‘Spider Legs? Don’t take any notice of her; she’s a real little swot with an attitude problem,’ Jeff derided, yawning.
‘What did you call her?’ She wasn’t sure she’d heard right.
‘Spider Legs – that’s what one of the lads nicknamed her.’
Valerie giggled. ‘You lot are so pass remarkable, worse than women,’ she said, highly amused at the accuracy of the description. Minnie had looked like a spider with the dark hair and the gangly limbs.
‘Good, though, isn’t it? It was a Dub, of course, who came out with that. The wit of the Dubs is legendary,’ Jeff grinned. ‘She should never wear jeans, that’s for sure, or minis. Not a good look. Lift or stairs?’ He cocked his head sideways and patted her bump.
‘I’ll risk the lift! I wouldn’t mind having spider legs right now,’ Valerie sighed, tucking her arm into his as he pressed the lift pad. ‘I feel like the Michelin Man.’
‘Won’t be for long now, though. What did they say at the hospital? I would have gone with you, you know that.’ He put his arm around her shoulder as they stepped into the ancient lift and it creaked and juddered slowly down to the ground floor.
‘I know, and thanks.’ She snuggled into him. ‘But there was no point in you hanging around over there when you could be finishing off your thesis. If I don’t go into labour by Thursday they’re taking me in to induce me. Don’t think I fancy that. It’s supposed to make it more painful, I heard.’ She made a face.
‘Don’t be listening to those ones in the clinic and their sob stories,’ her boyfriend warned as they walked out of the side exit of the college. ‘Conway’s for a chicken and mushroom vol-au-vent or the Bolton Horse for soup and a sandwich? You pick and I’ll pay,’ he offered magnanimously.
Valerie glanced over at the pub across the road and decided she wasn’t in the humour for a crowded bar full of noisy, boisterous students. ‘The vol-au-vent,’ she said, turning right into the welcome shade of King’s Inn Street.
‘You’ll turn into a vol-au-vent,’ Jeff teased, falling into step beside her.
‘I know. I’d never tasted them until I had them in Conway’s. I love them,’ she confessed. ‘You’d never get a vol-au-vent, eating out anywhere in Rockland’s. Roast chicken breast as dry as snuff is the best you could do,’ she observed as they crossed Loftus Lane.
‘Yeah, they’re tasty all right,’ Jeff agreed. ‘And I love their stew. It’s like what you’d get at home. Where did you park?’
‘In the car park. Look, it’s there in the middle.’ She pointed to a cluster of cars in the centre of the parking lot they were now walking parallel to. ‘I wasn’t sure how long I’d be in the hospital and I didn’t want to be running in and out feeding the meter. It’s so handy for us around here, isn’t it? Half-way between the college and the hospital, and our favourite pub down the road?’
‘Yup. That’s how I planned it,’ Jeff laughed.
Valerie had been able to park behind the college and waddle over to her hospital appointment in the Rotunda, before meeting up with Jeff. It seemed like ages since she’d had her breakfast. She was hungry and looking forward to their lunch together. Now that she was a lady of leisure on the second day of her maternity leave, she was enjoying the singular freedom of being off work on a weekday, knowing that she wouldn’t be back at her desk for the next few months.
They were lucky to get into the popular hostelry before the lunchtime rush and Valerie opted for a table near the door. Even though she loved the smell of smoke that wafted around the pub, and longed to smoke a Dunhill, she had stayed off the cigarettes, with difficulty, for the duration of her pregnancy. Their order was taken speedily and they sat back and relaxed, waiting for their drinks to be served.
When the young waitress placed the plate of steaming food in front of Valerie, her mouth watered and she tucked into the light flaky pastry and creamy sauce with gusto, but after eating half of it she began to feel quite full.
‘What’s wrong?’ A look of panic flashed across Jeff’s face as he saw her stop eating.
‘Stop panicking.’ She laughed. ‘There’s no room in there.’ She patted her bump.
‘I’ll eat it so; pass it over here,’ Jeff instructed, scoffing down the last of his own meal and mopping up the sauce with a forkful of chips.
