by Carmen Reid
‘And what is sex with a bump like?’ Tania asked, twirling a forkful of pasta.
‘Let’s just say there’s less sex.’
‘Ah.’ Tania looked across at Bella, but the subject appeared to be closed. ‘I’ve got a very good idea,’ Tania said suddenly. ‘Why don’t you come down to my parents’ house at the weekend?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. We’ll drive down on Friday after work and we’ll have fresh air and pampering. Mum is desperate to see you, now that you’re pregnant. She’s hoping you’re going to make me broody. Anyway, she knows everything about hospitals and midwives and stuff, she’ll know what you should do.’
Bella agreed, deciding maybe it would be nice to let someone take care of her for a couple of days.
By 9 p.m. that night, Don still hadn’t rung. She’d tried his mobile several times, but only reached the messaging service. She wondered if she should be worried about him but she couldn’t get worked up to it, not after just one evening.
She went to bed soon afterwards but half an hour later was woken by him calling from a noisy bar.
‘I’m asleep,’ she told him grumpily.
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s only 10 p.m.’
‘Yeah, well . . .’
‘Sorry, Bella. Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine.’
‘Easy for you to say . . . you aren’t carrying around a six-month bump and wondering how the hell this is all going to work out.’ She felt angry now.
‘Look, go to sleep, it won’t seem so bad in the morning. Good night, hon.’
‘Bye,’ she said and slammed the receiver down.
Chapter Sixteen
BELLA HAD FORGOTTEN how fantastically opulent Tania’s family home was. It was in the heart of stockbroker belt Kent, a big country house in its own small woodland.
They arrived there in the evening and as they drove up to the house, gravel crunched under the car wheels and vast lit up windows welcomed them in.
Tania’s mother, Valerie, was at the door to greet them, hugging and kissing warmly. Ronald was in the enormous sitting room, drinking gin and tonic. He kissed Bella hello and insisted she sit down beside him, because he wanted to hear her City gossip. He was the one who had fired up her enthusiasm for consulting in the first place.
‘You are not allowed to talk with Bella all evening, chérie. I want to hear all about your pregnancy darling,’ Valerie warned from the door.
‘Now, what are you drinking, girls? We’ve got mineral water, cranberry juice, apple, all sorts of soft things in for you, Bella.’
Bella and Tania’s eyes met. Valerie was a respected alternative health writer, it was not going to do to get caught drinking and smoking in your third trimester in her house.
‘Cranberry, please,’ said Bella.
‘Gin and vermouth with a twist,’ said Tania.
‘Ha ha,’ Valerie answered. ‘You’ll have a white wine and be grateful. In fact you should probably have a cranberry juice and a handful of milk thistle capsules for all the abuse you do to your liver in town.’
It was lovely to be there. Valerie mollycoddled Bella all evening, listening to the story about the hospitals with a great deal of sympathy.
‘Well, I have a possible solution for you,’ she said when Bella told her she still hadn’t made any new arrangements. ‘Home birth. I’ve just interviewed a woman who runs a group of independent midwives in London. You hire the midwife for the whole pregnancy, and in labour she comes to your home.’
Bella was somewhat taken aback.
‘God. Is that safe? Is it legal?’
‘Oh darling, go read the statistics. Let me get you a book.’
She came back with book, her article on the midwives and the phone number.
‘Think it over. Now, tell me all about your new home.’
So Bella did and once Valerie had got over the shock – ‘That’s how much houses cost in Holloway, darling??’ – they got into a whole decorating conversation along with Tania, who lived to decorate.
‘I love this room,’ said Bella, taking in the rugs, antiques, luscious plants, paintings and all the polished, gleaming things which glittered in the firelight.
‘Oh, it’s very boring,’ Valerie assured her. ‘Nice floorboards, very expensive curtains, everything else is white – white walls, white sofas and then all the plants, paintings, things one seems to accumulate.’
‘Not very minimal though, is it?’ said Tania. Every available space was crammed full and the walls were so laden with paintings, Bella hadn’t even registered they were white.
