Babies in Waiting (40 page)

‘Look how he’s looking at you,’ she observed.

‘He is staring, isn’t he?’ said Rachel, almost smiling.

‘I think it’s your blouse.’ Rachel was wearing a silk blouse with a dramatic black-and-white geometric print. ‘Tiny babies like black-and-white patterns.’

Louise sat Peter up, and he tried hard to hold his head steady while he goggled at the pattern. She could see Rachel
hesitate and fight her natural urges, and then she saw her lose the fight.

‘Let me hold him, then he can see it better,’ Rachel said.

Without comment, Louise handed him over, and watched her sister melt as she took hold of Peter’s warm, sturdy little body. They stayed longer that day, and for that extra hour Rachel sat holding her nephew close. When Louise packed up to leave, Rachel patted her arm awkwardly. ‘See you next week,’ she said. ‘I’ll get one of those playmats for him to lie on, one with nice black-and-white checks. He’d like that.’ The battle was won, but not the war. Rachel remained frosty towards her, even if she had warmed to Peter and liked playing with him and holding him.

Things were a little better at the weekends when Simon was also there. Once Brian had packed up and gone back to Leeds, Simon got into the habit of coming down on a Friday night and staying with Louise for the weekend. It meant she could have a lie-in on a Saturday and Sunday morning, and on Sunday afternoons, she and Simon would take Peter over to Rachel’s or meet Rachel and Richard somewhere for a meal.

Simon was the proudest and most devoted uncle Louise had ever seen. He bought three different varieties of sling so he could carry Peter close to his body. He discovered that Richard had once been a keen amateur photographer, a hobby he’d not had much time for in recent years, and he bullied him into getting a good digital camera in order to take pictures of Peter on a weekly basis. He was very good
at putting everyone at their ease, and, week by week, he gently teased Rachel until she started to loosen up a little.

Things often worked best when they all went out. There was more to talk about, and Rachel couldn’t buzz neurotically around her perfect house, straightening things and tidying around them. One crisp autumn afternoon, they ate a splendid pub lunch and then went for a walk by the river. Peter could now hold his head up pretty reliably, so Simon wore him in a sling that let him face outwards to see the world. Richard walked with him, every now and then running ahead a few steps so he could take another picture in the golden afternoon light. Rachel and Louise strolled a little way behind. Louise laughed and said, ‘I wonder what people think, seeing us. Do you think they’re trying to work out who Peter belongs to?’

‘I’m sure they think Simon is the dad,’ said Rachel.

‘Unless they think Richard is . . . he’s doing proud-daddy photographing.’

Rachel gave a naughty giggle. ‘Maybe they think Peter has two dads . . . and that Simon and Richard are a couple!’

‘And we’re their fag-hags!’

They walked on in silence for a bit, then Rachel said, ‘Peter’s very sweet, Louise. He’s a real blessing to you.’

‘He is,’ Louise said quietly. ‘I know the circumstances weren’t ideal. Not at all. And I know it caused a lot of pain, and some things, well, some things can never be fixed. But however it came about, he’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I love him. I do. And none of it is his fault.’

‘Of course not.’

Simon suddenly turned back to them. ‘Lou! Rach! Look at this!’ He did a silly little dance and jiggle, and Peter, excited by the movement, gave a goofy little grin. ‘Richard got a picture of it!’ Simon said excitedly.

‘Ah, proud dads,’ said Rachel, smiling.

‘What?’ said Simon, puzzled.

‘We were just speculating about passers-by thinking you and Richard were a happy couple out with your baby,’ explained Louise. ‘We thought people might be wondering who Peter belongs to.’

‘He belongs to all of us, doesn’t he?’ said Simon pragmatically. ‘We all love him, after all.’

Rachel and Louise looked at one another and nodded.

‘Now I’m freezing,’ said Simon. ‘Even with this little hot-water bottle strapped to my front. Let’s go and get a coffee.’

Later that evening, Simon and Louise sat chatting after Peter had gone down for the night. ‘Today was better with Rachel, wasn’t it?’ said Simon.

‘I think we made a bit of a breakthrough,’ agreed Louise. ‘She still totally disapproves of me, but she loves him. That’s all I really care about.’

‘She is softening towards you, though. You’ve made a real effort to spend time with her, and I know she appreciates that.’

‘Glad she tells you that. She doesn’t tell me much of anything.’

‘She will. She’ll open up. It just takes time.’

