Just Between Friends: Page-turning fiction to curl up with in winter 2020 Read online

  ‘Well,’ I began once I’d caught my breath, ‘I’m just over thirty-five weeks pregnant and I don’t know what I – we’re – having.’ I rubbed my bump and Maggie nodded eagerly.

  ‘Where are you planning to give birth?’ she asked.

  ‘Hopefully not on the Tube!’ I giggled nervously and noticed no one else seemed to find this funny. ‘Hospital obviously – College Square Hospital.’

  I saw Maggie’s eyes flicker. ‘Not obviously, necessarily,’ she muttered. ‘It’s a very personal choice.’

  I felt a bit stupid. It’s just that a home birth had never really been a consideration for me; I wanted to be in the safest possible environment – especially if I might end up delivering the world’s largest baby. Jason had recently mentioned both he and his sister were ‘huge’ newborns and, judging by the fact I’d put on over two stone in weight so far, there was a high likelihood that I was carrying a mega-baby too. That was my reality – and that, in my book, meant hospital. But I decided not to go into it, because I noticed Maggie’s gaze move to the empty bucket seat on my left. ‘My husband, Jason, he’s working today, but hopefully he’ll be at the next meeting,’ I explained. ‘Sorry again for being late.’

  A woman with blonde highlights a few seats to my right in the circle caught my eye and gave me a friendly smile, which made me feel a little better.

  ‘Super! We look forward to meeting Jason next week,’ Maggie beamed, her eyes lingering on mine a little too long – possibly trying to scope out how I really felt about my absent baby daddy. Thankfully most of the group were now eagerly looking at the couple sat to my left. It was two women: a small brunette and an equally small woman with black hair. The pair looked almost identical aside from the fact that one was Asian and the other white.

  ‘I’m Lin, and this is Susie – both spelt with an i,’ the black-haired woman said, before announcing, ‘She’s the one having the baby – I’m just having a food baby!’ The room rippled with awkward laughter. She patted her midriff, which, it had to be said, wasn’t too far off the size of her partner’s bump.

  ‘We used my brother’s sperm to make the baby with Susie,’ she continued, turning to smile affectionately at her partner. ‘It’s a boy. And we’re going to call him Charlie. We’re planning a home birth as natural as Mother Nature will allow.’

  Damn. She really stuck the knife in there with the natural home birth. Plus Charlie was on our list of possible names, if the bean turned out to be a boy. Although my instincts were currently leaning towards it being a girl, I wondered if there was any etiquette involved in choosing the same baby name as someone in the group. Should you stake your claim, so they wouldn’t think you copied their chosen name? I thought about interjecting: ‘How funny! We’re thinking Charlie too! Loved that name from the moment I got pregnant. Bagsy Charlie!’ But would that seem too intense? Weird? Passive aggressive even? Really everything about being here felt strange because I wasn’t sure where the boundaries lay. I stayed quiet and tried to focus on how maybe Charlie wasn’t such a great baby name anyway, given we once had a family cat called Charlie when I was very little, and he got run over. Surely a bad omen. That settled it – Charlie was off the list. I made a mental note to tell Jason later.

  ‘And how are you feeling about the birth, in general, Susie?’ Maggie asked, drawing the other woman into the conversation.

  ‘Well I’m not a fan of Western drugs,’ Susie said, her voice quieter than Lin’s – I had to strain to hear her. ‘I’m opting for a drug-free, home water-birth involving hypnosis. And we’ve been researching a Balinese ritual involving burying the placenta in a special cemetery as soon as possible following the birth.’

  ‘Or we’ll have it made into tablets,’ Lin chipped in, looking a little cross. ‘We haven’t made a final decision yet. And we’re both planning to breastfeed. I’m about to start a groundbreaking course of hormones to make that possible.’ She squeezed Susie’s hand.

  They seemed so resolute in their wishes, it made me feel even more insecure about my fears and lack of concrete plans. I made a mental note to google placenta tablets.

  Maggie nodded and clapped her hands together with glee; hearing a more unusual birth plan seemed akin to Christmas to her. ‘How wonderful!’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s fantastic. You’ve clearly spent a great deal of time thinking about this. We’d all love to hear more, I’m sure.’ I wasn’t sure I did, but Maggie looked desperate for further elaboration.