‘We’ve lived here for thirty years, Tania,’ said Valerie.
‘What makes you think I’m going to be minimal?’ Bella asked Tania.
‘For a start, you’re a mathematician, they’re always anal. And secondly, you haven’t got any stuff. Your house is going to be a temple to Zen unless you do some serious shopping.’
‘Don has stuff. I made him throw out boxes and boxes of stuff before he was allowed into my flat.’
‘Yeah, he’s got a sofa and a bookcase left, I’ve been to your place,’ Tania teased.
‘Well, I was planning to buy a few things,’ said Bella.
‘You’ll have to take me with you. In another month, you are not going to be in a fit state to go alone. By month eight you’ll have lost your marbles completely.’
‘No I will not!’
‘Tell her, Mum.’ Tania sounded like a teenager.
‘Well, there are so many things to think about,’ Valerie soothed, ‘and so many oestrogens and oxytocins buzzing round the system, mental calculations go down the priority list before and after birth.’
‘Oh great,’ said Bella. ‘Like I haven’t got enough to worry about.’
‘When do you stop working?’ Valerie asked.
‘I’m working right up to labour day, I hope, then taking about two months off.’
‘For a first baby, this is not enough,’ Valerie told her rather bluntly.
‘Well, I’ve got a client waiting for me in August and my boss is not exactly brimful of understanding right now,’ Bella answered.
‘Oh, you are pushing yourself very hard,’ Valerie added. ‘Just like Tania. Maybe you should take a step back and think about this in the long term. Is a few extra months off now really going to make such a difference to your career in ten years’ time? I don’t think so.’
Valerie could see by Bella’s stormy face she had said too much.
‘Think about it, Bella, please.’ She patted Bella’s arm then stood up and announced: ‘Dinner’s ready, let’s go and eat.’
‘Christ, Don, did it ever occur to you that you might have got shot?’ she asked, having listened to Don’s latest exploits at work when they got together again on Sunday evening. ‘And in Bradford, not even Beirut.’
‘Well, yes, but I kept telling myself that it wouldn’t happen because I’ve got such a ludicrously big life insurance policy.’
‘Have you really? I think I should be told,’ she asked teasingly.
‘God, that’s a point, Bella. In my will at the moment, everything goes to Mum.’ He scooped up the last of the sauce from his plate with a piece of bread.
‘Better get that changed,’ she said. ‘I don’t want Maddie swanning off to retire in Bermuda while I’m left destitute to care for your infant.’
‘You destitute – that I would like to see. By destitute, I suppose you mean down to your last technology fund ISA.’
‘Ha, ha,’ she answered, wishing that were true. They were soon to be mortgaged to the hilt and the very last of her savings were going to be spent on decorators.
‘Let’s go snog on the sofa,’ he said to her when the meal was finished.
‘Well, OK, but I’m going on top.’
‘Snog, I said. Don’t assume I want to go all the way,’ he was teasing now.
‘One minute of my practised tongue technique and you will be desperate.’ She got up from her chair and kissed him all the way o
ver to the sofa where he flung himself down.
‘No, not working yet, I think you’ll have to try again.’ He pulled her over.
She was uncomfortable trying to lie on him and kiss him over the heavy, cumbersome bump. ‘Let’s go to bed,’ she said. ‘I can’t manoeuvre here.’
They walked through to the bedroom where Don sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her close. They kissed for a long time then began to undress each other. Neither felt frantically turned on, but there was tenderness in their movements.
Don felt round her outfit for an opening and realized he would have to pull it over her head. He yanked her top clumsily off and left her standing messy haired and rumpled in the most hideous white bra and low slung pants he’d ever seen.
‘I know,’ she said picking up his disconcerted look. ‘Why don’t I change into something less comfortable?’
‘No, take it all off, I want to see you.’
She unhooked the bra and her heavy breasts dropped down unsupported. The nipples had grown large and a dark raspberry colour.
