Dear Thing (29 page)

‘But Romily, that’s so nice of you. Thank you.’

‘You won’t be thanking me once you try one of them. I am truly a terrible cook.’ She picked one up and then dropped it back on the plate with a thunk. ‘Still, not bad for my first-ever effort, I suppose.’

‘If that’s your first-ever effort, I’m getting out my grandmother’s porcelain in honour of it.’ Claire went to fetch two flowered, gold-rimmed plates from the dresser and put a cake on each of them. They were quite heavy for their size.

‘You don’t have to actually eat them,’ said Romily. ‘It was purely a lame gesture.’

‘I’m going to enjoy this thoroughly.’

‘I hope you have a good dentist.’

Claire peeled the paper off and took a bite of her cake. The top was slightly burnt and the middle had settled into a dense, floury, cocoa-tinged brick. ‘Interesting,’ she said.

‘Now that’s a word for it. I do appreciate constructive criticism. Who knows, I might decide to make these again one day.’

Claire chewed, and chewed, and swallowed, and then spent a few moments trying to remove gluey cake from the sides of her teeth with her tongue. ‘Next time, maybe set the oven a bit lower. If it’s too hot, sometimes the top can burn and the middle doesn’t cook through.’

‘Noted.’

There was a chunk of something in her next bite that she couldn’t quite identify. ‘Did you put nuts in?’

‘It might be a bit of eggshell,’ Romily said, wincing on her behalf.

For the second time this morning, Claire surprised herself by laughing.

She was glad Romily was here. Glad to be rescued from the long, purposeless day stretching ahead of her.

‘As long as it’s not a bit of a cricket,’ she said.

‘It’s definitely not cricket, though I hear they are delicious and full of protein.’ Romily took a bite of her own cake. ‘It’s not as bad as I feared. Nearly, but not quite.’

‘They’re good,’ said Claire. ‘And I’m honoured that you went to the trouble for me.’

‘Oh well, you know Hal is still talking about the ones you brought me.’

‘I’ll make him some more.’

‘No no, don’t do that. I’m sure you have many more important things to do.’

‘Not really,’ said Claire sadly. ‘I finished the nursery over the summer.’

‘Did you?’ Romily turned her tea mug around and around in her hands. ‘I’m sorry we haven’t been able to get together
very often recently. I sent you some texts about the yoga, but you must not have got them.’

‘I did,’ said Claire’s mouth without her brain’s permission, again. ‘But I didn’t answer them because I was angry with you.’

Romily’s hands stilled. ‘Why?’

‘I felt that you were taking stupid risks with yourself and by extension, with our baby.’

‘Claire, I’m so sorry about the accident. I didn’t mean to—’

‘I know.’

Both of them poked at their misshapen cakes.

‘I was upset,’ Romily said, at last. ‘I’d had an argument with Jarvis.’

‘Oh no. About Posie?’

‘It wasn’t about anything important. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Believe me, Claire, it won’t happen again. I know how precious this baby is.’

‘I know you do,’ said Claire, because it was obvious in everything about Romily right at this moment. ‘And it was rude of me not to answer your texts. How are you feeling in yourself?’

‘Fat and awkward.’

‘Ben says that once the baby is here, everything is going to be perfect and we won’t have to worry about anything any more.’

Romily smiled. ‘Oh Claire, your worries are only just beginning. You’ve got nappy rash, and colic, and sleepless nights, and children’s television, and potty training, and the naughty step, and nits, and tantrums, and bedwetting, and mystery illnesses, and dribble, and oh, and you can never watch horror movies again because you’ll completely
imagine that everyone who gets killed in them might be your child.’

‘I think it will be worth it.’

‘Yes,’ said Romily. ‘It is.’

‘Can I ask you a question? As a mother?’

‘Of course.’

‘Do you think I should email Max? That’s the boy who the trouble was about. He’s very lonely and he’s very talented. I’m afraid that without me in the school to encourage him, he’ll give up music altogether.’

‘Are you joking? Of course you should. Otherwise he’ll feel abandoned.’

‘I’m not sure it’s professional. His parents wouldn’t like it.’

‘Well, as you’re saying you’ve pretty much lost your job anyway, it doesn’t seem like you have anything to lose by being a little unprofessional. But I think it’s exactly the thing that a good teacher would do. My biology teacher from school used to send me notes after I went to uni. I met up with him a few times. He was great.’

