Buddha Da (25 page)

THE HEAT WOULD
of melted you. Sticky, clammy, clingin. And everywhere ah walked seemed tae be up the way. Funny how ah never noticed all these hills afore; no that they’re hills really, it’s just me; ah feel like a big heavy cow.

Up the steps at Buchanan Street; of course the escalator’s no workin and they’re all pushin the other way. Pushin, rushin past me, and ah want tae cry oot, ‘Watch out, don’t dae that. Don’t hurt me – can yous no see ah’m pregnant?’ But of course they cannae see. Naebody can, there’s nothin tae show for it noo. So why dae ah feel so heavy? Even ma footsteps are heavier, ah’ve slowed doon. And there’s a risin feelin in ma throat; it’s no sickness, ah’ve never been sick, wasnae sick wi Anne Marie either, just as if there’s somethin in ma mouth, somethin ah cannae swallow.

Ah went tae the doctor’s on Monday. Dr Harrison. The wan that came when ma mammy died.

‘So when was your last period?’

‘10th April.’

‘You’ve done a pregnancy test already?’

‘Aye, last week.’

‘And it was definitely positive.’

‘Uh-huh.’

She started to press the keys on her computer.

‘Right then, I’ll book you in for a dating scan at the hospital and we can take it from there. Your care will be shared between the hospital and GP so you’ll see me for alternate appointments.’

‘You’re no gonnae dae another test then?’

‘No need. The ones you get in the chemist are very accurate now. And you’ll be getting a scan soon. You’ve children already, haven’t you, Liz?’

‘A daughter. She’ll be thirteen in August.’

She looked back through the folder on her desk. Ma medical history. ‘I see you’ve had two miscarriages as well.’

‘Aye, six year ago we tried for another baby. Efter the second miscarriage we kind of …’ Ah stopped.

‘Did they investigate the causes at all?’

‘Naw, just said it was wanny they things. Leave it a few month and try again.’

‘And you never had any problems with your first child?’

‘A wee bit spottin, but nothin serious.’

‘Well, it probably was just unfortunate that you had the other two miscarriages, but I’m going to book you in for an earlier scan, OK?’ She started pressin the keyboard again. ‘This Wednesday at 11 a.m. At the Queen Mother’s.’

‘Thanks. Can you make appointments through the computer then?’

‘Yeah, it’s great when it works. I’ll just take your blood pressure before you go.’ She started tae wrap the black cloth round ma airm and pump it up. ‘Will your husband be able to go with you to the scan on Wednesday?’

‘Ah don’t know.’ Ah must of looked a bit surprised for she smiled and said, ‘You haven’t told him yet, have you? This’ll be a surprise for him, won’t it?’

‘Aye, you’re right.’

There’s loads of folk sittin on the steps outside the Buchanan Galleries but there’s no a breath of air. Cannae unnerstaund what they’re all daein here. Ah know the sales are on but you’d think on a night like this they’d have somethin better tae dae than go shoppin. Ah wouldnae be here masel if ah didnae have tae get this baby present for Tricia. She had the wean yesterday, two weeks early. Wee lassie. Seven pounds, seven ounces. Roisin.

Wanst ah’d fought ma way through the crowds John Lewis was quite empty and the air conditionin cooled me doon a bit. Sittin in the café wi a cup of tea and a scone ah took oot the two parcels. Wan for baby Roisin, a wee frock as pink and frilly as ah could find. Ah thought it was hideous but Tricia would love it.

And the other. Two wee simmets, bodysuits they call them. Wan cream-coloured wi a bunny rabbit in the middle, the other patterned wi rockin horses and buildin blocks. Neutral colour, boy or girl. Boy or girl? At the scan yesterday it was a wee blurred shape on the screen but even then, even at just six weeks the shape is there, curled up like
a fist. The pulse of light is the heartbeat. Like a star blinkin in some faraway galaxy.

Six weeks. And they count the weeks fae the date of your last period so it’s no really six, just four. 15th January is the due date. A winter baby. Ah’ll get wanny they quilted suits, they’re that warm and cosy. The stuff for babies is beautiful now, they never had that many bright colours when Anne Marie was wee. And they make these prams that come apart so you can put the car seat on tae a frame and just wheel it away, easy.

Ah looked round the tearoom. It’s huge and there’s never many folk in here; too dear probably. The walls are deep yellow and they’ve paintins all round, bright splashes of colour. Ah’ve finished ma scone and ah’m still starvin. This is it startin. This is what it was like the last time – funny how you don’t forget. Either feelin full and hot and sick or else starvin. The pangs are stabbin at me, no just hungry, like ah could manage tae get hame and eat somethin, but sharp; ah need tae eat right noo. Ah heided back tae the counter for somethin else.

