“Look, you need to talk to – nnnnggggghhhh!” Amber winces and grits her teeth.
“Right,” says the midwife, emerging. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but it looks like we’re quite close. Your babies are coming, Amber. We’re going to move you up to the birthing suite and get you hooked up to a monitor.”
All of a sudden I feel faint. There are black spots before my eyes and I grab onto the bed for support.
“Are you okay?” the midwife says.
“Yep,” I lie. “I’ll, um, just try my parents again.”
But there’s still no answer. In desperation, I try Mark’s phone for a third time and leave another long, garbled message.
Up in the birthing suite, Amber’s been attached to a monitor with all these belts wrapped around her tummy. She seems to be getting the contractions more often now.
The midwives give me the task of making sure Amber’s got water to drink if she needs it and holding her hand. She squeezes my good hand so tightly I think I can actually feel my bones crunching together. It would be just my luck to end up with two broken hands, but as I’m not really in any position to complain, given what Amber’s going through, I keep quiet. It feels like hours have passed, though I’ve got no idea how long it’s actually been. I’m too busy praying that the babies stay in until Mum or Mark gets here.
Then, during a contraction, a terrifying alarm goes off from the monitor and half the hospital seems to be piling in our room.
“What’s going on?” Amber pants, leaning back on the pillows. Her face is pale and worried.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, leaping to my feet.
One of the doctors examines the machine and turns around. “The heart rate of baby two dropped, and although it’s fine again now, we’re going to need to get you prepped for a Caesarean section, Amber. Probably best to get your babies out sooner rather than later.”
This goes from bad to worse.
Am I really going to have to see a double whammy of an operation plus babies coming out? Really?
They should show this in biology class. That’d stop the teen pregnancy problem in an instant.
“Um, I’m really not sure I’m the right person to go in with Amber,” I say.
“If you’re the only one here, I’d get the scrubs on,” the midwife says briskly. “She needs you.”
I’m shown into a room where I quickly wriggle into some weird blue trousers and matching top. They’re absolutely massive. I force the hat down onto my hair, and as I reach out for the door handle, I catch sight of myself in the mirror.
Huh, check me out. I’d make an excellent doctor.
Then I remember why I’m wearing these clothes, and the fear returns.
I step outside the room and am about to join Amber, when I hear a shout from the end of the corridor.
“Suzy!”
Oh, thank the Lord and all that is holy.
It’s Mark.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Several hours later, I’m peering into the open cot containing the twins.
They’re fast asleep and so tiny.
They’re wrapped up warmly in blankets and dressed in clothes provided by the hospital, because when I was packing, I neglected to put anything in for the babies. I’d totally forgotten about them.
Oops. Not a very good first act as Auntie Suzy. But in my defence, I had other things on my mind.
Like, not letting my sister give birth on the kitchen floor.
I can’t believe that I’m an auntie. Or that Amber is a mum.
To two little girls.
Yes. Two more females to add to the Puttock dynasty.
I can only imagine how delighted Dad must be.
On the other side of the cot, Amber’s sitting in a chair, looking shell-shocked but super happy. She didn’t need the C-section after all. Things sped up a lot once she got into the operating theatre, and the babies came out naturally. They have to stay in hospital until their due date, though, and be monitored, so they’ll be in for a few weeks, but the doctors are really pleased with how well they’re doing.
“Aren’t they the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen?” Mum says, putting her hand on my shoulder.
“Um, yes,” I lie. Because they’re kind of cute, I guess, but also a bit peculiar, with their pointy little heads.
I really am rubbish at this auntie stuff.
But at least I was there for Amber. Mum and Dad had got stuck in the traffic outside the station, with no mobile reception, and couldn’t move for ages. By the time Mum picked up my frantic messages, they were still miles from the hospital. Dad made it here in record time, but by then the babies were already out.
“They’re lovely, aren’t they, Chris?” Mum says. She smiles at Dad, all gooey, and he puts his arm around her waist.
“They really are,” Dad says, bowing his head over the cot, but not before I see what look suspiciously like tears glistening in his eyes.
Mum grins knowingly. “See, he loves you all really, whatever he says,” she whispers.
“Hmmm?” Dad says.
“Nothing,” she replies, quick as a flash.
“I think they look kind of like aliens,” Harry announces. She has no qualms about hurting people’s feelings. Mum hushes her, but it doesn’t look like Amber’s heard. She’s off in some dream world. The doctor said she might be in shock for a while. I don’t know how we’ll tell the difference, to be honest.
“So have you chosen names for them yet?” Dad asks.
“Well, we thought we’d name one each,” Mark says, putting his arm around Amber and squeezing her to him. “Are you ready to tell?”
“Think so,” Amber says.
This should be interesting. Given they called their dog Crystal Fairybelle and all their possible suggestions so far, I can’t wait to hear what they’ve come up with. Let’s face it, the name’s going to be tainted by the fact they’ve got a horrible surname to stick with it whatever the first names are. Mycock is not good.
But then, I guess I’ve survived so far with Puttock. Aunty Suze can help them through the tough times.
“I’ve picked Lily-Unicorn,” Mark says. “She’s this one.” He points to the smaller of the two babies, still sound asleep.
