‘Oh, Stella.’
A cheer goes up, followed by another bout of clapping.
‘Will you lot just sod off,’ I say, turning to glare at them. I catch Lipsy’s eye; her expression is one of almost unbearable hope. I’m just about to signal to her that I think this time it might really be OK, when another wave of pain hits me.
‘What was that?’ Paul says.
‘Just a contraction. A practice one,’ I add as he jumps to his feet and puts his arms around me.
‘Ah,’ he says, nodding sagely. I wonder if he has the slightest idea what a practice contraction is. He’s missed out on so much. But, hold on, Bump wants to have his say.
‘Feel.’ I grab Paul’s hand again and press it to the top of my stomach. His eyes go wide.
‘It that the baby?’
‘I sure hope so. Ooo!’
The pain is too much now, far more than it should be. My mother appears by Paul’s side, and together they lean over me, concern clouding their faces.
‘How close is she?’ Paul asks her.
‘She’s got a few weeks to go yet. Stella? Are you all right, love?’
‘It’s fine,’ I tell them, waving my hands. ‘Fine. Just a little ... Ow!’
‘Stella,’ Paul begins, his voice husky with emotion, but then he looks down at my feet. My mother’s eyes follow his, and I wonder for a couple of blissful seconds what is so interesting down there.
Then I take a look myself.
‘What the ...?’
I’m standing in a pool of slippery liquid. My leggings are drenched through, and my shoes are slick with it. Paul’s hands go slack and he drops the ring, just as another gush exits my body of its own volition.
But it can’t be happening now, can it? I’ve got weeks to go yet. Haven’t I?
‘Stella?’ Now my dad is in on the action, and I can see Edie and Franklin, their faces pinched with concern, hovering behind him.
Just before everything goes black, I see that they are still holding hands. It makes me so incredibly happy: a big wave of happiness washing over me as I fall into Paul’s waiting arms and close my eyes.
*
When I come around again, I only have eyes for Paul. In the ambulance, on the gurney, along corridors and through crashing double doors, his face is all I see. He doesn’t let go of my hand, not even when a nurse tells him to get out of her way so she can examine me. He moves to stand behind me, propping me up against his chest so I can see the top of her head as she moves her hands around under my clothing. I’m beyond feeling whatever it is she’s doing, and way beyond caring. Or maybe that’s the gas and air.
‘Ten centimetres dilated,’ she calls out to another nurse who is standing by just outside the room. ‘I think we have a baby on its way,’ she tells me with a smile.
I have a witty response lined up for this, and I’m ready to deliver it to the woman with her hands up my hospital gown. But just then the pain overtakes me once again and her face fades into nothingness. The only things I’m aware of are Paul’s hand gripping mine and his heart beating hard against my back. And the beep beep beep of my baby’s heart as he fights his way out into the world.
Chapter 30
‘Of course, I always knew it was going to be a boy.’
I’m sitting up in bed surrounded by my family – Mum, Dad, Lipsy and Paul. In my arms I’m holding ... well, a baby! That’s what all this fuss has been about, after all. This tiny, helpless bundle of love. Astonishing that he managed to cause so much trouble, really.
‘Our baby boy,’ I say to Paul.
He smiles, a smile of such incredible love it takes my breath away.
‘I know,’ he says. ‘And he’s beautiful. Just like you.’
‘He really looks like you,’ I tell him. Paul pinks up with pleasure, and peers over my shoulder.
‘He looks like you, too.’
‘Only smaller,’ I joke. ‘And with a bit less hair.’
Lipsy hugs herself, and I wonder if all this brings back painful memories for her.
‘Where’s Phee?’ I ask.
‘He’s at home with Rob. They’re coming over later.’
‘I’ll be back on my feet in no time,’ I say reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry – I’ll still be able to babysit when you need me to. You won’t have to rely only on your grandma.’
Lipsy rolls her eyes. ‘Yes, Mum,’ she says, ‘that’s all I’m worried about right now. Thinking of myself, as usual.’
My dad steps forward for a better look, and I send him a silent thank you. It’s not just for putting Paul in the picture – I would have done that myself soon enough – it’s also for reminding me about what’s important. Not pride. Not being right, or even being happy. What is important is to be clear, and understood. No more misunderstandings. Ever.
‘Have you thought of a name yet?’ my mother asks, wiping her eyes on Dad’s hanky. I remember how drained I was after seeing Lipsy give birth, and my heart goes out to her. What a day. What a year. She’ll need a holiday after all this.
Maybe they could go on honeymoon, I think with a smile, and I file that away to say to her later. There’s a lot more I need to say besides. Like sorry. And I love you.
‘Yes,’ Paul says, nervously. ‘Have you got any ideas for a name?’
‘I have,’ I say with a mischievous smirk, ‘I’m going to call him Aiden.’
‘Aiden?’ Dad repeats. ‘That’s ... nice.’
‘It means “little fire”,’ I add. And then I wait for it to sink in. But instead of hilarious laughter I just get a whole load of groans, and Lipsy reminds me that I said symbolic names were naff.
‘Phoenix has brought me round to the idea,’ I tell her, but none of them are fooled.