Her stomach swelled out in front of his face with a strange-looking stretched belly button punctuating the middle. The deep blue veins on her white breasts and stomach were prominent. She pulled off her pants and her pubic hair was tucked away under the bulge, which suddenly flickered.
‘God, it moved,’ he said anxiously.
‘Of course.’ She couldn’t believe she hadn’t shown him this yet. ‘Give me your hand,’ she said. She put his hand flat against one side. They waited silently for a few moments then he felt a surprisingly sharp blow underneath his palm.
‘My God, that is so strong and it’s just there, right underneath your skin.’
‘Yup,’ she smiled.
‘That’s amazing,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t hurt at all?’ She shook her head. ‘This is OK, isn’t it? Having sex,’ he asked.
‘Well, let’s try.’ She smiled at him, sitting there in his boxer shorts, socks, shirt and tie. She knelt down and pulled his shorts and socks off, then leaned into his lap and put her mouth on his erection.
When she pulled herself up to kiss him, she tried to straddle his lap but the bump was in the way.
‘Lie down,’ he whispered.
She lay on her side and he tucked in close behind her, putting a hand between her legs. She reached back for his cock and slowly worked it inside.
He took hold of her hips and began to move in deeper.
‘Oh God,’ she gasped, not entirely in pleasure. ‘I just don’t know if there’s room. This feels weird.’
She felt utterly full with him inside and worse, the baby’s sharp, solid parts were being pushed about and rearranged. She felt like a sink full of crockery clattering about as someone tried to push more plates in – not exactly passion-inducing.
‘Do you want me to come out?’ asked Don.
‘No, just go really slowly, don’t do anything sudden.’
He moved very carefully and it wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t really sex.
Chapter Seventeen
COMPLETION DATE ON the house had arrived one week earlier than agreed – a minor London miracle, Bella couldn’t help thinking as she and Don went to pick up the keys and make the journey up town to their new home. She felt nervous. Christ, they’d just spent an absolute fortune buying property in an area they’d driven through.
Don looked relaxed, breezy almost.
Bella was wearing the most glamorous maternity clothes she could muster, black leather trousers and soft white tunic underneath a new grey fur-collared coat. But a seven and a bit month bulge was no longer elegant. She was starting to feel very heavy on her feet and it was some effort to clamber up into the Jeep.
They were visiting the house in the morning, then she was meeting the independent midwife for the first time this afternoon to discuss the home birth option. She’d ummed and ahhed about having Don at the meeting, then decided no, that would probably horrify him more than he deserved at this stage.
He would now look so pained whenever she mentioned birth that she was beginning to worry that he was going to back out of attending her labour.
‘Don! You’ve reported from battlefields,’ she’d told him in one heated exchange.
‘I’ve seen people give birth in fields as well,’ he’d shot back. ‘And it is not pretty. I just don’t know if I want to see you in so much pain.’
It was still an unresolved point.
They drove up through town. It was a grey March morning, cold and raining slightly. Her pet hate weather in the world. When they got to the street, it looked much greyer and gloomier than it had done on the day they’d looked round.
Don parked up and got out of the car first. Bella took a few moments to clamber out and lumber up the street after him.
They unlocked their front door and went inside. Don flicked on the hall light and the walls looked unrelentingly orange now that the place was empty and stripped bare. In the dark, sombre navy sitting room there were patches on the walls and on the floorboards where pictures and furniture had been.
Bella looked out of the back window at the rain-sodden garden where yellow flattened grass marked the spot where the swing had been. ‘God,’ she said to Don. ‘It does need some cheering up, doesn’t it?’ She was trying to sound upbeat, while silently thinking, What have we done?
Upstairs looked no better, especially the pink bedroom, savagely pink now that it was empty, and the children’s bedroom with its mismatched walls.
‘It feels empty and lonely,’ she said to Don, with a slight wobble.
‘It’ll be fine,’ he assured her. ‘We need to decorate and put in our own things.’
‘Do you still think we’ve done the right thing?’ She needed to hear him say yes.
