by Rosie Nixon
‘Not long, actually,’ she revealed. ‘The house is still quite sparse. I’m kind of loving being free of clutter, but it doesn’t feel like home yet either. The walls need more pictures, we need a rug – I’ve got my eye on one from Graham and Green. I’ve been nesting like mad – with Oscar away so much for work there’s been plenty of time for online shopping.’
‘Where were you living before?’ I asked.
‘Only down the road in Brixton. We needed more space—’
‘So you bought a house,’ I finished her sentence.
‘We’re renting actually,’ she continued, making me feel slightly better about our modest flat around the corner. She paused. ‘It’s a trial, I guess.’
‘A try before you buy?’ I asked, wondering if they were in the market for a plush townhouse in the neighbourhood.
‘That too, but Oscar’s already got a property in central London. I meant it’s a trial for him and me – it’s a fairly new relationship,’ she revealed, catching my gaze once more. ‘We met at work. He’s divorced, you see. Well, he is now.’
‘Oh, right.’ I could see she was weighing up whether or not to tell me something. I kept quiet, hoping she would elaborate.
She took a breath and nibbled a piece of croissant before continuing: ‘Oscar’s actually my boss, and he was married when we first started seeing each other. I’ve worked at Bright PR as an account manager for two years and then one of my accounts – a popular tissue brand of all things – really took off and I got promoted. I managed to get the Daily Mail to vote them “Number One Snot Saviour” when the flu virus was big news and boxes flew off the shelves. I was fast-tracked to Director of Consumer PR.’
I chuckled. ‘Yay you!’
‘That’s when Oscar and I became close. We were on a work trip to New York, to visit a potential new client – a hotel group, handily – and he kissed me in the lift after a boozy dinner. It was the best kiss I’d had in a long time. And that’s when it all started really – the snooping around, the secret snogs in hotel rooms, the hundreds of naughty WhatsApp messages during important meetings, sometimes involving what he wanted to do with me over the boardroom table.’ Her cheeks flushed and there was a wistful look in her eye as she no doubt enjoyed a hot flashback.
‘It must have been exciting,’ I encouraged her, my eyes shining. This had turned into a juicy conversation.
‘It was hard not to be excited: he was a successful, wealthy guy – not my usual type, being really tall with barely any hair, but he was good-looking and charismatic – and the sex was amazing!’
‘Was he married then?’ I asked quietly, aware that we could be overheard.
‘His divorce was almost finalized, and I had been single for the best part of two decades,’ she continued. ‘I hadn’t been in love since my first relationship at university. I mean I dated men, on and off, but always found a reason to end it. Most of my friends were busily getting married and having babies; but for me it wasn’t so straightforward. I knew a love so perfect while at uni, I wanted to find that again. I didn’t want to settle for second best when it came to starting a family.’
I nodded, relating to what she was saying.
‘Oscar and I had an instant chemistry and I thought that I’d finally found a proper “grown up” relationship. But Oscar already had two kids and was adamant he didn’t want any more. And then I found out I had a really low egg count.’
‘Oh no, I’m sorry,’ I offered. ‘But it clearly worked out in the end.’
‘I decided to freeze the few eggs I had, and I started looking into the IVF route. I didn’t tell Oscar about this at first because I didn’t want him to suddenly agree to have children just for me. Although it looked, at that moment, like he might never be ready.’
‘But he was, in the end?’
‘We split up for a bit, but ironically, nine months later when his divorce finalized, we got back together and decided to make a serious go of it. I had IVF and it worked.’
‘That’s brilliant news. And so lucky. How did you tell everyone at work?’
‘Oscar thought the best way would be to gather staff together one Monday morning and tell them the news in a short company meeting, to nip any office gossip in the bud.’
‘Had anyone suspected?’ I asked, thinking this sounded like the storyline from a Netflix drama.
‘Probably! It had to be one of the worst-kept secrets in the company, because no one seemed particularly shocked. It changed my relationship with most of my colleagues, though – I got invited out to lunch less, and I certainly wasn’t as popular on company socials as I once was. They probably thought I might tell Oscar who got pissed on their lunch break and who was the worst at bending their expenses! That’s why I joined this Baby Group: to make some new friends.’
