And Baby Makes Two (9 page)

“I suppose that was
my
fault too!” I shrieked. When Charlene and Dara’s dad died, he left insurance money and a house and things like that behind. When my dad went off, he left the debts of a small Third World country and a queue of bailiffs and policemen behind. Plus, Charlene and Dara were clever and motivated like their dad, and I wasn’t. “You’ve always blamed me for my dad. You look at me and all you see is a big mistake!”

“That’s not true, Lana.” She made a move to touch me, but I pulled away. “You’re the proof—”

I didn’t want to hear her lies.

“Well, I’m not like you,” I screamed. “I already love my baby. And I’m not killing it. Or giving it away. And it’s never going to have to be on its own.”

She looked like she was trying not to cry. She started saying all the usual stuff about how much responsibility a child is and how hard it is to bring one up on your own, but I wasn’t going to listen. I grabbed my jacket from the arm of the couch and shot out the door.

I went straight to Blockbuster.

There were a few customers strolling past the new releases, and a boy and a girl behind the desk with Les.

He gave me a wave.

“You read my mind,” he called. “I was thinking of taking a break. Do you fancy a coffee?”

We sat at
our
table in McDonald’s, in the corner by the window.

Les had had a big fight with a customer who said he’d brought back a video that he hadn’t brought back.

“People!” He shook his head. “You’d be amazed at what they try on.”

“I know.” I’d stopped crying by then, but I snuffled a bit so he’d know I was upset. “It’s incredible.”

He looked at me over his coffee. “You OK? Your eyes look funny.”

I glanced in the mirror behind him. I looked like a panda.

“I had another fight with Witch Hilary.” I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand. “My mascara’s run.”

“What about this time?” Les grinned. “Did you forget to buy the milk again?”

“Not exactly.” I looked into my cup. “Can I go home with you tonight? I’ll tell you what happened then.”

Coffee sloshed over the sides of Les’s cup.

“To
my
place? Tonight?”

I handed him my napkin. “It was a really big fight. I don’t want to go home.” I gave him a stern but affectionate smile. “I’ve really got to talk to you.”

He was busy mopping up the table. “Not tonight, Lana. It’s impossible tonight.”

“But I can’t go home.” My voice was a little shriller than I’d meant it to be. “Please let me stay with you.”

He was shaking his head. “Another time, but not tonight.”

“But I’ve got to talk to you!”

He blinked. I’d never shouted at
him
before.

“Well, here I am,” said Les. “Talk to me.”

I like McDonald’s, I really do. And I know McDonald’s really likes kids and everything. But it still isn’t the sort of place where you announce that you’re pregnant.

“Not here,” I said. “Somewhere private.”

Les waved his arm. “This is private. There’s no one near enough to hear us.”

He gave me a look. Now we were even. I’d never seen him pissed off with me before either.

“If you keep your voice down,” he added meaningfully.

I ignored him.

“
Why
is it impossible tonight?” I demanded. “It’ll be late. No one’ll even know that I’m there.”

He paid no attention.

“So what was the fight about? How come you need to talk to me?”

I pushed my drink away. “I want to go home with you.”

“And I’ve told you, you can’t.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get back. We’ve got a trainee tonight.”

“What about our talk?”

He got up and pushed in his chair. “Talk on the way to the shop, or it’ll have to wait.”

“It can’t wait. My biological clock is ticking.”

Les laughed. “What are you on about now?”

I sat up straight. I folded my hands on the table in front of me.

“Les,” I said. “I’m going to have a baby.”

He laughed again. “Yeah, course you are.”

“I am,” I said. “Your baby. Ours.”

He sat back down.

“Jesus,” said Les. “I can’t believe this. I thought you were on the pill.”

Why would he think that?

“But you knew I was a virgin. Why would I be on the pill?”

He stared back at me as if I was a difficult customer.

“I thought you had it sorted. That night when I came after the stag party … I thought…” He shrugged. “I thought you were, you know, ready…”

“I was ready…”

I started to cry again. It wasn’t like you could just go to the chemist and buy a packet of birth control pills like a pregnancy test, was it?

