Babies in Waiting (29 page)

Gemma laughed out loud at this. ‘Have you met my mum? You might think differently if you had. She’s glamorous and very, very busy. And she’s had some . . . problems of her own.’

‘Firstly, I can’t believe
anyone
is so busy they wouldn’t want to be there for the birth of their grandchild, and secondly, maybe this is what she needs. Something positive to focus on. Something to look forward to. And if not her, what about Ben? He is the baby’s father.’

‘Really? You’d never believe it. He hasn’t shown any interest in it so far at all. He’s avoided me as much as he can, and hasn’t come for a scan or anything. He’s been next to useless.’

‘How do you feel about that?’ Toni popped another little muffin in her mouth. ‘Sorry, that makes me sound like a therapist, but you know what I mean. I mean, I suppose you love him very much.’

‘I did . . .’ said Gemma slowly. ‘I loved him so, so much. When I got pregnant I thought it would be a way to hold on to him. But I feel different now. He’s been so hopeless, and that makes me think he’s a bit rubbish . . . not a proper grown-up man, just a silly little boy. And also, it’s much more about the baby for me now. I’m going to have my own baby. I don’t need a stupid boy in my life if I have my little girl.’ It sounded so brave when she said it aloud. She wished she could believe it. Now that it looked pretty certain that her dream of a little house with her and Ben as the perfect parents was never going to come true she didn’t want to seem pathetic. She’d just have to keep putting on a brave face.

Toni smiled sympathetically. ‘It would be nice if your little girl had a dad, though.’

‘That’s true, but if Ben’s not going to step up and do the job, I’ll meet someone else in a few years. I’m young. I’ve got lots of time.’

Gemma wished she felt as confident as she sounded. But Toni’s questions had made her uncomfortable and a little bit scared. Maybe she did need more help and support. She dropped Toni off at her house and drove slowly home. Samantha was sitting in the kitchen with a magazine. She had her laptop and phone beside her, and she was simultaneously texting, typing on the
computer and paging through the magazine when Gemma walked in.

‘Hello, dear,’ she said briskly, and went back to tapping on her keyboard, her long nails clicking. ‘Did you have a nice time at the library?’

‘I was shopping,’ Gemma said. ‘I told you, I went shopping with my friend Toni.’

‘Tony who? Do I know him?’

‘Her. Antonia. A girl Toni. And no, you haven’t met her. She’s also pregnant.’

‘That’s nice,’ said Samantha vaguely, but she was busy looking at her phone, and Gemma wasn’t sure her mum had heard her.

She swung herself up on to one of the stools opposite her mother.

‘Listen, Mum, I’ve got something to ask you.’

‘Hang on a second, dear,’ Samantha said, tapping away on her phone screen. ‘Right!’ She clicked the Send key and put her phone down, then folded her hands and looked at Gemma brightly. ‘What did you want to ask? Do you need money for something? I do keep asking your father just to get you a credit card so you can buy what you need.’

‘It’s not money,’ said Gemma, already regretting the conversation she’d begun. ‘It’s just . . . well, I wasn’t going to have a birth partner, but Toni says maybe I should, and I was wondering . . .’

‘Oh Gemma,’ said Samantha, leaning as far back on her stool as she could without actually tumbling off backwards. ‘I, er . . .’

‘Well, I thought maybe you could . . .’

‘It’s not, well, it’s not really my thing, sweetheart,’ said Samantha, her tone still brittle and bright. ‘You know how squeamish I am. I go all funny if someone even mentions blood.’

‘You could stay up at the head end,’ Gemma said, remembering what Toni had said about James.

‘Oh dear . . .’ said Samantha, clearly horrified that Gemma was serious about this. ‘Really, darling, I do think this is one of those things that’s best left to the professionals. I’ll be right outside, and I’ll rush in with a pretty nightie for you and loads of pressies for the baby the minute it’s all over.’

Samantha’s phone beeped and she swept it up and began tapping away. Clearly, the conversation was over.

Gemma had been Samantha’s daughter for far too many years to be upset by this interaction. She’d been surprised and grateful when Samantha had come to her scan, but she knew hands-on parenting (or indeed grandmothering) wasn’t really her mum’s style. She slipped off the kitchen stool and went upstairs. She sat quietly and thought for a while, then quickly took out her phone and rang Ben’s number. She’d just ask him straight out. The phone rang and was answered within just a few rings. Hannah spoke briskly. ‘Ben’s phone, hello!’

