Babies in Waiting (20 page)

‘Consumer PR: I work for a big firm with lots of different accounts, but my speciality is the cosmetics industry.’

‘Ah. I’ve always loved those amazing terms they come up with for the new ingredients in cosmetics. “New! With added elasto-plastin!” Do you get to make up the names?’

I laughed. ‘No, sadly not. I wish that was my job, but I just get to spin the exciting, all-new story about elastoplastin and try to get the magazines to buy it!’ Jack brought our sandwiches, and we fell on them, chatting between bites.

‘Come to think of it, I might have printed some magazines your work was in.’ She named a couple of big women’s titles. ‘We did all of those at one point or another.’

‘Sounds like you left a pretty successful career.’

‘Well, these things are all relative.’

‘Are they?’

‘No, not really, but I keep telling myself they are. I’m so grateful to Adam Harper for giving me the job I’ve got, not to mention a place to live. It would be really petty to worry that it’s a bit of a step down from the work I was doing before.’

There was something about the way that she said Adam Harper’s name that made my ears prick up. But we weren’t proper friends yet, so it didn’t seem right to press her for girly confidences. Talking about work seemed to be a safe middle ground.

‘I suppose it’s human nature to think like that,’ I said. ‘I mean, I’m thrilled to be pregnant, but at the same time, my career was just taking off. And if I do come back to work I’ll be way behind my contemporaries. I can’t help being a bit miffed about that.’

‘I guess PR is a young person’s career too, isn’t it?’

‘Like all media, I think you’re right. If you haven’t made it by the time you’re thirty—’

Louise laughed. She had a fantastic, loud infectious laugh that matched her grin. ‘Well, I guess I’d better scrap my plans for a career change!’

Before I had time to think if it was polite to ask, I blurted out, ‘Why? How old are you?’

‘Thirty-eight. And you?’

‘Twenty-six?’ I felt a bit bad saying that. Maybe she thought I was too young and immature, and she wouldn’t want to be friends with me. But she just grinned again, and then we were off talking about something else. When I glanced at my watch, it was already after two.

‘Oh wow! Look at the time! I have to get back to the office.’ Louise looked at her watch too.

‘Sorry . . . so busy nattering. Hope you don’t have far to go.’

‘No, it’s just around the corner.’ I stood up. ‘Without making this sound like a really cheesy first date, I had such a nice time. It was great to finally meet you.’

She stood up too. ‘Me too. Let’s try and hook up again before I start work, and then you and James must come down to the farmhouse once I’ve settled in. Adam’s place is really pretty . . . it’s right on the river.’

Often when you meet someone, and they say ‘Let’s get together soon’, you think: Yeah, right. They’ll never call. Or you hope they won’t. But I knew it was different with
Louise. I’d made a new, real friend, and I knew we’d be friends for ages.

I gave her a quick hug and headed for the door. As I walked out, I noticed a skinny, dark woman of about forty standing on the street outside the shop. She was staring in through the window of the sandwich shop, with a shocked expression on her face. When I looked back into the shop I saw she was looking at Louise. I didn’t have time to stop and ask her who she was, or to go in and tell Louise what I’d seen, but I made a mental note to tell her when we next spoke.

That night, I excitedly told James all about my meeting with Louise. He told me off for not mentioning it beforehand.

‘I know, I know, she might have been a psycho or something. I should have told you. But she wasn’t. She’s really nice and now I have a friend who’s also pregnant.’

‘That’s great. I hadn’t thought about it, but I suppose that would be quite useful. You can compare notes and go shopping for baby stuff.’

‘Or you and I can go shopping for baby stuff.’

‘True.’ He laughed. ‘Or maybe let’s make that a qualified yes.’

To be fair, James really does hate shopping, I’m not one of those girls who love to go out and spend, but I’m not actually allergic to it like he is. When we moved in together he handed responsibility for his wardrobe over to me, and I like to think he’s better dressed as a result.

‘I’m happy to do the big stuff like cots and pushchairs.

But I’m not going to stand around Babies R Us comparing little pink sleepsuits,’ he said warily.

‘Your son will look really interesting in a little pink sleepsuit!’

