Dear Thing (12 page)

This time
. Because Romily, unlike Claire, was able to carry babies.

That wasn’t what he meant. She swallowed. ‘I just think it would be prudent to keep it to ourselves until the end of the first trimester, that’s all.’

‘But don’t you want to talk about it with your friends? Helen?’

‘Not until it’s certain. And Ben, what if she does change her mind?’

‘She won’t.’

Claire thought about Romily’s untidy flat, her spontaneous meals, the laundry filed in the sofa cushions. ‘I don’t know if she’s as single-minded and determined as you think she is.’

‘This is the person who got a PhD whilst looking after a colicky baby.’

‘Well, to be honest, we did a lot of the looking after too.’

‘I think we should celebrate, just us. It’s a big step. I told Romily I’d leave early and take everyone to the Swan for dinner.’

‘Including Posie? Because I don’t think Romily has told her anything about this yet.’

‘Including Posie. She deserves to celebrate too. She’s going to be a … what is it? Godsister?’

‘Half-sister,’ whispered Claire.

‘Godsister. I think Romily should be godmother, don’t you?’

‘You’re getting way ahead of yourself, Ben. Just like you always do.’

He laughed. ‘You’re right. I’m excited, that’s all. I’ll pick you up at home at five.’

‘Okay. But don’t tell anyone. Please.’

He paused.

‘Oh no, Ben. You haven’t, have you?’

‘Only Justin. And Elaine. But they’ve got children, they know how it works.’

‘Having children doesn’t mean you know how it works when you can’t have children.’

‘Claire, it will be fine.’ His voice was soothing. ‘It’s all going to work out. I promise you.’

She twisted the hem of her skirt around her finger. ‘I don’t have a good feeling about it. It’s happened too quickly and too easily.’

‘Maybe it’s happening quickly and easily because this child was meant to happen.’

‘And our babies, the ones that you and I were trying to make, weren’t?’

‘No, I don’t mean that, of course I don’t. It’s just – this feels good. Doesn’t it?’

‘It felt good the last time, too.’

He paused again. ‘Sweetheart, I thought you were happy about this. I thought you agreed it was the best thing to do.’

‘I agreed that it was the
only
thing to do. There’s a difference.’

‘Why can’t you just be happy?’

‘Because she’s pregnant with your baby and I’m not.’

‘This is
our
baby.’

‘I have to go. The bell just went.’

She pressed the ‘end call’ button, her heart pounding in her ears. She breathed deeply, for two full minutes. She hadn’t known she’d feel jealous until she said it.

She hadn’t known that she would suddenly, whole heartedly hate the woman who was carrying her baby instead of her.

Max was in her classroom, bent over a guitar. He’d taken to hanging out there at lunchtimes, practising whatever songs he liked, shifting from one to the other. Claire didn’t see the harm, and the music was pleasant.

He glanced up when she entered the room. ‘Are you all right, Mrs Lawrence?’

‘What? Oh yes, Max. Thank you. Fine. You?’

He strummed a chord and then another.

‘I’m fine too,’ he said.

‘I think I’ll have the mushroom stroganoff,’ Romily said to the waitress and folded up her menu.

‘I’ll have sausages and mash,’ said Posie.

‘They’re real meat sausages, Pose.’

‘That’s okay. I’ve had them before. It’s Ben’s favourite.’ Posie beamed across the table at Ben, who beamed back. Though to be fair, Ben hadn’t stopped beaming from the moment he’d picked them up at the flat.

‘How about I give you a taste of mine,’ he suggested.

‘No, I want a whole sausages and mash for myself. Romily says she doesn’t mind if I have meat if I want to have it because it’s my choice but she’s not cooking it.’ Her voice sounded exactly like Romily’s when she said it.

‘I’ll have the mushroom stroganoff too,’ Ben told the waitress. ‘That way, if Posie doesn’t like the sausages we can swap.’

‘I’ll like it.’ Posie sucked milk through her bendy straw.

Romily, who happened to know that Ben was not keen on mushrooms, mouthed
Thanks
.

She’d been beaming too. She’d decided, after giving Ben the news, that the best feeling for her to have was unalloyed joy. Uncomplicated, straightforward, and happy. Why choose to feel any other way?

‘I’ll have a salad,’ said Claire.

‘That’s not much,’ Ben said. ‘You’re not planning on stealing my mushrooms too, are you?’

