by Lucy Dawson
I laugh, thinking she’s joking. After all, this is the Rose who took herself off to Africa for three months on her own after we graduated and worked as a volunteer in a medical centre, bombing about all over the place in a jeep held together by prayer, rust and string.
Everyone looks at me in surprise and I realise she’s not. So quickly, I make it look like I was coughing and say, ‘Why not? Can’t hurt to do some research can it? I don’t so much as buy suntan lotion without going on Trip Advisor first.’
The first woman nods approvingly. ‘You don’t want to wind up like my friend, who bought the first high chair she saw. Rose, it’s total crap – it doesn’t fold away – she’s gutted.’
Rose begins to open my present. I almost want to tell her to save it until later, seeing as I’ve bought her a girly DVD, a selection of glossy magazines and the four cupcakes; nothing baby-related at all – what the hell was I thinking? It all seemed quite fun yesterday. Now …
But Rose says, ‘Oh great – I still haven’t seen this yet. Thanks Moll. And magazines and cakes! Perfect!’
She puts it all down on the table, gets to her feet and puffs over to give me a hug. One of her chums picks up a magazine and reads out loud ‘“Are ripped jeans back?” Well they’ve never gone away in my house! Not on my lot! Ha ha!’ she starts to flick through, then snorts with amusement before reading out loud, ‘“I take a thoughtful bath, make my first cappuccino of the morning, decide that the Marc Jacobs’ will be perfect for interviewing pop’s most petite princess and step out into the tinkling iciness of a delicate winter’s day.”’ She hoots with laughter. ‘Not got kids then? Who are these people? Get a life with some meaning!’
‘Now, now, it’s just a bit of fun. I think it’s a great present Moll!’ Abi says loyally.
The woman looks at me in horror and says, ‘Oh God! I didn’t mean that – I love stuff like this; magazines are the way forward.’
‘That’s true, Suze can’t cope with actual books any more, the last full work she read was “Spot Goes to the Park”,’ teases the second.
‘Bugger off!’ grins the first. ‘It’s true though,’ she concedes. ‘And frankly even that’s a little highbrow these days. Ha ha!’
‘I just thought if you end up being really late or something it might be a welcome diversion,’ I explain, trying to avoid looking at the Spot the Dog woman in dis belief as Rose gets to me and I lean round her bump. ‘And obviously the cupcakes are just, well, for putting your feet up with.’
‘When d’you last see them Rose?’ someone teases. ‘Sometime back in September?’
Rose grins and pats her belly as she moves back to her chair. ‘I haven’t been able to see anything below my waist for months now which – believe me – is probably a good thing.’
Our pots of tea begin to arrive, along with proper old-fashioned silver cake stands which carry neat, dainty sandwiches on the lower level, assorted pastries and mini muffins on the next, tiny chocolately confections and fruit petit fours one up from that, and cream scones on the top. I nearly sigh with appreciation they look so good. Hurrah for afternoon tea, it should soak up some of my internal swilling champagne lake nicely. I’m happily reaching for an eclair when someone says, ‘I know what you mean about not being able to see anything once you get to a certain stage, this is pretty gross but when I was pregnant I actually got to a stage where I had to get Matt to help give me a prune, down there.’
I pause, mid-éclair-en-route-to-mouth. I don’t even know her name. I vaguely remember her from Rose’s wedding but that’s it. Do I really need to know her husband practises pubic topiary on her? I don’t think I do.
No one else however seems remotely bothered by her statement, quite the opposite in fact, someone else says eagerly, ‘Oh God, I know – you just can’t face waxing because of the pain – and it all seems so pointless anyway …’
That’s all it takes to quite literally open the floodgates. Horrific ’Nam Vet style stories of pregnancy and birth ensue.
‘—so badly she actually needed reconstructive surgery. I know, I know.’
‘—and halfway through they said to Jim, we’ve got it wrong, we’re going to have to go for a c-section – but by then Milo was so far engaged they actually had to push him back up, no, I’m not even joking. I was just like, God, you can go in via my nose if you like, as long as you GET IT OUT OF ME.’
