by Suzy K Quinn
‘You don’t need a man,’ Althea bellowed. ‘Come live with me. We can be single mums together.’
Then she sang an augmented version of Beyoncé’s ‘Single Ladies’ song.
‘All the single mums! All the single mums. All the single mums. Put your hands UP!’
But the thought of living in a single mum commune with Althea conjures up unpleasant images of fennel toothpaste and watery almond milk porridge.
Also, there’s always a blowtorch or two hanging around Althea’s place, which is not great now Daisy’s into everything.
Sunday 31st December
Morning
Holed up at Mum and Dad’s house, with Daisy in the travel cot.
Can’t be alone – I’m way too stressed.
Keep fiddling with my phone, wanting to call Alex, but not knowing how to phrase things.
Mum bought me up a pint of Guinness to calm my nerves, but obviously, being pregnant, I couldn’t drink it.
‘It’ll be okay, love,’ said Mum, sipping the rejected Guinness. ‘You’ve got your own place now. Nick is finally paying up. We’re down the road. You’ll be fine. Two kids is easy.’
Doesn’t she remember how horrific newborns are?
When I think about the work involved caring for Daisy at one-month old, I feel physically sick. And that was with two parents in the same house.
All the crying and burping and feeding and crying and not knowing what on earth was wrong.
To go through all that again on my own. And with Daisy too …
‘How on earth did you have three kids, Mum?’ I asked, in an awed whisper.
‘You just get on with it,’ said Mum. ‘I wouldn’t want to go back, though. Buckets of shitty water forever in your kitchen. You should thank God for Pampers. And those squeezy food pouches are a revelation.’
This brought back memories of messy early weaning, and grimy ice-cube trays of pureed carrot.
Started to sob.
Mum put a placating hand on my shoulder. ‘It could be much worse love.’
‘It could always be worse,’ I said. ‘But that doesn’t make it good.’
‘Oh count your blessings,’ said Mum. ‘Some women can’t even have kids. You’ll love the baby when it arrives – wait and see. Who’s the father, anyway?’
‘No one I’m about to settle down with,’ I told her.
‘Fair enough,’ said Mum cheerfully, downing the rest of the Guinness.
I suppose I have Brandi to thank for my family’s casual approach to paternity.
Afternoon
Worked up the courage to phone Alex.
He didn’t answer.
That made me furious, because now he’ll think I’ve called to ‘live in the moment’, when the moment has very much passed.
I can’t text him to say I’m pregnant.
Will just have to try later.
Evening
Alex still not answering.
Can’t wait any longer.
Am going to see him.
Late evening
Caught the train to London with a load of cheering, singing New Year’s revellers.
Had to turn down a mini gin and tonic from a cackling group of girls, but out of gratitude for their kind offer, I shared the reason for my journey.
‘What do you think he’ll say?’ they kept asking.
Told them I had absolutely no idea.
Made it to the Westminster Dalton Hotel without getting run over.
The security man wouldn’t let me into the Dalton Ball at first though, because I didn’t have a ticket and was ‘flouting the dress code.’
‘But I need to speak to Alex Dalton,’ I insisted. ‘It’s important.’
The fat security man crossed his arms and said, ‘If it were that important you would have stumped up fifty quid and put on a nice frock.’
But then a waiter recognised me as a ‘friend’ of Alex’s, and persuaded the security man to let me through.
The ball was packed, as usual.
I scoured the crowd for Alex, but in a sea of black suits he was hard to spot.
Then I saw him near the auction stage, frowning, arms crossed.
Catrina Dalton was nearby, flamboyant in a canary-yellow bow-covered ball gown, laughing with gay abandon, bejewelled fingers flailing and pointing.
Silly hormonal tears welled up. I couldn’t talk about this in front of Alex’s mother.
Decided that now wasn’t the best time to share my news after all.
Then Alex spotted me.
Our eyes met, and his frown deepened.
He pushed through the crowd. ‘Juliette, what are you doing here? Where’s Daisy? Did you come alone?’
‘I need to tell you something,’ I spluttered.
‘Where is Daisy?’ Alex asked.
‘At the pub. Not at the pub, obviously. I mean, she’s sleeping there.’
Alex’s dark eyes held mine for a moment. ‘I know what you’re going to say. New Year, new start and so on. I’ve been thinking long and hard about the two of us, and—’
‘Alex, I’m pregnant,’ I blurted out.
