by Hannah Tovey
‘You don’t need men to have a conversation. You’ve got me and Mia.’
‘You and I both know that’s not the same.’
I drank the last of my mimosa.
‘I’m putting myself out there, I’m swiping right for men I know I’m never going to like. I’m trying to be my quote unquote best self – and for what?’
‘Try not to get disheartened, Ives.’
‘Can we change the subject, please? How are things with Alejandro?’
‘We had an almighty row last night.’
‘What happened?’
‘He used my Crème De La Mer on his ankles.’
I laughed.
‘Ivy! It costs one hundred and twenty-five pounds for a small pot.’
‘That’s almost my weekly spending allowance.’
‘Which is exactly why I’m treating you to brunch.’
‘We should order, I’m tipsy already.’
Dan called the waiter over.
‘Once we’ve ordered our food, do you think it would be possible for us to move on to straight Prosecco, please? The acid in the orange juice does nothing for my IBS.’
‘Of course, say no more.’
‘Also, how long do we have left of the bottomless element to our brunch?’
‘Technically an hour, but—’ the waiter lowered himself down to the table so that he was eye level to us both ‘—my boss is off today, so you can stay as long as you like.’
The waiter squeezed Dan’s shoulder before he sashayed off.
‘God, I love it in here,’ Dan said.
‘You’re going to have sex with him, aren’t you?’
‘Maybe … if there’s time.’
Three hours later, we stumbled out of Teddies. After a good five minutes trying to light our cigarettes, we realised we had them the wrong way around in our mouths and collapsed on the pavement in stitches.
‘Stop making me laugh!’ Dan cried. ‘I can’t breathe.’
‘There are so many bubbles in my belly.’
‘I think we need to call my dealer.’
‘No, Dan!’
‘Yes, Ivy! Let’s get so fucked we can’t remember our names.’
I was about to tell him that I was very nearly at that stage, when my phone rang. It was Anna. I showed Dan the screen.
‘Oh lovely, lovely, Anna,’ he said. ‘I love Anna, don’t you?’
I answered the phone and Dan and I both started shouting how much we loved her.
‘Ivy—’
Dan grabbed the phone off me.
‘You are such an amazing woman,’ he said to her. ‘I’ve always thought that. You’re like a sister to me. Do you know that? A sister!’
I stood beside him, trying to grab the phone off him. His face suddenly turned to stone. I moved closer to hear what Anna was saying to him.
‘I’ll put her back on,’ Dan said, shoving the phone in my face.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked her.
‘My waters have broken.’
‘Fuck!’
‘Mark’s visiting his aunt at the care home.’
‘But that’s in fucking Guernsey!’
‘Ivy, please don’t shout at me. I’m aware of its geographical location.’
‘Is he coming back?’
‘He’s trying to.’
‘Where are you?’
‘I need you to meet me at Homerton Hospital.’
‘How did this happen? You’re not due for another five weeks.’
‘Ivy, please stop telling me things I already know.’
‘I’m—’
‘You’re drunk, aren’t you?’
‘No, I’m not drunk. I’m tipsy.’
‘Fucking hell, Ivy. Get on the Tube, or in a taxi, whatever, and meet me there.’
‘Fuck. OK.’
‘Come right now.’
‘I’m on my way.’
The calm of her voice couldn’t mask her heavy breathing. She sounded like Darth Vader in a wind tunnel.
Remembering Anna’s hypnobirthing advice, I took a few deep breaths myself, trying to compose myself, but the fresh air had sent the alcohol straight to my head and I was now more than tipsy – I was one hundred per cent drunk.
‘What’s the quickest way to Homerton?’ I asked Dan.
‘I don’t know!’
‘I’m going to get an Uber,’ I said, pacing the pavement. ‘Yes, I’ll get an Uber. Or I could run to Oxford Circus and get the Victoria Line. No, then I’ll have to change at Highbury onto the Overground to Hackney Central – no, I’d get off at Homerton. But then changing at Highbury is always dangerous … ’
I was circling Dan in a frenzy.
