by Gil McNeil
‘Go over and do one of your special charm offensives, would you, please, Ellen?’
‘Oh Christ, do I have to? I thought we could go to the pub.’
‘I can’t go to the pub in the middle of the knit-in. And anyway, it’s shut; Connie and Mark are both here. Just go over and sort him out, please, before he arrests Lady Denby or something.’
The snappers take a few more photographs of us all sitting knitting as the councillors and the people from the Planning Department start to arrive, and Ellen signs autographs for PC Mike and the new grumpy one, and shows him inside the camera van, and he starts looking a great deal happier and stands by the doors of the library, evidently quite pleased with himself while the snappers take lots of pictures of Ellen, and then the men in the smart suits come back out, and walk very quickly back up the high street.
Linda laughs. ‘Looks like the meeting didn’t last quite as long as they planned. Should we stay here until the rest of them come out?’
‘Let’s give it a bit longer, shall we? They’re bound to come back out soon.’
I’m standing with Connie and Ellen when the man from the local paper comes over, looking a bit panicky.
‘I don’t think I got any good photographs of Grace Harrison. I mean, I tried but they kept pushing me out of the way; they’re very aggressive, some of those photographers. She won’t be coming back by any chance, will she?’
‘Sorry.’
‘I got one of you and Miss Malone, though, and I got a good one of her getting back into the car. Do you think that will be enough?’
Ellen smiles. ‘I’m sure it will.’
‘I couldn’t have your autograph, could I? Only I know my boss would like it, and it might help when he sees my photographs. He tends to throw things when he gets angry.’
‘Of course. I’ll give you a quote, if you like. Would that help?’
‘That would be brilliant.’
The planning department people come out first, in a little huddle, and practically run up the road, and then the local councillors, including Angela’s husband, Peter, who looks livid.
‘What on earth are you doing here, Angela? I thought I made myself perfectly clear.’
We all pretend we’re not listening.
‘I’m making my own mind up for a change, Peter.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I’m just doing what I think is right.’
‘It’s only a proposal, I’ve told you. It might not happen.’
‘Well, it had better not.’
He starts to splutter.
‘I mean it, Peter.’
He stomps off towards the car park.
Tina laughs.
‘You certainly told him where to get off, Ange.’
Angela’s gone pink. ‘I think it’s about time, don’t you? I’ve let him have his own way for far too long.’
Linda stands up. ‘We’re all off to the pub for a sandwich. Why don’t you join us?’
‘Do you know, I think I might.’
Linda smiles. ‘Good for you. Right, then, everyone back to the pub, and mine’s a double. Come on, Connie, we’ll race you.’
Bloody hell. Nearly all the papers have run pictures of Grace sitting in a deckchair knitting, with a line or two about the library, and Ellen’s piece ran at six and ten, and everyone’s been in and out of the shop looking at themselves in the paper and having a marvellous time. Maggie says the Council are already backtracking and saying they never meant they were going to close the library, they were just exploring options, and they’ve all been told not to talk to the press if anyone calls, so it looks like we might have won, although we won’t know for sure until the next Planning Committee meeting in May. Cath has delivered the petition, and we’re all feeling very pleased with ourselves. In fact, the only person in the whole of Broadgate who doesn’t seem delighted is Annabel Morgan, who was definitely giving me the evil eye in the playground again this morning, but I was too busy talking to Connie about the wallpaper for her spare room to take much notice. She wants me to go shopping with her next week, and I’ve promised to help her put it up because she’s never done wallpaper before, but she’s much happier now she knows her mum’s coming over.
Elsie and Gran are in bliss with all the excitement, and Elsie’s bought a special album for all the press cuttings, so they’ve been holding court in the shop all day, and by the time I’m picking up the boys from school I’m so exhausted that all I really want is a nice little lie-down. I don’t think I’m over my cold properly yet, and yesterday’s excitements seem to have made me even more knackered than usual. But apparently I promised we’d take Trevor for a walk after school, which I’d completely forgotten about.