“And I’ve chosen Violet-Chihuahua,” Amber says. “They’re flower-themed names, see? With our favourite animals.”
Wow. That I was not expecting. Their names sound normal. Pretty, even. Well, their first names do. We’ll ignore the middle ones.
“Oh, they’re lovely,” Mum says, clasping her hands to her chest and peering down at the babies again. She can’t take her eyes off them. “Lily-Unicorn and Violet-Chihuahua. Beautiful names for beautiful girls. I can’t believe we’re grandparents, can you, Chris?”
“Nope,” Dad says drily. “I don’t feel old enough.”
“You look old enough,” Harry says cheekily, and ducks out of the way as Dad gives her a playful swat around the back of her head.
“You were brilliant today, Suzy,” Mark says. “I can never thank you enough for being there for Amber.”
“He’s right,” Amber says, smiling. “You were a star.”
While we’re talking, little Violet-Chihuahua opens her eyes. They’re big and blue and she stares at us, like she’s sizing us up, before snuggling closer to her sister. Lily-Unicorn doesn’t look impressed, and immediately starts bawling, her red face scrunched and cross.
Amber reaches in, picks her up and jiggles her about, but the cries get crosser and crosser. “Mark, help,” she says. “She’s not stopping. What am I supposed to do?”
“I dunno,” Mark says. “Anyone?” he says, looking around.
Mum’s about to take over when Harry produces her wand from her pocket. “Stop crying!” she commands, waving the wand in front of Lily-Unicorn’s face.
And to everyone’s amazement… she does.
Even Harry looks astonished. But also pretty chuffed.
And it’s then, watching the
twins, I realise how amazing it must be to have a sister and best friend from birth. Someone you know who’ll always be there, no matter what. Someone you share an unshakable, unbreakable bond with.
My sisters may drive me mad, but I guess I wouldn’t be without them.
Just like I don’t want to be without Millie.
And all of a sudden, I know I have to make things right. Millie’s my best friend in the whole wide world, and I need to talk to her properly. Find out exactly what’s going on.
“Can we clear the room for a moment, please? We need to do a few checks. Just Mum, Dad and the babies,” a doctor says, swishing the curtain aside.
“I’m going to get a coffee,” Mum says.
“Sounds good,” Dad agrees.
“I’m going to ring Danny,” I say. I wander out into the hospital grounds and find a bench.
“You answered!” I say when Danny picks up. “I haven’t talked to you for ages.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” he says. “How are you?”
“I’m home,” I say.
“You are?” he says. He seems alarmed. “As in, back in Collinsbrooke?”
“Yeah. But don’t be too pleased to hear from me or anything,” I say, sounding more annoyed than I’d intended. What is going on with him?
Danny laughs. “No, no, don’t take that the wrong way. It’s just I wasn’t expecting you back until later.”
“We got back yesterday,” I explain. “A lot’s gone on. I’ve been trying to call you, but you weren’t answering your phone. And your dad said he didn’t know where you were when I rang your house.”
“Erm, yeah… um, well… I’ve been kind of busy.”
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m at the hospital—”
“The hospital?” Danny interrupts. “What’ve you done now?”
“Nothing. For once,” I say. “Amber had her babies a few hours ago.”
“She did? What did she have?” Danny asks.
“Two girls. Lily-Unicorn and Violet-Chihuahua,” I say.
“Those are surprisingly normal names,” Danny says. “For Amber and Mark, I mean. Not for regular people.”
“Yeah, it could have been much worse. I was the only one with her when she went into labour. I’ve never been so stressed in my life.”
“You were?” Danny says. “Nightmare. You weren’t actually there at the… y’know… were you?”
“Nah. It was a close call, but fortunately Mark arrived just in time. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you. When are you free? Now?” I ask.
“Um, not right now…” Danny says.
And that’s it. I’ve had enough. I’ve been away for days, I’ve wanted to see him like crazy, and it’s starting to sound horribly like he’s not missed me one little bit.
“Danny, what’s going on? Why are you being so offish? I could hardly get hold of you at all while I was on holiday, and now I’m back you don’t seem to care—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, of course I care, silly – I missed you like mad,” he says. Immediately I feel a teeny bit reassured. “Look, okay, why don’t we meet up tonight?” he says.
“Tonight? But that’s hours away,” I protest. “Can’t I come over? I’ve got so much to tell you—”
“Um, the thing is, I’m not at home right now,” Danny interrupts. “And I’ve got some stuff I need to do before then.”
“Stuff? What stuff?” I protest, ignoring his question. I really want to talk to him about Millie.
“Trust me, okay?” Danny says. “Meet me at seven at Bojangles?”
“But isn’t Bojangles closed?”
“Just meet me there then.”
“Okay,” I sigh, giving in.
“All will be revealed later,” Danny says, hanging up the phone and leaving me utterly confused.
What’s he up to?
I’ve no idea. And tonight’s ages away. So I think for now I’ll go back into the hospital and hang out with my new nieces some more.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Later that night, I’m walking to Bojangles when I see someone familiar on the other side of the road, slightly ahead of me.
