The One That Got Away (20 page)

‘At least you attempted make-up, I couldn’t see the point of even getting dressed in the morning, not when I’d be plastered
in baby puke and sobbing by ten in the morning anyway!’ says another girl. ‘Mind you – my
post-natal depression was still undiagnosed at that point.’ She smiles brightly. No one knows if they should laugh at this
or not.

‘Let’s do the presents!’ says Rose’s younger sister quickly, because Rose looks a bit like
she
wants to cry, as you would if you’d just been told what you’d been working towards for nearly nine months is going to be
completely shit.

The gifts are largely lotions and potions designed to stop bits of Rose dropping off or expanding beyond repair – ‘Anything’s
worth a go Rose! Believe me!’ – practical things like Cook! Vouchers – ‘So you can stock up the freezer and pull something
out when you’re so knackered you just want to kill yourself’ – or baby clothes, over which we all coo. They are properly
sweet and tiny. I can’t help but pick up an especially small cardigan to marvel at as I sit back down. An actual real baby
is going to wear that. ‘Oh! That’s Baby Gap, isn’t it?’ says a woman knowledgeably, looking at it.

One of Rose’s friends from work swells with pride. It must have been from her.

‘They’re so great for basics,’ the first woman says, ‘although I do find their organic cotton range a bit limited.’

I watch as Rose’s friend deflates slightly, but the woman doesn’t notice. ‘What changing station did you go for in the end
Rose?’ she calls up the table, turning away.

‘Still deciding – I know, I know – if this baby is early
I’m screwed – but I’ll just have to make do if that happens. A friend of mine at antenatal class told me about this really
great reviews site and I want to read everything on that first before I commit to a decision.’

I laugh, thinking she’s joking. After all, this is the Rose who took herself off to Africa for three months on her own after
we graduated and worked as a volunteer in a medical centre, bombing about all over the place in a jeep held together by prayer,
rust and string.

Everyone looks at me in surprise and I realise she’s not. So quickly, I make it look like I was coughing and say, ‘Why not?
Can’t hurt to do some research can it? I don’t so much as buy suntan lotion without going on Trip Advisor first.’

The first woman nods approvingly. ‘You don’t want to wind up like my friend, who bought the first high chair she saw. Rose,
it’s total crap –
it doesn’t fold away
– she’s gutted.’

Rose begins to open my present. I almost want to tell her to save it until later, seeing as I’ve bought her a girly DVD, a
selection of glossy magazines and the four cupcakes; nothing baby-related at all – what the hell was I thinking? It all seemed
quite fun yesterday. Now …

But Rose says, ‘Oh great – I still haven’t seen this yet. Thanks Moll. And magazines and cakes! Perfect!’

She puts it all down on the table, gets to her feet and puffs over to give me a hug. One of her chums picks up a magazine
and reads out loud ‘“Are ripped jeans back?” Well they’ve never gone away in my house! Not on my
lot! Ha ha!’ she starts to flick through, then snorts with amusement before reading out loud, ‘“I take a thoughtful bath,
make my first cappuccino of the morning, decide that the Marc Jacobs’ will be perfect for interviewing pop’s most petite princess
and step out into the tinkling iciness of a delicate winter’s day.”’ She hoots with laughter. ‘Not got kids then? Who are
these people? Get a life with some meaning!’

‘Now, now, it’s just a bit of fun. I think it’s a great present Moll!’ Abi says loyally.

The woman looks at me in horror and says, ‘Oh God! I didn’t mean that – I
love
stuff like this; magazines are the way forward.’

‘That’s true, Suze can’t cope with actual books any more, the last full work she read was “Spot Goes to the Park”,’ teases
the second.

‘Bugger off!’ grins the first. ‘It’s true though,’ she concedes. ‘And frankly even that’s a little highbrow these days. Ha
ha!’

‘I just thought if you end up being really late or something it might be a welcome diversion,’ I explain, trying to avoid
looking at the Spot the Dog woman in dis belief as Rose gets to me and I lean round her bump. ‘And obviously the cupcakes
are just, well, for putting your feet up with.’

‘When d’you last see them Rose?’ someone teases. ‘Sometime back in September?’

Rose grins and pats her belly as she moves back to her chair. ‘I haven’t been able to see anything below my
waist for months now which – believe me – is probably a good thing.’