‘—well no, because they don’t like letting you go much beyond then, do they, so they decided to induce me, but nothing happened even after the pessaries, apart from by then of course I was just so sore … and contracting my arse off. Then the epidural didn’t work either and I ended up having a ventouse delivery—’
I don’t know why, but for some reason that makes me imagine a medical team with blonde plaits, dressed in lederhosen. I think I’m trying to go to a happy place.
‘—seven pints in total. But you know what? It was the breastfeeding that was the worst bit … every time she latched on I wanted to scream.’
I’m starting to reel and am ready to cut my own ears off, when Abi says loudly, ‘Anyway, you’re going to be just fine Rose, and for all the other “yet to have babies” women at the table,’ she winks at me with all the subtlety of a house brick flying through the air towards a greenhouse, ‘I promise once it’s over you forget the drama instantly and it all becomes totally worth it. Are you having a doula, Rose?’
‘No, it’s just the way I’m sitting,’ smiles Rose and everyone chuckles. I don’t get it, what’s a doula?
‘And have you had your last antenatal session now?’
‘Yup,’ Rose shifts position uncomfortably. ‘Finished last week – Nathan’s thrilled. He went off them after the “By the way, you might literally crap yourself” class. He was nearly sick on the spot,’ she laughs. ‘We had this really over-eager dad in our group, who asked questions about literally everything. We were discussing what would happen if you accidentally pooed in the birthing pool and the midwife was explaining that they have a poo sieve—’
The waiter, who has come to check we have everything we need, hears this and does a horrified about turn on the spot.
‘—and over-eager dad asked if he could borrow a pen to write it down,’ Rose laughs. ‘I swear I saw him earnestly adding “poo sieve” to his little list – like that’s something you’re going to forget! Oh and this other woman asked if she could wear a swimsuit in the birthing pool! Yeah – just pull it to one side like you do when you go swimming and need a wee!’
‘Unbelievable!’ laughs the Spot the Dog mum. ‘She’ll learn.’
She has. And I think I’d like to go home now please.
‘IF that happens, the midwives deal with it very discreetly. They just cover it up and no one is any the wiser. You’ll just get Dan to stay at the head end, it’ll be fine! Don’t panic.’ Bec pats my arm consolingly.
‘It was as if they wanted to have had the worst possible experience.’ I exhale and reach for my drink. ‘And then all they could talk about was how shit everything is once you’ve had kids; you’re knackered and everything’s horrible. It can’t really be as crap as they were making out, can it? If it’s that bad, why does everyone do it?’
Joss snorts and immediately opens her mouth, so I turn to Bec quickly.
‘Certain types of mum,’ Bec says carefully, ‘can be pretty self-indulgent and – a bit tedious to be honest – like they’re the only person in the world to have had a baby.’
‘It’s not just that Bec, they were disgusting! Who wants to have that sort of conversation in public? Hello? TOO MUCH FLIPPING INFORMATION! Is it just me? Am I being weird?’
‘No! Not at all. But not everyone is like them, I promise – and I’m sure if you asked even them if they’d go back to not having children, not a single one of them would,’ Bec answers. ‘You’re thinking about this too much. You need to just get on with it.’
Joss’s head spins like something out of The Exorcist. ‘I’m sorry?’ she demands. ‘WHAT did you just
say?’
‘Well of course giving birth is going to hurt,’ Bec says reasonably. ‘People have very unrealistic expectations of pain these days, but you DO cope with it and it DOES end.’
‘Oh, I thought you meant she shouldn’t consider whether or not she really wants to give up a happy childless life for something that she’ll then be stuck with whether she likes it or not,’ admits Joss. ‘Sorry.’
‘Thanks you two,’ I bite my fingernail, ‘this is really helping …’
I feel so confused. Yesterday, all this seemed doable, a nice thought even. Now? I feel back to square one. What if Joss is right and my decision to have a baby is nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction to what happened with Leo? Oh – he’s managed to pollute everything. Everything!
‘I’m definitely not doing it if it means I have to call my kid Milo.’ I attempt a joke, trying to push all other unwelcome thoughts from my mind.
‘Just because none of them talked about how wonderful having a baby is, doesn’t mean it isn’t,’ Bec says calmly. ‘Trust me, I’ve seen plenty of very normal women have babies and say it’s the best thing they ever did.’