‘Gannet,’ she retorted affectionately, pushing her plate over the table to him. She felt almost happy as she watched him polish off the remains of her lunch. After their more than rocky start to her pregnancy, their bond was far deeper now, nine months later. They were a team with a common goal. She was supporting him in his studies, and had typed up the main part of his thesis, being extra careful to spell all the unfamiliar technical terms correctly. He was just completing his bibliography and the index and acknowledgements, and then it was finished. She felt as much a part of it as he did. She had even suggested the colours for the binding. Green with gold lettering would be more elegant than his original choice of red and black, she proposed, and he agreed.
He needed to get a haircut, she thought, feeling quite wife-like as she noted how his dark hair flopped into his eyes, and curled down over the collar of his shirt. She hoped against hope that he would get a decent result in his exams and then find a well paid job so they could be married. As her pregnancy had progressed she had felt less insecure about her future with Jeff. He had shown he was committed to her and their baby. All he needed to do now to make her feel secure and happy was to propose.
He had come to several of her clinic appointments, even though he hated hospitals and went a strange greenish hue when he stepped over the threshold of the building. He had assured her that he would be by her side when the baby was being born, now that the father was allowed in at the birth. Valerie was torn about this and had discussed it many times with Lizzie.
‘If he’s coming in, make sure he looks at your face only. I heard it puts men off sex for ages afterwards,’ Lizzie warned.
‘I know, at least I won’t be able to actually see what it all looks like down there.’ Valerie shuddered. She was dreading childbirth. She hadn’t enjoyed the pre-natal classes and had been mortified on more than one occasion catching sight of Jeff’s aghast expression, particularly on the talk about breast-feeding and lactating. In the end she’d told him not to come and he’d acquiesced with no argument whatsoever.
‘I mean, you’re lying there with your legs half a mile apart in those stirrups and your fanny in a total heap, for the world and his mother to see, and then there’s the umbilical cord and the placenta to deal with. Yuckkk! They must have flashbacks when they start having sex with you again! I won’t be having Dara at the birth if we end up married and I get pregnant!’ Lizzie declared emphatically. ‘And if it’s me that’s in there with you at the birth, I’ll only be looking at your face too. I don’t want to have flashbacks either,’ she added.
‘He feels it’s the right thing to do and he doesn’t want to let me down, and I suppose it would be nice in one way. But I don’t want him in there so that he can see me suffer and feel guilty about it all either. Lots of the women in the clinic want their partners and husbands there so they can see what they have to go through. That’s not why I’d like Jeff there. I’d like him there because he wanted to be there, to be part of it, to make us closer. But I don’t want him there being petrified.’
‘Me neither, if I was going to give birth. And I’d prefer to have a jolly good sex life and have Dara see me as a goddess rather than an earth mother. The feminists would shoot me if they heard me say that but it’s how I feel.’ Lizzie undulated sexily around the room in her decidedly ungoddess-like winceyette pyjamas and bed socks, it being a bitterly cold night. ‘Feminists will probably shoot me again for saying this too, but actually I’d much prefer to have another woman there with me.’
‘Goddess! I wish!’ Valerie grinned as Lizzie wiggled her ass across the room à la Marilyn Monroe. ‘There’s a woman at work, Orla, who prides herself on being an “avowed feminist�
��. She tells us morning noon and night how much of a feminist she is. She’s one of these super-efficient types that are climbing up the ranks rapidly.’
‘Them ones don’t get enough sex,’ interjected Lizzie, who was having wonderful sex with her new boyfriend, who really was ‘The One’, at last.
‘Well, Orla’s husband had an affair with some young one in their tennis club,’ Valerie continued, ‘and she’s gutted. The creep made her feel it’s all her fault because she was concentrating on her career and neglecting him and now she’s pulling out all the stops to dress sexy and make him feel important and dancing attendance on him, and he’s the one that had the affair!’ Valerie spluttered indignantly. ‘And he’s enjoying it all, the horrible little toad. You should see him! A weed with a comb-over and acne. Why would she bother? I’d let him slither back under the rock he crawled out from. So much for being a “feminist”,’ Valerie snorted. ‘She hasn’t a clue really about what true feminism is.’ Orla Finley was not one of her favourite people.