I recognise the turquoise hair streak and slow down, suddenly unsure.
It’s Millie.
She’s listening to her iPod, head bobbing away to the music. I bet she’s listening to The Drifting. Gotta be.
I want to sort things with Millie. She’s my best friend. I know everything about her, down to what she’s probably listening to on her iPod, for goodness sake. But… but what if she doesn’t want to make up?
I guess one way or the other, I have to find out for sure.
As Millie waits at the crossing, she sees me and immediately her hand goes up in a wave.
Then she obviously remembers that we had a fight, as the smile disappears from her face and her arm falls down by her side. Now she looks unsure, too.
Should I wait for her, or keep walking?
Wait? Or walk?
I dither indecisively and the green man comes on at the crossing. Millie heads over and removes the headphones from her ears.
“Hi,” she says quietly.
“Hey,” I say, fiddling with the button on my coat.
“I wanted to—” Millie starts at the exact same time I say, “Can we talk?”
And then we laugh, and the tension eases a bit.
“I hate that we had that stupid fight,” Millie says.
“Yeah, me too,” I say.
“Isabella texted and said she’d spoken to you. She said you ended up feeling pushed out on the holiday,” Millie says. “I’m sorry. I never meant for that to happen.”
“You two were always together,” I mumble. “Getting ready to go out, sharing your private jokes… and I was really upset when you didn’t get me to come with you to the cave, you know.”
“I am so sorry,” Millie says. “I honestly thought I was doing you a favour by not making you come.”
“I had a long chat with Isabella before she left,” I say. “She explained a lot.”
Millie’s face instantly becomes guarded. “She did? What did she say?”
“Stuff about how difficult she’s found things, mainly. But she also told me to talk to you. Millie, what’s been going on?”
Millie takes a deep breath, but doesn’t answer.
“It just feels like you’ve changed,” I blurt out. “I thought we shared everything. Why didn’t you want to come home and why was I complicating things?”
Millie looks baffled. “What?”
“I heard you and Isabella talking in the cave. You said you didn’t want to come home and—”
“Suze, I wasn’t talking about you!” Millie interrupts. She stares down at the pavement and chews on her lip. Then it all comes spilling out. “I was talking about Mum. The reason Mum came on holiday and Dad didn’t had nothing to do with Dad needing to work. It was because they were having a trial separation. They needed time away from each other to see if they still wanted to be married or not. That’s why I didn’t want to go home. It’s been all kinds of stressful there for ages.”
“You what?”
I couldn’t be more surprised if Millie had smacked me in the face with a haddock. But I suppose, thinking about it, that explains everything. Although I’m majorly relieved it wasn’t me Millie was talking about in the cave, it doesn’t stop me feeling heartbroken my friend’s had such a tough time.
“Mum’s been a stress-head since she lost her job and Dad’s working all the time to make sure we’ve got enough money. They kept fighting and it was getting really bad before we went away,” Millie says sadly. Her eyes fill with tears and I lean in to give her a hug. She squeezes back gratefully.
“So, um, did the trial separation work?” I say.
“Well, they had a huge talk last night,” Millie says. “I overheard them saying they’re going to go and see some counsellor to try to help sort things out, which I guess is good. Plus, Mum got back to an email offering her a
job, which she was really chuffed about.”
“That’s great,” I say. “But why couldn’t you talk to me about it all? You spoke to Isabella and you hardly know her.”
“Because she was the only person that got it. I didn’t think you’d understand. Your parents are solid. And yes, I know your family drives you crazy,” she says quickly, seeing my expression, “but you guys are always there for each other.”
“You and I are best friends, though,” I say. “We’re supposed to tell each other everything. Couldn’t you have said something?”
“I tried,” Millie says. “I honestly did.”
And when I think back, I realise maybe she did. I’d dismissed her parents fighting as just silly arguing, when Millie was trying to tell me it was something more than that.
“I’m really sorry,” I say. “I should have listened.”
“Yeah, well, I probably could have tried harder,” Millie says. “But I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to admit things were really that bad. Like, if I didn’t talk about it, it wasn’t really happening. Stupid, right?”
“Not really,” I say. “I get that. Sort of. But the fact you talked to Isabella and not me sucks.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” Millie says. “I really, really am. But Isabella understood, she knows what it’s like.”
“I thought you wanted Isabella to be your best friend instead of me,” I mumble.
“What?” Millie says. “Why?”
“I dunno… because you seemed to really like hanging out with her and I’m not a Mulberry girl.”
“A Mulberry girl?” Millie frowns. “I don’t even know what that is.”
“You know. Like, one of those girls who are all groomed and glossy and carry designer bags. Someone like Isabella. I’m not like that. I’m scruffy. My hair’s mad. Even my bag broke in five minutes. Plus I do stupid things and end up breaking bones.”
“You fell off your bike,” Millie protests. “That could happen to anyone. And why do I care that you’re not a Mulberry girl? I think you’re amazing and flipping hilarious to boot. You’re my BFF, I wouldn’t change you for the world. Come here.”
And with that, Millie gives me another tight squeeze.
Suzy P and the Trouble with Three Page 21