She paused and looked at me. I saw a new vulnerability in Lucy. She seemed in need of validation. After a few seconds, she carried on: ‘But knowing I was having a healthy baby made up for everything. It felt like my greatest wish had been granted. Besides, I’ll be off on maternity leave soon and after that? Who knows.’
‘Do you think you’ll go back to Bright PR?’ I asked.
‘I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll become a stay-at-home mummy, and pursue my dream of writing a cookery book or starting a small business, or perhaps I could become a yoga instructor. I try to practise yoga as often as I can. I feel like the world has finally opened up for me. What about you? Will you keep working?’
‘Well, as a freelancer, it’s hard to stop completely. You worry that “out of sight is out of mind” and the commissions won’t come,’ I said, acutely aware that my life story wasn’t nearly as compelling as hers. ‘But I really love illustrating, so I’ll probably continue, if I can fit it around childcare. So, yes.’
We had both finished our croissants. Lucy dabbed at her plate, picking up the last crumbs with her index finger and putting them into her mouth as we moved onto the topic of baby-friendly days out in London, and the things we wouldn’t miss about work when on maternity leave.
Then Jason texted. He offered to take an extra-long lunch break to take me shopping – a token gesture, but since the breastfeeding class I had become obsessed with buying a bottle steriliser and a breast pump, so I took him up on it.
‘Where are you?’ he asked.
‘Gail’s, with Lucy,’ I replied. He suggested I walk home and he would meet me there shortly.
As I left the café, strolling out into the bright, fresh daylight, I felt buoyed by my chat with Lucy. It felt like we had both really opened up and I was happy to be making a genuine new friend in her. I hoped she and I would get to hang out together again. The fact that she had told me about her illicit relationship with her boss stayed with me. It sounded so thrilling and passionate. I wondered whether I would be capable of such a thing, but doubted it. She was certainly full of surprises.
Chapter Thirteen
Lucy
When Aisha left, I wandered up the road to Sainsbury’s to pick up a few bits, including some ingredients to make another dish for tomorrow’s meeting. Confiding in Aisha had felt strange, but good, and I was feeling slightly giddy and free. She was so easy to talk to. That foreboding feeling cast a shadow over it all, reminding me that things weren’t quite right, I tried to push it away, but it became a little dry spot at the back of my throat. Ever present.
As I hunted down some pine nuts for the salad, I spotted Will by the sushi counter.
‘Rubbing it in are you – you can still have sushi, but we can’t?’ I joked.
‘Lucy! Hi. I’m sorry, it’s not fair is it?’ His face lit up to see me. An equally gorgeous guy appeared beside him. ‘Lucy, this is Christian, my husband.’
Christian stretched out his hand. ‘Hi. I was saving my big reveal for the group tomorrow, but you’ve got in first.’
‘I’m truly honoured,’ I replied. ‘I would curtsey, if I was capable of it.’
‘Will tells me that Maggie is quite the character,
’ he said. He was as good-looking as Will, except a blond, white version. Together, they looked like an Abercrombie & Fitch poster.
‘She’s a strong personality all right. Get her onto vaginas and you’ll be fine.’
He ran a hand over his face and gave a puzzled laugh. ‘Not exactly my specialist subject.’
‘Of course! Sorry.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s fully prepped,’ Will said, holding a tray of fresh sushi in his hand. I looked at it enviously.
‘I’ll let you get on. Enjoy the sushi – lucky things!’