“But I wasn’t on the pill.”

Les reached out and put his hands on mine. “Do you want me to go to the clinic with you? I’ll go if you want. You shouldn’t go alone.”

I swallowed some tears. “What clinic?”

“For the abortion,” said Les. He squeezed my fingers. “I won’t let you go on your own.”

This was not in my script.

“But I’m not having an abortion.” I smiled through the teardrops. “I’m keeping the baby.”

“Keeping the baby?” You’d think my hands had turned into hot coals, he took his away so fast. “Are you nuts? You want to have a baby? What about your A levels? What about going to RADA and all that? You can’t have a baby now.”

That was what I’d told Les, that I was doing my A levels and applying to RADA when I finished. I was surprised he’d remembered. Since I hadn’t.

“Yes, I can,” I said. “I always planned to have children. I’m just starting a little sooner than I thought.”

“And what about
me
?” hissed Les. “I told you right from the start, Lana, I’m not ready for anything serious.” He was wearing a deep orange shirt and a black and orange tie. He fiddled with the tie. “I’m only twenty, for Christ’s sake. I’m not ready for a kid. I’m just getting my career off the ground. I can’t support you and
it
. I can barely support myself.”

“I’m not asking you to support us,” I said stiffly. “I’m not trying to trap you, Les. And I won’t tell Hilary who the dad is, if that’s what you’re worried about. You can count on that.” I looked deep into his eyes. “But let’s not forget who didn’t bother using a condom.”

He blushed and looked at his hands. “Don’t I have any say in this?”

I swallowed hard. “You can say what you want, but I’m not killing our baby.” I raised my chin. “And I’m not giving it away either.”

Les squashed his coffee cup in his palms. “And just how do I know that it’s
our
baby, Lana? Huh? How do I know
that
?”

This wasn’t in my script, either.

“What do you mean?” I wasn’t keeping my voice down. I was trying to, but it wasn’t possible. “Of course it’s yours! I was a
virgin
! Do you think the father’s
God
?”

“For Christ’s sake, Lana!” hissed Les. “Everybody can hear you.”

“I didn’t want to discuss this here,” I shrieked. “I wanted to go to your place. So we could have a proper talk.”

“Well, you can’t come round tonight.” His eyes shifted. “It’s Gary. Gary’s having a party. It’d be worse than trying to talk in here.”

“But we can go to your room—”

He looked at his watch again. “I’ve got to get back, Lana. I’m sorry. Are you coming?”

I’d never seen Les look so cold and hard. He was like a stranger. I hadn’t thought about it before, but all of a sudden it hit me that I could lose him. If I caused him too much trouble… Instead of us getting married and having our own flat, he could get a transfer south of the river or something and I’d never see him again. I took a tissue from my pocket and blew my nose.

“I can’t believe it,” I mumbled. “You’re angry with me!”

“I’m not angry, Lana. I just… It’s a bit of a shock, that’s all.” He came round and put a hand on my shoulder. “You’re sure your mother doesn’t know about me?”

I nodded. “Of course she doesn’t. It’s none of her business who the dad is, is it?”

“And you’re sure it’s mine?”

My tears fell on his hand.

I couldn’t tell if I had more chance of losing him if he knew he
was
the father, or more chance if he thought it could be someone else. I decided to hedge my bets.

“As sure as a woman can be,” I said truthfully.

Let him work out what that meant for himself.

And that was it, really.

Except for the part where I got tortured as punishment for becoming a grown-up without anyone’s permission. The form of torture chosen by my mother was having to listen to advice from everyone and anyone she could drag into my private affairs.

Nan said I didn’t know what I was letting myself in for.

“Children are a full-time job,” said my nan. “Just washing the nappies used to take me hours.”

I thought she was joking. It had never occurred to me that disposable nappies hadn’t always been around.

“Well, nobody washes nappies any more,” I said when she’d corrected me. “
Or
bottles.”

“You’re throwing your life away,” said my nan.

“You mean like
you
did?” I asked. “You had four kids. That means you threw it away more than once.”

“You should learn from other people’s mistakes,” said my nan. “Not repeat them.”