Our pots of tea begin to arrive, along with proper old-fashioned silver cake stands which carry neat, dainty sandwiches on
the lower level, assorted pastries and mini muffins on the next, tiny chocolately confections and fruit petit fours one up
from that, and cream scones on the top. I nearly sigh with appreciation they look so good. Hurrah for afternoon tea, it should
soak up some of my internal swilling champagne lake nicely. I’m happily reaching for an eclair when someone says, ‘I know
what you mean about not being able to see anything once you get to a certain stage, this is pretty gross but when I was pregnant
I actually got to a stage where I had to get Matt to help give me a prune, down there.’

I pause, mid-éclair-en-route-to-mouth. I don’t even know her name. I vaguely remember her from Rose’s wedding but that’s it.
Do I really need to know her husband practises pubic topiary on her? I don’t think I do.

No one else however seems remotely bothered by her statement, quite the opposite in fact, someone else says eagerly, ‘Oh God,
I know – you just can’t face waxing because of the pain – and it all seems so pointless anyway …’

That’s all it takes to quite literally open the floodgates. Horrific ’Nam Vet style stories of pregnancy and birth ensue.

‘—so badly she actually needed reconstructive surgery. I know, I know.’

‘—and halfway through they said to Jim, we’ve got it wrong, we’re going to have to go for a c-section – but by then Milo was
so far engaged they actually had to push him back up, no, I’m not even joking. I was just like, God, you can go in via my
nose if you like, as long as you GET IT OUT OF ME.’

‘—well no, because they don’t like letting you go much beyond then, do they, so they decided to induce me, but nothing happened
even after the pessaries, apart from by then of course I was just
so sore
… and contracting my arse off. Then the epidural didn’t work either and I ended up having a ventouse delivery—’

I don’t know why, but for some reason that makes me imagine a medical team with blonde plaits, dressed in lederhosen. I think
I’m trying to go to a happy place.

‘—seven pints in total. But you know what? It was the breastfeeding that was the worst bit … every time she latched on I wanted
to
scream
.’

I’m starting to reel and am ready to cut my own ears off, when Abi says loudly, ‘Anyway, you’re going to be
just fine
Rose, and for all the other “yet to have babies” women at the table,’ she winks at me with all the subtlety of a house brick
flying through the air towards a greenhouse, ‘I promise once it’s over you forget the drama instantly and it all becomes totally
worth it. Are you having a doula, Rose?’

‘No, it’s just the way I’m sitting,’ smiles Rose and everyone chuckles. I don’t get it, what’s a doula?

‘And have you had your last antenatal session now?’

‘Yup,’ Rose shifts position uncomfortably. ‘Finished last week – Nathan’s thrilled. He went off them after the “By the way,
you might literally crap yourself” class. He was nearly sick on the spot,’ she laughs. ‘We had this really over-eager dad
in our group, who asked questions about literally everything. We were discussing what would happen if you accidentally pooed
in the birthing pool and the midwife was explaining that they have a poo sieve—’

The waiter, who has come to check we have everything we need, hears this and does a horrified about turn on the spot.

‘—and over-eager dad asked if he could borrow a pen to write it down,’ Rose laughs. ‘I swear I saw him earnestly adding “poo
sieve” to his little list – like that’s something you’re going to forget! Oh and this other woman asked if she could wear
a
swimsuit
in the birthing pool! Yeah – just pull it to one side like you do when you go swimming and need a wee!’

‘Unbelievable!’ laughs the Spot the Dog mum. ‘She’ll learn.’

She has. And I think I’d like to go home now please.

‘IF that happens, the midwives deal with it very discreetly. They just cover it up and no one is any the wiser. You’ll just
get Dan to stay at the head end, it’ll be fine! Don’t panic.’ Bec pats my arm consolingly.

‘It was as if they
wanted
to have had the worst possible experience.’ I exhale and reach for my drink. ‘And then
all they could talk about was how shit everything is once you’ve had kids; you’re knackered and everything’s horrible. It
can’t really be as crap as they were making out, can it? If it’s that bad, why does everyone do it?’

Joss snorts and immediately opens her mouth, so I turn to Bec quickly.

‘Certain types of mum,’ Bec says carefully, ‘can be pretty self-indulgent and – a bit tedious to be honest – like they’re
the only person in the world to have had a baby.’

‘It’s not just that Bec, they were disgusting! Who wants to have that sort of conversation in public? Hello? TOO MUCH FLIPPING
INFORMATION! Is it just me? Am I being weird?’