‘What do you think, Dan? Uber? Or Tube?’
‘I don’t know, Ivy!’
‘I don’t know either!’
‘You’re the one who lives in Hackney!’
‘Stop shouting at me!’
‘Book a fucking Uber!’
We stood in the middle of the pavement, chain-smoking, whilst I booked an Uber.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Dan asked.
‘No, definitely not.’
‘How pissed are you?’
‘I’m not sober.’
Dan passed me another cigarette. I refused.
‘I’ll get some water and some Haribo and I’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘I need sugar, that’s all.’
A smirk grew on Dan’s face. He put his hand to his mouth to try to shield it.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ I said.
‘Nothing. It’s just … funny.’
‘How is this funny?’
‘It’s karma, isn’t it?’
‘What are you on about?’
‘Well, Anna told you to lie to that churchgoer about her going into labour. And here we are … with her in labour.’
I felt a very strong urge to punch him in the face.
‘Yup, this is karma,’ he said. ‘No doubt about it.’
‘Dan?’
‘Yup?’
‘If you say one more word I might never speak to you again.’
With that, the Uber arrived, and I got in.
‘Ivy, will you stop being so patronising?’ Anna said.
We’d been waiting on the maternity ward for two hours. Anna was in a chair, gripping it with such force that I thought she was going to rip off the armrest.
‘I’m not being patronising,’ I said. ‘I’m reminding you to breathe.’
‘What do you think I’m trying to do!’
I went back to stroking her hair. My mouth was as dry as the desert, but God forbid I was going to ask for more water. Things were not going to plan; there were no beds available, so Anna was sitting on a chair, strapped up to a monitor, with only a flimsy curtain around her for privacy. The nurse had given her a paracetamol, and when I’d asked for one too, Anna had whacked me on the arm so hard I’d felt a bruise materialise.
‘You’re doing so well,’ I told her.
‘You stink of booze,’ she said, through gritted teeth. ‘And you’ve been smoking again.’
‘I appreciate that I wasn’t in the best of states upon arrival.’
‘Why did you have to get so drunk?’
‘I was tipsy.’
‘You were wasted.’
‘In my defence, you are five weeks early, and I wasn’t fully up to speed with your birth plan.’
‘Well, as you can imagine, this isn’t in my fucking birth plan.’
She was sobbing now. We had been through a lot of tears in the past two hours and I was doing all I could to hold it together, but I was dehydrated, and the smell of breastmilk was making me want to vomit.
‘Mark will be here soon,’ I said, having no real idea where he was or how long he’d be.
‘Why did I let him go to fucking Guernsey?’
‘Because his aunt is sick and you’re a good person.’
‘I could kill British Airways.’
‘That’s good, focus on BA. They’re bastard
s.’
The vein on her forehead was staring right at me.
‘He should be here in a couple of hours,’ I said.
‘What if I don’t have a couple of hours?’
‘Try not to worry. All you need to do is breathe.’
‘Is this paracetamol a fucking joke? I’m having a fucking baby!’
‘Just try to focus on those visualisation techniques, darling.’
I was thinking of some mindfulness techniques myself as I crouched down on the floor beside Anna and tried to ignore the conversation about the colour of vaginal discharge that was going on beside me.
11
I heard Mark shout Anna’s name from out on the ward. When he saw her on the chair he fell onto her lap and started cursing the island of Guernsey.
I left them to it and went to get more supplies from the café. I picked up a tuna sandwich, a couple of bananas that had seen better days, some crisps, bottles of coke and cereal bars. I regretted the tuna sandwich immediately, but it was either that or egg mayonnaise, and I cannot fathom why anyone would ever put egg in a sandwich.
When Gramps was in hospital after his stroke, he would ring me every day to complain about the food. He went on and on about the cold beans, lumpy custard, and brown-looking fruit. Mam never allowed him to eat biscuits, so he’d ask his friends to sneak them in for him. He’d have tens of packets of biscuits in the cupboard beside his bed, hidden behind his pristine polo shirts and boat shoes.