‘You promised, Mum.’
‘All right, but finish your juice and then go up and get changed. I don’t want your school trousers getting all sandy.’
They look at each other and shake their heads just like Vin and I used to do with Mum, which is rather annoying. They’ve been doing it quite a lot lately, in between their usual routine of light bickering punctuated with occasional bouts of actual bodily harm.
‘And you’ll have to wear your wellies, Archie.’
‘I’m not wearing wellies. Only babies wear wellies, and girls. Molly Tanner wears hers all the time, and they’re pink. And I hate her.’
Jack starts to giggle. ‘That’s only because she wants to be your girlfriend.’
Archie glares at him. ‘She does not. And anyway I don’t want a girlfriend. If you’ve got a girlfriend you have to do kissing.’ He starts to make being-sick noises.
Jack looks superior. ‘I might have a girlfriend when I get bigger. But I don’t want one who gets hormones.’
Hormones? Who’s been telling him about hormones? Damn, I’m not really up to a hormones conversation right now.
‘Marco told me his dad says it sometimes when his mum gets in a temper, and then they do kissing in the kitchen. Did you and Dad do kissing in the kitchen, Mum? I can’t remember.’
Oh God. ‘Yes. Sometimes.’
Not often enough probably. But sometimes.
‘Well I might do that, when I’m grown up, I haven’t decided yet, but I might. And we can all live in a big house, can’t we?’ He looks at me rather seriously.
‘Yes, or you could live in your own house and we’d see each other all the time, like with Gran.’
He’s horrified.
‘No, we can all live together, and you can do the cooking.’
‘Okay.’
‘Because people die, don’t they, Mum?’
‘Yes, darling.’
‘But you won’t, you’ll just be old like Gran, won’t you?’
‘That’s the plan, sweetheart.’
Archie seems worried.
‘Can I can live in the house, too?’
Jack looks at him very carefully, as if he’s weighing up the pros and cons of the application.
‘Yes, you can. And we can have dogs. And televisions in our bedrooms.’
Archie’s delighted. Harry Morgan has a television in his bedroom and they’ve both been on a mission to join him in this audio-visual paradise ever since they heard about it.
‘Hang on a minute. I’m not sure about televisions in bedrooms. Wouldn’t it be really noisy?’
They both shake their heads. ‘Yes, but we’d be grown-ups then, Mum.’
‘I know, Jack, but the funny thing about being a grown-up is that, however grown-up you are, you’ll still be my baby.’
He nods, but Archie’s less convinced.
‘But we won’t have to wear wellies, will we?’
‘No, Archie, probably not.’
‘And sometimes we could have tickle fights, like we used to at our old house. We did, didn’t we? And Daddy always won.’
They both smile, and look at me, expectantly, which I think is probably my cue to go into tickle monster mode. Bugger.
I start waggling my fingers.
‘Oh
dear. Quick. I think the tickle monster might be back, and the last person up the stairs is going to get seriously tickled.’
They both shriek, and run for the stairs.
Double bugger.
It’s ten past eight in the morning and I’m trying to make packed-lunch sandwiches while simultaneously extolling the virtues of Weetabix as the breakfast cereal of choice for superheroes, when Maxine calls.
‘We’re at the hospital.’
‘Oh God, so it’s today, then?’
‘Looks like it. Grace wondered if you’d like to come up, around three?’
‘Yes of course I would. I’d love to.’
‘I’ll meet you by the main doors. And just ignore the press.’
‘Okay. Is there anything you need?’
‘Me?’
‘Yes. I can bring you some food if you like, or bottles of juice or something. Those machines are always so horrible.’
‘No, I’m fine, but thanks.’
The news breaks while I’m driving to the hospital, and they’re saying she had a baby girl early this morning. Ellen calls me.
‘I’m on my way there now. Maxine rang.’
‘God, you’re definitely on her friends and family list.’
‘I know. I never thought she’d ask me to the hospital.’