  Susie launched into a detailed monologue on how ‘placenta parties’ were a big trend in areas of San Francisco, where they simply popped the ‘delicacy’ into a blender along with whatever fruit, veg, even alcohol, they fancied and whizzed it up into a nutritional ‘placenta smoothie’ to be shared with family and friends. It sounded quite bizarre.

  Relieved the heat was off me while she spoke, my attention wandered and I took the opportunity to look around the room properly.

  It was then that I spotted an array of pretty plates and ceramic dishes brimming with salads and cakes laid out on the table behind us. I thought again of the shop-bought ciabattas under my chair. If Jason had been here, I could have nudged him to take them up, but as it was I felt too self-conscious to stand up and make another fuss after my late arrival. Under my chair they would have to remain.

  As Susie’s lengthy explanation of the nutritional merits of eating human placenta came to a close, we all turned to look at the couple to Maggie’s right, a pretty blonde woman with elfin features and her equally blond, small husband. They were holding hands and looked very young, probably mid-twenties. I could imagine the petite, blonde, blue-eyed little baby they were cooking up in that perfectly neat bump. They introduced themselves as Helen and Ian Edwards.

  Ian spoke first; he had a timid voice and piercing blue eyes. He reminded me of a gerbil. ‘Hi everyone, we’re having our first baby. Well I guess that’s pretty obvious, this is a group for first-time parents!’ he said, before laughing nervously. ‘We are thirty-five weeks. Don’t know the sex and College Square Hospital for us, too.’ He turned to Helen: ‘Anything you want to add, babe?’

  ‘No, that’s it,’ Helen replied self-consciously, before shrugging and smiling at no one in particular and then fixing her eyes on the floor. I smiled back at her; she seemed sweet and strait-laced. But maybe I was being too quick to judge. She might have a naughty streak.

  ‘That’s fine, dears,’ Maggie said, trying to mask her disappointment that there wasn’t another juicy set-up or alternative birth plan to discuss. ‘Welcome to The Baby Group.’

  Next was the woman who had given me a friendly smile earlier. She looked well put-together, with red lipstick, a neat flick to her eyeliner, fresh highlights in her tousled shoulder-length hair and a black Gucci handbag. She gave the impression of someone who had a successful career and a decent amount of savings in the bank. Of everyone, she was probably the closest in age to me (around her mid to late thirties), which made me instinctively gravitate towards her.

  ‘Hi all, I’m Lucy Raven, baby boy, due May 31st. Looking forward to starting maternity leave in a few weeks. Still got a ton of nursery prep to do at home though. My partner, Oscar, is also working today. He’ll join one of the other classes. That’s me, I guess.’ She folded her arms and sat back in her seat, signalling she’d said her bit and wasn’t opening the floor for questions. She seemed to have her shit together – it was a little intimidating.

  Maggie nodded; she seemed impressed too. I noted Lucy wasn’t wearing any rings on her wedding finger.

  Seeing Lucy here on her own made me feel better about Jason’s absence, but I wondered how she really felt about it. She certainly came across as perfectly happy and confident, so I decided to take a leaf from her book and sat up a little taller.

  The last couple to be introduced were sat on my right: a tall black guy with a chiselled face called Will, who could easily have been a model, and his partner, a white woman called Carol, who was not unattractive but not nearly as hea
d-turningly gorgeous. Were Will single, I’d have been tempted to trade Jason in for him; he had ‘swipe right’ written all over him. There seemed something mismatched about them. Will did most of the talking and while he spoke, Carol delved into a little blue bag hanging from her chair and retrieved her phone, which she cradled in her palm as if she might need to ‘phone a friend’ at any moment.

  ‘The baby is due on the 22nd of May and it will be a hospital birth for us, too,’ Will informed us in a matter-of-fact way. He had a deep, thespian voice.