‘I’m not very hungry.’

Claire hadn’t said a lot, just played with her mineral-water glass. Romily wondered if, now that they’d started for real on this baby thing, she was getting cold feet. If she’d decided she didn’t want to do this, it was going to be pretty crappy for Romily and Ben. And the baby, of course, whatever it was.

Ben seemed cheerful enough. ‘Want to go outside and see the ducks, peanut?’

‘Yeah.’ Posie hopped off her chair and they went out of the door of the pub, down to the Thames which flowed at the end of the beer garden.

Romily was left with Claire. She seemed to be being left alone with Claire a lot, lately. She cleared her throat.

‘So,’ she said. ‘It’s good news, eh? I didn’t expect it to happen so fast. But that’s good, anyway. You two have been waiting long enough.’

Claire appeared to come back from whatever distant cloud she’d been floating on since they’d entered the pub. ‘Yes. We’ve been waiting a long time.’

‘Well, hopefully only nine months now. Posie was two weeks late, so maybe we’ll have to wait a little bit longer for this one too.’

‘Do you feel any different?’

‘No, not really. I wouldn’t have known if I didn’t do the test.’

‘You don’t even feel pregnant?’

Romily shrugged. ‘But I didn’t feel pregnant with Posie, either. I didn’t quite believe it until my belly started to grow.’

Claire was watching her with an expression that was calm, un emotional. No wonder Romily could never figure out what she thought.

‘Do you intend to stay vegetarian throughout your pregnancy?’ Claire asked.

‘Um. Well, yes.’

‘We’ll have to look into additional supplements to make sure the baby gets everything it needs.’

Romily opened her mouth to say that Posie had grown pretty well on Pot Noodles and veggie burgers, but Ben and
Posie came back then, so instead she said, ‘Excuse me, I’m going to nip to the loo before our food shows up.’

Ben helped her by pulling back her chair for her, and when Romily stood up she caught a glimpse of Claire’s face. And this time, she could read the expression. It was undisguised dislike.

Then it was gone.

BEN TURNED UP
at Romily’s flat on a Sunday with two enormous cardboard boxes.

‘Is it a present for me?’ Posie wanted to know immediately.

‘No, but I do have this.’ He took a notebook covered with multicoloured birds out of his pocket, and a matching pen out of the other pocket. ‘I thought maybe you could write me a story in it.’

Romily, who had already glimpsed
What to Expect When You’re Expecting
beneath the flap of one of the boxes, added, ‘In your room.’

‘Fortuitous!’ Posie took the notebook and pen and disappeared.

‘Are you sure you really want a kid?’ Romily asked Ben. ‘She’s been up since five thirty this morning. We’ve already gone around the park four times on her bicycle and she’s still not worn out. And then she cost me six quid in cake and hot chocolate, and asked me what the difference was between Jesus and Mohammed.’

Ben chuckled. ‘Clever girl.’

‘Children are expensive and they never let you sleep.’
Romily sank onto the sofa. ‘You are heading for eighteen years of being torn between wanting them to go away and leave you alone for a minute, and being petrified when they wander out of your sight.’

‘I’ll take her out this afternoon if you want to have a nap.’

‘I wouldn’t mind, to be honest. She was go go go yesterday, too.’ Romily winced, and crossed her arms in front of her chest. ‘And my boobs are killing me.’

‘That’s good news.’

‘You wouldn’t think so if they were attached to your chest.’ Romily poked open the first box. ‘Has Claire been shopping?’

‘Spent all day yesterday at it. I have no idea what’s in there.’

‘One, two, three, four pregnancy books.’ Romily lifted them out and peered inside. ‘More vitamins. Cocoa butter. It’s a bit early to worry about stretchmarks, don’t you think?’

‘She’s very thoughtful.’ Ben went to Romily’s little fridge and took out a Coke. He leaned against the kitchenette arch, crossing his legs at the ankles, completely at home, and cracked the can open. She realized this was the first time she’d been alone with him, even for a minute, since confirming that she’d carry his baby. Those few moments alone with a syringe of his sperm didn’t really count. She delved back into the box.

‘Lavender essential oil. A Chopin CD? Am I supposed to be playing this to your embryo to make it more intelligent or something?’

‘I have no idea. Maybe Claire thinks it will help you relax.’