Orla had taken her aside when news of her pregnancy had circulated around the office, and grilled her about Jeff’s attitude to her and the baby, wanting to know was he giving her financial support. ‘That’s not really anyone’s business, except mine and Jeff’s,’ Valerie said politely, silently fuming at the older woman’s cheek.
‘Well, I just don’t like to see young girls being used by men who don’t take any responsibility for their actions. It happens too often and men need to be made aware that it’s just not acceptable. You have rights too, you know! We’re not the submissive species taking everything that’s dished out to us any more. You have a voice – use it. Don’t let the man walk away from his responsibilities.’
‘I know that, Orla, but thanks, anyway,’ Valerie said crisply, not wanting to have to endure one of the older woman’s rants on feminism. She felt she had been as much to blame as Jeff for getting pregnant; feminist or not, she had to take responsibility for her part in it too. Valerie had always been of an independent nature, had always subscribed to the notion of equality between the sexes, and it annoyed her that because she wasn’t strident about her views Orla should make assumptions about her.
Even all these months later the staff officer’s impertinence still rankled, especially as Orla had wimped out completely on ‘feminism’ in her own private life, in Valerie’s opinion.
‘Obviously a woman with issues,’ Lizzie said airily. ‘Sometimes “avowed” types use whatever platform they are “avowed” about so they can run away from their own problems. Now my “problem”’ – she did air quotes – ‘at the moment is that there is no chocolate in the flat and I am an’ – more air quotes – “avowed chocaholic”. What to do?’ She sashayed up to Valerie and struck a pose and Valerie burst out laughing. Lizzie’s good-humoured joshing had got her through many down moments in her pregnancy.
‘What are you smiling at?’ Jeff asked, bringing her back to reality.
‘I was just thinking about a conversation I had with Lizzie. She’s a total hoot.’
‘She’s the best.’ Jeff smiled. ‘What was the conversation about?’
‘Umm . . . well, part of it was about the birth. Jeff, do you want to be there or would you prefer not to?’ she asked bluntly.
‘Eh . . . you know me and hospitals! But I don’t want you going through it on your own either. And it is a momentous occasion to see your child being born, I suppose.’ He eyed her suspiciously. ‘Why?’
She couldn’t tell him that she was afraid he would be put off having sex and see her in another light, a less than flattering light, because then it would be in his consciousness. She wasn’t sure she wanted him to see her in a primal, raw state, all defences down, emotionally naked. She hadn’t lived with him, they hadn’t shared the intimacy that came with that, and they still had a lot to learn about each other. Although Valerie loved Jeff, she knew at one level she was more mature than he was, and knew he would love to be free and unfettered and hanging out with his friends instead of being tied down in a relationship with the added responsibility of a child in the very near future.
It was with Lizzie that she shared all these private worries and concerns, not Jeff. And besides, with his exams coming up she was anxious to keep him reasonably focused. Tessa was not ever going to get the chance to blame her if he didn’t get a good result – Valerie had been determined about that from the very start. But she couldn’t say these things to her boyfriend. Some things were best left unsaid, and the remark Lizzie had made about preferring to have another woman at the birth resonated with her very strongly. No one in the world knew her as well as Lizzie. You could love a man with all your might and he could love you, but no one knew you as well as your best friend did, she figured.
‘Do you not want me there?’ Jeff probed.
‘Well, I’d be worrying about you feeling faint and stuff. And you’d hear other women groaning and moaning. There’s only a curtain at the end of each cubicle in the delivery ward.’
‘I won’t faint, I don’t think. I’ll try not to, anyway. I’ve seen plenty of fish guts and blood.’ He made a face.
‘Jeff!’ she protested.
‘Sorry, just teasing,’ he grinned.
‘Look, how about if you’re there for the bits at the beginning that aren’t too gruesome, and then Lizzie can take over and you can come in the minute the baby’s born,’ she suggested carefully.
‘That’s a brilliant idea!’ he exclaimed enthusiastically. ‘Are you sure, now?’