Shit. Gemma couldn’t exactly ring off now, her name would have come up on the screen. ‘Hi, Hannah,’ she said brightly. ‘Is Ben there?’

‘He’s just in the shower,’ Hannah said (and I bet he
won’t be thrilled to know you’re answering his phone, Gemma thought). ‘Anything I can help you with?’

‘Oh, no, it’s fine . . . just ask Ben to call me,’ Gemma said. She was desperate to get off the line before Hannah asked her about the next antenatal class. She really, really didn’t want to go with her.

But Hannah wasn’t going to let her off that easily. ‘Gemma, I’ve been meaning to ask you. What are you planning to do about the birth?’

‘What do you mean “do” about it?’ said Gemma, playing for time. How did Hannah know that was what she had rung about?

‘Well, I assume you’ll be in the hospital rather than at home,’ Hannah said, as if a home birth was the most ridiculous thing she could imagine. ‘I wanted to know who would be there? Your parents?’

Gemma almost laughed. If her mum had been a long shot, the thought of her father watching her give birth was truly insane.

‘Well, I was actually ringing to ask Ben . . .’

‘ . . . Oh I can’t imagine Ben would do it. But I would just love to—’

‘Listen, could you just get Ben to call me?’ said Gemma firmly. ‘Thanks,’ and she rang off.

Of course Ben didn’t call. She didn’t really expect him to. He’d been such a lame idiot about the whole thing, why should it change now? Maybe she was just being ridiculous. She’d planned all along to do it by herself. She’d just keep planning it that way. It would be fine.

She shouldn’t have been surprised when Adam called. But of course, she was caught utterly off guard when her office phone rang at nine sharp on Monday morning. ‘Louise,’ he said briskly, and from that one word, she knew he knew about Brian. ‘I’ve just had a chat with Alan. He has some concerns about what’s been going on at the house.’

Alan. Of course. Alan had been at the ill-fated lunch party and would have seen that Brian’s car had remained in the farmhouse driveway ever since. She wasn’t sure what Alan had heard of the fight she’d had with Brian, but whatever it was, what he had had to report to Adam would not look good. With the splendid clarity of hindsight, she realised that, no matter what, she should have got to Adam before Alan did to tell him what had happened. There really was nothing, nothing at all she could say that didn’t paint her in a completely awful light. She took a deep breath.

‘I’m very sorry, Adam. My personal life has . . . somewhat overtaken me. The father of my baby arrived out of
the blue and needed somewhere to stay. There’s nothing going on between us, but it’s unforgivable that I didn’t speak to you beforehand.’

There was a long, crackly silence on the line.

‘You’re right,’ Adam said, and with a sinking feeling, she realised his voice was as cold as she’d ever heard it. ‘You should have spoken to me. It seems to me you’ve overstepped boundaries, both in terms of personal trust and professionalism.’

There was no intimacy or affection in his voice at all. Louise began to shake a little. He continued. ‘I should be back a fortnight from today, and I’d appreciate you finishing up your time in the office. But I would prefer it if you and your . . . man would move out of my house immediately. Alan has said he will move in for the last couple of weeks to look after Millicent.’

What he was asking was perfectly fair. She couldn’t argue at all. It was her own stupid fault. To be honest, though, she’d spent so much time kicking herself for stupidity and bad decisions recently, she was surprised she could still walk. ‘Fair enough. I’ll have my stuff out by the end of today,’ she said. ‘And Adam . . . I’m sorry. So, so, sorry.’

There was a long pause on the line, so long she thought the call might have been cut off, and then he said, ‘Me too.’

The click on the line sounded horribly, hollowly final.

Well, the very least she could do was do what she had promised Adam. She checked her diary: there were no
meetings until the usual staff catch-up at midday. She rang Brian, waking him up, and briskly told him to pack up all his things and tidy the house.

‘Why?’

Louise hesitated. Then she said, ‘The boss, the man whose house it is, well, he found out you were staying there, and he’s not happy about it. He wants us both to move out.’

‘Good God. What an unreasonable bugger! Why shouldn’t you have a house guest? Do you want me to speak to him?’ said Brian.

That was the very last thing she wanted. ‘Well, to be fair, you’re a bit more complicated than just a . . . house guest . . .’ Louise said. She hadn’t expected Brian to ask questions, and she didn’t have answers. She didn’t want to tell him about her fledgling relationship with Adam, not right now. But Brian, it seemed, was quite keen for an argument.

