by Rosa Temple
‘I’m sorry, but you know this whole giving birth thing is a bit more involved than a few ripples in your tummy, right?’
‘Okay, great. Now I’m really freaking out.’
‘Anya, I think when the time comes, you’ll surprise yourself. Just chill. Run a bath. That’s what I’m going to do.’
‘Madge, I’m getting so bored. I vish this baby vould come already.’
‘Just relax and bide your time. He’ll be here sooner than you know.’
I retired to my own bath after talking Anya down from the ledge. Sinking beneath the bubbles I whisked myself to the seafront in Italy, holding hands with Anthony, walking along the beach and watching waves beat in against the wet rocks. I finally began to chill out. I could feel the tension leave my face, my neck and my shoulders. I let out a long sigh and felt sleepy in no time. My eyelids closed and opened involuntarily, lingering sweeps of my lashes on my cheeks, blotting out the candlelit bathroom and taking me off somewhere far away from Chelsea.
I allowed my eyes to close for a while and suddenly I saw Hugo. He was sitting on the rocks by the sea, wearing a white cotton shirt that flapped at the collar because of a strong wind. He was pale and he was waiting for me but he hadn’t noticed me making my way along the rocky beach. Just then Anthony walked right by him, blocking Hugo from sight. Anthony didn’t notice me either. I suddenly felt cold. I waved my arms so they could both see I was there. Somewhere nearby I heard water by my ear and felt myself sinking beneath it. I woke with a start only to find I’d drifted off to sleep in the bath. The bubbles had melted and one of my candles had flickered out.
Chapter 9
I was beginning to run out of energy. Each day of my life seemed to be jam-packed with things to do, all of them pressing and needing my constant attention. Riley was proving to be a whizz around the office. She still had a haphazard way of going about things, was terribly scatter-brained and forgetful at times, but that was the girl I’d hired, hoping she’d morph into a super personal assistant. She hadn’t. But nowadays, when Riley said ‘leave it to me’ and tapped the side of her nose, she always came up with the goods – even if coming up with the goods was only at the last minute. Competent but rather idiosyncratic is how I would describe her now. No matter how she made things happen I was just so grateful to have some pressure taken off my shoulders.
The person I did have to worry about was Anya. I was only too glad to be there to support her through her pregnancy but it meant I was having to stop work for the constant phone calls I was getting from her. Anya was still coming to terms with every change in her body. I found myself driving over to her house to go through all her pregnancy books with her just to keep her assured she had nothing to worry about. I was on the verge of losing my sanity but I stayed cool around her.
Another pressing matter was that very morning I’d be having my first meeting and induction at the shop with my two new members of staff, Jaime and Zac.
Anya had a very important antenatal appointment booked on the same day I was having the induction. Her appointment was late afternoon and I was due to be at the shop at nine in the morning.
‘Will you be all right for the morning while I take care of things at the shop?’ I’d asked Anya earlier on when she called to report that she could only stomach cornflakes for breakfast these days, one bowl with hot milk followed by one with cold, and was that normal? I assured her that it was and to count herself lucky she wasn’t into eating chalk or corned beef for breakfast.
‘Yes, I’ll be fine, Madge. I promise not to call or panic you at all. I know the shop is important. I’ll just be patient until you arrive.’
‘Try to rest,’ I said. ‘I’ll be there in good time for the appointment. Don’t worry.’ I blew a kiss down the phone and Anya reciprocated.
In one of her latest telephone calls Anya had told me she was feeling funny. After I probed her about what feeling funny meant to her I became really concerned and got her to make an urgent appointment with her consultant and then whisked her off for a checkup. As I suspected, her symptoms were very serious and we discovered that Anya had low amniotic fluid. The news had me remembering how convinced she’d been that something might go wrong with the pregnancy or the delivery. When the consultant revealed the results Anya’s complexion went from pale to deathly white. Her baby’s oxygen could be impaired, not to mention his development, if the problem became too severe.