I stood at the counter in the café, looking at the biscuit selection, remembering the time we had polished off two packs of Rich Tea as we’d watched West Side Story back to back.
‘Excuse me? Are you OK?’
It took me a moment to realise that the woman at the till was speaking to me. I wiped my eyes, cleared my throat and said, ‘Yes, I’m fine.’
‘Godforsaken places, hospitals. Aren’t they?’ I said, tapping my card on the machine. ‘They’re full of hope on one end, and full of—’ I stopped myself, not being able to think of the word.
‘I know what you mean, love,’ she said, reaching out and squeezing my hand. ‘I know exactly what you mean.’
I smiled at her and walked back to the maternity ward.
On the way there, my phone rang. It was Mam.
‘How’s my darling girl?’
‘I’m OK, Mam. I wish you were here. Brunch got a bit out of hand, you know what Dan’s like, the Uber took ages and—’
‘Ives, not being funny, I meant Anna.’
‘Oh, sure. She’s with Mark now. Where are you?’
‘We should be there in an hour or so. The sat nav is telling us to go through Kensington, but I don’t think that’s right. Saying that though, it would be nice to take a nose in some of the townhouses.’
‘Now’s not the time, Mam.’
‘You sound like your father – who, by the way, won’t let me listen to any of my calming playlist.’
‘Of course you made a playlist.’
‘I finalised it months ago. I knew I’d need something for the journey, to centre myself. It’s not appropriate to drive with a gin and tonic, is it? Anyway, I have Lady Gaga. She’s such an inspiration. Have you seen A Star is Born yet? Christ, Ivy, I don’t know where to start – transformational, it was.’
‘Get here as soon as you can, OK? Don’t take any detours.’
‘Yes, my darling. Tell Anna she’s my superstar angel.’
I hung up the phone and made my way to the ward.
I drew the curtain back, expecting to see Anna and Mark, but there was nobody there.
‘Excuse me, do you know where they’ve taken my sister?’ I asked one of the nurses. ‘Her name is Anna Booth.’
‘They’ve taken her to the delivery room.’
‘But she hasn’t eaten anything,’ I said, showing the woman the contents of my bag. ‘What about her snacks?’
‘She can eat them after, don’t worry.’
‘She said she was hungry. Her husband’s rushed from the airport and he’ll need his sandwich.’
My lower lip started to go. The nurse told me it was going to be all right.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, knowing full well she had more important matters to be dealing with than me having just wasted twenty quid on snacks. ‘I’m so tired, and I know you must be too, but my hangover has kicked in and I’m feeling a bit delicate.’
‘Why don’t you sit in the waiting room?’
I began to well up. She put her arm around me and led me to the waiting room, where I was pleased to see that they were showing Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.
‘Nothing like a good blockbuster to make you feel safe,’ she said.
‘Are you an angel?’
She laughed and told me she’d let Mark know where I was.
I found a seat and tried my best to focus on Hermione Granger, and not the half-naked woman sitting in the chair opposite me, itching her crotch. I held my bag to my chest and closed my eyes.
I was woken up by Dad, hovering over me, eating a pasty.
I grabbed him around the neck and wrapped my arms around him.
‘I am so glad you’re here,’ I said.
‘Everything’s OK, don’t worry.’
‘What’s the time?’
‘It’s almost ten.’
‘Ten! How long is this meant to take?’
‘Your mother was in labour with you for sixteen hours. You know what they say – difficult in labour, difficult in life.’
He gave me a coffee; it was lukewarm and bitter.
‘This is both the best and worst coffee I’ve ever tasted.’
‘Drink up, and eat some of your food, too.’
I got out a bag of crisps from my bag and shoved a handful into my mouth.
‘Where’s Mam?’ I asked.
‘In there with her.’
‘In the room? With Anna? Did Anna say she could do that?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was she high?’
‘Don’t be mean, your mother always comes through in a crisis. It’s with life’s little things that she becomes a bit—’
‘Unbearable?’
