by Gil McNeil
‘Sorry, what did you say? I can’t hear you properly.’
‘Ellen.’
‘Yes?’
‘I need to see you.’
‘I’ll be there by five, darling. What’s the matter?’
‘I think I might be pregnant.’
‘What?’
‘Venice.’
‘Fucking hell.’
‘I know.’
There’s a silence.
‘Have you done a test?’
‘Yes.’
There’s another silence.
‘So it wasn’t the custard creams then.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Why you can’t fit into your jeans.’
‘Apparently not.’
‘Fucking hell.’
Oh God, I’m crying again.
‘Sweetheart, please don’t cry. Look, I’ll come down early; we’ll be there as soon as possible, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘God, darling, just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water. I can’t believe it.’
‘I know.’
‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
By the time I’ve got back home and unpacked the shopping I’m due at the shop. Gran’s taken the boys for a walk on the beach with Reg, and Trevor, and I’ve almost managed to calm down, mainly by trying not to think about it.
I’m sorting through the mohair and silks, and trying to pretend everything’s normal when Martin arrives, and starts trailing a tape measure about, whistling.
‘Two sets, or one?’
‘Sorry?’
‘By the door. Do you want a set either side, or just the one?’
‘I’m not sure. Both sides, I think.’
‘OK. That shouldn’t be too tricky. Great meal last night. But it’s my treat, next time.’
‘Sure.’
‘So, whenever you’re free?’
‘Sorry?’
‘If you’d like to … Look, are you all right? You seem a bit strange. If you’ve changed your mind or anything, I completely understand.’ He’s looking worried now.
‘No, it’s not that. It’s just, well …’
‘What?’
‘I think I might be pregnant.’
Christ, why on earth did I say that?
He takes a step backwards.
‘But you can’t be. It was only a kiss.’ He sounds panicky now.
The poor man must think I’ve gone into some kind of nutter meltdown; one kiss and now I’m announcing I’m pregnant.
‘I know, Martin. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything – this is none of your business. I’ve only just found out, that’s all.’
‘Oh right, for a minute there … sorry. So who, I mean, God, sorry, just ignore me. It’s none of my business.’
‘Do you remember that photographer who came into the shop, when Ellen was down, a few months ago? The one who was doing the pictures of Grace for the magazine? Well, we met up, in Venice. Anyway, I’ve only just found out, I haven’t really had time to … well, anyway, sorry, I shouldn’t be telling you all this. Please don’t say anything.’
There’s a silence.
‘Of course. Right. Sorry.’
‘Please stop saying sorry, Martin.’
He moves forward, and then he hesitates.
‘I should probably go.’
‘OK.’
‘We can sort the shelves out any time – just let me know. I’ve got all the measurements I need.’
‘Great.’
‘But call me, if you need anything. Not that I’ll be much use, but still, sorry … Look, I’d better be off.’
‘Thanks, Martin.’
Damn. It looks like that’s all over, before it even began, whatever it was.
By the time Ellen and Harry arrive I’m exhausted. I’ve rearranged most of the stock in the shop in between serving customers and helping Tina pick up the stitches for the front border of her cardigan; all excellent diversionary tactics, but pretty knackering. The boys are building train track all over the living-room floor. Harry’s helping them, while Ellen and I sit in the kitchen.
‘So how are you feeling, darling? A bit less freaked out now you’ve had time to think?’
I nod, and then burst into tears, as quietly as can, so there’s a fair bit of shoulder-heaving and smothered gulping.
‘It might not be definite, you know. How many tests have you done?’
‘Three.’
‘Oh.’
‘Yes. And anyway, I know it is. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid – it’s just like I was with the boys. Christ, you’d think I’d have realised sooner. And what if something goes wrong? What if I die? What’ll happen to the boys then?’
‘Nothing’s going to happen.’
‘But what if it did?’