As a result of having low amniotic fluid Anya had to be monitored carefully by the hospital to make sure the baby didn’t become stressed. It hit home hard that there was also a chance of something life-threatening occurring to one or other of them during labour.
‘Tell me how to manage it and I vill,’ was all she’d said. Not a shred of panic in her manner while my heart was beating out of my chest.
‘I’ll put the whole shop thing on hold until you safely deliver this baby,’ I had assured her as we left the hospital that day.
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ she’d said as she glided through the automatic doors at the front of the private hospital. ‘I’ll get to full term and I’ll have a healthy baby. You just get that shop up and running, Madge.’
Since allowing myself to entertain the awful thought that something might go wrong, I very quickly understood why Anya had had me running around after her with every week that went by of her pregnancy. With every phone call she’d made to me she must have truly suspected the worst and wasn’t being melodramatic for effect only. Now her fears had been given a name: oligohydramnios – low amniotic fluid. Anya’s calm when she left the hospital was obvious; she’d resolved to make sure the baby survived and would go to any lengths to ensure she carried her baby boy to term and gave him a fighting chance. I’d hugged her as we sat in the back of the taxi the day we found out about her condition.
‘Vot’s that for?’ she’d said, pulling away in her cold manner.
‘Because I love you,’ I’d said, trying to fight back tears. ‘You’re my best friend and I want to take care of you.’
‘You already are, Madge,’ she’d said, edging away from me and looking out of the window. I placed my hand on her bump and she didn’t complain.
So you can understand why I was a bit on edge the morning of the staff induction. It wasn’t because I had no experience of running a shop, having only gone into shops for the sole purpose of maxing out my credit card. It was the impending hospital appointment more than anything.
I arrived early and paced around, taking in the new-shop smell, running my fingers over the newly fitted shelves and rails, telling myself to stay calm because I’d secured experienced staff. In particular a manager, Jaime, who could take care of all the day-to-day operations. I sighed with relief when she came bounding into the shop about half an hour before I was expecting her and started spouting sales speak to me. While I smiled and nodded and made out I knew what she meant, I felt quietly confident that once the shop was up and running I would have nothing to worry about.
‘So where do you want the casual bags positioned and are you going to go for a blatant man bag, handbag divide of the layout in here?’ Jaime, as I already mentioned, had a brusque manner but she didn’t come across as cold. On the contrary she smiled a lot and was friendly and businesslike all in the same breath.
Her long, dark hair was thick and shiny and she swished it a lot as she moved, taking confident strides across the shiny, all-wood floor in dramatic heels and a tightly fitted dress. I had come in my sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt because stock was being delivered and I was anticipating a lot of fetching and carrying. Jaime was all business in her dress from Hobbs and heels from Browns.
Zac, whom I’d expected to come dressed to the nines as well, had played it down. Probably not as casual as me as his grey sweatpants and zip-up sweat top were pretty chic. With his jet-black hair smoothed down by some extremely shiny product in neat waves and his eyebrows looking freshly waxed, he made me look positively dowdy. He was the ‘after’ to my ‘before’. But he w
as so sweet, his enthusiasm oozing from every pore. When the boxes of stock arrived he oo’d and ah’d as he stroked the leather goods, placing a manicured hand across his open mouth as he gasped things like, ‘I am so, so happy to be part of this I could drop dead right now and have the biggest smile on my face. Trust me. These bags are heavenly, Magenta.’
Organising the layout of the shop seemed to fall into place between the three of us so easily. We arranged shelves and rails with flair and gusto, and with Jaime and Zac’s vision so in keeping with mine, I was able to go off and leave them to finish the rest and not worry I’d hate the result. By about two in the afternoon we were all desperately hungry.
‘Let’s pop across the road to Rhythm ‘N’ Brews,’ I suggested. ‘I’ll treat us all to lunch.’
We locked up the shop. It had begun to rain so we sprinted across the road to the trendy café bar. From a table by the window I sat and smiled as I viewed the newly refurbished and mostly stocked shop. The name, which I’d had painted on a Sunday, late afternoon, when no one was around, had been covered over. The windows were dressed on the inside with brown paper so that, from the outside, passers-by could only see what looked like an unopened gift box with a red ribbon around it and the words Opening Soon! Designer bags for men and women by Shearman Bright, painted in red, swirly letters.