‘Max is only fourteen. I don’t want people to think it’s weird.’

‘You’re not weird. You’d be trying to help him. A good teacher like you can change a kid’s life. And you wouldn’t write anything that you’d be ashamed for his parents to see, anyway.’

‘No. I wouldn’t. Okay, I will email him, then. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Romily.’

‘No worries. I’m glad I could do something more useful and appealing than my baking.’

‘Do you want to see the nursery?’

‘Go on.’ They abandoned their cakes.

‘How are things with Jarvis?’ Claire asked as they climbed the staircase.

‘Um … unexpected.’

‘How so? Besides the obvious, of course.’

‘He’s his own person. He’s not just a memory or a set of genes. He’s got his own wants and opinions, and he sees everything differently.’

‘Do you think he’s a good father? Potentially?’

Romily paused at the top of the stairs. ‘He’s trying hard. Posie likes him.’

‘What about you?’

‘That doesn’t really matter.’

‘Posie favours him. He’s quite good-looking.’

Romily made a non-committal sound, probably amused that Claire was trying to set her up with the father of her own child. It was none of Claire’s business. But wouldn’t it be neat, if it tied up that way?

‘Sorry,’ said Claire. ‘I suppose if you’re happily married you just want to see everyone else paired up too.’

‘It’s fine,’ said Romily, though her voice was a little off, and Claire instantly wondered if Ben had been confiding in her. If she knew about the arguments they’d been having.

But she couldn’t ask, and Romily didn’t say anything more, just went to the nursery and stood there looking around.

Outside it was still raining but this room was full of sunshine. The yellow walls, the bright yellow curtains with their crisp white ribbon trim. The soft carpet, the cuddly bears, the changing table and the honey-coloured cot with its light green blankets and its mobile of sheep and clouds.

‘It’s beautiful,’ said Romily. She picked up a cushion from the rocking chair, the chair where Claire would hold the baby and sing. She ran her hand over the crisp soft cotton and then she put it down carefully where it had been before. She
looked at the baby monitor, ready to go; the wicker baskets where Claire had already stashed nappies and cotton balls. ‘You’ve thought of everything.’

‘I wasn’t sure. I felt as if I were tempting fate.’

Romily shook her head. ‘No. This is perfect. This is how it’s meant to be.’ She touched the mobile and sent it twirling gently in the air. ‘Posie never had any of this. Do you remember? She slept with me for so long until we could find a flat with two bedrooms.’ She stopped the mobile. ‘But even if I’d had a bigger house and more money, I could never have done anything like this. I haven’t got the gift for it. Not like you.’

‘Oh.’ Claire shrugged self-consciously. ‘It was my project.’

‘The baby is going to be very happy here.’

‘I hope so.’

Romily took Claire’s hand. She put it on her belly.

‘You’re all going to be very happy,’ she said.

‘
OKAY, NOW I
need you to come in here with me.’

Claire hesitated. They were at a motorway services, having stopped after being on the M4 for only fifteen minutes, and Romily was pointing to the baby changing room. She was holding a large rucksack which she’d excavated from the boot of her Golf when they’d pulled in.

‘You want me to go into the baby changing room?’ Claire asked. ‘Why?’

‘Trust me,’ said Romily. ‘It’s all part of the secret mission.’

She’d shown up at Claire’s house this morning with Posie in tow. Claire hadn’t had a clue that she was coming, but from the way Ben scooped up Posie and immediately went upstairs with her to play knights and queens with her toy castle, she knew that he had helped to plan whatever it was. All Romily would say was that it was a top-secret mission and that Claire had to get into the car with her. She refused to answer any questions about where they were going, just smiled and shook her head.

And now the baby changing room. Claire had a quick look around to make certain there weren’t any desperate parents
with bulging nappy bags before she went in. Romily closed the door behind them and plopped her bag down on the changing table.

‘Now take off your top,’ she said.

‘Pardon?’

‘You’ll understand in a minute. I promise.’

Claire unbuttoned her shirt and slipped it off. Romily immediately took out several scarves and a cushion from her rucksack. Claire recognized the cushion as being from Romily’s sofa.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked for the dozenth time, beginning to laugh.