‘Then me and your Gran would take care of them, and Vin and Lulu, but nothing’s going to happen, please. Christ, you’ll have me in tears in a minute.’
‘I don’t know what’s the matter with me.’
‘Yes, you do. Don’t you remember how obsessed you got when you were pregnant with Archie? You made us all show you our life-insurance policies, and you made Nick go on that first aid-course.’
‘Yes, and I bloody wish I’d gone on it myself now. I can’t do artificial respiration or anything.’
‘Neither could Nick. He just did splints and bandages, remember? He put that bandage on my arm so tight I couldn’t hold my glass.’
‘Yes, but I don’t even know how to do splints. Christ, I really don’t think I can do this, Ellen.’
‘You mean not go ahead with it? That would be all right, you know, darling – it’s a lot to take on.’
‘No, I couldn’t, not after having the boys. It would feel like tempting fate.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Turning down the chance of another baby, it would feel selfish when I’ve been so lucky with the boys. The gods would punish me or something. I’ve looked at too many scan pictures for too long. Christ, what if it’s a girl? I can’t do girls. I can barely do boys.’
She smiles.
‘Of course you can.’
‘I’m nearly forty, for Christ’s sake. I thought I’d be moving towards hot flushing, not having another baby.’
‘Forty’s not old, darling.’
‘I know it’s not, but I’ve had my babies, and anyway we were sensible, we used condoms, we really did. It’s so embarrassing, I feel like a complete idiot.’
‘Is it a mistake then?’
‘Well, I didn’t bloody plan it, that’s for sure.’
‘I know, but I was thinking about it on the drive down, and maybe it’s a kind of payback for all the crap you had last year. It’s something positive and new, like fate has stepped in. Maybe it’s all just part of life’s wonderful journey.’
She tries to keep a straight face, but then snorts with laughter, which makes me laugh too.
‘Christ. It’s just one thing after another with you, isn’t it?’
‘Thanks.’
‘I used to be so jealous of you.’
‘But not any more though, right?’
She smiles.
‘No. I still am, actually.’
‘Then you must be mad.’
‘Darling, think about it: you meet Nick and get married and have two lovely boys, and it was all so perfect, I could hardly bear it sometimes. Not that I was in love with Nick or anything like that.’
We both smile.
‘But still, it was all so grown-up and real I used to feel like your silly teenage sister sometimes, never really getting to do any of the proper stuff.’
‘And that’s another thing I can’t get my head round, the idea that it’s not Nick’s baby, you know. I want to ring him up in Jerusalem and say number three is on the way, and hear him say, Oh Christ, we just got rid of the cot, like he did with Archie. And then he’d get tearful when we went for the scan, and pretend he wasn’t, and flirt with the midwife.’
> She puts her hand on my arm.
‘Stop it.’
‘OK.’
‘This is your baby. And Daniel’s. At least I assume its Daniel’s, unless you’ve got any more surprises up your sleeve. God, I need a drink.’
‘So do I, but I think I’d better stick to tea. There’s still some of that vodka you brought down last time in the pantry, if you fancy that?’
‘Hallelujah.’
She fills a tumbler with ice and pours herself what must be a quadruple vodka, and takes a more modest one in for Harry.
‘They’re having a fabulous time in there – they’ve got trains everywhere. So, have you thought about what you’re going to do, about Daniel?’
‘I think I’ll wait, until I’m sure everything’s all right.’
‘Good plan.’
‘And then, I don’t know, I’ll have to tell him, but I don’t think he’ll want to be part of it, not now he’s back with Liv. And that’s fine.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yes. Absolutely. He didn’t sign up for this.’
‘Neither did you.’
‘No, but I’ve got a choice. So if I go for it, and I will, then I don’t want him guilt-tripped into anything, mucking us all about. I really don’t want that. It’d be crap for everyone, but most important of all it’d be crap for the boys.’
‘Or boys and girl.’
‘Please.’