‘Yes. It’s a good choice. It’s a lovely big house. It’s going to be great.’ He put his arms around her, ‘You’re going to feel a lot better once we’ve christened the place,’ he smiled and kissed her nose.
‘Now I know you’re kidding!’ she laughed and pushed him away. ‘The only thing I’m going to christen right now is the loo.’
The bathroom was much shabbier than she remembered and cold too. The family must have moved out several days ago because the house was chilled to the brick.
Back down in the kitchen, Don leaned against the Aga as she outlined her decorating plans.
‘I want to keep it simple because we’ve not got long now.’ She stroked over the bump. ‘I think replaster, paint everything white, strip down and revarnish all the floors, put in a new bathroom and new kitchen.’
He looked at her incredulously. ‘That’s simple? Bella! That’s about eight months of work!!’
‘No! Stephen has put me in touch with a team of people who say they can do it in a month,’ she answered.
‘Can we afford all that on top of the mortgage and an extra month or two renting?’ he asked.
Not to mention the deposit, the solicitor’s fee, stamp duty . . . she couldn’t help adding it all up and the answer was ‘No, not really’, but she couldn’t stand the thought of bringing the baby into a messy, unfinished house. She wanted it all sorted out. She’d get the promotion to partner when she went back to work and then it would be OK. This was just going to be a bit of a struggle for a few months.
‘We’ll be fine,’ she answered. ‘I’m going to be a partner by the end of the year,’ she assured him.
‘This is making me feel strange,’ he said, folding his arms across his chest.
‘Don –’ she was beginning to feel exasperated now – ‘You’re paying half of the mortgage and we’re a couple now. What’s mine is yours. Don’t say I can’t spend money on our home, please.’
‘Well, if you’re sure it’s what you want to do . . .’ He looked her in the eye. ‘Just don’t spend every last penny, Bella, or you’ll end up a sad old git like me who has to rely on his wealthy wife.’
‘Don!’ she smiled. ‘Come on, we’ve got to go. The hippie mi
dwives are coming to see me in an hour.’
‘The what?!’
‘Sorry, that’s what I keep calling them. The independent midwives, the ones who are going to look after me from now on.’ She had not had the home birth talk with Don yet. She hadn’t made up her mind, so what was the point in worrying him?
‘Ah . . .’ Long pause. Please don’t ask, please don’t ask . . . but he did: ‘So where are you having the baby now, Bella?’
‘Let me speak to them and then we’ll go through the options tonight, OK?’ She put on her most relaxed, smiling, everything’s fine face.
‘OK, let’s go then.’ He glanced around the kitchen which looked dingy and forlorn in the grey light. ‘This is a great house, I can’t wait to move in.’ He was only lying a little bit. It would be fine once it was repainted.
She kissed him on the cheek. ‘I love you.’
‘Me too,’ he said. And they headed home.
Twenty minutes after the arranged time, the doorbell rang. Bella went to the intercom and told Annie Mellor to come up to the third floor. She opened the door to a pleasant-looking, 30-something woman with mousy brown hair gathered into a long waist-length ponytail. She was wearing strange patchwork baggy trousers, suede desert boots, a knee-length anorak and had a straw basket over one shoulder. Bella felt her heart sink: this just really wasn’t what she’d expected.
‘Hello, I’m Annie.’ Annie held out a soft white hand and Bella shook it firmly.
‘Come in,’ she said, trying not to sound as unimpressed as she felt.
She led Annie into her large sitting room where she perched on one of the two black leather sofas.
‘Gosh,’ said Annie. ‘This is big, isn’t it?’
‘Can I get you a tea or a coffee?’ asked Bella.
‘Have you got anything herbal?’ Annie asked.
‘No.’
‘Just water then, please.’
Bella returned with a tall glass of iced water and a cafetière of extra strong, super-caffeinated coffee for herself. She was tempted to have a cigarette as well but decided that would probably scare Annie off completely.
‘OK,’ said Bella, plonking her tray down on the coffee table. ‘I’m considering using your service, so I want you to tell me all about it.’