‘I would, if it was me.’
‘I should bloody hope so.’
‘No, I mean if I was her I would. You’ve had two of your own so you know what it’s like, and more importantly you’re discreet. Practically everyone else trying to get through those doors only wants to be there so they can tell everyone about it. They don’t really give a fuck about her.’
‘Well, I do. God, I hope she’s all right.’
I’m suddenly feeling rather tearful. Actually, I’ve been feeling pretty close to tears ever since Maxine called me.
‘She’ll be fine. So call me and tell me everything, off the record, of course.’
‘Of course. That’ll be me doing the discreet thing, will it?’
She laughs. ‘All right. Give her my best, will you, and say many congratulations. I’ve sent her some flowers but I doubt she’ll even see them.’
‘That was nice of you.’
‘Darling, trust me, everyone and their dog will have sent her flowers.’
‘Oh God, I haven’t. Should I stop and get some, do you think? I’ve knitted a crib set, a blanket and a little duck, and a shawl for her, in cotton, and some little shoes. I knitted a pink pair and a blue pair, I couldn’t resist, they’re so sweet.’
‘Sounds perfect.’
‘So I don’t need flowers then?’
‘No, but you do need to call me. And if you can get a snap or two of the baby, we can both go to the Bahamas for a month.’
By the time I get to the hospital there are hordes of press outside. Maxine’s waiting for me by the doors and takes me straight up in the lift.
‘How is she?’
‘Great. Brilliant, actually. But it’s all been a bit manic’
We walk along a corridor to a side room full of flowers, where Ed’s talking on his mobile phone.
‘Dump your stuff and I’ll take you in. We’ve had all sorts of nutters turning up with teddy bears and posing for the press: actresses, studio people, producers, people we’ve never heard of – you name it, they’re all turning up.’
‘God, how awful.’
‘Don’t worry, we’ve got Bruno on the door, and nobody gets past Bruno.’
Ed waves to me, as Maxine leads me back along the corridor towards Bruno.
‘She’s in here.’
I hesitate and she nods.
‘Go on, she’s waiting for you.’
I open the door, and there she is, lying in bed and smiling and holding a tiny baby wrapped up in a pink sheet.
‘Hello, Jo. I’d like you to meet Lily May Harrison.’
She looks so proud as she lifts the baby up so I can see her face.
‘Oh, Grace, she’s beautiful.’
‘She is, isn’t she?’
‘She’s absolutely perfect.’
We both smile.
‘And how are you? You look wonderful.’
‘I feel wonderful, and you were right, it was great. Amazing, actually. One minute they were asking me to tell them if I could feel anything, and the next minute they were handing her to me. And she didn’t cry, you know, she just opened her eyes and looked at me. It was the best moment of my life.’
I can feel myself smiling as she looks down at the baby.
‘I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s so perfect. Would you like to hold her?’
‘I’d love to.’
‘Just don’t move more than six inches from the bed. I can’t have her more than six inches away.’
‘Of course.’
She hands me the baby, who hardly weighs anything at all: I’d forgotten how tiny they are, especially when they’re not yours. She opens one eye and then closes it again.
‘She keeps doing that. She’s got really blue eyes, and look at her fingers, can you believe it?’
‘They’re beautiful.’
She opens the presents, and immediately puts the shawl round her shoulders. ‘This is perfect.’
The pink shoes are a big success, too.
‘How did you know that she’d be a girl?’
‘I just knew.’
‘Oh.’
I show her the blue ones in my bag.
‘They announced it on the radio while I was driving up.’
‘Did you hear that, sweetheart? You’re a media star and you’re not even a day old yet.’
‘She’s obviously a very clever baby.’
‘She’s already had two feeds, well, two and a half, really, but then she fell asleep.’
‘Has she? Well, that was very clever of her, and pretty clever of her mum as well.’
‘She’s a very advanced baby.’
‘I’m sure she is. And Lily’s such a lovely name.’
‘My mum was called Lily, and my nan was May.’
