Mother's Story (15 page)

‘Oh! I was just going to say how much it looked like you!'

‘Bugger off, Polly.' Jessica decided to ignore her friend. She beamed as she looked at the outline of her baby. She ran her fingers over the image and smiled at her mum, whose face was flushed with happiness. She couldn't wait for July the twenty-seventh.

‘Anyway, enough! We are wasting precious time.' Polly clapped. ‘I came to tell you we are just about to play “The Worst Godmother in the World”. We all have to give a truthful reason why we can't possibly be considered for the post. I thought I stood a good chance with my drug arrest and everything.'

‘Oh, Polly!' Coral squeaked and tutted, hoping Margaret hadn't heard.

‘Never charged, Mrs M, never charged!' She wagged her finger. ‘Anyway, it's a bit irrelevant. I think Gwen's going to win. Apparently she accidentally left her young cousin on a ferry bound for the Isle of Wight!'

‘Oh, the poor child!' Margaret gasped, having heard the tail end of the conversation from the hallway.

‘I know, right?' Polly nodded. ‘They got him back though. Bit shaken, but unharmed.'

‘Oh, I wasn't thinking he might be harmed, I just pity anyone that has to go to the Isle of Wight. Horrible place.'

Polly and Jessica fell against each other in giggles.

‘Oh for goodness' sake, you two!' Coral reprimanded them and they laughed even harder, just as they had been doing since they were small.

Four hours later, the kitchen was still awash with cava, a baby-shower gift from Matt's parents, and pale pink and blue streamers. The floor was sticky underfoot and mountains of wrapping paper crowded the kitchen table and mingled with the remains of the cake. Jessica and Matthew decided to shut the door on the mess and deal with it tomorrow as they retreated to the sitting room.

‘Did everyone have a good time?' he asked.

‘I think so. It was very noisy – I bet Mrs Pleasant wishes she had accepted her invite and not had to listen through the wall!'

Jessica clambered onto the sofa. This was her favourite time of the day: early evening, when she could lie against her man and talk through things, knowing that her bed awaited her.

She was working on an idea that she wanted to submit to the agency. She stretched her legs out on the cushions and rubbed her feet together. ‘You should have seen your mum's face today, it was priceless. She turned to Polly and said, “What is a Kardashian?” Oh God, I wish you'd been there!'

‘I'm glad I wasn't, don't think I'd have coped with the Measure the Cervix game, although Jake would have loved it.'

‘Oh, don't! Polly did suggest getting Paz in to read our cards. I drew the line at that one. She's left loads of her stuff here – her black yoga bag full of sweaty kit, a box of books and a large plant. I've shoved it all under the stairs.'

‘Christ, she's not moving in, is she?' Matthew bit his fingertips in mock terror.

‘No! I think maybe she's storing things here to get a step closer to moving in with Paz.'

‘Don't know who I feel more sorry for. She's stitching him up, planning his future, even though they've only just met. And God help her, the bloke's a nutter.'

‘Matt, remember, we are going to give him the benefit of the doubt until we know him better.'

‘I am.' He nodded. ‘But he's still a nutter! I mean,
Toe-Paz
…' He shuddered.

‘
We
should think about names.' Jessica grinned up at her man, knowing he found this too tricky to consider after a glass or two of wine.

‘No need, I am still sold on Phil after Phil Parkes.'

‘Ain't gonna happen.' Jessica shook her head. ‘But I do like Leo and Noah or Joe, for boys.'

‘I like Noah too, but it's a no-no.'

‘Why?'

‘Guy at work's just got a Noah, so that's out.' Matthew shrugged.

‘Guy doesn't have the monopoly on Noahs!' she protested.

‘True, but he and I have this unspoken competition thing going on. We're similar ages and abilities. He is definitely the biggest threat to my promotion and he plays golf, which I don't.'

‘So?' Jessica was struggling to see what this had to do with picking their child's name.

‘Magnus plays golf and Guy's always talking about bloody grand slams and bogies…'

‘Urgh! Bogies!' Jessica knew it was childish, but laughed anyway.

‘The point is, he makes it his thing because it excludes me and he got Noah first and he'd only rib me over it.'

Jessica bit her thumbnail. ‘So that leaves Leo or Joe?'