‘Has she told you any more about what the doctor said?’

‘Just that they reckon she’s almost certainly not going to conceive a baby naturally.’

‘Because she’s gone into menopause?’

‘Yes. The equipment’s apparently all fine, just the ingredients are not up to scratch.’

‘So could she have IVF?’

‘Not with her own eggs. And she feels that she doesn’t want to use donor eggs because then the baby wouldn’t be her blood.’

‘So what now?’

‘I don’t know. If she doesn’t want a baby that’s not hers, I don’t know that she’d consider adoption.’

‘Poor Rachel.’

‘I know,’ said Simon. ‘But you’re doing the right thing. If she can’t be a mum, giving her the chance to be a very involved aunt is a wonderful thing.’

An email came through, inviting her to the antenatalgroup Christmas party. She was in two minds about it . . . she didn’t really want to see any of those women again, but Toni had tentatively said she would like to go. Gemma was happy to be there to support Toni, who was making small but significant steps towards recovery, but then Toni told her Louise would be there too. She was grateful to Louise for her support for Toni, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to have to speak to her. They’d been alternating days, spending time with Toni, so she hadn’t seen Louise at all, and had never seen her baby. In the end, it was Santa who persuaded her. Toni told her that there would be a Santa Claus at the party, and she wanted a picture of Millie with Santa to make into a Christmas card. She’d ignore Louise if she had to. There’d be enough other people there so they didn’t have to talk.

The antenatal unit had declared the waiting area to be a pushchair car park, and by the time Gemma and Toni arrived, it was already crowded with Bugaboos and iCandy
Apples. ‘I’m too embarrassed to park mine here. It cost less than a thousand pounds,’ said Toni. ‘Do you think they’d mind if I hid it out in the hallway?’

Gemma laughed and lifted Millie out of her own top-of-the-range pink pushchair. ‘You can pretend mine is yours if you like.’

‘Put my butch son Harry in a pink pushchair? That’s the way to give him an identity crisis!’ laughed Toni. She was much more herself these days, cracking jokes and laughing, although she still had dark times and days when she wouldn’t leave the house.

They carried their babies into the room, and the full range of motherhood was revealed before them. There were mothers breastfeeding, other mums offering their babies bottles, mums whose babies were strapped to their fronts in slings, others whose babies sat in car seats or bouncy chairs while they texted or talked on the phone. Having seen all these women pregnant, it was odd to see what they had been hiding inside their bumps. A quick glance around the room satisfied Gemma that Millie was the most beautiful baby there. Some of them were downright scary: fat, spotty, bald, or very red in the face, although there was one rather sweet chap, about twice Millie’s size, with the face of a cherub and a shock of flaming red hair. She glanced up to see who he belonged to and blushed as she caught Louise’s quizzical gaze.

‘There’s Louise and Peter!’ said Toni happily, and headed over to join them.

She didn’t have to talk to Louise. There was plenty of
other chatter going on. She went and queued up to have Millie’s picture taken with Santa, and then made her way back across the room, chatting to people as she went. Everyone wanted to tell everyone else their birth story, although Gemma’s giving birth on the kitchen floor was by far the most dramatic. People kept coming over to ask her about it, and she was proud to tell them all that it was Toni who had actually delivered Millie. Toni blossomed under all the admiration and attention, and for the first time since Harry was born, she had real colour in her face. Gemma was glad they had come.

A woman holding a baby with a perfectly round, bald head came over and sat down next to Toni. Toni introduced her as Susie, the woman who’d told her about hypnobirthing. It seemed Susie had had a brilliant waterbirth, and now all the midwives wanted to be trained in hypnobirthing because of her experience. Gemma thought she was a bit smug, to be honest. It wasn’t a competition, but if it were, Susie clearly thought she’d get first prize for the best birth. Well, at least Millie had hair and didn’t look like a potato. Being born on a kitchen floor didn’t seem to have done her any harm.

Donna the Midwife came round and said hello to everyone. She had been on duty for Susie and Louise’s births, but was very interested to hear about Toni and Gemma’s experiences.

‘You were both incredibly lucky,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t always end so well . . .’ She stopped herself.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Toni.

‘No, no, nothing,’ said Donna. ‘I’m just so happy you both have such beautiful, healthy babies.’

She moved on to talk to the next group of women.

‘I wonder what that was about?’ said Louise.

‘She was talking about Penny,’ Susie said.

‘Penny?’

