by Dyan Sheldon
I just hoped Les agreed. I’d sort of thought he’d secretly wanted a son. You know, because he’d never had a brother and his father had died when he was still at primary school. But she did look like him. This could help them bond.
Witch Woman straightened up.
“I told you Charlene can’t make it, didn’t I?”
I nodded. Charlene’s kids both had the flu.
“And Dara’s at that conference in Australia.”
My sister the international banker. I nodded again.
“But Charley’ll come as soon as he’s finished work.”
I wondered if Les already knew he had a daughter. You know, instinctively.
“That’s great.”
“So is there anything else you want me to bring when I come back?”
I rubbed some flaky skin from the baby’s eyebrow.
“Just my post.”
Anne came shuffling over to my bed with a box of chocolates her husband had brought her and her book of baby names. “Haven’t you chosen a name yet?”
I looked up from the list I was making. “No. I thought maybe I’d wait to see what she was like.”
She sat down on the edge of my bed with a groan. “I swear, the stitches are the worst part.” She picked up the pad that was beside me. “What’ve you got so far?”
“Nothing. The only name that really suits her is Banshee.” She cried so much that they were always taking her out of the ward so she didn’t set the others off.
Anne laughed, and Ellen, who was in the bed next to mine, joined in.
Anne flicked through her book. “What about Angelica…? Maia…? Winona…?”
I shook my head. No. No. No.
“What about Cheryl…? Or Amee…? Or Dana…?”
“They just don’t seem right.”
“Doesn’t her dad have any ideas?” asked Ellen.
I laughed. “You know men. He wants to name her after his mother.”
“And what’s that?” asked Anne.
How should I know? The only thing I’d ever heard Les call her was Mum.
“Mary,” I guessed.
“It’s a little old-fashioned…” said Anne.
“Is he coming tonight?” asked Ellen.
I said, “Who?”
“Your – the baby’s dad.”
I’d been hoping no one would notice that Les wasn’t around. I mean, they all had scads of visitors. Ellen’s husband came on his way to work, on his way home from work and after supper with the rest of the kids.
“No,” I said quickly. “No. He’s away. Working. In Manchester. He can’t get back till next week. But he phones me every day. You know, to make sure everything’s all right.”
“What a shame,” said Ellen. “I bet he was upset to miss his daughter’s birth.”
I nodded. But I didn’t want to keep on this subject for too long.
“I just know there’s a perfect name floating around somewhere in my mind,” I said thoughtfully. “From some film or a song…”
Anne passed the chocolates to Ellen.
“How about Laura?” tried Ellen. “That’s from a song.”
Not any song I knew.
“Renee,” suggested Anne. “That’s from a song, too.”
I didn’t know that one either.
The name situation was actually a little critical. I couldn’t get a birth certificate till she had a name. And if I didn’t get a birth certificate I would never get my Child Benefit. I was counting on my Child Benefit. Plus, my nan was making a special quilt for the baby. That’s what she did, my nan: make quilts. She started when she gave up smoking, so she’d have something to do, and she just kept going. She needed a name before she could finish the quilt. Plus, Les would be back soon. When I finally talked to him I wanted the baby to have a name. So she was real to him. So I could say, “I called her ——. What do you think?”
I bit into my orange cream. “What about Anastasia?”
Anne shook her head. “Too Disney.” She poked through the chocolates.
“Martina?”
I liked the sound of the “a” at the end. In my name it made me sound like a bar of soap, but in other names it made them sound foreign and romantic.
“Martina’s nice,” said Ellen.
“How about Simone?” asked Anne. “I’ve always liked Simone. It’s classy.”
“Simona…” I muttered. And then it hit me. Just like that. I snapped my fingers. “I’ve got it!” I cried. “It’s perfect!”
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” urged Ellen. “What is it?”
“Shinola!” I don’t know where I heard it, but now that I’d remembered it, I loved it. It was unusual and exotic. Shinola Spiggs wasn’t brilliant, but Spiggs wouldn’t be her last name forever. Soon her name would be Craft. Shinola Craft. Or maybe Shinola Craft-Spiggs. A double-barrelled name can be a help.
Ellen frowned. “Shinola? I don’t think I’ve ever heard that before.”
“It almost sounds African,” said Anne.
It didn’t sound African to me. But it did sound like it would mean something nice like “beautiful morning” or “graceful princess” in whatever language it was.
“Perhaps you should try it out on your boyfriend when he rings.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s what I’ll do.”
* * *
My mum and Charley came around seven. They brought me a Big Mac and large fries, an apple pie and a chocolate milkshake. But no postcards except the one from Shanee.
Charley made a fool of himself gurgling at the baby, who decided to take a break from crying to gaze at him blindly. While I ate, the Spiggs yammered on about all the things I’d done when I was a baby. I was too tired to care. After they left I watched some telly till they turned the lights out.
Everything changed when the lights went out. If the ward was like a party in the day, at night it was like a party after everyone’s gone home and left you with the washing-up.
Maybe it was the star balloons Sam’s husband brought her that floated over her bed. I’d never thought about being an astronaut or anything like that, but all of a sudden I felt like I was drifting through space all by myself.
