by Shari Low
Claire ignored her. She adored her friend beyond words, but she was very aware that dealing with Jeanna was very similar to dealing with a wild teenager – the more she rose to the bait, the more Jeanna took great delight in shocking the crap out of her. At the very slightest encouragement, Jeanna would have a troop of greased up, muscle pulsing Chippendales swaggering in that door singing ‘You Can Take Your Hat Off.’ In the hall, she listened for any sign of a stripper tune. Thankfully, there was none.
There was more than a little relief when she pulled open the door and saw Caro standing there, beaming smile and arms out ready for a hug.
Claire gladly welcomed the affection. Caro was the fiancée of Cammy, who owned the very trendy menswear boutique, CAMDEN, downstairs. They’d been together for almost two years and they were the loveliest couple. Not that it mattered, but they looked great together too. Caro definitely went for the natural look – make-up free face, twinkling eyes, her caramel hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, yet with her perfect bone structure and beaming white smile, she looked as stunning as any fully made-up model.
‘Come in, come in. It’s like The Witches Of Eastwick in there, but you’re welcome to join us.’
‘Yeah, I heard there was some kind of intervention going on this morning,’ Caro said, grinning. ‘How are you holding up?’
To her surprise, Claire felt tears spring to her eyes again. ‘Sorry! Don’t be kind, it makes me pathetic,’ she wailed, wiping her eyes with the cuff of her jumper. ‘Who knew empty nest syndrome was a real thing?’
‘You’re not being pathetic,’ Caro assured her. ‘It’s just an adjustment. You’ll be absolutely fine when you get used to it.’
Claire nodded. ‘I know you’re right. You are. It’s just been so long since I didn’t have other people to organise and take care of that I feel a bit lost. Although – and I’ll deny this if you tell them – I really appreciate having this lot here this morning. It’s really cheered me up.’
Caro put her arm around her as they headed down the hall. ‘Good. We’ll keep you busy and you’ll be used to this new life in no time.’
‘Hurray!’ a cheer went up from the other three women in the room as Caro entered.
She responded with a bow.
‘Caro, love!’ Val exclaimed. ‘We thought you couldn’t make it?’
Claire knew that Val and Josie absolutely adored this woman. They’d been friends with Cammy for years – in fact, before Josie retired, she worked with Cammy in a his and hers lingerie boutique – and they were absolutely thrilled that he’d found his perfect love. Val and Josie had immediately welcomed Caro into their merry band of extended family and friends, just as they’d welcomed Claire and Jeanna too.
Caro gave them all a hug before she responded to Val. ‘I know, but it’s quiet down there right now, so I just thought I’d nip up for half an hour and leave Cammy to it. I’m sure he’ll cope,’ she joked.
Jeanna stood up. ‘Wine or coffee?’
‘Would love wine, but definitely coffee because I need to go back to work. There’s no telling what carnage I could wreak if I went back down there full of vino.’
‘It would be fun to watch though,’ Josie said, before turning uncharacteristically serious. ‘Although, I once fell into a changing room after too much port at a Christmas lunch and caught some bloke shoving three pairs of socks down the front of a pair of Armani boxers. That mental image will stay with me forever.’
Her mock gravity had the others in stitches.
‘I think I might have dated him,’ Jeanna added as she disappeared out of the door, leaving them chuckling in her wake.
With all the seats taken, Caro perched on the red velvet covered box in the centre of the room, the pedestal that brides stood on so they could see the full effect of their dress in the mirrors that were on every wall.
‘So have you heard from Jordy then?’ she asked.
Claire read out his text and Caro feigned outrage. ‘That’s despicable. How dare he be having a good time when he doesn’t have us lot there?’
‘Exactly!’ Claire agreed, giggling.
Jeanna reappeared with Caro’s coffee.
‘Thanks,’ she said, taking the white and gold mug from her. ‘Right, so…’ she began, catching everyone’s attention with her uncharacteristically business-like tone. ‘I popped up to see if I could give you something to take your mind off your empty nest.’
‘Have you got Gerard Butler stashed downstairs?’ Jeanna asked hopefully.