‘Penny was also in this group. You might remember her . . . very businesslike. Always wore a suit.’

That could be any one of ten women, so Gemma, Louise and Toni just nodded.

‘She went into labour, but when she came in to have the baby, they couldn’t find a heartbeat. He’d died, and she had to give birth to a baby she knew wasn’t alive.’

‘Oh my God, that’s awful!’ said Toni, her eyes filling with tears.

‘I’ve just remembered we have to leave!’ said Louise firmly. ‘Susie, it was lovely to meet you. Gemma, remember we have to get to that thing.’ She stood up and scooped up her baby. ‘Toni, let’s go.’

Gemma was about to protest, but she could see what Louise was trying to do. In her fragile state, Toni didn’t need to stay here listening to stories of women who had lost their babies.

Together, they hustled Toni out, and Louise led them to a nearby coffee shop. She went to get drinks, and Gemma sat patting Toni’s shoulder. Toni was shaking a little, and she held Harry tightly. ‘That poor, poor woman!’ she said. ‘I keep imagining what it must have been like. A whole pregnancy and then the labour, and all for nothing! And
having to come home to a nursery all ready, but with no baby to put into it . . . I don’t know how she bears it.’

Louise sat down with the tray, and handed Toni a plate with a big slice of chocolate cake.

‘Get that down you,’ she said briskly, ‘and I got you hot chocolate too. I can’t buy you wine, but we can medicate with the cocoa bean.’

‘I’m okay, really I am,’ said Toni. ‘It was a shock, hearing it, but I’m not going to have a relapse or anything.’

‘As long as you’re okay,’ said Gemma doubtfully.

‘I’m not a fan of your friend Mrs I’m-the-first-person-to-have-given-birth-ever-in-the-world-and-I-did-it-better-than-you Susie,’ said Louise acidly. ‘A little less talking about herself and a little more sensitivity to others would do her no end of good.’

Gemma laughed out loud, it was so exactly what she’d been thinking. But because it was Louise who’d made the joke, she stopped herself. Toni turned to look at her.

‘This Penny thing puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?’ said Toni. ‘I mean, look at the three of us. None of us had the perfect experience. Pregnancy, birth, whatever. We all had lots of doubts, lots of issues, lots of problems. But look at these three!’ she said, indicating Harry, sleeping pressed against her chest, Peter, gazing curiously around the room and chewing his fist, and Millie, lying like an angel in her pushchair, her little starfish hand by her cheek. ‘They’re healthy and perfect. They have great futures ahead of them. And we’re alive and well too. It just makes all the other petty crap look like . . . well, like
petty crap, don’t you think?’ She stared hard at Gemma and Louise. ‘Now I love you both, and you’ve both been amazing supportive friends, but it really gets on my wick that you won’t speak to each other. Gem, I wouldn’t even know you if it wasn’t for Louise. I love seeing you both individually, but I feel like the tug-of-love child in a divorce. I want to see you together. Can you get over your argument and be friends again? Please?’

There was a long and awkward pause. Then Louise spoke. ‘Gemma, I was really hurt by your text message. You made assumptions about my situation, and I know you’re young and you might have your reasons, but it was hurtful. I’m sorry I yelled at you at the antenatal class that time, but I’d just been getting it from all sides that week.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Gemma. ‘I’m sorry for the text message. It was mean and unnecessary. I have big issues around married men who sleep around, because of my dad. I took it out on you, and I’m sorry.’

‘Apology accepted,’ said Louise, and then she smiled. Gemma remembered that warm, lovely smile and she was secretly pleased to be on the receiving end of it again. ‘Right, well, I’m glad that’s sorted, as we’re going to be in-laws.’

‘What?’ said Gemma, confused.

‘Well, that’s a beautiful girl you’ve got there. I’m putting in a claim now for Peter to marry her. After all, they were born on the same day.’

‘Oi!’ laughed Toni. ‘Back off! Harry’s had his eye on her for ages! And who knows? She might like a younger man.’

‘I think Millie’s going to play the field for a while before she settles down,’ smiled Gemma. ‘Now, Toni, are you going to eat all of that cake, or can I have a bite?’

She loved Toni, she really did. They’d become incredibly close, and she had nothing but admiration for her friend’s daily battle with depression. But there were other emotions churning in Gemma’s heart . . . feelings she could do nothing about. Feelings she couldn’t deny, couldn’t control, and definitely, definitely couldn’t do anything about. She was in love with James.