by Sandie Jones
‘Ooh, sounds exciting,’ piped up Kate.
Adam looked around the table and grinned. ‘Well, we’re having a baby,’ he said.
James’s mouth fell open, Kate beamed and clapped her hands together, and Pammie sat there stony-faced, her jowls twitching.
‘Wow, guys, that’s amazing,’ said James. ‘That’s really cool. Wow.’
‘How far gone are you?’ asked Kate. ‘When are you due? Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?’
I batted the answers back just as fast as she asked the questions.
‘Three months. Spring. No.’
James shook Adam’s hand again, and he came around the table to kiss my cheek. ‘Congratulations,’ he whispered, and my body stiffened.
‘Mum?’ said Adam, still awaiting a reaction.
‘Well, it’s just a shock,’ she said tearfully. ‘A good shock, but a shock nonetheless.’ She tried to smile through her tears, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
‘That’s wonderful news, son, really.’ She wasn’t attempting to get up, so Adam went around the table to her. I didn’t bother.
She clung onto him, like a limpet.
‘Mum, you’re supposed to be happy, not crying.’ He laughed. ‘Nobody’s died.’
‘I’m all right, son,’ she said, sniffing. ‘Being a grandma is going to take some getting used to. I’m pleased for you, really I am.’
She extricated herself from Adam’s grasp and caught my eye. I almost didn’t want to look at her. But I fixed on that smile again, the one that pretends to the world that everything is great, and locked eyes with her. I felt a jolt. The anger and fury I’d expected to see wasn’t there. All I could see was fear.
‘Talking of good news,’ she said, pulling her eyes away from mine. ‘James also has something to tell us, haven’t you, darling?’
He smiled, as his hand searched out Kate’s again. ‘Yes, I’ve asked Kate to marry me, and she said yes.’
A rush of blood flooded my head.
‘Isn’t that marvellous?’ cooed Pammie, as she reached across to take both James and Kate’s hands in hers. ‘We’re going to be great friends, I can tell already.’
I looked at Kate, searching for some kind of recognition, a sign that we were two kindred spirits, battling furiously against the power that was Pammie. But there was nothing but innocent devotion in her eyes, and a warped belief that Pammie was telling the truth.
I didn’t know who I pitied the most. Her, for her unsuspecting naivety, blissfully unaware of how this woman, who proclaimed to be her friend, was about to become her arch-enemy, or me, whose life she’d already tried so hard to destroy. I was a shadow of my former self, insecure and paranoid, held together by the love of a man I hoped I could rely on when it all imploded.
I watched Kate as she snuggled into James’s embrace, flushed with excitement and passion. Pammie was right. She did have it all, and I wished I were her. I remembered a time, not so long ago, when I was swept along with the thrill of our new relationship, enjoying it for what it was, not thinking for a moment that anyone, least of all Adam’s own mother, could cause the pain that she had.
‘Let’s get a bottle of champagne to celebrate,’ gushed Pammie.
Was nobody going to ask what the rush was? How they could be so sure that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together having only known each other for a few months? Surely Pammie was going to step in, say her piece, as she did with me – but she remained stoical.
I watched as she poured out four glasses of champagne, and handed them out to everyone but me.
‘Congratulations!’ she said, raising her flute. ‘To James and Kate.’
I looked to James. His eyes darted backwards and forwards between his mother and Adam, but didn’t rest once on me, in between.
‘Mum, can Emily have a glass?’ asked Adam.
‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t think she’d want to,’ she said. ‘I thought you weren’t supposed to drink when you’re pregnant. Well, you couldn’t in my day, anyway.’
‘Times have changed,’ I said curtly. ‘I’ll have a small glass, thanks.’
‘Here’s to baby Banks!’ said James.
I closed my eyes and savoured that first sip, the effervescence popping on my tongue.
‘So, have you set a date yet?’ asked Pammie excitedly.
‘Well, we’re thinking springtime next year, if we can get it organized in time,’ James said.
‘Ah, just in time for the little one to be born,’ she said, tilting her head in the direction of my stomach. I smiled to myself, knowing that by then I’d either be the size of a bus, or have a baby latched onto my boob. Neither scenario made me feel very glamorous.