‘Because Posie is the cleverest little kid I know and she mostly listened to Green Day.’

‘Claire’s done a lot of research. She’s very good at this sort of thing.’

Romily pulled out a cloth-covered notebook, embellished with embroidered flowers and suns and clouds. ‘
My Pregnancy Journal
,’ she read. ‘You have got to be kidding me. What am I supposed to write in there?
Five weeks: my tits hurt. Three months: getting fat. Six months: really fat now. Nine months: oh look – a baby
.’

‘I think she had some ideas about that. There’s a printout or something.’

Romily unfolded a piece of paper that had been slipped between the pages. ‘
Children who have unconventional beginnings – those conceived via surrogacy, or those who are adopted or fostered from birth – can often benefit from being reassured that they were wanted before they were even born. Write letters to your unborn child, describing your emotions. Explain why he or she is so important in your life. This can be a good idea for the adoptive parents as well as the surrogate or biological parents, and will give a rich resource for your child when he or she is curious about his or her origins
.’ She put down the paper. ‘So she wants me to write letters as well as keeping a diary? This is feeling more like a homework assignment than incubating a kid, Ben.’

‘It’s only a suggestion.’

‘Letters describing my emotions. What the hell is
that
all about? Why would a kid I’m not keeping care how I feel while it’s using my womb-space for nine months? Even if I did want to spill whatever non-existent emotions I had onto a page for posterity, which I do not, I can’t think of anything worse – and where am I going to find the time anyway, when I’m popping vitamins every five minutes?’

Ben held up his hand. ‘Okay, okay, it’s not compulsory. Claire likes sharing emotions. Talking things through.’

‘I don’t.’

‘I know.’

‘The whole thing makes me feel like I’m going to come out in hives. Claire can write the letters if she thinks it’s important. The best thing for this baby is for me to just fade into the background. It’s not mine, it’s yours.’

‘Well, we did hope you’d be his or her godmother.’

‘You did? Or Claire did?’

He grimaced slightly, and Romily could see she’d hit a sore point.

‘She doesn’t even like me much,’ Romily said, putting the diary and the printout back in the box. ‘I mean, not to make things difficult for you, Ben, but you have to admit we hardly have anything in common these days except for you. Which is fine, because I don’t have to have anything in common with her. As long as she wants this baby, that’s good with me. But I don’t think she trusts me.’

‘Of course she trusts you.’

‘Then why has she sent half a tonne of vitamins and a Chopin CD?’

Ben sighed. He came and sat down next to Romily on the sofa.

‘You have to understand Claire,’ he said. ‘So much of what has happened with us for the past few years has been completely beyond her control. She didn’t choose to have faulty eggs, nor to lose the pregnancy. You can’t blame her for wanting to be part of the process.’

‘She
is
part of the process. She’s getting the baby at the end of it, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, Romily. But I think she’s going to want more input.’

‘For example, giving me homework to do?’

‘Well, I thought she’d want to come to the midwife appointments, maybe. And it’s natural that she wants to look after you while you’re carrying a baby for us. We both do.’

‘That’s fair enough. It’s your baby. But it’s my body.’

Ben frowned. ‘Are you having second thoughts about this now?’

‘Oh, no,’ she said quickly. ‘No no no no. Of course not. It’s just … all of this is a bit much. All this stuff. I have to keep it hidden until we tell Posie, for one thing. And I don’t need it, not really.’

‘But if you do need something, anything, you’ll let us know, won’t you? I’ve been looking into all the legal ins and outs and I’ve made an appointment with a solicitor. The most important thing seems to be that we can’t give you anything that could be construed as payment, because that’s illegal in the UK. But we can cover your expenses, and your maternity clothes, and whatever pay you might lose for time off work, so you’re not out of pocket.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Romily said, uncomfortable. ‘If I have trouble accepting a Chopin CD, I’m not about to ask you for a new wardrobe. Anyway, this isn’t the issue. The issue is that I can’t be pregnant and be a mum and be working and jump through hoops, too, to fulfil what Claire thinks a perfect pregnancy would be like. I don’t have time for everything.’

Ben took Romily’s hand. ‘She’s never had it,’ he said softly. ‘Never once, what’s easy for you. And preparing for every eventuality is how she copes with uncertainty. Let her be a little part of it, Romily.’

His palm and fingers were warm around hers. Almost guiltily, she withdrew her hand.