‘Whacked off their tits with hormones probably,’ Joss says darkly. ‘Although I agree with you on the some women being over-indulgent bit. There’s this girl at work who must ask me if she can leave early at least once or twice a week because she’s got prenatal pogo-yogolates or some such bollocks, or she doesn’t want to travel home in the rush hour, or she feels “a bit tired and dizzy”. She chose to get up the duff, get on with it; everyone’s bloody knackered. You don’t see the blokes getting away with that kind of shit.’
‘Nice that you’re so understanding about it though,’ Bec says. ‘Lucky her.’
‘Well obviously I let her go,’ Joss replies mutinously. ‘I don’t have a bloody choice, do I? She’d probably sue us otherwise. You don’t understand Bec …’
‘I’m a midwife!’ squeaks Bec. ‘Funnily enough I have encountered the odd pregnant woman.’
‘Can we talk about something else?’ I cut in desperately.
They both stop and look at me – and then I’m pretty sure they exchange a knowing glance before Bec says soothingly, ‘’Course we can. Have you got time for one more hair of the dog or do you need to get back?’
I look at my watch and hesitate, but despite my stilllingering hangover, I really feel like I need one. ‘Go on then.’
‘Was Dan as drunk as you last night?’ Bec teases as she stands up.
‘I didn’t get drunk drunk,’ I say quickly, not looking at Joss. ‘Just happy.’
‘I didn’t mean to sound like I was having a go,’ Bec apologises instantly. ‘You’re allowed. You’re not pregnant yet. Where’s Dan today?’
‘Gone to Chichester to help his dad throw out a wardrobe. So, what are you two going to see at the cinema later?’ I determinedly change the subject.
Joss shrugs. ‘Something funny I think, or we might stick around here for a bit. Nothing too mad, Bec’s working tomorrow and I’ve got the twins coming over for Sunday lunch.’
‘Oh, how are they?’ I ask as Bec makes her way towards the loos.
Joss shrugs. ‘OK I think. Eating crap, drinking too much, spending money like water and swearing blind that they don’t have that much work to do because it’s only the first year. I looked at their timetables; four hour-long lectures a week Moll – it’s a joke. They don’t know it yet, but tomorrow I’m going to make them sit down and plan a proper budget for the rest of this term … and the next one.’ She drains the last of her drink smugly.
‘They’re so lucky to have a big sister like you,’ I tease.
She grins. ‘I know, they’re going to hate me. But it’s no joke coming out of university with all that debt these days you know.’ She grows serious again.
‘Are they staying at your mum’s tonight then?’
Joss shakes her head. ‘They’re just going to get the train down tomorrow. Mum’s not having a good week.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘Want to talk about it?’
‘Nope,’ she says firmly, ‘I don’t. Thanks though. I want to talk about you. What’s up? You look stressed out of your mind. I’m not going to be cross with you, I promise, but,’ she hesitates, ‘is something going on I should know about?’
I shake my head. ‘Nope. Nothing.’
‘Have you heard from Leo again?’ She looks directly at me.
I inhale. I can’t lie to her. ‘Yes.’
‘I knew it!’
‘It’s not like you think!’ I cut in quickly. ‘Just texts.’ She says nothing, just looks at me expressionlessly, so I start to gabble. ‘It’s nothing to worry about Joss.’
‘It’s none of my business if you want to—’
‘I don’t.’ I cut in sharply. ‘I don’t want to do anything with him. I was blind drunk remember?’
She sighs.
‘No one would be in a hurry to repeat a night like that, would they?’ I say. ‘Well, apart from Leo apparently.’
Joss pulls a face. ‘What?’
I shake my head tiredly. ‘Don’t. Anyway, I’ve told him where to go. He’ll get the message.’
We both fall silent.
‘Sorry,’ she says eventually. ‘I just thought …’
‘No way,’ I insist. ‘Absolutely no way am I going back there … So, do you think Bec ordered?’ I sit up and look around us. ‘I could really use that drink.’
Right on cue, a waiter appears with a tray of three champagne cocktails.
