you on the steps like they do in the village.

  In Great Oakley, you can hardly walk down the street without someone sticking their head in the pram and cooing over your baby. But in London, it’s like everyone is annoyed with you.

  I probably shouldn’t have used the big Silver Cross baby carriage with the massive wheels.

  It was Mum’s idea. She told me I’d have more room for the shopping.

  She was right. But it’s been in the garage since Brandi was a baby. So it was full of spider’s egg sacs and the wheels squeaked.

  Mum said, ‘No one will get in your way pushing that beast along,’ adding that it was ‘the Rolls-Royce’ of prams, and could ‘fit four babies and a pound of potatoes’.
/>   I tried Mothercare first, but there was nothing on sale. And I need to economise.

  So I went to Primark.

  I’ve always wondered why half the clothes in Primark are on the floor.

  Now I know.

  It’s because women with ridiculously huge Silver Cross prams push their way through the aisles and knock everything off the hangers.

  They didn’t have anything in Daisy’s size – it had all sold out.

  So I decided to go back to Mothercare.

  Halfway back down Oxford Street, I realised I’d accidentally shoplifted three pairs of neon socks. They were hanging off different parts of the pram.

  Went all the way back to Primark to hand them in.

  The security man asked me why I’d come back, since I ‘got away with it’.

  Wandered down New Bond Street past all the designer shops.

  Saw this AMAZING brown tote bag that Laura would just LOVE for Christmas.

  Then a car pulled up beside me.

  I started to apologise for the size of the pram and how it wouldn’t all fit on the pavement.

  But then I shut up, because Alex Dalton was in the car.

  He was wearing a black suit and glaring at me.

  He said, ‘We saw you walking. Can we give you a lift?’

  His little sister Jemima was in the back.

  I nodded at the pram and said, ‘Thanks, but this pram was made in the days of horses and carts. I don’t think it’ll fit in your car.’

  Alex said, ‘We’ll walk with you then. Jemima could do with the fresh air.’ Then he pulled the car up on the curb.

  I said, ‘You’ve parked on a double yellow line again.’

  Alex said, ‘And I’ll pay for the parking ticket. Again.’

  God!

  I was torn between disapproval (stuck-up rich people thinking they can pay to do whatever they like) and being massively impressed (he’s such a rebel! No care for the law!).

  Jemima clip-clopped out of the car wearing a little madam outfit of blue jeans, flat knee-high riding boots, a lovely navy blue sweater and a jaunty little pink satchel slung across her body. Utterly adorable.

  Alex asked if I was enjoying London.