Three In a Bed

by Carmen Reid

  ‘OK, well, I’m going to take a chance here and tell you that I really liked it.’

  ‘Don! The whole place needs replastering, repapering, painting, the wiring looks dodgy, the bathroom has to be replaced, there’s probably hundreds of other things wrong . . .’ she paused to look at him, ‘but I love it. Let’s buy it!’

  He broke into a smile.

  ‘Unless you think we’re rushing into it and we should look at some other places first?’ she added.

  ‘Well, this isn’t going to be the first thing we’ve rushed into together, is it? And so far, so good.’

  They grinned at each other.

  ‘How much is it?’ he asked.

  She told him and he said ‘Fuck me,’ but softly. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to buy a French château instead?’ he added.

  ‘I think the commute might get a bit boring.’

  ‘You’re right. Crumbly Victorian terrace in the outer reaches of north London it is, then.’

  ‘There’s a tube station just two streets away, you know.’

  ‘Well, that’s settled then. Phone Stephen up.’

  So she did and by the end of the afternoon their offer had been accepted, lawyers and surveyors had been contacted and there was talk of decorators and moving in by the end of next month.

  Bella just hoped their bank accounts could take the strain.

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE MOBILE TEXT message which read: ‘Your baby is going to be on the social services register before it’s even born if you don’t come and see me NOW!’ shook her somewhat.

  She picked up the phone and booked herself into Declan’s next surgery, then she messaged him back with a simple ‘Sorry, love Bella.’

  Two days later she walked into his little office.

  ‘Hello stranger,’ he said with a friendly grin.

  ‘Hello, someone is losing hundreds of pounds’ worth of valuable consulting time while I sit here and have you check my blood pressure,’ was her stressed idea of a greeting.

  ‘Calm down, will you. Let’s just have a little chat first.’

  She told him she was feeling a lot better than the last time they’d met and slightly more tuned into being pregnant. The booze and fags were under control.

  He pushed a small pile of books and leaflets towards her. When she groaned, he asked, ‘How many centimetres have you got to dilate before you can deliver?’

  She had no idea what he was talking about.

  ‘See,’ he said. ‘Someone as smart as you needs to be informed, so you know what’s happening every step of the way, so you don’t start swearing and raging at everyone in the delivery room and demanding to speak to your lawyer.’

  She laughed at him then and he did the tests. Blood pressure fine, urine fine. He let her listen to the baby’s thunderous heartbeat with his stethoscope.

  ‘Any piles yet?’ he asked.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  ‘You know, on your bottom, causing pain, itching, resulting from constipation.’

  ‘All right, all right, I’m constipated and I’ve got piles. There, I’ve never said that to anyone before.’

  ‘Piles are the scourge of pregnancy that no-one tells you about. Everyone has them, no-one mentions them and wait until you’ve given birth, you’ll have a bunch of grapes hanging out of your arse,’ he told her with some relish.

  ‘Lovely.’

  He advised fibre, lots of water and regular exercise.

  ‘Oh God, isn’t there just a cream I could use?’

  ‘Why are you such hard work?’ he almost shouted, but with a smile. ‘Yes, but you have to do the other stuff too. Now, we haven’t talked about birth or hospitals.’

  ‘Well, I was going to tell you about that.’

  ‘Aha . . .’

  ‘I’m going to go private. I’ve got an appointment at the posh place down the road next week.’

  ‘Oh.’ He looked genuinely disappointed.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I really like you, Declan. But I couldn’t believe the state of the hospital when I went in for the scan. It is filthy and run down and chaotic.’

  ‘The labour ward is a bit better,’ he said.

  ‘Oh come on,’ she replied. ‘If your sister was having a baby and money was no object, you’d send her to the posh one.’

  ‘No, it would be against my deeply held socialist principles. But . . . well . . .’ he sighed. ‘If you’re asking me should every hospital in the country have facilities like the posh one? I’d say yes.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Well, I suppose that’s us then. I hope it goes really well and that you have a lovely baby. You’ve got all my numbers. If you need any help or you change your mind, just ring or make an appointment here.’