Ah must of sat in the café for ages withoot realisin, for when ah got hame it was hauf-six. Anne Marie was on the phone and barely looked up as ah came in the door. Ah went intae the kitchen and started tae dry the dishes she’d left, emptied the washin machine. A coupla a minutes later she came intae the kitchen.

‘Sorry, Anne Marie, never realised the time. Thought ah’d be back ages ago. We’ll need tae shift – visitin’s at seven. Did you get somethin tae eat?’

‘Aye, it’s cool, Ma. What did you get for her?’

‘A wee frock.’

‘Can ah see?’ She was in the bag afore ah could say anythin. She pulled the pack oot, made a face, put them back in. ‘Yuck.’

‘Yer Auntie Tricia’ll like it.’

There was a sea of pink round Tricia’s bed. Pink balloons tied tae the bedpost, the bed littered wi pink wrappin paper and baby claes and the bedside table hidden by pink cards. John and the three boys stood round Tricia, her sittin up in bed, beamin fae ear tae ear. And beside the bed, in a cot like a plastic box, lay the wean.

‘Congratulations, Tricia.’ Ah kissed her cheek. ‘John.’ He gied me a hug. Ah laid the present on the bed and Tricia unwrapped it.

‘Thanks, Liz – it’s beautiful, in’t it, John?’ She turned tae me. ‘By the way, you just missed Jimmy – he’s away five minutes ago.’

Ah didnae reply, just nodded at the cot. ‘Can ah have a wee look? Is she sleepin?’

‘Aye, typical – sleeps when she’s got visitors.’

Ah looked intae the cot. Crumpled wee pink face, keekin out fae the covers.

‘Aren’t you gorgeous?’ Ah put ma finger on her cheek, felt the softness. Anne Marie stood beside me, starin at the wean. Ah put ma airm intae hers.

‘How are you feelin, Tricia?’

‘Don’t ask. Och, but you forget it all, don’t you?’ She reached over, looked intae the cot. ‘Would you look at her? Isn’t she her daddy’s double?’

When we were gettin intae the car, Anne Marie said, ‘OK if ah go round tae Nisha’s the night?’

‘It’s a bit late, Anne Marie. It’s hauf-eight the noo.’

‘No school the morra, Mum.’

‘Ah know, hen, it’s no that, it’s just you gettin back late at night.’

‘Ma, it’s broad daylight tae nearly eleven o’clock. Ah can get a bus straight up Maryhill Road.’

‘Aye but you’d need tae walk all through they side streets tae get tae the bus stop.’

‘Och, Ma.’

‘Anne Marie, ah know you’re growin up but ah don’t want you startin tae run round the streets tae all hours of the night. It’s no safe.’

‘Ah’m no runnin round the streets – ah’m gaun tae Nisha’s – ah’ve got tae see her aboot the CD – ah’ve just had an idea. Mammy, it’s so nearly there, it’s due in next Wednesday, please, Ma?’

‘If you’re gaun tae Nisha’s hoose at night you need tae go when me or your daddy can pick you up. Why don’t you just phone Nisha and tell her?’

‘It’s no the same.’

‘Look, ah’ll pick you up fae Nisha’s hoose another night, ah promise. Ah’m just a bit tired the night and ah’ve got work the morra.’

Anne Marie shrugged and turned away. She really was becomin a teenager. In a few years she wouldnae need me at all.

The close felt cool and airy efter the clamminess outside. Ah put ma haund on the tiles and let the cold steady me. As ah climbed the stair ah felt a wee niggle of fear brush round ma throat. Last night ah’d tossed and turned all night in the stiflin heat, runnin through all the possible scenes in
ma heid as ah tellt him aboot the baby. All the different ways ah could say it. You’re gonnae be a daddy. Ah’m pregnant. Ah’ve been tae the doctor’s this week. Ah’ve got sumpn tae tell you. Could ah make a joke of it? Ah’m up the stick, got a bun in the oven.

And in ma heid he’d always take me in his airms and everythin would be all right. He was over the moon, overjoyed, couldnae wait. Even though it was too soon, a bit messy, we could make it all right. This was always happenin tae folk and they made the best of it. Babies brought you thegether. Jimmy and me had never been as close as we were in the early days wi Anne Marie – he was besotted wi her. Ah could mind us bringin her hame fae the hospital and sittin lookin at her as if she was a precious diamond or somethin.

But there, in the close, pausin at the first-flair landin, ah felt the clamp of fear reachin round ma hert, for the first time. Ah took a deep breath and went on up the stairs.

‘Hi.’ He put his airms round me and we kissed. Flicker of feelin. ‘Come on through tae ma room. Julie’s cookin for all her pals the night. Aboot fifty-nine pots on the stove – it’s like the Amazonian rainforests in there.’

We sat on his bed.

‘Want a glass of wine?’

‘No, ah’ll no bother. Ah’m a bit too hot actually.’