‘I’m making you pregnant. Turn around.’ Romily placed the cushion on Claire’s stomach and quickly tied the scarves around her waist to keep it in place. She did some adjustments and then stood back to survey her work.

‘My shirt is never going to fit over this,’ said Claire.

‘No worries. I’ve just the thing.’ Romily pulled out a pink T-shirt and handed it to her. It had BABY printed across the chest, with an arrow pointing down to the belly. ‘I bought it specially. Just to banish any lingering doubts.’

Claire would never wear such a thing in a million years. She put it on.

‘Perfect,’ said Romily. ‘You are now, officially, knocked up.’

There wasn’t a mirror in the room. Claire looked down at herself. ‘This must look fake.’

‘No, it’s pretty convincing. As long as no one pulls up your T-shirt, you should be fine. Come on.’ She opened the door.

Claire hesitated again. ‘I see what you’re trying to do, Romily, and I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t really think this is a good idea.’

‘Nobody knows you out there. You’re among strangers.
Nobody knows anything about you, nobody’s going to think twice about it.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Trust me,’ said Romily.

Claire followed her out, feeling extremely self-conscious, expecting stares and questions. Nobody appeared to notice them at all.

On their way out of the services, Claire caught sight of her reflection in the glass door. She stopped and stared at herself. It wasn’t a clear reflection, not like in a mirror, but it was clear enough.

She looked pregnant. This was the way she would look if she were pregnant. She was rounded and flushed and pretty. She looked happy.

‘You look great,’ Romily told her. ‘Even I would give up my seat to you on a bus. Are you ready for the next stage?’

‘You even have to sit differently,’ Claire was saying as they arrived at the address Romily had looked up on the internet. ‘Your legs have to go wider. It affects absolutely every movement you take.’

‘The first time I was pregnant I kept on getting stuck between things. I forgot I couldn’t fit through.’ Romily turned off the ignition. So far the experiment was a success; Claire had been exclaiming for the past half an hour about how strange it felt to have an enormous belly. She looked younger and more vulnerable when she smiled. Romily could understand why Ben liked making her do it.

Though Ben made Claire smile because he loved her. Unlike Romily, who was trying to expiate her guilt.

‘What are we doing here? Where are we – Marlborough?’ Claire asked, and then she looked out of her window. ‘Oh.’

‘It’s a baby boutique and it’s far enough away from where you live and work that nobody is going to know you.’ Romily gestured to the front door of the boutique, painted a pastel blue. There were fluffy cotton clouds hanging in the window. ‘Go ahead. It’s Thing shopping-time. After that, if you want, we can find the café with the most yummy mummies in it and sit right in the middle of them.’

‘Do you – do you think it’s bad luck to buy clothes for the baby?’

‘You’ve decorated the nursery. How can this hurt? Go on, enjoy yourself.’

Claire opened the car door and got out. She bent, clearly with some difficulty, and looked back in at Romily. ‘Aren’t you coming?’

‘You don’t need me. I’d be surplus to requirements.’

‘I’d like you to come too.’

‘No no, I’d be a distraction. This is for you.’

‘It’ll be much more fun with two of us. And I’d feel less of a fool.’

It was Romily’s turn to hesitate. This was the downside to her plan. She’d thought she’d be able to stay in the car. Not have to look at the little things.

‘What if one of the scarves slips and I need you to tie it up again?’ said Claire. Romily gave in and got out of the car.

‘I’ll just buy one or two bits,’ said Claire. ‘Maybe a hat or a cardigan, if they have them in yellow or green or white.’

The boutique was exactly what Romily had pictured. It was painted white inside, white walls and off-white floorboards, with tiny beautiful clothes hanging everywhere. Teddy bears. Cuddly lambs. Handmade rag dolls. Everything safe and soft, in the colours of jewels and nature. A woman folding clothes near the front greeted them both.

‘Good morning,’ said Claire, bright and cheerful, and began looking around. She obviously had a talent for shopping that Romily didn’t possess. Romily glanced at a price tag.
That much
for something that was just going to get baby poop on it?

She tried to glide around looking noncommittal, while Claire examined everything, exclaiming over the gorgeous little dresses and darling little trousers. She picked out a knitted green cardigan and considered a pack of organic cotton Babygros. The sales assistant gravitated towards her, judging her the more likely of the two of them to make purchases.