My sister Charlene had obviously inherited her genes from my mother’s side.

“You’re throwing your life away,” said Charlene. “You should live a little before you have kids.”

“You’ve got two of your own,” I pointed out.

“You don’t have a husband,” said Charlene.

“Neither do you. You’re divorced.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” said Charlene. “But I
do
have someone who contributes to our expenses.
And
I have a job. I’d go mad if I had to stay at home with them.”

I laughed. “You’re mad, anyway.”

My sister Dara – the one who’d been trying to have a baby for about twenty years – said my life was over.

“You’re the one who said there’s more to life than a good job and a gold credit card,” I reminded her. It was the song she sang at every family gathering after her second glass of wine. “You’re the one who wants to get knocked up so bad.”

“I’m not fifteen,” said Dara. “I’ve travelled and stuff. I have a career and a stable relationship. All you do is go shopping and watch telly.”

The headteacher said I didn’t
have
to give up school and my GCSEs. The door to my education wasn’t closed. There were special programmes for girls in my situation.

“What situation?” I asked. “I haven’t been kidnapped. I’m having a baby.”

The doctor said she hoped I knew what I was doing and that there were people I could talk to if I couldn’t talk to my mother.

“Make sure you explore all your options,” she advised me.

“I have,” I said. “I’m not a murderer.”

They all sounded like my mother when they sighed.

The doctor gave me a stack of leaflets to read, vitamins and a regular appointment at the antenatal clinic. She told me there were birthing classes at the hospital me and my partner could sign up for.

I said my partner and I would be keen.

“It’ll take a lot of the mystery and fear out of it for you,” she informed me. “I’d strongly recommend it. Especially since you’re so young.”

“We’ll go,” I promised. “We consider this a sharing experience.”

I got that line from a magazine for mothers-to-be. Old four-eyes loved it.

Then she told me all about the toy library and the clothing exchange the council ran. As if I’d let my child play with toys some other kids had chewed on or wear clothes somebody else’s baby had had the splatters in. I mean, really…

Even Mrs Mugurdy upstairs got in on the act. She thought I was throwing my life away, too.

“When I was your age I was dreaming of sailing across the ocean to Thailand or Peru,” said Mrs Mugurdy, “not watching
Sesame Street
.”

“And here you are in Kilburn,” I answered cheerfully.

“I did live in Singapore for many years,” said Mrs Mugurdy.

I thought she was winding me up. I didn’t know Singapore was a country, I thought it was some kind of drink.

Only Charley didn’t give me a hard time.

“I rather fancy being a grandad,” said Charley. “I like babies.”

“That’s because you’ve never had any,” said my mother.

Preggers

I had my own ideas of what being preggers would be like.

My body would swell, but it would be more womanly and sensual. With all those hormones steaming through my body, my skin would become soft and radiant. I would
glow
.

It wouldn’t all be good news, though. There was morning sickness and indigestion and various aches and pains. The old cow made sure I knew all about those.

“Just wait till you get heartburn,” she’d tell me gleefully. “Just wait till you can’t sleep or sit down for more than five minutes.”

But what I was worried about was becoming frumpy and tired-looking like some of the women I saw in the supermarket. I’d look at them and think, how could
they
get pregnant when they’re so unattractive?

And I wasn’t going to walk as though someone had stuck my arms on backwards, either. I’d seen a picture of Cindy Crawford naked when she was pregnant, and she looked great. And pictures of Posh Spice. She had clothes on, but they were cool designer clothes, and she looked great, too. You couldn’t imagine them crouching over the toilet bowl or refusing to go to a party because their back hurt. They were beautiful
and
pregnant. Not pregnant but beautiful. That’s what I was going to be like.

I could see myself sort of floating down Oxford Street in a long, flowing white dress. I was wearing gold platforms and a gold necklace and the gold charm bracelet Les gave me for Christmas. Women smiled at me. Men gazed longingly. When I got on a bus
everybody
offered me a seat. Light shimmered around me and everyone was laughing. I looked like an angel with a bun in the oven and a lot of friends.

“Lana!” my mother shouted through the bathroom door. “Lana, are you all right?”