‘That’s none of his business! You could take him to tribunal for this.’

‘Look, Brian, the job is one thing, but staying in his house was an . . . informal arrangement. He feels I’ve overstepped a mark by having you to stay without letting him know, and I’d like to put things right. So could you pack your things and be ready to move this afternoon, please? Now I have to go. Goodbye.’ She hung up with relief, and prayed that Brian would do as she asked.

She did a quick web search for estate agents, made a few phone calls and set up viewings on three short-let apartments relatively near to the hospital for that afternoon.

Throughout the midday meeting, she avoided meeting Alan’s eye, but when she glanced at him, she could see he had his head down and was blushing furiously. She felt quite sorry for him. He’d done the right thing, there was no doubt about it, but he wasn’t a very brave chap and it must have taken all his courage to shop her to the boss. After the meeting, as everyone filed out of the boardroom, she called him over. She could see he was shaking in his boots, obviously expecting her to tear a strip off him. Instead, she said calmly, ‘Alan, I’ll be out this afternoon for a couple of hours viewing apartments. Could you hold the fort, please? I don’t have any meetings but I am expecting a call from the vinyl company about that late order.’

Alan nodded, obviously not trusting himself to speak.

‘I should be back at about four,’ continued Louise. ‘And I’ll be out of the house this evening. I’ll feed Millicent before I go, so you don’t need to stay the night there if it’s not convenient for you.’

‘It’s, er . . . it’s fine,’ said Alan. ‘I’ve got my stuff with me.’

When Louise popped back to the house, she discovered to her enormous relief that Brian had done a fine job of packing and cleaning. ‘I’m going to meet some estate agents,’ she told him. ‘I know you don’t have anywhere to go, so for now, you can stay with me. But Brian . . . we need to sort out what’s going to happen long-term.’

She expected another argument, but to her surprise, he just said, ‘I know’.

She took fifteen minutes to pack her own clothes, toiletries and books, and then hopped into the car to meet the first of the estate agents. The first flat she saw was dark, absolutely tiny and none too clean. The second was lovely, but expensive, and up two flights of stairs. There was no lift in the building. She felt the climb, heavily pregnant as she was, and she didn’t relish the thought of lugging a baby and a pushchair up and down the stairs every time she went out.

The third flat was sparsely furnished, a bit corporate and cold, but it was clean, there was a lift in the building and it had two double bedrooms. Best of all, it was empty, and the landlord was keen to get someone in immediately. She went back to the estate agent’s office, paid an eye-watering sum as deposit and first month’s rent, and signed all the paperwork.

The reference checks would take a couple of days, so she drove back to the farm and informed Brian he was paying for two rooms in a hotel until they could move into the flat. He meekly agreed and carried all of her bags and boxes out to her car. He drove off in his own car to check them into the nearby business hotel, and Louise took one last, slow walk around Adam’s house. She tidied away a few things in the kitchen, loaded the washing machine with bed linen and towels and set it going. Then she sat down on the window seat and stroked Millicent’s smooth fur. When the tears began to drip on her, Millicent gave a human-sounding moan, stretched and stalked off. Louise blew her nose, took one last look around, and then
left, locking the door. Silly, she thought, so silly. How can you be so sad to lose something you never had?

Louise was busy unpacking the very first of the nursery boxes in the new flat on the Saturday morning when her mobile rang. Her heart sank a tiny bit when she saw it was Rachel.

‘Louise, I’m here at your farmhouse and some nice young red-headed man tells me you’ve moved out. You didn’t tell me!’ Rachel’s voice was unnaturally high . . . she never responded well to surprises or the suspicion that she’d been left out.

Louise decided to go with absolute remorse. It was the only way. ‘I’m so sorry, Rach. It all happened so quickly. I haven’t even told Simon.’

‘Oh,’ said Rachel, sounding slightly soothed. ‘Well, I’m standing here with bags of sleepsuits and the sweetest little teddy. I was in John Lewis and I just couldn’t resist. Where are you? I’ll bring them round.’

‘Oh . . .’ said Louise. It was a Saturday morning, how could she possibly put Rachel off? ‘Well, we’re in the middle of unpacking right now . . .’ the word was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. Might Rachel have missed it? But no.