‘So, Anya will be at the naming ceremony, will she?’ Zac said as he stabbed a red pepper with his fork and waved it like a wand next to Jaime’s face.
‘Absolutely. As well as the press. I hope I haven’t gone overboard. Having a naming ceremony as well as a celebrity event the following evening before the official opening day?’ I was tucking into a Peggy Leek soup with a caramelised goat’s cheese flatbread on the side. Jaime shook her head and Zac dropped his cutlery to use his hands for emphasis.
‘You’re just like me,’ he gushed. ‘Any excuse for a party. Not to mention the extra publicity. So what celebs will be at the evening event?’
‘The usual fashion lot. Lots of Anya’s model friends and as many personalities as I could muster. With Anya’s help, of course.’
‘Don’t be so modest, Magenta. I’m pretty sure you know a fair few A-listers yourself.’ Zac placed a manicured finger to the side of his face and looked at me sideways on with an arch of his waxed eyebrow. He grinned with gleaming, white teeth as my cheeks went hot. He was right. I had notched up some celebrity acquaintances in my time as well as some actual friendships. Tom Hardy and his wife would definitely be at the celebrity bash, but I thought if I told Zac he might faint into his Chick Pea Corea hot salad. I’d surprise him with the guest list nearer the time.
That time was exactly one week away and Anthony was still not home. Anthony couldn’t have apologised more for the delay.
‘But I promise to be there at the opening,’ he’d said.
‘So you booked your flight?’
‘Well, no… I—’
‘So don’t promise then, Anthony. It’s okay. I completely understand. I’m doing my thing and you’re doing yours and we’ll have times like this… when we have to be apart and I just have to deal with it.’
‘I’ll do all I can to finish up here, Magenta.’
‘No. It’s going to be fine. You’re going to be a world-famous artist and I’ll be so happy for you when you are. I’m not going to get in the way of that, not at all. Besides which, what is the Grand Opening anyway if not a party? I love parties, you hate them, so where’s the problem in that?’
Anthony had laughed, his deep, sexy chuckle from across the miles, and my heart flipped over on itself. Of course I wanted him there but I wasn’t going to tell him and start to cry.
‘Just keep me posted,’ I’d said. ‘Keep at it, darling and I’ll see you when you get here.’
I had wished there was a spell I could cast that could make Anthony paint faster and be here in good time for the opening but there wasn’t.
‘I need to get going,’ I told Jaime and Zac as I waved the waiter over for the bill. ‘Take your time. I’ll leave you to sort out the labelling up and security tagging. Give Riley a call, Jaime, when you get back. She’ll let you know what the budget is for furnishing the back office, washroom and staffroom. I’ll leave it up to you to choose what you need, if that’s okay with you.’
‘Perfect,’ she said, dabbing her full lips with a napkin. I noticed that not a trace of her lipstick had faded during lunch and wondered if she was more machine than shop manager. Everything about her was so pristine and perfect.
‘I have to accompany Anya to have some blood tests.’
‘No complications are there?’ Zac frowned and looked on the verge of tears.
‘Nothing the hospital can’t handle,’ I assured him. I got up and pulled the strap of my shoulder bag up. ‘She’s not due until after we open and I’ll be completely ready for it knowing you guys will be doing an amazing job selling every bag we have in stock, and then some.’
Jaime smiled and Zac saluted me as I left to pick up Anya.
I hadn’t, for obvious reasons, told Zac the truth about Anya’s pregnancy. I just got into the taxi and, when I arrived at her house, found her already at the front door, ready to go for her appointment.
Chapter 10
‘You’re in sports clothes, Madge.’ Anya did a quick swoop of my attire with her big green eyes as she got into the taxi.
‘I’m sorry.’ I looked down at my sweats. I had a scuff mark on the knee and looked very un-Magentalike – not just by my standards but, obviously, Anya’s too.