‘Are you sure?’ she demanded, not wanting to feel she was depriving him of a most precious moment.
‘Very sure, very, very sure.’ He was almost gabbling with relief. They looked at each other and burst out laughing.
‘I’m a bit of a wimp, aren’t I? Not a so-called “new man” at all,’ he said, a bit abashed.
‘No you’re not,’ Valerie said firmly. ‘If you don’t feel comfortable about being there at the birth I don’t mind, honestly. And if you do decide to be there at the last minute, make sure you keep looking at me and not the . . . the . . . bits down there,’ she warned.
‘Ma feels I should be with you, now that it’s allowed,’ he confessed.
‘Was your dad at any of her deliveries?’ Valerie could never get used to the idea of Jeff talking to Tessa about her and about their circumstances. It irritated her, but she kept her irritation to herself. Jeff loved Tessa and he was her pet.
‘God, no! Men weren’t allowed into the room in those days. She had us all at home and the midwife used to come and a woman from the village who always looked after women who were giving birth, and her mam and sister, of course.’
‘That sounds nice, actually,’ Valerie said wistfully. ‘So natural and unscary, surrounded by women who knew you, and knew what it was like to give birth. It was kind of tribal, wasn’t it?’
‘Times are different now, I suppose. But I will do feeds and nappies and all of that,’ he assured her earnestly. ‘And then as soon as you go back to work we’ll get a place to live together.’
‘That’s our plan all right,’ Valerie agreed, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Her back was aching more than usual and she needed to stretch her legs. ‘You should get back to the library. I’m going to go over to Roches and Arnotts to get a few last bits and pieces for the baby,’ she suggested, standing up.
‘Right, I’ll go and pay.’
‘I’ll wait for you at the door,’ Valerie said. She suddenly felt very hot and the ache had turned into a sharp pain. She stood outside, leaning against the wall on Moore Lane, taking deep breaths. She could see the hospital across the road.
The pain began to recede just as Jeff joined her.
‘Are you OK?’ He looked at her warily. ‘Your face is very red.’
A sudden drenching gush whooshed down her legs.
‘Jesus Almighty! What was that?’ Jeff went pale. ‘Are you . . . is it . . . oh, jeepers!’
‘It must have been the examination earli
er.’ Valerie felt a rush of apprehension as her waters broke. This was it. There was no stopping it now. The dreaded unknown was upon her. ‘Bring me over to the hospital and then you take the keys of the car – you saw where I parked it – and go home and get my case and ring Lizzie,’ Valerie said as calmly as she could, seeing Jeff’s panic-stricken expression.
‘Right! Right! Are you sure you’ll make it across the road? Will I ring an ambulance?’ he babbled. ‘I think I should ring an ambulance.’ He was in a complete and utter tizzy, his eyes like a startled squirrel’s.
Valerie took his hand, and started walking. ‘We only have to go across the road, Jeff. Just come to the door with me and wait with me until they check me in and then go home and get my case and then ring Lizzie,’ she enunciated slowly, kindly, as they waited for a gap in the traffic to cross Parnell Street. Her knickers were soaking and she was tempted to wriggle out of them and squeeze them out and shove them in her handbag, but Jeff would probably freak if she did that, she thought with some amusement.
‘What are you smiling at?’ he demanded. ‘It’s not funny. This isn’t funny, Valerie!’ His voice had gone a pitch higher. He was a tad hysterical.
‘Stay calm, nearly there,’ she soothed as they crossed to the other side of the road. Another pain hit, stronger this time and she gasped.
‘Oh my God! Oh my God!’ Jeff was nearly doing a jig. ‘Take deep breaths. Take deep breaths,’ he said frantically, earning strange looks from a man who was walking past.
‘Will you shut up, Jeff!’ she managed, grasping hold of the hospital railings.
‘I’m going in to get someone right now.’ He went to go haring off but she grabbed his arm.
‘Don’t. It will be over in a minute.’ She glared at him. ‘This will go on for hours. Do you not remember the classes?’ If he was like this now what would he be like with continuous contractions at the end? Lizzie was her best option at the birth for sure.
With All My Love Page 20