‘Yes, you could say that.’
At 00.16 on the morning of Sunday 5 July, Eleanor Lowri Booth was born. Named after Mark’s mother and my grandmother, and she was six pounds two ounces of pure perfection. I was fast asleep on Dad in the waiting room when Mam ran in crying, arms flailing like a wild dancer, shouting, ‘SHE DID IT! SHE DID IT!’
There was a private room available, which Anna, Mark and Eleanor were taken into a couple of hours later, and that’s when, finally, we were able to see them. I walked in to find Eleanor asleep on Anna’s chest. Her head was a little bruised from the forceps, and her tiny body was red and wrinkly. She had an IV drip in one of her hands, and her thick black hair was matted to her head. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
‘This is Eleanor,’ Anna said, her eyes glistening with tears.
Dad went over to hug Mark whilst I went right up to Eleanor and kissed her perfect little head.
‘You’re amazing,’ I said to Anna. ‘I love you so much.’
‘Thank you for being here.’
‘I’m sorry I was a bit tipsy,’ I said in a low whisper, not wanting Dad to hear.
‘Tipsy?’ Dad asked. ‘When were you tipsy?’
‘She’d been to bottomless brunch with Dan,’ Anna said. She was enjoying this.
‘Ivy! Of all the days!’
‘Hang on,’ I said, ‘I didn’t know Anna was going to go into labour, did I?’
Mark stifled a laugh.
I was about to defend my case further when Mam came running in with two large shopping bags. She was soaked right through.
‘Where have you been?’ I asked her.
‘I went to the car to get the rest of the stuff. Mae hi’n bwrw hen wragedd a ffyn.’
‘What?’
‘Well, seeing as you asked, darling, the literal translation is, “
It’s raining elderly ladies and sticks”. Oh, Tony,’ she said, turning to Dad, ‘remind me to cancel my Welsh lessons next week; I can’t possibly concentrate on irregular adjectives after all this.’
‘Been in the sales?’ Mark said, pointing to the bags Mam was carrying.
‘Tell them how much you spent, Mags,’ Dad said.
‘Tony,’ Mam said, with a tone we all knew so well, ‘you’re getting on my nerves now. Babies need bibs.’
I moved closer to Mam and peered in the bags.
‘Bloody hell, Mam. There’s a hundred bibs in there.’
‘Your mother spent eighty quid on bibs,’ Dad said.
‘Would everyone stop going on about these bloody bibs!’ Mam cried. ‘I came prepared, which is more than I can say for the rest of you.’
‘Difficult to be prepared when your baby comes five weeks early,’ Anna said.
‘Anna, I’m just saying, I had my hospital bag ready two months before you both arrived. No way was I going to let the bastards get me.’
Mam went on, but Anna wasn’t listening; she was too busy smiling at Eleanor.
‘Shall we say goodbye and leave them to it?’ Dad said, interrupting Mam’s monologue.
‘But I brought champagne, Tony, from Lidl. They say it’s as good as Veuve.’
‘It’s nearly three in the morning. I’m sure they want to get some rest now.’
‘Oh, my little lambs!’ Mam cried, hurling herself onto the bed. ‘I will miss you both so much tonight.’
I went to hug Mark.
‘Thank you for today, Ives,’ he said.
‘I didn’t do anything.’
‘You kept her calm, you were in control. Some might say it wasn’t ideal that you turned up drunk—’
‘Yes, some might say that.’
I hugged him again.
‘It’s so strange to think my parents will never meet her.’
He broke free from my embrace and I saw that he was crying. I dug around in my pocket to find a Prosecco-stained napkin I’d used at brunch and gave it to him.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Let’s talk about you being drunk again.’
‘Which time are we on about?’
He smiled. ‘Thank you, Ives.’
We said our goodbyes and walked out of the ward. I saw the nurse who’d held my hand earlier. She was writing on the noticeboard.
‘Excuse me?’ I said.
‘Hello! How are they doing?’
‘They’re doing great; Eleanor is perfect.’