‘I’ve got a scrapbook at home, filled with pictures,’ said Kate. ‘I’ve had it ever since I was nine or ten. Some people think I’m a bit deranged.’ She gave a little laugh.
Again, I flinched, waiting for Pammie’s derisive put-down, but nothing came.
‘That’s so sweet,’ she said, instead. ‘I did the very same thing as a young lass. I showed it to my Jim, and he promised me that I could have everything in it.’
Kate smiled at her.
‘Well, show us your ring, then,’ said Pammie.
‘I was so surprised,’ said Kate, as she thrust a solitaire diamond in our direction. ‘I had no idea.’
‘I’m really pleased for you,’ Pammie said warmly. ‘Welcome to the family.’
Was I missing something here? It felt like I was intruding on a special moment between a mother and her daughter. Had Pammie been like this with me, once upon a time, in the very beginning?
I thought back to our very first meeting, at her cottage, when she left the photo album with Rebecca’s picture staring up at me. She meant for me to see it, even then playing mind games with me, daring me to ask the questions that I didn’t want to know the answers to. She’d planted a seed and sat back to watch it grow, hoping that, in the meantime, I’d be too weak to deal with the consequences. She thought she could cast me aside, as she’d done with Rebecca, but she hadn’t reckoned on my love for Adam. I love him more than life itself, and, as I sit here, with new life growing in my belly, I know that there is nothing she can do to take that away from me.
40
‘I promise it won’t be over the top,’ said Pippa, when I turned my nose up to a baby shower. ‘Just friends, a few balloons, and lots of prosecco.’
I rolled my eyes and pointed to my huge stomach.
‘Oh, course,’ she said, as if suddenly realizing my predicament. ‘Just a few friends, you are the balloon, and I’ll drink the prosecco!’
Two weeks later, she and Seb turned up at the flat with a tower of pink cupcakes and a six-foot-long ‘Mum to be’ banner. The ‘hen party’ posse followed, with the exception of Pammie, who hadn’t been invited.
‘Don’t you think it’s mad that the grandmother of your baby isn’t coming, yet the woman who slept with your boyfriend is?’ Pippa had observed a few days earlier. ‘You couldn’t make it up.’
I’d had to agree with her; I could never have imagined Charlotte being in my life again, but things are different now. I’m having a baby, and a part of me wants to share it with her.
‘Hey, how are you feeling?’ she asked as she came through the door, laden down with pink goodies. She pulled me towards her and held me for a long time, as if she never wanted to let me go.
‘Fat!’ I laughed.
‘Fat and gorgeous,’ joined in Seb, as he squeezed past us on the landing.
They drank the fizz, whilst Mum and I dunked custard creams into our cups of tea. ‘I’ll never be drinking again,’ she’d said, when Pippa offered her a prosecco. ‘Not after the hen weekend.’ We’d all laughed at the memory of Mum emerging from the bedroom at 11 a.m. the morning after BJ’s, bemoaning why we’d all let her sleep for so long, before asking if we had the provisions to make a bacon butty. ‘Oh, what will Gerald make of this?’ she’d mumbled, as she’d taken herself off i
n search of comfort food in an unfamiliar kitchen.
‘So, I assume you’ve not heard anything from Pammie since you told her you were pregnant?’ she asked quietly now, whilst the others were playing ‘Guess the baby’s weight’.
I shook my head. ‘She’s called a few times and left voicemails asking for me to call her back, but apart from that . . .’
‘And you haven’t?’ she said. ‘Called her back, I mean.’
‘No. I’ve got nothing to say to her,’ I said.
Mum nodded in agreement. I’d told her everything about the altercation in the coffee shop, bar the part about James. I didn’t want her to think badly of me, and I couldn’t explain it without running that risk. Seb and Pippa knew though, yet as much as they tried to convince me I’d done nothing wrong, I still felt a real sense of shame.
We were watching What to Expect When You’re Expecting, huddled under duvets, when I heard the front door slam, and my heart sank a little as I heard the heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. I could hazard a guess as to how drunk Adam was from those initial steps, and I was rarely wrong.