‘So you think it’s a boy?’ He looked excited.

‘Oh, James, I haven’t a clue. It’s only a few weeks till our twenty-week scan. Do you want to find out the sex?’

‘No. Definitely not. Definitely, definitely not.’

‘Okay’ I was a bit surprised he was so adamant, but if he felt like that, I was happy to go with it. He drew me towards him, and gave me one of his finest, warm James hugs. I swear, if I could bottle them and sell them, I’d be a rich woman.

He was being very nice and gentle with me, and I was grateful for that, after our awful row the night before. But at the same time, I had a sneaky thought – was he being so nice because he was trying to get his leg over? I felt awful for thinking that. James is anything but sly. And anyway the problem was mine, not his. I had to get over this silly no-sex thing. After dinner, I went and had a lovely long candlelit bath, then moisturised all over and put on a little of James’ favourite perfume. I tried very hard to relax. James was sitting in front of the telly, and I went and snuggled next to him in my dressing gown. I slipped my hand under his shirt. I felt his body stiffen a little . . . it was an old signal between us, but I could see he wanted to be sure not to misread it. I kissed his ear softly and he turned and took me in his arms.

It was really nice. It was. It took me a bit of time to get
in the mood, and I maybe wasn’t as acrobatic or enthusiastic as I used to be. But James was very patient and gentle, and we managed to do the deed. He looked so happy afterwards . . . he gets a particular look after sex . . . his face relaxes and his eyes go very dark. He grinned at me, then gathered up his clothes and went to shower before falling into bed. I put my dressing gown back on, tidied up the living room and put off all the lights. And I put to one side the terribly guilty thought that I’d got that out of the way and I wouldn’t have to do it again for at least a week.

About ten days later, I was sitting at my desk at work, typing a very carefully worded email to a client who had complained about something. They spend a lot of money with us, and even though the problem wasn’t our fault, I couldn’t really say that. So I had to say sorry, without taking any responsibility, if you know what I mean. I tell you, it’s like the United Nations. I should get a prize for writing that kind of stuff.

I was concentrating, so at first I scarcely noticed . . . then I had a half-formed thought that my tummy felt a bit fluttery . . . a bit like the butterflies you get when you’re nervous. Then, as I finished the email, I gave the sensation my full attention. What was it? Could it be . . . ? But wasn’t it too early? I looked up ‘baby kicking’ on the baby website. They said with a first baby, you’d probably only feel something around eighteen weeks. I was just short of sixteen weeks. But what else could it be? I hadn’t
been thinking about it or looking out for it, so I didn’t think I could be imagining it. I grabbed my mobile, went off to the loo and rang Louise. She answered, sounding a little distracted.

‘Hi there . . . it’s Toni. Do you have a minute?’

‘Er . . . sure. Hang on a second . . .’ I heard her put her hand over the mouthpiece and murmur something to someone. Then she came back on the line.

‘Hi.’ From the background noise, it sounded like she’d moved outside.

‘I feel awful,’ I said. ‘You’re obviously busy. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

‘It’s no problem, really. I’d tell you if it was. Adam and I are just out for lunch, chatting about . . . work things.’

‘Lunch? It’s four o’clock!’

‘Is it?’ She sounded guilty. ‘Anyway . . . what did you want to ask me?’

I described what I’d felt. ‘Yup, that’s definitely it,’ she said. ‘I felt it for the first time the other day. And every day, the feeling gets a little stronger.’

I laughed. ‘It’s amazing!’ I said. ‘Oh, I wish it was strong enough so you could feel it from the outside. I want James to feel it too.’

‘I’m sure in a few months we’ll be complaining that they’re booting us too hard all the time.’

I put my hand on my tummy again and felt the tiny little flutters. Like wings. ‘This is the craziest feeling I’ve ever had in my life. There’s another whole person inside me, moving independently.’

It was Louise’s turn to laugh. ‘Isn’t it mad? I know billions of women do this, but I keep feeling like I’m the first one ever to go through it.’

‘I won’t keep you. You’d better get back to your lunch,’ I said.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘And Toni . . . thanks for ringing. It’s great to have someone to share this stuff with.’