  ‘Thanks, I really appreciate that.’

  They said their goodbyes and she stepped out, relieved he hadn’t tried to change her mind, but a bit sad that Declan wasn’t going to be looking after her any more. He’d been great, he was probably a very good guy to have around during labour.

  The following Monday, she had another half-day off to go to her appointment at the private hospital. One advantage of everyone knowing she was pregnant was that she didn’t have to make up excuses for the endless time off that being pregnant seemed to involve.

  She got into the car – sod the shortage of parking spaces at Merris, she was driving – and looked herself over in the mirror. Her skin was peachy, sixth month ‘bloom’, but her hair had gone weird, kind of dried out and a touch wiry. She applied some red lipstick carefully.

  The hospital was beautiful, a reception gleaming with marble tiles, gold fittings and whispery staff, just like a smart hotel. But the service had been strangely hotel-like too. A brisk blond midwife had gone through her medical and pregnancy history. She was very efficient, but Bella somehow couldn’t see the phrase ‘bunch of grapes hanging out of your arse’ coming from her lips. In fact, this midwife hadn’t mentioned piles once.

  She’d had another scan and although it had been lovely to see the baby again, she was passingly annoyed that it had been sprung on her so there was no chance to have Don there.

  ‘We like to have our own report, rather than use data from another hospital,’ the midwife had told her. But Bella suspected it was so they could add a few more figures to their already ludicrous bill.

  She’d also briefly met the consultant who would be delivering her baby. After a quick preamble, he’d recommended an epidural, telling her, ‘For most women, a first labour is more pain than they have ever experienced in their lives, it can be quite a shock.’

  Not very reassuring.

  Back in her car and about to set off for work, she rummaged around in her handbag for some food. Mmm, a packet of cashew nuts, a bag of ready-to-eat prunes, two cereal bars and a large bottle of water. This constituted lunch. The prunes, which she now tried to eat every day, were actually quite good, but they hadn’t had any effect on the piles.

  G-strings were now totally out of the question, the damn things bit into her raw, itchy flesh like a torment. She was beginning to learn that at around six months, you had to ditch all efforts to remain sexy and move into F-cup maternity bras and large white pregnancy pants. She thought of the pale pink G-strings in her dad’s pocket and shuddered.

  Chapter Fifteen

  FINALLY SHE AND Chris were meeting for their dinner. He had blown her out twice and she had cancelled once, but he’d confirmed at six o’clock today that it was still on, so she had taxied into the centre of town to the elegant address he’d chosen.

  The waiter led her to a table where Chris was already seated, looking through a stack of documents.

  ‘Bella!’ He jumped up when he saw her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Are you drinking?’ he asked as the waiter hovered to take an order.

  ‘I’m going to have one glass of Chablis and that will be it,’ said Bella, rummaging in her handbag for a cigarette. She lit up, took a long drag and relaxed
back into her chair, sighing the smoke out.

  ‘Still smoking then?’ said Chris.

  ‘Oh God, please don’t,’ she answered. ‘This is my one cigarette of the day. From now on I’m only going to smoke locked up in the loos.’

  ‘Sorry. I’m still really surprised you’re actually pregnant. I mean, you must have been pregnant in Birmingham.’ He lifted his brows and shot her an intrigued smile.

  ‘Of course, I forgot, pregnant women are not supposed to have any interest in sex,’ she snapped back, irritated now. ‘Bloody men, you think you’re so liberated but at the end of the day it’s all virgins, mothers and whores and anything in between just confuses you.’

  ‘Er . . . I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘You’re probably right.’

  ‘You’re just repressed, Chris.’ She was smiling at him now. ‘You only fuck attractive single women you don’t know very well. You need some variety.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’ he asked and God, he was so good-looking, he was dangerous.

  ‘Well, maybe a married, heavily pregnant woman you know very well would be a start, but . . . hey, I’m not offering. I’ve practically given up drinking and smoking, now is not the time to take up infidelity.’ She held his gaze for a moment, then looked down at her menu.