‘What aboot water? Ah’ve got some fizzy stuff in the fridge.’

‘OK.’

He came back a minute later wi a glass of water and a red wine, sat beside me.

‘So, is it a quiet night in the night? Or will we go clubbin?’

‘Could we mibbe have a wee talk, David?’

‘Sure.’

Ah took a deep breath. Nae point in haudin back or thinkin too much.

‘David, ah’m pregnant.’

Ah looked hard intae his face but there was nae clue; his eyes were clear and clean lookin, you could of looked through them. He took a sip of his wine, swallowed.

‘Well, ah didnae expect this.’ He traced his finger along the back of ma haund. ‘How do you feel?’

‘How d’you mean?’

‘Ah mean – is it what you want?’

‘David, ah don’t think it’s exactly how ah’d of planned it, but, aye, of course it’s what ah want. Ah’ve always wanted another baby, just never banked on it happenin like this.’

‘Me neither, ah mean, no so soon.’

He was lookin doon, still tracin his finger across the veins of ma haund as if his life depended on it.

‘Ah don’t know whit tae say.’

‘Ah know it’s a shock.’

‘How did … fuck, what a stupid thing tae say, but, ah mean, ah thought we’d been careful.’

‘Aye.’

‘Still, it’s no foolproof.’

‘Naw.’

‘It’s definite?’

‘Ah done a test.’

‘Right.’

He started tae pick up his claes aff the flair, foldin tee shirts and layin them on a pile on the bed.

‘Jesus,’ he said.

‘What if it’s a girl?’

‘What?’ He looked at me, confused for a moment, then his face took on a hauf-smile that was almost a grimace. ‘Ah’m too slow, sorry.’

‘Shouldnae joke aboot it.’

He sat doon beside me again. ‘Why break the habits of a lifetime? It is a joke anyway, if you look at it. Life’s a big joke.’

‘How d’you mean?’

‘The timin. It’s always the timin. Life, ah mean. We always think it’s things that happen that are good or bad but it’s no that, it’s the timin. If things come along at the right time, well, everythin’s brilliant – if it’s the wrong time, it’s a disaster.’

‘Sounds like philosophy … mibbe you could add it in tae your PhD.’

He took ma haund again. ‘It’s like us. Ah mean, we’re good thegether, brilliant – now if we’d met, let’s say two year fae noo. Ah’ve finished the PhD and got a job, you’ve divorced Jimmy … perfect. Then, efter a couple a year, you get pregnant. When we’re ready.’

‘But you’re no ready.’

‘Are you?’

‘Ah don’t think it’s quite the same for a woman. Ah think yer body’s always ready for a baby.’

‘Oh, come on, Liz. Whatever happened tae a woman’s right tae her ain body, tae control her fertility?’

‘Well, obviously ah havnae controlled mines very well or else we wouldnae be here.’

He put his heid in his haunds, pushed back his hair.

‘Christ, ah’m sorry, Liz. Ah’m an eejit.’

He put his airm round me and pulled me closer. ‘How
are you feelin anyway? You OK? Ah never even asked you if you were feelin sick or anythin?’

‘Ah’m OK.’

‘And you definitely want tae have the baby?’

‘You think ah should get rid of it?’

‘Well, obviously it would make life simpler, but it’s your choice. It is wan option though.’

‘It’s no an option for me.’

‘Right. Is it the Catholic thing?’

‘Ah don’t know … ah just … couldnae.’

He took his airm away, sat lookin at the flair. ‘Liz, ah don’t want you tae think ah’m slidin oot of this, but it’s a bit of a shock. Ah need some time tae think. Can we talk aboot this the morra?’

‘OK.’

‘D’you want a coffee or somethin the noo?’

‘Naw, better get gaun. Said ah’d pick up Anne Marie fae Nisha’s.’ Ah stood up, lifted ma bag. ‘David …’

‘Aye?’

Ah shook ma heid. ‘Nothin. Look, ah’ll see you the morra.’

‘OK. Seven?’

‘Aye.’

He put his airms round me, kissed me. His lips felt soft and squashy like peaches.

The next day ah went for a walk in the Botanic Gardens. Passin the time. Another wanny they close heavy days but the rain was drizzlin so ah went inside the Kibble Palace and sat on a bench among the big green tangle of plants and trees. A squirrel was joukin aboot underneath them. A couple walked by haund in haund. ‘It’s beautiful in here,’ she said.

Ah couldnae see how anybody could call it beautiful. Ah’ve never liked the greenhooses; tae me they’re dead scabby and sad-lookin, and the big plants gie me the creeps. Hate gaun intae the orchid hoose as well, especially on ma ain; always feel as if they’re gonnae reach oot and grab at ma airm, take me in underneath the earth somewhere and ah’ll never return.