The whole room seemed to stand still.
Alex put a hand to his forehead and said, ‘You’re … Christ. Okay. I’ll support you, Juliette. Maternity specialists. The very best care. Whatever you need.’
My stomach dropped to the floor. ‘That’s what you think I need? Private health care?’
‘What else can I give you right now?’
‘I need you. I need you to grow up, stop being jealous and step up to this relationship. Otherwise you’re no better than Nick.’
‘Can we go somewhere private to talk about this?’
‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ I said. ‘Not unless you tell me right now that you can get over this jealousy.’
Alex didn’t say anything.
I turned away before he could see my tears, and pushed back through the crowd.
Alex called after me, ‘Juliette. Juliette.’
As the crowd began the midnight countdown, I started to run.
I hurried out of the ballroom, down the hotel steps and towards Westminster Bridge, just as Big Ben’s chimes rang out across London.
If I were Cinderella, I’d have left a glass slipper behind.
But I’m just a normal person.
So I left my hopes and dreams instead.
I pushed into the New Year’s Eve crowd, as fireworks went off over the River Thames.
Everyone oohed and aahed, cramming themselves towards the water for a better view.
‘Juliette,’ I heard Alex shout. ‘Wait.’
I didn’t wait.
‘Juliette!’ Suddenly Alex was beside me. ‘I told you to wait.’ He grabbed my wrist.
‘No, Alex,’ I said, snatching my hand back. ‘I’m sick of waiting.’
‘You’re pregnant with my child. A crowded street on New Year’s is no place to be.’ Alex lifted me clean off my feet and into his arms.
‘Bloody hell, Alex,’ I shouted. ‘Put me down. What are you doing?’
‘Taking you back to the hotel.’ Alex carried me through the crowd.
I was too dumbfounded to complain. And anyway, Alex was probably right – I shouldn’t have been among all those people.
I let Alex carry me back over the bridge, along the Thames and into a private lounge at the Westminster Dalton Hotel.
‘You can stay here until the crowds die down,’ said Alex, lowering me onto an embroidered sofa.
He paced back and forth, hands in pockets. ‘I’ll look after you,’ he said. ‘Daisy too. You know that, don’t you?’
‘What if I don’t want looking after?’ I said. ‘What if I’ve had enough of men who can’t grow up?’
Alex sat beside me. ‘Whether you like it or not, I will have a say in this child’s future. And yours.’ He took my hand. ‘You know, when I first learned the piano, I could never quite grasp the harmonies. How different notes could work together. I understand
them a little better now. Not completely, but better. It’s New Year’s Day. A time of new beginnings. New harmonies, wouldn’t you say?’
He kissed my fingers and looked at me with intense, brown eyes.
‘Juliette, let’s start again.’
‘Start again?’
‘Yes. Completely start again. Do things the right way. I need to ask you something.’ He dropped down onto one knee, still holding my hand. ‘Juliette Duffy, will you marry me?’
I gave a shocked laugh. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Of course I’m serious. When am I not serious?’
‘You think we should get married? After all the problems we’ve had this year?’
‘Juliette, this isn’t just about us. There’s a child involved.’
‘Having a child isn’t a good reason to get married.’
‘I love you. Is that a good reason?’
I felt myself smile. ‘It’s a reason.’
‘But?’
‘But … Alex, is it enough? We’re so different. And there are so many problems.’
Alex’s expression darkened. ‘You were quick enough to walk down the aisle with Nick Spencer. Christ – there should be a law against men like that having children.’
‘I’ve grown up since then, Alex,’ I said. ‘I’m not looking for the picture postcard any more. Reality isn’t like that. I just want to do what’s best for Daisy.’
‘This is reality,’ Alex insisted, gripping my fingers. ‘We’re having a baby together. And I want you to marry me. Because I love you.’
‘You’re a better man than Nick,’ I said. ‘I do know that.’
‘I should hope you do.’
We looked at each other.
‘I suppose … the new year is a new start,’ I said.
Alex’s lips twitched. ‘Is that a yes?’
‘One thing at a time,’ I said. ‘I’m not agreeing to marriage. But … I’m willing to give us another try.’
‘I’m determined to marry you,’ said Alex. ‘And I can be very convincing. Just ask my investors.’ He sat beside me, still holding my hand.
Outside, fireworks exploded over the Thames and Big Ben.
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