  ‘How’s work?’ he asked.

  ‘Things have just recently got much better,’ she answered. ‘Merris has told me on the quiet he is going to set up a merger deal soon, so they’ll have money to do all the things that need to be done and he’s going to hand over to a new chief exec and move into a back seat. About bloody time.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  ‘Yup.’ She blew out a small wisp of smoke. ‘Fun this job, isn’t it?’

  ‘The best,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not giving it up, you know, for the baby.’

  ‘I think you’ve made that pretty clear. But you might find you can’t devote quite so much time to it.’

  ‘I’ve thought about that. I’m just going to have to be better in the hours that I am around. I think you should up my rate, so people can’t afford me ten hours a day.’ There was no way Bella was taking a pay cut or going part time after birth: she wanted to put that message out loud and clear.

  ‘Hmm, interesting idea.’

  She was annoyed by that: ‘Come on, Chris, don’t say you don’t think I deserve to be a senior partner by the time the Merris job is over?’

  ‘I think you do. You’re doing it brilliantly, but . . .’ he trailed off.

  ‘But? Susan doesn’t agree?’

  There was a pause. Bella wondered if she had overstepped the mark. Chris and Susan were partners after all.

  ‘She’s very angry with you,’ Chris replied. ‘She’s unreasonably angry. But she is the boss, you’ll just have to wait it out and give her a chance to calm down. You might even need to wait until you’re back from maternity leave and can prove to her you’re just as good as before.’

  Bella was about to launch into an angry tirade, but suddenly thought it wouldn’t be best politics.

  ‘Let’s eat, I’m starving.’ She picked up her menu and decided that the business part of the evening was over.

  Bella was feeling stressed and in a fairly lousy mood as she drove to the hospital two weeks later for yet another check-up.

  In less than three months’ time the baby would be here, and it felt like pressure, not pleasure. The house sale still hadn’t gone through. She wasn’t sure if she could wrap Merris up in time, she hadn’t read the pregnancy books yet, or the labour guide, or bought any baby stuff or, NAMES, they hadn’t done anything about names.

  She was so busy playing it all down, telling everyone she was rushing back to work, it wouldn’t change her at all . . . blah blah, she kept pushing the whole thing to the back of her mind. Denial – not just a river in Egypt, as they say.

  She put one hand on the bump as she whizzed her car into the hospital’s car park. There was a lot of movement down there now, she could feel kicks and prods and a weird twirling motion when the baby span around.

  Sweeping in through the hospital’s gliding doors, she marched over to reception and was told to go straight through. As she turned from the desk, she saw another woman approaching. With long blond hair and an expensive cream trouser suit, she looked vaguely familiar, but Bella couldn’t place her and carried on towards the corridor to her appointed consultation room. When she got there, she shook some of her reports out of her briefcase and began to read them.

  After thirty-five minutes had gone by, she was extremely irritated that she was still being kept waiting. She could hear someone walking down the corridor but they stopped just short of her room and opened a neighbouring door.

  ‘Was it really her? From EastEnders?’ said one voice.

  ‘Yes, she’s really nice, very down to earth,’ came the reply.

  ‘She was a bit early, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, but we saw her straight away.’ The voice dropped low, but Bella could still hear: ‘The other woman just had to wait a bit . . .’

  It took Bella a moment to realize the midwives were talking about her, then she felt the blood rush to her face. She pushed her papers into her bag and strode to the doorway.

  The midwife standing at the other door swivelled round and looked at her with dismay.

  ‘Well, I’ve waited quite long enough today, thank you very much,’ Bella said sharply. ‘I’m sorry my labour won’t be featured in Hello! magazine. I thought you’d be too professional to care about that. But obviously not.’

  Bella might have changed her mind about walking out of the place for good if the nurse had at least apologized, or said something, but she just stood there absolutely silent. So, Bella turned on her heel and marched out down the long corridor, every step ringing in her ears.