In a while I feign tiredness, and they take the hint and leave Paul and me alone. I am tired – I’m exhausted – but no force on earth could make me sleep right now. I’m too worried that I might wake up and find all of this has been a dream. That I’m still sitting in my grotty bedsit, staring out of the window and thinking about Paul, instead of sitting propped against hospital pillows holding a beautiful baby boy with curly blonde hair and a beatific expression, with the love of my life by my side, gazing at me like I’m the most incredible creature ever to have walked the earth.
‘You were magnificent,’ Paul tells me for the twentieth time, and I give a little self-deprecating smile.
‘I know,’ I say, laughing. ‘It was nothing, really.’
‘Nothing? I thought I was going to pass out at the end there. And you, you just kept on going, and going ... Wow, Stella. I don’t know how you did it.’
‘But you’re glad I did, right?’
The tears in his eyes tell me yes.
‘I thought I’d lost you, you know,’ he says, his voice breaking. ‘Not when you called off the wedding. Not then. I thought … I always thought we’d sort it out.’
‘I can’t believe you actually thought that I was–’
‘Yes, well. Jumping to conclusions is what I do best, right? But what I found really hard was how you seemed so accepting of everything. Like you could deal with it either way. With or without me.’
This is the time now. The time for truths. I’m not basing our relationship on anything else from now on. Because it’s not just us anymore. Now we’re a family.
No more misunderstandings. No more assumptions. And no more lies.
‘I could, Paul,’ I say softly, carefully. ‘I could deal with it either way.’
His face turns from happy to confused to downright worried. I press on quickly.
‘I guess I realised at some point along the line that I could live without you. That I wouldn’t fall apart without you, that I’d manage, somehow. Not that I wanted to, you have to understand that. If I could have turned back the clock, made it all right again, I would have.
‘But it was realising that I could live without you that made me realise I don’t want to. Do you understand? I wanted us to be together all along, bu
t I wanted it to be for all the right reasons. I didn’t want to trap you into a life that wasn’t right for you. I wanted our future to be based on the truth, on wanting the same things out of life. Not out of duty or responsibility. Or fear.’
I can see in his eyes that he doesn’t quite get it, but that’s OK. He’s mollified by my words, and in time he’ll understand. We’ll be a normal couple, no dramas, no more grand sweeping gestures. Just the usual minor misunderstandings and silly rows. And then we’ll get on with our lives. Me. Paul. And baby.
‘I’d like you to name him,’ I say, as we gaze down at our son together.
‘Really? You would?’
‘As long as it’s not something crazy, yes.’
‘David,’ he says, so quickly I know he can’t have just this minute thought of it.
‘David?’
‘It means “beloved”.’ Paul looks into my eyes. And then he says it again, and kisses my swollen mouth.
‘Beloved,’ I repeat. ‘It’s perfect. But how on earth did you know that?’
Paul puts his hand inside his jacket pocket and pulls out a dog-eared book of baby names. He also pulls out a slim volume about the stages of pregnancy and a leaflet on positive parenting. He shrugs sheepishly. ‘I just kept hoping,’ he says.
‘David,’ I whisper, holding my baby up to my face and inhaling his little puffs of breath.
‘I’d like to give you this, too, if you’ll take it.’
I look round, but Paul has disappeared. Then I see he hasn’t disappeared but is kneeling on the floor on one knee. He holds out the ring I last saw swimming in a pool of amniotic fluid, and places it on the tip of my enormous finger.
‘I hope you wiped it,’ I tell him.
‘I hope your fingers go back to their normal size,’ he counters.
‘Well?’ he says. ‘Will you marry me? Properly, this time?’
I shrug, and snuggle David a little higher on my chest. ‘Oh, all right then. I suppose I might as well.’
THE END
Acknowledgements
As always, I’d like to say a great big thank you to my husband, Jez, for his support and encouragement. Thanks to Chris Howard for another excellent cover, and to ace proofreader Jude White. I’d also like to thank my wonderful Beta readers: Emma Harrison, Dawn Hamilton, Marina Sofia, Vikki Thompson, Debbie Young, Lynsey James, and Pauline Wiles – you guys are the best. Most of all, I’d like to thank the thousands of lovely readers who have read and enjoyed Can’t Live Without. Thanks for the great reviews and the messages of support on Facebook and Twitter – I hope you enjoyed The Family Trap just as much.
To find out more about my books, visit me at www.joannephillips.co.uk where you can sign up for my newsletter and hear about new releases, giveaways and special promotions.
Also by Joanne Phillips
Can’t Live Without
How does it feel to lose everything you own?
Stella Hill is proud of the home she's created for herself and her daughter. She's worked hard to buy the very best of everything ... But when she wakes one morning to find her kitchen on fire, Stella knows her life will never be the same again.
At least she has Paul to lean on: Paul Smart, owner of Smart Homes, confirmed bachelor and unknowing recipient of a schoolgirl crush Stella never quite got over ... When the charismatic John Dean turns up after sixteen years, Stella is determined not to fall for him again. Because now her heart belongs elsewhere. Or does it?
With a boss she's half in love with, a teenage daughter about to go seriously off the rails, a spendaholic mother, and a house to rebuild, Stella's problems are only just beginning.
Can Stella put her life - and her home - back together again? And will she ever realise just what it is she really can't live without?
Amazon Kindle Bestseller Can’t Live Without
The Family Trap Page 22