‘Well, good for you. I’d leave it until you’ve had the baby, if I was you. That way if he wants a DNA test it’ll be simple.’
‘I don’t think it’ll come to that, Ellen.’
‘He’s loaded, darling – he’ll think you’re after his money. Which you bloody should be. Why should this be down to you?’
‘Because it’s me that’s having it. I haven’t asked him to decide, and I’m not going to. This is my choice, and there’s no point pretending there’s anything else going on. I’ll tell him, of course I will, and then it’ll be down to what he wants to do about visits or whatever, but it’ll be nothing more than that. We’re not a couple, Ellen, we never were. Christ, if you’d told me this time last year that all this would be happening I’d never have believed you.’
‘No, but at least you’re making hay while the sun shines.’
‘I don’t like hay – it brings me out in a rash.’
‘I’m trying to be helpful here. Work with me, would you? When you think about it all the really big stuff just happens, you know, the really major stuff like having babies. And dying. Not that the two are connected. But we think we’re in control, although all we can really do is faff about around the edges.’
‘Have you been reading one of your Who Moved My Chicken Soup From Venus books again?’
‘No. But it’s true, you can only play the cards you’re dealt, right?’
‘Well, I think I’ll fold on this hand, if nobody minds. I’ll just sit this one out and eat crisps.’
She smiles.
‘But you’re definitely having it, right? For better or worse?’
‘Yes. And definitely bloody poorer.’
‘Well then, so am I, I’m going to go for it.’
‘Go for what?’
‘A baby. There, I’ve said it. I really want one. And if I may just say, I think it’s absolutely typical of you to get pregnant at the exact moment I realise it’s what I really want. I’m going to be so jealous, all over again.’
‘Oh sweetheart, I thought you’d already decided.’
‘Can’t a girl change her mind?’
‘Have you talked to Harry?’
‘He’s up for it, if I am. But he’s not desperate. So it’s fine either way. Just think, if I get a move on we could be pregnant together. Wouldn’t that be fabulous? I can be a bigger bride than I was planning on, and we can sit knitting and looking at our big fat stomachs.’
‘I can already do that, thank you very much.’
‘Yes, but at least you’ve got a good excuse now.’
‘It’s very early days, you know, Ellen. Anything might happen. Things go wrong, you know, all the time.’
‘I know, but I can see you with another baby.’
‘Can you?’
‘Yes.’
‘How am I doing?’
‘Great. And the boys are too.’
‘Thank God for that. If I survived last year I can survive this one, right?’
‘Exactly. And if you have a girl and I have a boy we can always do a swap, can’t we? Boys aren’t really into shopping, are they?’
‘Not so you’d notice; not unless it involves buying plastic swords.’
She laughs.
‘I’m starving. What have you got in the fridge?’
‘God knows. What do you fancy?’
‘Lamb chops with celeriac mash, and a passion-fruit pavlova.’
‘Spaghetti carbonara? I meant to buy a chicken, but I forgot. But I’ve got two packs of KitKats, and a jumbo assortment of chocolate mini rolls.’
‘Sounds good to me.’
‘Go and sell it to the boys, would you?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Sign them up for carbonara, and don’t mention the KitKats, or they’ll want them now. And don’t let Jack start obsessing about the bacon. He thinks he doesn’t like it, but he does. And Archie’s not keen on Parmesan – he’ll ask you if there’s cheese. Just say no. He likes it when it’s melted, so I don’t tell him.’
‘So no bacon, invisible cheese, and no mention of KitKats to soften the blow. And if I fail?’
‘They’ll both whine and refuse to eat anything, and Archie will get very stroppy – he always does when he’s hungry – and throw a fit.’
‘Bloody hell.’
‘So no pressure at all then?’
‘Welcome to my world.’
Chapter Three
April
Now We Are Six
‘What time’s your hospital appointment?’
‘Ten, but that could mean lunchtime if they’re anything like they were in London.’