Space was cold and scary. It wasn’t like in films. There weren’t any stations where Han Solo and Chewbacca hung out. Or colonies where a starship might stop. There was just space. I thought about the postcard Hilary didn’t bring me from home. What if I never found anywhere to land? What if I just floated like this forever with no one to bring me flowers or balloons?
I almost started crying, but then I had another thought. It wasn’t that Les was ignoring me. It was that he was protecting me. If he had written and Hilary had seen his card she’d want to know who he was. She’d put two and two together and come up with Dad. Thank God he’d had enough sense to be careful. It made me feel better.
I went back to drifting through space.
There were all sorts of dangers out in space I’d never thought of before. I’d made all sorts of plans for me and the baby. And Les. I knew what our house looked like, and how we’d decorate our Christmas tree – stuff like that. But I hadn’t made any plans for what happened if those things didn’t happen.
The baby woke up. She was kind of whimpering.
I picked her up how they’d shown me.
“Shhh,” I whispered. “You’ll wake everyone up.”
She stopped whimpering and let out a scream that nearly made me deaf in one ear.
I rang for the nurse.
“It’s not really time for another feed,” said the nurse. “See if you can get her back to sleep.”
I couldn’t get her back to sleep. The more I tried, the louder she howled.
The nurse brought a bottle.
The baby didn’t want the bottle.
“Well, it’s a strange new world to her, isn’t it?” said the nurse.
To both of us, I felt like saying.
As soon as the nurse took her, she shut up.
“Maybe she doesn’t like me,” I whispered.
“Don’t be silly.” The nurse jiggled my baby in her arms. “Of course she likes you. You’re her mum.”
“I don’t like my mum.”
The nurse smiled at Shinola. “You want to go back to mummy now, don’t you?”
The baby started howling again.
“You see?” I said. “I told you.”
The nurse laughed. “I’ll just take her to the nursery. See if I can get her back to sleep.”
It was after she disappeared that I got really depressed. Everybody else was sleeping peacefully. Why shouldn’t they be? They all had homes with fathers to go back to. When they woke up in the morning their babies’ dads would all be there with fruit and messages from their friends and probably a stack of post.
I wished I’d asked Hilary to bring Mr Ted to the hospital. I could’ve told her it was for the baby. Mr Ted always slept with me, unless Les stayed the night. I really missed him. I sort of bunched up my pillow and pretended I was hugging a bald teddy bear with only one eye, but it wasn’t the same.
That’s when I started to cry. Just a little at first, but then I really started sobbing. All these thoughts were sort of rushing at my head. There were so many that I didn’t know what any of them were. Plus, I didn’t want to know. There was something really scary trying to ram itself through my brain. But I wasn’t going to let it in.
I tried to sing “Everything’s Gonna Be Alright” in my head but I couldn’t. I stopped thinking about anything and just let myself cry.
The nurse came back with the baby, but when she saw the state I was in she took her back to the nursery. Then she brought me a cup of tea.
“Feeling better?” she asked as I sipped.
I nodded.
“Almost everybody gets a little blue after they’ve had a baby,” she told me. “It’s the hormones.”
“Really?” I snuffled into a tissue. “That’s all?”
She fluffed up my pillows.
“That’s all,” she said cheerfully. She straightened out my blankets. “Once you get home and settled with your baby you’ll be as right as rain.”
She was one of the older nurses. She was always nice and very calm.
“You think so?”
She took my cup.
“I know so.”
I decided to believe her.
Motherhood
Being at home after the hospital was worse than going back to school after the summer holidays; a big disappointment. The Spiggs gave me a couple of days to recover, but after that she made it pretty clear that she expected me to do everything myself.
“I’m not your private nurse, Lana,” she informed me. “The party’s over. Time to join the real world.”
I had no one to talk to like I did on the ward. I couldn’t talk to her and all my friends were still away. There was no one else around except Mrs Mugurdy. For the first time in my life I was relieved when August finally staggered to an end.
Shanee came over as soon as she got back from Ireland. She brought Shinola some socks, a T-shirt that said “I’m a Full-time Job”, and a rubber ducky. She didn’t bring anything for me.
“So how’s it going?” asked Shanee.
She was standing behind me, watching me change Shinola.
I dodged a small foot that was trying to put out my front teeth.
“It’s brilliant,” I said. “It really is what life is all about.” I pulled Shinola’s fist off the nappy tape and sealed her up. “I can’t believe there was ever a time when I didn’t have her.” Which was true in more ways than one; I could hardly go to the toilet without taking her with me.
Shinola went red and rigid at the same time.
“Maybe you did it up too tight,” Shanee suggested.
Since it was the first time I’d seen her since Shinola was born, I didn’t snap at her the way I would have snapped at Hilary Spiggs.
“It’s not too tight,” I said, watching the greeny-brown mess that was baby diarrhoea creep out on to her thighs. “She’s got the splatters.”
Shanee told me all about her holiday while I put another nappy on Shinola. I was too busy clucking and cooing over Shinola to really listen.
Shanee followed me into the kitchen when I went to feed Shinola.