That night, James and I lay together in the dark and I tried to explain to him what it felt like.

‘I’m so jealous,’ he said.

‘Jealous? Why?’

‘Well, I’ll never, ever know what it feels like to have someone kick me from the inside.’

‘That’s probably a good thing. You wouldn’t be doing well at all if someone could do that.’

‘I’m being serious. You have all this stuff going on inside your body. You’re making those little curly bits on its ears, and eyelashes and things. And then you get to give birth. And breastfeed.’

‘I wish you could do some of those things. Especially the giving birth. You can definitely have that one.’

‘I’m serious. I mean . . . I’ve done my bit. And very nice it was too. But the rest of this is all up to you.’

We lay there in silence for a while and I thought about what he’d said. I remembered the message I’d got on the baby website when I very first found out I was pregnant, when the woman asked me if this was bringing James and me closer together. Were we closer, or further apart? Yes, there were a million little niggly things, but we’d get over
those, right? I heard James’ breathing change and I knew he was asleep. I turned on my side and looked at his lovely profile. This man was the father of my child. And deep in my pelvis, I felt the tiny quiver once again. The tiny person inside me was half me, and half him. And that was the most amazing thing of all.

She was moving in very dangerous waters. Very dangerous indeed. Every day she spent with Adam Harper, she found herself more attracted to him. Yes, he was good-looking, but there was more to him than that. He was a fair, consistent and generous employer. He expected a lot from his team, but he treated them with respect and gave them autonomy and made them accountable. As a result, he ran a tight shop, and everyone who worked for him was intensely loyal. He was also well-read, witty and clever. His conversation was wide-ranging, and, unusually (Louise thought) for a middle-aged man, he listened. He really listened to her when she talked, unlike a lot of the blokes she’d worked with before, who always had seemed to be waiting for her to finish so that they could say the much more important thing they were thinking about.

There was one pressing question that occurred to her – why the hell was he single? He didn’t share many details about his personal life, but she had worked out that he was divorced, and had been so for at least ten years. His
ex-wife lived in Chelmsford with his two teenage children, and he spoke to his kids most days and saw them every weekend. She’d heard him have a few conversations with his ex-wife, and they seemed to have a civil and friendly relationship, and seemed to be committed to parenting their kids together.

Her cynical heart knew there had to be something wrong with him, but she couldn’t see anything. She really tried. She was desperate to give herself some kind of aversion therapy . . . she wanted to dislike him, or find something repulsive about him. But it was no good. She had it bad. When they leaned over a document together and she could smell his warm skin, she felt positively faint.

She was used to acting professionally in a work context, so she didn’t think she was giving anything away. She treated him coolly and tried to keep a physical distance between them at all times. She kept another thing front of mind . . . she imagined his look of horror if she made a play for him . . . a single, pregnant woman in her late thirties . . . she was scarcely a first-class catch. He’d asked a few general questions about her situation. She’d told him she was single and raising the baby alone, and made her tone of voice sufficiently brisk to discourage further questions. He soon got the hint and stopped asking.

But no matter how formal she tried to be, they were definitely getting closer. They were spending all day every day together as he brought her up to speed on every aspect of the business. They ate meals together and she learned how he liked his coffee and that he was allergic to nuts.

He offered to set up one of the spare bedrooms so she could stay and not commute back to London each evening, but she knew that was far too dangerous. Dinner, a small glass of wine sitting close to one another on the sofa, seeing him in the morning fresh from his shower . . . she’d never manage to keep her professional distance under that kind of pressure.

She counted the days to his departure . . . feeling both desperation that she wouldn’t see him for months and months, and relief that the sexual tension she could cut with a knife would be relieved. Somehow, the days crept past and it came to the day before he was due to leave. She’d agreed to move in that day and had driven to Surrey with her worldly possessions piled high in her little car. He helped her carry everything in and left her to settle in in a pretty bedroom that faced on to a little enclosed garden on the side of the farmhouse. She stood looking out of the window at the crazy profusion of daffodils in the garden outside, and beyond at the green hills. She could be very happy here.