‘No! Not at all. But not everyone is like them, I promise – and I’m sure if you asked even them if they’d go back to
not
having children, not a single one of them would,’ Bec answers. ‘You’re thinking about this too much. You need to just get
on with it.’

Joss’s head spins like something out of
The Exorcist
. ‘I’m sorry?’ she demands. ‘WHAT did you just say?’

‘Well of course giving birth is going to hurt,’ Bec says reasonably. ‘People have very unrealistic expectations of pain these
days, but you DO cope with it and it DOES end.’

‘Oh, I thought you meant she shouldn’t consider whether or not she really wants to give up a happy childless life for something
that she’ll then be stuck with whether she likes it or not,’ admits Joss. ‘Sorry.’

‘Thanks you two,’ I bite my fingernail, ‘this is really helping …’

I feel so confused. Yesterday, all this seemed doable, a nice thought even. Now? I feel back to square one. What if Joss is
right and my decision to have a baby is nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction to what happened with Leo? Oh – he’s managed
to pollute everything. Everything!

‘I’m
definitely
not doing it if it means I have to call my kid Milo.’ I attempt a joke, trying to push all other unwelcome thoughts from
my mind.

‘Just because none of them talked about how wonderful having a baby is, doesn’t mean it isn’t,’ Bec says calmly. ‘Trust me,
I’ve seen plenty of
very
normal women have babies and say it’s the best thing they ever did.’

‘Whacked off their tits with hormones probably,’ Joss says darkly. ‘Although I agree with you on the some women being over-indulgent
bit. There’s this girl at work who must ask me if she can leave early at least once or twice a week because she’s got prenatal
pogo-yogolates or some such bollocks, or she doesn’t want to travel home in the rush hour, or she feels “a bit tired and dizzy”.
She chose to get up the duff, get on with it; everyone’s bloody knackered. You don’t see the blokes getting away with that
kind of shit.’

‘Nice that you’re so understanding about it though,’ Bec says. ‘Lucky her.’

‘Well obviously I
let
her go,’ Joss replies mutinously. ‘I don’t have a bloody choice, do I? She’d probably sue us otherwise. You don’t understand
Bec …’

‘I’m a midwife!’ squeaks Bec. ‘Funnily enough I
have
encountered the odd pregnant woman.’

‘Can we talk about something else?’ I cut in desperately.

They both stop and look at me – and then I’m pretty sure they exchange a knowing glance before Bec says soothingly, ‘’Course
we can. Have you got time for one more hair of the dog or do you need to get back?’

I look at my watch and hesitate, but despite my stilllingering hangover, I really feel like I need one. ‘Go on then.’

‘Was Dan as drunk as you last night?’ Bec teases as she stands up.

‘I didn’t get
drunk
drunk,’ I say quickly, not looking at Joss. ‘Just happy.’

‘I didn’t mean to sound like I was having a go,’ Bec apologises instantly. ‘You’re allowed. You’re not pregnant yet. Where’s
Dan today?’

‘Gone to Chichester to help his dad throw out a wardrobe. So, what are you two going to see at the cinema later?’ I determinedly
change the subject.

Joss shrugs. ‘Something funny I think, or we might stick around here for a bit. Nothing too mad, Bec’s working tomorrow and
I’ve got the twins coming over for Sunday lunch.’

‘Oh, how are they?’ I ask as Bec makes her way towards the loos.

Joss shrugs. ‘OK I think. Eating crap, drinking too much, spending money like water and swearing blind
that they don’t have that much work to do because it’s only the first year. I looked at their timetables; four hour-long lectures
a week Moll – it’s a joke. They don’t know it yet, but tomorrow I’m going to make them sit down and plan a proper budget for
the rest of this term … and the next one.’ She drains the last of her drink smugly.

‘They’re so lucky to have a big sister like you,’ I tease.

She grins. ‘I know, they’re going to hate me. But it’s no joke coming out of university with all that debt these days you
know.’ She grows serious again.

‘Are they staying at your mum’s tonight then?’

Joss shakes her head. ‘They’re just going to get the train down tomorrow. Mum’s not having a good week.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘Want to talk about it?’

‘Nope,’ she says firmly, ‘I don’t. Thanks though. I want to talk about you. What’s up? You look stressed out of your mind.
I’m not going to be cross with you, I promise, but,’ she hesitates, ‘is something going on I should know about?’