‘Having a baby is no reason to dress like a council-estate mother,’ she said.
‘Anya, I doubt very much you even know what a council estate looks like, let alone a mother who lives on one. I had an active day and they may not be designer but they cost dear.’
Anya had secretly been concerned (well, I say secretly but she dropped enough hints for me to know) that I had made additions to my wardrobe that were not exactly designer labels. It first happened when I was stressing about Anthony flying off to Italy at the very start of our relationship while dealing with the aftermath of dumping Hugo. I’d wandered into Primark and bought a handful of colourful T-shirts, followed by some non-label toiletries from T K Maxx. Anya had given me the number of a therapist she knew.
‘Don’t worry,’ I said, dusting off my knee. ‘No one will be looking at me. You’re the star of the show. You and this little man.’
Anya was quiet for the journey up to the private hospital on Brompton Road. I was, too, wanting to hold her hand all the way along the A4. But I knew Anya hated the smooshy stuff so I kept my smoosh metre on about a two. It shot up to a five because I couldn’t resist helping her out of the taxi when the driver pulled up to the glass doors at the front.
It was a slow and solemn walk to the maternity department and neither of us was in the mood for talking. Anya was seen pretty quickly and I followed her into a dimly lit room where she was due to have a scan that would determine the level of her amniotic fluid and tell us whether the levels had become so low they might have to induce labour.
‘I’ll need to discuss the results with the chief of obstetrics, Anya.’
There was a different person doing the scan this time. A busty woman in her late forties with glasses that sat on the end of her nose, meaning she had to tilt her head upwards and look along her nose to see through them. ‘If you wouldn’t mind taking a seat in the waiting room, she’ll be with you shortly.’
‘Is there anything you can tell me before she gets here?’ Anya usually spoke to anyone attending to her as if they were her staff. She never usually made eye contact and she usually had a hand ready to dismiss them when she was through with them. But this time her voice was soft, a slight tremble almost audible.
‘In my opinion, your fluids are about the same but it’s up to Mrs Winterman to decide what happens next.’ She gave Anya a warm smile and got up quickly so she didn’t have to discuss the matter further.
Anya didn’t p
ersist. Ordinarily she would demand to see the person in charge without delay but we went and sat patiently in the waiting room until Anya’s name was called.
‘I’m happy for you to go home tonight, Anya.’ In her roomy office Mrs Winterman was looking at some printouts and had called something up on her computer screen. She gave a half-smile and took off her horn-rimmed glasses. ‘How are you feeling in yourself? Healthy?’
Anya nodded.
‘Good. Well, if I could just prod your tummy for a bit.’ She motioned to the bed against the wall and pulled a screen across while Anya, once again, took off her shoes, climbed up and raised her silk top to reveal the tight orb around her middle. The doctor went behind the screen while I sat waiting. ‘Any discomfort?’
‘No,’ Anya breathed. ‘In fact since I found out about this amniotic fluid business I’ve never felt better. Are my chances of going to term still good?’
‘I would say so. You’ve got another two and a half weeks to go so just hang in there. I’d like you to come in again next week though, just for another checkup. We still need to keep monitoring, right up until the time comes. It’s for the best, you know.’
‘I do. It’s fine, Doctor. Anything I have to do, I’ll do it.’
‘If you’re still feeling good next week then I won’t admit you and have you lying around in here all day.’ I heard the doctor wash her hands and some movement behind the screen as Anya sat up. The doctor reappeared. ‘But you have to take it easy and get lots of rest. Can you do that? You’ve not got any work on at the moment, have you?’
I caught Anya’s eye as the screen went back. She had no assignments as such but she was due to put in an appearance at the shop when the name was revealed and the next day for the celebrity evening bash.
‘Nothing strenuous at all,’ Anya said and winked at me.
I pinched my lips together. The last thing I wanted was the baby’s health to be in jeopardy because of my shop. As we left Mrs Winterman’s consulting room and began our long meander through the corridors and back to the front exit, I grabbed Anya’s arm.