‘Joe Deane sounds a bit two syllabley – Leo Deane's better.'

Jessica laid her head on her husband's chest. ‘Good. I like Leo best. He'll be strong, lion-like.'

‘Absolutely.' Matthew liked the sound of that. ‘And for a girl?'

She sighed. She'd given it a lot of thought but tried to make it sound casual, like they were choosing together. ‘I rather like Bethan, Beth, Beth Deane. It's a great name. There was a girl in my class at primary school called Bethan and I wanted to be her, she was lovely.' She blinked against his shirt and waited for his response.

‘Well, I'm glad you aren't her, I'm glad you are you!' He kissed her hair. ‘How about Lilly? Lilly Deane is good.'

‘Lilly Deane sounds a bit like a music-hall act: “And now, all the way from the streets of Bow, it's the famous Lilly Deane and her musical spoons!”' She laughed.

‘Oh no, I don't want Lilly Deane to be a spoons player; I want her to be a supermodel!' Matthew declared.

‘No you don't! You want her to be a botanist or an artist.'

‘Do I?'

‘Yes!' she shouted.

‘So you like Lilly?' he pushed.

‘I do, but only Lilly the botanist.' She smiled.

‘I've always thought Lilly was a cool name, like Lily Cole or Lily Allen.'

‘But I still prefer Beth,' Jessica asserted. ‘I've always liked it. And I quite like Elsa.'

‘Elsa, that's another lion name – have you been watching
Born Free
? If this is the route we're taking, what about Simba?'

Jessica laughed. ‘No, Guy can have Simba for his next one.'

Matthew sighed. ‘Shall we agree to disagree and see what we get?' he asked.

‘Yep.' Jessica nodded. ‘But it's good to have a top three at least.'
So that's settled. Leo for a boy and Bethan for a girl!

‘Absolutely.' Matthew took a large sip of his wine. ‘Exciting, isn't it?'

Jessica nuzzled closer to her man, resting her head on his arm. ‘It really is.'

20th January, 2014

I loved hearing my mum say that stuff at the baby shower about falling in love with me at birth. But then I remembered the time she took me shopping when I was about seven. We went into the only children's clothes shop on the High Street, run by a woman she knew from slimming club. I didn't really like the clothes – they were fussy and impractical, with too many buttons, itsy-bitsy ribbons and voluminous underskirts – but everyone wanted them because they were French. I pretended I did too, because I didn't want to be the odd one out. Anyway, my mum had no intention of buying anything: the clothes were way overpriced and out of our league. The woman was called Irene; she was short, had wild curly hair and wore scarlet lipstick. She greeted my mum loudly, as though they were great mates, and swooped forward and kissed her. As she did so, her sickly-sweet perfume tickled my nose. My mum was a little ruffled, to put it mildly; she didn't kiss anyone, not even us that often. Irene then glanced at me and said, ‘Oooh, this little duckling might yet become a swan!' I felt tears gather as my cheeks burned and my heart beat loudly in my throat. I might have only been seven, but I knew she was calling me an ugly duckling.

Two things hurt me that day. Firstly, I hadn't realised I was a gosling. I hadn't given any thought as to my attractiveness or whether I was pretty. I was just happy being me. The realisation was hard. And secondly, I was floored by the fact that my mum didn't say anything in my defence. Nothing. Instead, she laughed nervously as if in agreement and clutched her handbag. It's funny how those little things come back to you so vividly. I can see now, of course, that she was just laughing politely to put her friend from slimming club at ease. But back then, aged seven, it stung so much. And then later at the baby shower, I remembered it again, and felt suddenly hollow. I vowed that when I had my baby, I would think it the most beautiful creature in the whole wide world. I would never let anyone call it an ugly duckling.

It was July the twenty-fourth. Jessica sighed, blinked and turned slowly onto her side. It was now quite routine for her to wake in the early hours and have to rethink her sleeping position. Her eyes narrowed as she tried to focus on the clock. It was 4 a.m.

‘Urgh.' She groaned, very loudly. Though not trying to wake her husband exactly, a small part of her was irked that he got to sleep like a baby while the real baby that was growing inside her was busy nudging her awake and squashing her bladder until she paid it the attention it demanded. It bothered her a little that Matthew got to be one half of this parenting duo and yet for the past nine months or so had carried on leading a normal life. He slept through the night and didn't look like he had swallowed a beach ball. How was that fair?