‘Hey, hey, hey! It’s the AGM of the WI,’ he stated loudly. I caught a glint in his eyes as he surveyed the living room and settled on Seb. I was sure I saw his lips curl in distaste.
‘Are you ladies having fun?’ he went on, accentuating the word ladies.
Everyone murmured their hellos, quickly followed by musings of, ‘Is that the time?’ and ‘I ought to go.’
I could see Seb bristling, and I shot him a warning look and gave a shake of my head.
‘Adam, could I have a word, please?’ I said, pulling myself up off the sofa and getting an extra push up from Pippa.
‘You okay?’ she asked quietly.
I nodded. I walked into our bedroom without saying a word, and Adam duly followed.
‘What is wrong with you?’ I asked, evenly and calmly.
‘What is wrong with me?’ he said, chortling to himself. ‘You’re the one who’s got The Golden Girls taking up space in our living room. And I see he’s here again.’
‘Keep your voice down.’
‘This is my house, and I’ll talk as loudly as I want to.’
‘Oh, grow up.’
‘And since when did we agree to announce the sex of our baby?’ he asked. He obviously wasn’t too drunk to have noticed the pink regalia adorning the front room. ‘I haven’t even told my mother yet, but here you are, shouting it from the rooftops. Though if my mother had been invited to your silly little tea party, I suppose she would have found out along with the rest of them, I guess.’ He looked at me with real disdain, and I turned to go.
‘I’m not going to play silly games with you, Adam,’ I said wearily. ‘Your mother’s not here because I don’t want her here, and the sex of our baby has never been a secret. I suppose if we were having a boy, you’d be happier to share the news.’
I remembered back to our twenty-week scan a couple of months before, and the look of disappointment on Adam’s face when the sonographer said she’d put money on it being a girl.
‘How often do you get it wrong?’ he’d asked, with a little laugh.
‘I try very hard not to,’ she said.
‘But what are the stats?’ Adam had pushed.
‘If I had to put a figure on it, I’d say about one in every twenty. Something like that.’
He’d looked at me smugly, before she added, ‘But in your case, I’m pretty sure you can start knitting those pink bootees.’ I’d watched as his shoulders dropped again.
‘I just think you should consider me and my feelings a bit in . . . all this,’ he said now, gesticulating wildly around the bedroom.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Adam, you sound like a baby yourself,’ I said, before walking out.
Seb was coming towards me across the landing, his face like thunder. ‘If you’ll excuse me,’ he said, as he went past.
‘Seb, please,’ I said, going to grab his arm, but instead of walking down the stairs and out of the flat, he walked straight into our bedroom.
‘What is your problem?’ he said, squaring up to Adam.
‘Seb, leave it,’ I pleaded, as I watched Adam pull himself up to his full height, his expression disbelieving.
I pulled him back, and Adam smirked. ‘Didn’t think you had it in you,’ he hissed, though which of us he was talking to, I don’t know.
‘She’s too good for you,’ said Seb, as I steered him out of the room.
41
There was a constant succession of visitors to the house when I came home from hospital with Poppy. My parents, Pippa, Seb, and even James, popped in with a baby-pink hamper full of goodies. ‘Well done,’ James said tenderly, as he kissed my forehead, just as Adam had done in the operating theatre when they cut Poppy from my stomach. Our plan for a water birth went out the window after sixteen hours of labour resulted in Poppy getting distressed.
I welcomed them all in a blur; all the time, waiting, dreading Pammie’s visit. She’d not wanted to come for the first three days, as she had a cold and didn’t want to infect the baby. But I wished she’d just get it over and done with, so I could relax and enjoy my time with Poppy.
‘You okay if Mum comes up tomorrow?’ asked Adam, just as Pippa went out the door. ‘She’ll probably stay for the night, and I’ll drop her back the next morning.’
I groaned. ‘I’m exhausted, can’t you take her back tomorrow evening before tea?’
‘Come on, Em,’ he said. ‘This is her first grandchild, and she’s the last to meet her as it is. She might even have her uses.’