Chapter Fourteen
Aisha
I was determined to take a leaf out of Lucy’s book and get organized for tomorrow’s Baby Group meeting. Fortunately I was ahead of schedule with the draft illustrations for the new book I was working on. It was entitled Santa’s Busiest Christmas Ever. Christmas in May sounds ridiculous, but this was actually a short turnaround in the world of book publishing and my deadline was looming. I had been knee-deep in decisions about shades of red, types of sleigh and how big a pot belly to give my Santa for weeks now. I had gone for round and cuddly, with the snowiest of long, curly beards – verified as spot on during a FaceTime call with Tara’s boys. The next challenge was to ensure he didn’t look like he was headed for a stint in rehab by Boxing Day. Goodness knows 25th December is busy enough for Mr Claus. The thought of his ‘busiest one ever’ made me want to have a nervous breakdown on his behalf. That, and a strong G&T. Oh how I missed gin. If there was one thing I craved the most and couldn’t have during pregnancy, it was gin.
Before I was pregnant, Dad used to send me cases of wine and gin on almost a monthly basis, but they had been replaced by random deliveries of kitchen appliances and John Lewis vouchers. I had to tell Jason that the masticating juicer that appeared in the kitchen a few weeks ago was second hand. I felt guilty about it, but at the same time couldn’t face another discussion with him about why Dad’s ‘treats’ needed to stop.
Stressed-out Santa sorted, I gave myself the rest of Friday off to try to write a birth plan and work out how to bring a better contribution for lunch than the previous times. I knew better than to try to compete with Lucy, so I decided to make something simple. We had a couple of overripe bananas to use up, so banana bread it was. How hard could it be? Easier than bruschetta, I hoped.
It had started out well, and for a brief while I had visions of myself whipping up cakes and cookies regularly, the baby snoozing contentedly in a rocker beside me, a cute dusting of flour on both of our noses. It all started to go wrong after I took a call from my editor while I was halfway through measuring the flour, and then couldn’t remember whether I’d already added baking powder, so decided to assume I had, rather than risk too much. Then the consistency of the batter seemed too thick, so I added a healthy glug of milk. Mum was never a stickler for following recipes to the letter either, I told myself.
The resulting cake was more of a dense banana-flavoured scone. That wouldn’t have happened to my mum. But in the absence of any desire to bake the bloody thing again (besides, there were no bananas or eggs left), I decided some creamy icing would improve things, and it wasn’t as if badly made banana bread had ever had an adverse effect on an unborn baby. To the best of my knowledge, anyway. Probably best not to google it though.
My excitement must have been contagious as Jason was seemingly enthusiastic about coming to this Baby Group at last. Because of the last disaster, he’d sought permission from Peter to have the whole weekend off – whatever IT malfunction occurred. I think having me telling him that that if he didn’t come to this one, it was grounds for divorce, the message had finally sunk in. At this stage in my pregnancy, with hormones raging, I had only been half-joking.
Saturday 8th May
Jason and I were the first couple to arrive at the church hall the following morning. After placing the cake on the lunch table, displayed on the fanciest plate I could find, and confident that the icing actually made it look quite tempting, we took our seats opposite Maggie. She greeted us warmly, seeming as relieved as I was that Jason had actually come today.
Helen and Ian arrived and took their seats in the same spot as always, directly next to Maggie, like the teacher’s pets. They greeted me warmly and even Ian showed enthusiasm at meeting the ‘infamous’ Jason.
Next came Susie and Lin, who entered hand in hand. There was something about them that reminded me of Russian dolls, with their bobs and classic pear-shape bodies. Even though she wasn’t carrying the baby, Lin seemed to waddle sympathetically and be a completely proportionate version of Susie. They also greeted us like old friends. It felt nice to feel such familiarity amongst us already. They all made an effort with Jason, which I appreciated.
Will arrived after them, this time with a guy. I’d bet there were gym-honed bodies under their Ralph Lauren sweatshirts.
He stopped in the middle of the circle. ‘This, as you probably guessed, is Christian,’ he declared. Christian turned around to the group, making eye contact with us all individually. Holding hands, they made their way to another pair of free chairs. I caught Will’s eye and smiled. He nodded warmly back.
Lucy rushed in last, on her own again. ‘Sorry I’m late, couldn’t find my house keys,’ she muttered as she took her seat. She looked up and gave a small, strained smile in my direction. I smiled back warmly. Will and Christian raised their hands to Lucy and it seemed as though she had met Christian before, as she mouthed, ‘Hi,’ to him. ‘Oscar’s working again this morning, but he’ll join the session after lunch,’ she revealed once she had regained her breath. I was excited to meet the man I’d heard so much about.