  At reception she said curtly: ‘Due to the treatment I’ve not received today, I’m cancelling my booking with this hospital. Can you send anything outstanding to my home address? Thank you.’

  Back in the car, she was surprised to find herself bursting into tears.

  What was she going to do now? She’d signed off from the NHS and now she’d pulled out of the private hospital. What was she doing? She was six months pregnant and she hadn’t even had the check-up.

  She tried holding her head back so the tears wouldn’t ruin her make-up, but it was no use. She put her hands over her face and sobbed. She knew there were some takeaway napkins somewhere in the car, she would just have to do a clean-up operation afterwards.

  Several minutes of hard sobbing later, she decided to phone Don, who was of course out of town overnight.

  She rang his number and after an age heard a very faint, crackly ‘Hello?’ at the other end.

  ‘Don, Don? Hello. It’s me.’

  ‘Hi, Bella.’ He sounded lovely, which made her cry again.

  ‘I’ve just fallen out with the hospital and I’m not going back and I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘What?’

  Once she’d explained it all to him, he told her he’d ring her back in a few hours from his hotel when he could talk properly. She knew this was the best plan, but she felt gutted. God, why was she being so pathetic? Must be the hormones.

  She dialled Tania’s number.

  ‘Tania, it’s Bella.’

  ‘Hello darling, how are you?’

  ‘In a bit of a state. Can you sneak off for lunch? No-one’s going to miss me at work, they’re all too busy figuring out how to avoid bankruptcy,’ she sniffed hard.

  ‘Antonio’s? 1 p.m.?’ Tania answered, sensing the urgency.

  ‘I love you,’ Bella answered.

  ‘Likewise.’

  Bella clicked the phone off and looked at her face in the rear-view mirror. Much worse than she’d hoped. Big red nose, panda eyes, rivulets of mascara and foundation running down her cheeks. She searched for the napkins and her make-up bag and began a repair job.

  Lunch with Tania was inspired. In a comf
ortable Italian restaurant, Tania poured her red wine to ‘fortify’ her and let her smoke two cigarettes, soothing, ‘You go right ahead, you’ve had a very upsetting morning.’

  By contrast, Tania’s morning had been very good. She’d finally landed the big account she’d been after for weeks and Greg had booked a trip to Venice to celebrate.

  ‘Maybe this will be it, the big proposal!’ she giggled at Bella.

  ‘Oh God, don’t you dare come back all depressed if it doesn’t happen. Why don’t you ask him yourself?’ said Bella.

  ‘I can’t.’ Tania sucked on her cigarette and blew out smoke with the words: ‘It’s just the one last bastion that I, as an independent woman in charge of my own destiny, can’t overcome, storm . . . whatever it is you’re supposed to do with bastions.’ They burst into laughter together.

  ‘So, how does it feel now, to have this big tummy, this big baby thing sitting in front of you like that?’ asked Tania. ‘And by the way, you still look unbelievably slim, you cow. You’ve got lovely big boobs and a glamorous bump and everything else is just the same. Your bum still looks pert, for God’s sake. It’s disgusting, it should not be allowed. You better have dessert or I’m not paying.’

  Bella snorted with laughter again.

  ‘I feel tired and heavy and fat and tearful,’ she confessed. ‘My hair is all weird and wiry and I’m going to have to start wearing flat shoes because I can feel my spine starting to buckle with all this forward pull—’ she cupped her hands round her bulge.

  ‘Are you getting excited about the baby?’ Tania asked.

  ‘I don’t feel I’ve really had the chance, at the moment it just feels like a hassle. Work, maternity leave, the bloody hospital. It’s causing problem after problem rather than giving me any cause to celebrate,’ was Bella’s truthful answer.

  ‘Will you let other people deal with some of the problems for a change, Bella? How’s Don?’ Tania asked, obviously meaning ‘why isn’t he helping you?’

  ‘He’s been away a lot. I think he wants to do all the foreigns he can, while he still has the chance. I don’t know, we feel a bit out of touch right now.’