Caro grinned. ‘Unfortunately not. And if I did, I wouldn’t be sharing him.’
‘Our Cammy beats him hands down any day of the week,’ Josie snorted, indignant.
‘He does,’ Caro admitted. ‘And that’s why I was wondering…’ she was looking at Claire again, ‘… if you would design my wedding dress for me?’
There was a resounding cheer from the other women – except Claire, who promptly burst into tears again.
‘Of course!’ she wailed. ‘Oh, Caro, I’d be delighted to.’
She’d secretly been hoping this lovely lady would ask her to make the dress since the first time she’d met Caro and Cammy. They’d been engaged for a while, but both seemed completely laid back about the whole ‘getting to the altar’ bit.
‘Hang on, let me grab my pad.’ She jumped up and reached for the notebook that was never far from her side. ‘Do you have a date?’
‘That’s the thing, it’s quite soon… We’re looking at December.’
‘Oh God, that’s brilliant!’ Claire exclaimed. ‘It’ll give me the perfect excuse not to do anything Jeanna is planning to keep me busy.’
Jeanna pursed her lips, unamused.
‘Are you sure?’ Caro checked. ‘I promise I won’t be offended if you can’t do it.’
‘I’m absolutely positive,’ Claire assured her, before turning to Jeanna. ‘And you can get that look off your face, madam. While you’re at it, get me off Tinder. Don’t think I don’t know you’ve signed me up.’
Jeanna couldn’t keep up the stony facade. ‘Tinder will be great for you! You need a few wild nights to remind you how good it can be.’
‘I am so not ready to be dating,’ Claire reminded her. ‘My confidence is shot. Tinder is all looks based shallow stuff. It’s got ego crushing all over it. I’m thirty-nine. I’m knackered. The last time I did glamour, Britney Spears was still in the charts. Oh, and I’ve put on so much weight none of my half-decent clothes fit me. And please don’t give me all that “beauty is on the inside” stuff. If that’s the case, then to get to mine you’d have to dig your way under a decade of pickled onion crisps.’ She turned to Caro again, ‘Anyway, my darling, back to you. We’ll make you the most beautiful dress you’ve ever seen.’
‘I know you will.’ Caro took a sip of her coffee. ‘To be honest, I want something fairly simple as the wedding’s going to be pretty small.’
Claire nodded, making a couple of notes on her pad. ‘That’s no problem. Why don’t we get started tomorrow? Or the next day? Bugger, I want to get sketching right now, but we can’t get to work with all this lot piping in with their opinions.’
‘Thanks, Claire,’ Caro said, leaning over and giving her a hug. ‘I feel so much better now. I’ve kept putting it off because I can’t stand the thought of being the centre of attention. I’d suggested eloping, but Cammy said—’
‘I’d be wounded to my mortal soul if you two did a runner,’ Josie interrupted, outraged. ‘I’ve got a hat like a manhole cover that’s ready and waiting for a day out.’
Caro burst into giggles, then carried on, ‘Yep, Cammy said that Josie would be totally dramatic and devastated if we did that.’
‘You just ignore her and have exactly the kind of wedding that you want,’ Claire said, her glare putting Josie right in her place. ‘I felt exactly the same as you. That’s why Sam and I got married the way that we did.’
Caro took another sip of her coffee. ‘Really? What did you do?’
&nb
sp; Seventeen
Claire – 2001
Claire had never felt pain like it. So much for the bloody drugs and meditation. She’d been too late for the epidural and every time she tried to go to her mental place of bliss and tranquillity, she got another searing pain that had her convinced she was currently trying to push an elephant out of her vagina.
‘One more push, babe. You’ve got this,’ Sam pleaded, his hand so tightly wrapped around hers that she was sure her knuckles were being displaced.
‘I. Don’t. Bloody. Have. This,’ she panted. ‘I. Really. Really. Fucking. Don’t.’
She’d always thought those reports of women punching their partners or swearing off sex for life during childbirth were exaggerated and a tad dramatic. Right now, she’d happily do either, if it would just make this stop.
One last push. She could do it.
Come on baby, she told the elephant inside her, come on.