Waking at this ungodly hour had become a habit. Jessica would toss and turn until 6 a.m., when she could stand it no longer and, driven by boredom, would pop Matthew's sweatshirt over her pyjamas and go in search of tea and crap television. Then, as if Old Father Time was playing a trick on her, at 8 a.m., when the rest of the world was gearing up for the day ahead, she would be so drowsy she could sleep for hours.

She found some relief for her aching back and cramping legs by placing a small cushion between her thighs and moving onto her side. Reaching down to locate the cushion, which had previously sat on the spare bed in the guest room, she realised to her horror that she had wet herself.

‘Oh God! What on earth?' Mortally embarrassed, she pulled her hand above the duvet and ran her thumb pad across the underside of her fingers. They were wet. Jessica reached over with difficulty and snapped the bedside lamp to life. Her heart rate slowed when she saw that it wasn't blood. She surreptitiously sniffed her hand; it smelt sweet and definitely wasn't pee. ‘Okay. Okay.' She took a deep breath, realising that her waters had broken. This was quickly followed by the awareness that she had a new sensation in her stomach. It was a grumbly pain sitting in her lower abdomen, a bit like period pain, but tighter. She rubbed at the skin, taut across her swollen womb, and breathed out.

‘Matt.' She gently rubbed his back. He made a small groaning noise, but remained on his side, deep in sleep. ‘Matt!' She spoke a little louder and her rubbing turned into a small thump.

‘What?' he croaked. This was never a good time for him.

‘My waters have broken.'

‘It's too early,' he mumbled and pulled the duvet up over his shoulder from where it had slipped.

‘What do you mean it's too early?' Jessica sat up in the bed. She jabbed him in the back with her elbow. ‘I'm having the bloody baby, Matthew!' She started laughing as the full realisation of what she was about to do flooded her body and brain.

Matthew pushed himself up into a sitting position and opened one eye fully. His hair was flat on one side, the other stuck up like a 1970s Gonk. ‘What, really? What, now? How do you know?' He blinked furiously and rubbed his face.

Jessica nodded. ‘I'm sitting in a pool of amniotic fluid.' She lifted the duvet and looked beneath it briefly. ‘In fact, so are you.'

‘Jesus Christ!'

Jessica laughed as her husband leapt from their marital bed as if he'd been stung.

He felt around on the floor for his pants. ‘Aren't you supposed to be screaming and gripping the headboard or something?'

‘I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to be doing. I've never had a baby before.' She smiled, patting the duvet flat around her.

‘How do you feel?' He sat on the side of the bed and pushed his arms through the long sleeves of his QPR shirt.

‘I feel okay, excited, nervous and happy!'

‘Good, good. That's all very good.' Matthew exhaled through bloated cheeks. ‘I'm feeling quite nervous too.'

‘I can tell, Matt. You have your pants on back to front.'

Matthew looked down. ‘Isn't it bad luck to reverse your clothes once you've put them on the wrong way round? I think it might be.' He put his jeans on over the top of his back-to-front pants.

Jessica studied her man. ‘Are you sure you want to wear your football shirt? I don't want to sound like an old nag, but there will be photographs taken that we will want to keep, possibly forever and ever, and you will be immortalised in your QPR top.' She chewed the inside of her cheek.

‘Exactly! That's why it's perfect. Plus I want Leo Anthony to see these beautiful blue and white hoops the moment he is born!' He pulled the fabric away from his chest and raised it to his mouth for a kiss.

Jessica rolled her eyes. ‘Or your daughter…' she offered.
Bethan, my little Beth…

‘Yep. Or her. In fact, this is perfect – if it is a girl, she might marry a footballer who plays for QPR!' Matthew's face lit up at the idea.

Jessica lifted the duvet and shouted down into the depths, ‘Stay where you are, baby. Your dad has lost the plot.' She resurfaced and looked at her husband. ‘I don't really want that to be our daughter's highest aspiration.'

‘Why not? They're loaded.' He grinned.

‘Have you been talking to your mother?' she asked playfully. ‘Ooh, ouch.' Jessica's expression changed as she sat forward and drew breath. The internal punch came out of nowhere. ‘Shit, that hurt a bit.'