‘Lovely! Almost a full house.’ Maggie clapped her hands together. ‘Let’s get going!’
Thankfully there were no more chants of ‘Vagina!’ today, although I was a bit disappointed Jason and Christian didn’t have to go through that particular rite of passage. The conversation quickly took a turn for the comedic, though, when Maggie began to explain how to identify the different shades of poo in your baby’s nappy. We obediently handed around images of the sticky, dark-green meconium that our newborns would be ejecting from their perfectly formed peachy bums on days one and two, followed by photos depicting a ‘mustard yellow’. And then Maggie revealed her pièce de rèsistance: a nappy with some yellow papier mâché gunk attached to it. When this slightly disturbing visual stimulus reached Ian, he became the most animated I’d ever seen him. He held the nappy up to his mouth and pretended to be sick in it. Ian found this a lot more amusing than Helen, who shrieked, ‘Ian, that’s disgusting!’ before handing the full nappy back to Maggie.
It hit home that having a baby was not glamorous, however hard you tried to dress it up. It was unfortunate that this topic was covered just before lunch, because it reminded me of my stodgy banana cake lying beneath its thick layer of icing just a few feet away from us.
Jason’s earlier enthusiasm seemed to have disappeared quite quickly. I wasn’t too surprised when he popped out for some ‘air’ after the nappy segment. But when he went for a toilet break twice, then outside again to check his phone, it started to irritate me. If he couldn’t sit through one meeting, how was he was going to cope with a newborn baby? His behaviour seemed uncharacteristically fidgety. We hadn’t even broken for lunch when Jason failed to return from a third trip to the toilet. I checked my phone and found a message:
Feeling dodgy. Have popped out for air, and to go home to change into a less hot jumper. Jx
What kind of excuse was that? It meant I was left on my own for the part about what your partner can do for you during labour, like identifying tension points in your muscles and practising relaxation techniques. I was livid, and far too cross to text Jason back.
At lunchtime, Oscar joined Lucy and she introduced him to everyone in the group. He was as tall and bald as Lucy had described him, but he was attractive and he looked trendy, dressed in turned-up dark jeans and a black, what looked like cashm
ere jumper. A pair of cherry red socks were visible under the turn-ups and he wore box-fresh white trainers, giving him a creative edge which I appreciated. He definitely had charisma; his confidence was obvious and I could see why Lucy had fallen for him. When it came to my turn to be introduced, he shook my hand firmly and smiled, ‘Aisha, lovely to meet you. Lucy has told me so much about you.’ We all helped ourselves to the food, Oscar making loud, appreciative noises about how good it all was. He even took a slice of my not-quite-banana-cake.
Oscar was good at socializing. He greeted everyone with firm handshakes and eye contact as he repeated each person’s name and found something interesting about them. He made everyone feel special. It was quite an art form to witness and made me feel even more frustrated that Jason wasn’t here making an effort too.
‘I’m Oscar, pleased to meet you.’
‘Oscar – hi, and you are?’
‘Hello there, Susie, I’m Oscar, and this is…?’
‘Lin. It’s great to meet you too, Lin. Susie and Lin, how fortuitous to fall in love with someone so beautiful.’
‘Will, it’s great to meet you, sir. What a fantastic group of people.’
And so on, back slaps and handshakes, air kisses and compliments, as he made a point of greeting each individual in turn.
‘How’s the salad going down? She’s a pretty amazing chef, this one,’ he had added, nudging Lucy proudly.
I kept myself busy by serving up my almost inedible banana bread to the others, watching self-consciously as Susie graciously nibbled it. It was typical that Lin was the only one who wasn’t shy about telling me it didn’t fit in with her vegan, sugar-free and gluten-free diet – hence the free-from-everything cacao brownies she had made again. Helen might have thought I didn’t notice her fold her piece of banana stodge into a napkin and deposit it into the bin untouched, but I did. I smiled affably as she caught my eye.