‘And you’re sure you don’t want me to come, darling?’
‘I’ll be fine, Ellen. Jack, go up and find your socks and tell Archie to do his teeth, love. We need to leave for school soon.’
‘Are you still feeling sick?’
‘A bit.’
‘Isn’t that supposed to wear off after the first twelve weeks, or something?’
Ellen’s been doing her research; she’s still talking about having a baby, and she always likes to be thoroughly prepared when she’s about to embark on a big story.
‘I polished off two Easter eggs last night so I think that might have something to do with it. I was trying to finish them up so the boys would stop bickering.’
‘Isn’t that cheating?’
‘I do it every year, otherwise I’ve got bowls of half-eaten chocolate in the fridge for weeks. Jack can make a small piece of chocolate last longer than anyone I know.’
‘But that’s only to upset Archie, right?’
‘Mainly, but he’s always been the same – he loves saving things.’
‘He’ll probably grow up to be a bank manager.’
‘Well, that’ll come in handy. Oh, hang on a minute.’
There’s thudding and shouting coming from upstairs, and with the help of my maternal X-ray vision I know that Jack isn’t letting Archie get any toothpaste.
‘Stop it, Jack, and come down and get your shoes on.’
There’s a silence, which means there’ll be Quiet Seething going on, but at least we won’t end up with toothpaste all over the bathroom floor again.
‘All quiet on the Western Front?’
‘Temporarily.’
‘How’s the shop going?’
‘Fine, I’m sure I can build it up more, and Martin’s starting on the shelves at the weekend so I can have more stock out.’
‘So he’s got over you being up the duff then?’
‘Sort of. We didn’t really mention it last time
I saw him. He seemed a bit distracted; I think he’s concentrating on his offer for the barn. But he was talking about the website again, and that’s bound to help sales. What’s that thing they say, work smarter, not harder?’
‘Now you’re talking. Sell up and come back to town and I’ll get you back into news. You’ll be earning a fortune in no time, and we can have lunch, like we used to. It’ll be great.’
‘And do I tell them I’m pregnant at the interview, or what? Actually, I probably won’t need to tell them – you can already tell.’
‘Well, after the baby then. It’s a brilliant plan, and we could do a nanny share.’
‘Maybe we should wait until you’re actually pregnant before we start talking about nannies.’
‘It’s on my list.’
‘I know, sweetheart, but sometimes it takes a while.’
‘It didn’t for you.’
‘Yes, it did, with Jack.’
‘Oh yes, I’d forgotten about that.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be fine.’
‘A nanny share would save us a fortune, right?’
‘Yes, but I like it here, Ellen, you know that, and so do the boys, and I need Gran as my back-up. I don’t think I can do this without her, I really don’t. She makes me feel safe, and I can use as much of that as I can get at the moment.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘And anyway, I can’t afford to live in London. Whatever I was earning would just go on the mortgage and childcare and I’d be no further forward – and a lot more stressed out. And so would the boys.’
Archie comes downstairs, looking furious.
‘He spitted on my arm, on purpose.’
‘Look, I’d better go – there’s spitting going on down here. But I’ll call you later.’
‘The minute you’ve finished at the hospital.’
‘Promise.’
‘Good luck, darling.’
‘He did it on purpose. He did, Mum. Tell him.’
‘I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose, was it, Jack?’
Jack’s standing in the kitchen looking sheepish while I de-toothpaste his brother.
‘Sorry, Arch.’
‘No, you’re not. I don’t accept. You can say that, when somebody says sorry and you don’t believe them. Mrs Berry said you can.’
‘Right.’
‘Yes, because Harry pushed me, when I was doing painting, and he said sorry, but he didn’t mean it because he was smiling, and he did it on purpose because I was doing such good painting. So I pushed him right back, and he made such a fuss. Like this.’ He starts yelling and clutching his arm. ‘Stupid baby, like I’d really hurt him. But I will do, if he does it again.’