We sit in silence and look at the baby.
‘I can’t wait to take her home.’
‘How long will you be in?’
‘As long as I want; a couple more days, I think. I get this out tomorrow.’ She holds up her arm which has a drip taped to the back of her hand. ‘And then it depends on how I’m feeling.’
‘Well, don’t rush it. It’s weird, going home. Take your time.’
‘Max has sorted me out a nurse for the first few weeks, and a nanny for her, so we should be fine. At least, I hope we will.’
‘Of course you will. You’ll be great.’
Maxine comes in.
‘Ed wants to check if it’s okay to give them a statement.’
‘Fine.’
‘Shall we give them the name?’
‘Yes, that’s fine.’
‘Only Ed thinks we should wait, and give them her name when you leave?’
‘Okay, that’s probably better.’
‘Do you need anything?’
‘No, thanks.’
All the time she’s been speaking Maxine’s been looking at the baby.
Grace smiles.
‘Would you like to hold her now?’ She turns to me. ‘I asked her earlier but she was too nervous. But she’s dying to hold her, I know she is. Jo will show you, Max, you’ll be fine.’
‘Oh no, really.’
‘Max, shut up and hold her for a minute. You’ll like it, I promise.’
Maxine looks very nervous as I put the baby in her arms.
‘Oh, God.’
The baby stirs and then settles.
‘Oh, God. She’s … I don’t know. God, she just opened her eyes.’
‘She must like you, which is handy since it’ll be you helping me walk her up and down in the middle of the night if the nanny’s on a break. Now give her back to Jo and go and sort Ed out.’
‘Okay.’
She doesn’t move; I th
ink she’s gone into a trance. ‘I didn’t know they were so little.’
‘They get bigger, Max. Jo, you’d better help her.’
Grace is starting to look tired.
‘Sure, and then I should leave you to sleep. Shall I put her back in her crib?’
‘Please.’
I lie her down and she’s fast asleep as I put the blanket over her and tuck it under the mattress like I used to do with the boys when they were tiny.
‘Thanks for coming, Jo. I wanted you to see her.’
‘I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. And promise you’ll let me know if you need anything, anything at all.’
She smiles. ‘Some pink wool would be nice, when I get home. I think I’d like to make her a blanket with her name on. Pale pink, though, and soft.’
‘Of course. Blush and pale rose?’
‘Perfect.’
I give Maxine a hug as I’m leaving, and she hugs me back, and we’re both slightly tearful, which makes us laugh, and then I make it back to the car just in time: there’s a parking warden lurking round the corner, and the meter’s only got ten minutes left. As I’m driving back through the City the sun comes out, which makes the Tower of London look even more like a stage set than it usually does. I’m thinking about the boys when they were babies, and remembering how nervous Nick was when he first held Jack, when I start to feel a bit wobbly. I’m starving so I pull into a McDonald’s and get some chips and a coffee, and suddenly I’ve got tears rolling down my face. I’ve almost pulled myself together when I see the blue shoes in my bag, and that sets me right off again. Bloody hell, this is getting ridiculous. But she was so tiny, and Grace was so happy; and so it begins again. The circle of life and all that bollocks; it’s like a miracle, every time.
We’re in the shop on Saturday morning, with the boys campaigning to go to the beach, even though it’s freezing outside. Gran’s at the hairdresser’s, and I’m trying to sort out some wool for Grace, who’s due home tomorrow. I’ve ordered in some pink silk for her, and some baby cotton, and I’m trying to arrange it all in a basket, but it’s not looking quite how I want it to, and then Jack spills juice on his sweatshirt and starts fussing about it and blaming Archie.
‘Stop whining, Jack.’
‘It’s not fair. He did it on purpose.’
‘It’s only a tiny bit of juice. And, Archie, stay there, sit on that chair and stop being so annoying or we won’t go to the beach. You promised you’d be careful with your juice, and you’re not a baby, I should be able to trust you to sit quietly for five minutes.’