She was still banging on about her holiday and some boy she met who took her for a ride on his motorcycle.
“Wow,” I said, juggling Shinola and clucking and cooing. “That sounds cool.”
“So,” said Shanee. “How’s Les?”
I couldn’t tell her I hadn’t seen Les yet – or even talked to him. I didn’t want her to start telling me she told me so or feeling sorry for me.
I swung Shinola so Shanee could get a full view of her. “You should’ve seen her when she was just born,” I said. “She looked like a frog.”
“She still looks a bit like a frog,” said Shanee.
When Gerri rang I told her that motherhood was brilliant, too.
“You’ve got to come over and see her,” I said. “She’s amazing.”
Gerri started going on about some boy she’d met at some party.
“It’s incredible how fast they grow,” I said. “I swear she changes every day.”
“I thought it was you who did the changing,” said Gerri.
Amie wanted to know about my figure. “Are you doing exercises?” she asked. “Is your stomach still floppy?”
“Wait till you see her,” I said. “Yesterday she smiled at me. I know everybody says it’s just gas, but she really smiled.”
“So what else have you been doing?” asked Amie.
“I’ve got to go, Amie. Shinola’s crying.”
“I’m back,” said Les. “I’m sorry I didn’t ring sooner. I’ve been busy.”
I was so relieved he’d phoned when the Spiggs wasn’t home that I didn’t even mind that it had taken him a week to get round to it.
“Me, too,” I said.
Les laughed. “What have you been doing, shopping?”
I laughed, too. “No,” I said. “I had the baby. Our baby.”
Les said, “What?”
“The baby,” I repeated. “I had it. That’s what happens after you’ve been pregnant for nine months,” I explained. “You give birth.”
“Geez,” said Les.
“It’s a girl,” I said, since he didn’t ask. “I called her Shinola.”
“Shinola?”
“Yeah. Do you like it?”
“Yeah, it’s nice.” Les cleared his throat. “What is it, African or something?”
I said I didn’t think so. I said it meant sunny morning in Indian or something like that.
“That’s great,” said Les. “That’s really great.” I could hear his voice change gear. “I’ll ring you later, Lana. I’ve got to go.”
Since I was always tired, I fell asleep at every chance I got, usually in front of the telly. And since Les still hadn’t come round, I dreamt about him a lot.
I was dreaming that Les took me and Shinola to Disneyland Paris.
When Charley took me and Hilary to Disney World we stayed with his sister who lives in Florida, but Les got us a room in one of the hotels at the park. Our room was pink and had a white canopy bed and a crystal chandelier. It was the Cinderella suite. Les had booked it specially. There was a little room off the main bedroom for Shinola. It had one of those cradles that rock back and forth like you see in fairy stories, all white net and ruffles and little pink bows.
Shinola was sleeping in her little room and Les and I were getting ready for supper. There was a maid who’d look after Shinola while we went downstairs to eat so we didn’t have to stay in our room. After dinner we were going to the disco.
The hotel radio station was playing songs from great Disney classics while I got into my party gear. “Someday My Prince Will Come” was on.
I zipped up my dress. It was a red dress with a tight bodice and spaghetti straps and a slightly flared skirt.
I had red heels to match. I sat down at the white and gold dressing-table to put on my make-up. It was just like the dressing-table I’d always wanted (but she would never let me have), with lights around the mirror. Les came up behind me. He started nuzzling my neck and telling me how gorgeous I looked. I pretended I didn’t want him messing up my hair and stuff, but really I couldn’t have cared less.
“Lana…” whispered Les. “Lana … Lana … Lana…”
He was being too rough. I pushed him off.
“Lana … Lana … Lana…”
“Not now.” I pushed him off again. “I have to get ready.”
“Lana … Lana … Lana…” He wasn’t nuzzling me any more. He was shaking me hard.
I pulled away from him. “Get dressed,” I said. “You’ve got to get dressed, too.”
“Not at three in the morning,” said Les.
I opened my eyes. I’d fallen asleep in front of the telly again. But even though I was still half-asleep and blinded I knew it wasn’t Les’s come-to-bed eyes that were staring down at me. I shut my own tight.
“Lana, wake up.”
I risked another look. Hilary was standing over me with no make-up on and her hair in curlers like some monster of the night. I wanted to hit her.
“What do you want?”
“What do I want? Can’t you hear Shinola? She’s been crying for ten minutes.”
Then why didn’t she look after her, for God’s sake? I pulled a cushion over my head. “So give her a bottle.”
She threw the cushion on to the floor. “I’m not her mother. She needs you, Lana. Now.”
There was nothing for it, she was going to get me up if she had to drag me off the couch. I sat up, rubbing my eyes.
“I can’t have my sleep disturbed like this every night,” she complained. “I’ve got to go to work.”
She’d taken a week off after I got home from hospital, to look after me and Shinola, and that was hell. But this was worse. Before she complained all the time, but at least she got up with Shinola in the night once in a while and made a few bottles. Now all she did was complain.
“All right … all right…” I got to my feet and staggered into the kitchen.
“Pick Shinola up before you heat the bottle,” she nagged. “She’s upset. She needs to be comforted.”