Steeling herself, sweat running down her face, absolutely no care that there was a very nice midwife, who’d introduced herself as Rita, grappling with her nether regions, she took a deep breath and then pushed with everything she had.
A movement. A sensation. A wonderful feeling of release. And…
The baby’s cry ripped through the air. Rita scooped it up and in one well practised movement, wiped its face and body with a towel, then immediately placed it on her chest.
‘Here’s your gorgeous boy,’ she announced. ‘Congratulations.’
Tears streaming down her face, all pain forgotten, Claire looked into the eyes of her son. ‘Hey, gorgeous,’ she whispered. ‘I’m your mamma. And this…’ Sam’s cheek was pressed against hers now, ‘… this is your daddy.’
The little boy immediately stopped crying and nuzzled into her chest, eyes closing again, as if he was satisfied that he’d sufficiently expressed his outrage at his sleep being interrupted.
‘Hey, little guy,’ Sam whispered softly, gently stroking his face with the back of his finger.
‘Do you have a name for him yet?’ Rita asked.
Claire nodded. ‘Max Frederick. After Sam’s grandad and mine.’
‘Ah, that’s lovely,’ she said. ‘He’s an absolute cracker. I’m so happy for you all.’ With a kind smile, she finished up whatever she was doing down at the other end and pulled a blanket up over Claire’s legs. Claire marvelled at the fact that this lovely woman must have seen hundreds of births, yet she had made them feel like they were the most special people she’d ever nursed. ‘Right then,’ Rita said, ‘I’ll leave you to it for a wee while. I’ll put the kettle on and get you a cuppa and some toast just as soon as I get a chance.’
‘We can’t thank you enough, Rita,’ Claire told her truthfully. ‘And sorry about the swearing.’
‘Och, you’re fine, love. Had one mum who knocked her boyfriend out last week. A bit of swearing is nothing.’ And with that she was off, leaving the three of them.
The three of them.
They were no longer a couple. Claire wasn’t sure when that thought would stop being terrifying, but right now she was too high on hormones and gas and air to worry about it.
‘I can’t believe he’s ours.’ Sam’s words were choked with emotion, a surprise to Claire because he was usually so calm and impossible to ruffle. ‘I have absolutely no idea how we’re going to do this, but I know we’ll be fine. I love you,’ he said, kissing her. He then bent down and kissed his son’s head. ‘And I love you. I’m going to take such good care of you.’
Claire felt like she was going to burst with love for this man and the son that they’d made.
He went on, ‘I’ll teach you stuff. And I’ll play with you. And I’ll cook, because your mother can only make spaghetti and even then it’s barely recognisable.’
Her laughter came with more tears of joy, on top of another feeling of such overwhelming protectiveness that she struggled to put it into words. Her whole life, she’d felt like an inconvenience to her parents, something to be tolerated. This little guy was never going to feel that way. Not for a single second. She made a silent vow that she was going to love and cherish and protect him every minute of every day, above everything else and no matter what or who stood in her way. Over the last few months, she’d wondered if becoming a mum herself would help her find any kind of mutual ground with her mother. Now, with this instant maternal bond and overwhelming love she felt for her boy, she knew that they had never been further apart.
After the tea and toast, Rita moved them up to the ward that would be home for the next two days. Thankfully, the nurses were flexible on the ‘two visitors to a bed’ rule, because Sam pretty much took up permanent residence beside her, Jeanna and Doug were there for every visiting session and they were joined by a steady succession of family and friends. The girls from her old flat came. Her grandad stopped by. Sam’s parents and brothers were next to descend on them. They’d been brilliant right from the moment they’d found out. Claire had taken the rest of the term off college, but his mum, Sandie, had agreed to look after the baby until he was old enough to stay in the college crèche. They’d also helped them out with a deposit on a two bedroom flat near the marketing agency Sam was now working in. Their own home. A year ago, she didn’t know this guy, now she had a house, a child and a lifelong connection to him.
Every time she looked at him, sitting in the chair next to her hospital bed, holding their son, she was sure she wouldn’t change a thing. This was the absolute best time of Claire’s life, no regrets, no hesitation, just pure love, happiness and really sore boobs, but she was slowly getting the hang of breastfeeding.