That was exactly what I was frightened of. I looked at Poppy’s perfect face, her big eyes staring up at me, and felt a shudder run through me. ‘I’d really rather she went home,’ I said. ‘Please.’
‘I’ll give her a call, see how it goes,’ he said. ‘I won’t offer if she doesn’t ask.’
I knew even before he came back into the room that the conversation hadn’t gone my way.
‘So, I’ll go and get her around midday and take her back the next morning.’
‘You tried hard,’ I said under my breath.
If he heard me, he didn’t react. ‘I’m going to pop down the pub later, wet the baby’s head and all that,’ he said. ‘You’ve not got a problem with that, have you?’
Was he asking me, or telling me? Either way, he’d posed it in such a way that it would make me look possessive and controlling if I dared say yes.
‘What’s the face for?’ he said tightly. ‘It’s just a quick drink, for Christ’s sake.’
Funny, I’d not even said anything, but he was happy to start an argument with himself, just so he’d feel vindicated in going.
‘When was that arranged, then?’ I asked.
He tutted. ‘Just in the last day or so. Mike suggested a drink, and all the others have just latched on to it. It’s a rite of passage.’
I was well aware of the tradition, so why he was trying to justify it to himself, heaven only knows. I could feel my hackles going up, not because he was going out, but because he was being so defensive about it. He felt guilty, yet he was trying to turn it on me, making me out to be the bad guy.
‘Okay, cool,’ I said indifferently. ‘Try not to be too long though, as I could use some help getting the place ready for your mum.’
When he wasn’t home by midnight, I didn’t think it was unreasonable to give him a call. Poppy wasn’t settling and, in between feeding, rocking and bathing, I was struggling to get anything else done.
‘I’ll call you back,’ I heard him slur, when he answered on the fourth ring. There was a lot of background noise, chattering, clinking of glasses, and loud music.
‘Adam?’ The line went dead.
Ten minutes later, he still hadn’t, so I rang him again.
‘Yep,’ was all he could offer when he picked up. It sounded quieter now, and I could hear his breath cutting out, as if he was drawing on something and then exhaling.
‘Adam?’
‘Yes,’ he said, sounding impatient, as if he had somewhere he had to be. ‘What is it?’
I fought to stay calm, even though Poppy was screaming her head off, and my new mummy brain was struggling to keep everything in perspective. ‘Just wondering how much longer you’re going to be,’ I said.
‘Why? Am I missing something?’
I forced myself to breathe deeply. ‘No, I just wanted to know whether I should go to bed.’
‘Well, are you tired?’ I could tell from his tone that he was trying to be facetious.
‘Yes, I’m shattered.’
‘So, what are you waiting for?’
‘Forget it,’ I said, my patience running out. ‘You do what the hell you like.’
‘Thank you, I will,’ I heard him say before I put the phone down.
I could’ve ranted and raved, but he was too drunk to care, and it would only have made me upset. He could stay out as long as he liked, if he was just going to be a pain in the arse. He’d only be a hindrance if he was drunk, and I had enough on my plate with worrying about Pammie’s impending arrival.
Crazily, my instinct, once I finally got Poppy down, was to run around the flat, making sure everything was just so before she arrived. I didn’t want her to have any excuse to goad me, to tell me what I wasn’t doing right, and everything I was doing wrong. But the tug on my stitches, as I struggled to get the cover on the duvet for the spare room, had me asking what I was doing it all for. She didn’t need a reason to belittle and undermine me. If she didn’t have one, she’d just make one up.
Adam got home just after three o’clock in the morning and made such a racket that he woke Poppy up, who then cried solidly until her next feed.
‘Thanks a lot,’ I spat, as I rocked her back and forth, pacing the bedroom. He belched, grunted, and rolled onto his back.
I didn’t see him for another eight hours, when he got up, took two Alka-Seltzers, said, ‘I feel like shit,’ and went back to bed again. I can’t pretend I didn’t feel the tiniest sliver of satisfaction as I followed him into the bedroom, threw the curtains open, and said, ‘Wakey, wakey. You’ve got to go and get your mother.’ He let out the loudest groan, and just at that moment, I fancied he was dreading her visit even more than I was.