‘Bec’s pushing the boat out a bit,’ Joss exclaims. ‘Are you sure these are for us?’ she asks him.
‘I think so,’ he says, but looks a bit uncertain. ‘Hang on, I’ll just double check’ and he hastens off to the bar.
Bec arrives back before he does. ‘Oooh!’
‘You didn’t order these?’ Joss motions at them and Bec shakes her head, as the waiter appears back alongside our table, grinning. ‘With compliments from the gentleman at the bar,’ he smirks, as if he doesn’t get to say that often.
‘Really?’ Bec exclaims delightedly, all of us turn and peer across – and an elderly-looking Chinese man and his wife smile politely back at us. ‘Oh …’
‘Not him,’ the waiter frowns. ‘Hang on, my colleague took the payment. I’ll go and ask …’ He disappears and Bec shrugs and reaches for one of the glasses.
‘Whoa!’ Joss says sharply. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Er, having a drink?’ Bec looks surprised.
‘Bec, you don’t know who sent that, and you didn’t see them make it. It could have anything in it!’
Bec puts her glass back down quickly.
‘One of the twins’ friends had her drink spiked in a club by some random bloke. They didn’t realise – they just thought she was really drunk, but then she blacked out completely and they had to take her to A&E. I know it’s—’ Joss checks her watch, ‘only six, but still.’
‘No, you’re absolutely right,’ Bec says. ‘Good call. Sad though isn’t it? That you can’t just enjoy what’s probably a nice gesture.’
The waiter returns. ‘Well ladies, he paid cash and he seems to have gone.’
‘Sorry,’ Joss says, ‘but we’re going to send these back. Just to be on the safe side.’
‘OK,’ he shrugs, not particularly bothered either way, and removes the tray.
‘I’ll get us some more,’ Bec reaches for her purse. ‘What do you want?’
But I’ve just had a really horrible thought.
‘Actually, I’m just going to make a move,’ I pick up my bag and coat suddenly. ‘I’ll call you both, OK?’ and without stopping to kiss them both goodbye, and to their evident surprise, I make my way quickly towards the door …
Chapter Nineteen
Back out on the cold – but still busy – street, I look up and down. There are a few groups of overdressed kids already milling around loudly and aimlessly, a long night of not being old enough to get in anywhere a
head of them; and plenty of shoppers laden down with bags making their way back to cars, strings of festive street lights twinkling above their heads. But no Leo.
And really, why would there be? I exhale, feeling suddenly very foolish indeed. It’s early Saturday evening. He’ll be in London with his wife, or pretending to be at a work thing while secretly skipping off to see one of the other women he regularly sex-texts. Apart from anything else, so some bloke sends over drinks – how arrogant am I to assume they’re for me and not Joss or Bec? If I went back in there now I’d probably find whoever it was attempting to chat them up. I pull my coat on, tightening the belt around my waist before turning and starting to walk home, panting slightly after only a few minutes because it’s all uphill. I really do need to have a stern word with myself. I am letting my imagin ation get the better of me and making this into something it isn’t.
Firstly, Leo would never buy drinks and then just vanish; that’s just not his style. He’d hang around for the glory – although Joss and Bec would never accept a drink from him, he’d have to do it anonymously … I’m starting to feel pretty hot in my coat, despite it being freezing. I should have got a taxi really … and, moreover, like he’s going to know to show up in a random bar I would never normally be in at that time on a Saturday. So, what, now he’s psychic? Oh for fuck’s sake – why am I even thinking about this?
I start to speed up crossly. This is just what he wants, me thinking about him, everything revolving around him. I picture him swanning into the hotel in Windsor, buying those whiskys, that tequila. I should have done what Joss just did, sent them all straight back and—
A truly horrible thought slams into my mind; one that turns me cold and makes me stop in my tracks. I hear Joss’s voice saying ‘… she blacked out completely. They had to take her to A&E’.
Leo bought the drinks at the hotel. He just turned up out of nowhere and bought me drinks. I got so drunk I went to bed with him and can’t even remember it …
Oh. My. God …
I just stand there swaying on the spot, hands buried in my pockets. I let him into my room, I felt sick, I passed out and he helped me to the bed.