Of course, it was Doug and Jeanna who were there, waiting for them, when they were finally discharged two days later.
‘Is it wrong that I’m fairly terrified to be leaving the nurses and doctors?’ Claire asked Sam, as the doors at the hospital exit slid open. She couldn’t help it. She had zero experience of babies, no idea what she was doing and all she knew was what she’d learned from reading every single book on the parenthood shelf in the library.
‘Nope, I’m right there with you,’ he admitted, and she could see there was a tiny brow furrow of anxiety there. He quickly recovered. ‘We’ll be fine, babe, I promise. There’s nothing we can’t cope with. And if there is, we’ll just hot-tail it over to my mum’s and beg for help.’
‘I like your thinking,’ she told him, feeling a little better that they had a semblance of a backup plan. ‘Did you bring all the paperwork?’ she asked him, as they carried the little one in a car seat outside. Her steps were still slightly tentative thanks to the stitches Rita had inserted after the birth.
Sam nodded, taking her arm with his free hand. ‘I did.’
‘Great. Can we stop at the registry office on the way home?’ she asked Doug as they climbed into his car. He’d saved up and bought it with the proceeds of his part-time job as a personal trainer. Her brother was in the second year of the course that would ultimately qualify him as a maths teacher, and supporting himself entirely. No parental handouts for either of them, but at least he’d chosen to work in a gym in an affluent area of the city and was making great money.
‘Sure,’ he replied. ‘Anything you need.’
Jeanna raised an eyebrow. ‘We just need you to drive carefully and get us there without killing us. Honest to God, Claire, he’s fucking terrifying. I’ve no idea how he passed his test. I thought I was going to meet my end in a Ford Fiesta all the way here.’
‘You’re welcome to walk,’ Doug said breezily. ‘And I was only driving like that because listening to your constant moaning gives me a death wish.’
‘Well, you could at least end us all in a BMW or a Merc. Have a bit of class,’ Jeanna shot back.
Claire ignored them, too busy making sure the baby was strapped in properly. She and Sam then squeezed in next to the car seat, put their seat belts on and both sat gazing adoringly at their boy the whole way to the registry office, ignoring the bitching in the front.
&nb
sp; ‘Don’t listen to them, Max,’ she said quietly. ‘They’re always like that. They love each other really.’
‘No, we don’t,’ Jeanna quipped.
Claire hoped that wasn’t true. Those two bickered constantly, but she chose to believe it came from a place of affection.
At the registry office, they all trooped in and queued together at the window for birth registrations. When it was their turn, they handed over the relevant documents to a completely unimpressed woman at the desk. No ooohs and aaahs over the baby. Barely a smile.
She read the name aloud, checking it. ‘Max Frederick Bradley.’
‘That’s right,’ Claire agreed.
Doug’s beaming smile was instant. ‘Aw, you gave him grandad’s name too? He’ll love that.’
‘I know.’ They’d both wanted to name the baby Max after Sam’s late grandad, but it meant everything to her that Fred be honoured too.
The registrar completed the paperwork, stamped a few documents, then handed a sheaf of papers back to them. ‘There you go,’ she said, in the manner of someone who did this fifty times a day and just wanted a break with a cup of tea and a packet of custard creams.
‘While we’re here…’ Sam began, and the registrar let out an impatient sigh. She really should consider a new career in something more suitable – preferably a role with no public contact whatsoever. ‘… Can you tell us what we have to do to get married?’
Claire’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Married?’
Of course, they’d talked about getting married eventually, and they both wanted that to happen, but they just hadn’t had a chance to think about it with the baby, and college, searching for a new flat and all the other stuff that had consumed every waking moment for the last few months. They weren’t even engaged and had no plans to do so. Claire had warned Sam not to ask, telling him she didn’t need some fancy ring to prove they loved each other. Besides, they needed every penny to support their new family. But now… A quick wedding was cheaper and far more meaningful than a bit of jewellery on her finger.
‘That’s if… if that’s OK with you?’ he asked Claire, his eyes full of mischief and his voice full of laughter.