  ‘My husband, Christian, will join one of the other sessions,’ he continued. He paused for a moment, gauging correctly that we had all naturally assumed Carol was his other half. Carol gave us a small shy smile, while Will seemed to enjoy the attention from his captive audience. His timing was brilliant; I wondered if he was an actor, as well as a model. ‘Carol is our surrogate,’ he continued. ‘She’s had a baby before, but fancied a refresh, so we enrolled in this class. You’ll get to meet Christian soon.’ He turned to her and they exchanged a warm look. ‘Christian and I are both planning to be there for the birth, and then we will be the legal parents – the two dads. Carol will be moving back to the Ukraine.’ He looked at Maggie with a neutral face, as if waiting for her to ask a question.

  Maggie simply smiled and said, ‘How wonderful!’

  Will had delivered his lines beautifully and he had made me stop and think. I had been so consumed by my own pregnancy journey, I hadn’t really appreciated how difficult it might have been for other couples to conceive. You kind of assume that for everyone else it’s easy. Having some more unusual family set-ups in the group was going to make it more interesting.

  ‘Right then,’ Maggie announced, when the introductions were complete. ‘What a great group! You’re all wonderful humans, in my eyes.’ She really was an eccentric character. ‘First up, we’re going to discuss birth choices. But, before we go on, I have to tell you that nothing is off limits here. In fact, let’s just get something out of the way before we get in too deep, shall we?’ She paused and I unscrewed the lid of my water bottle, feeling self-conscious about what ‘getting in too deep’ might entail. Then she flung up her arms as if she were a cabaret singer ready to make an encore and cried out: ‘VAGINA!’ at the top of her lungs.

  This was an inopportune moment for me. At the exact same time that Maggie made this dramatic announcement, I took a swig of water from my bottle. Instead of swallowing, the whole mouthful came flying projectile out of my mouth. A tsunami of warm filtered water sprayed not only down my top but also all down my jeans and on to the area of floor directly in front of me. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lin caught a light mist too.

  ‘Oh my God. Sorry!’ I yelped, trying hard to stifle hysterical giggles – my default reaction when in shock or when something embarrassing has happened to me.

  Maggie looked at me in horror. ‘Are you okay, Aisha?’ she asked.

  A brief silence was followed by a nervous titter, this time from Will. I wanted the ground to open up and suck me under. This was excruciating. Plus I was really quite wet.

  Once I’d composed myself a bit, I nodded. ‘Yes, I’m fine, sorry about that.’ I dabbed at my face and top with one of the deli napkins from under my seat. At least the close proximity of the bag had come in handy.

  ‘Good dear, try to keep calm, we don’t want any early labours do we? There we go – I’ve said it,’ Maggie continued, ‘the V word. You’d better get used to it, ladies and gents. Now, after three, let’s shout it together loud and proud! One, two, three—’ She paused to looked around the room, especially at me, her eyes wide with excitement, as we simultaneously tried to avoid her gaze and stifle our sniggers. ‘VAGINA!’

  There was nothing loud or proud about our pathetic, quiet chorus. I prayed to God there wasn’t a service going on in the chapel next door, then quickly realized the irony of that thought. I looked around the room to see whether anyone else was finding this hilarious. Will caught my eye and put his hand over his face, his shoulders shaking. ‘This is bizarre,’ he mumbled, between guffaws. Carol seemed a bit annoyed or perhaps confused.

  Helen and Ian were looking at each other with pink cheeks. Lin and Susie seemed nonplussed, and Lucy seemed to be trying not to laugh too. I thought how hilarious Tara would find this. Shouting ‘vagina’ with a group of strangers was nothing short of ridiculous and I wished I had someone to cringe about it with.

  Maggie ignored Will’s comment. I managed to pull myself together.

  ‘There we go – well done. That woke us all up. And didn’t it feel great?’ No one replied. ‘One thing you should know about me is that I love vaginas,’ she continued, clearly revelling in our puce faces. ‘I love talking about them and I absolutely love marvelling at the magical and wondrous things they can do. No fannying around here. And I love nipples too. Basically, I’m vagina and nipple mad.’

  Will suddenly exploded with laughter again. ‘Sorry!’ he murmured. ‘But this is… unexpected.’ Carol gave him a quizzical sideways look, and I couldn’t quite determine whether she agreed with him or if his announcements were embarrassing her.

  Maggie glared, unimpressed. ‘Well, William, dear, with babies you need to expect the unexpected. You’ll see.’

  That told him. Will rolled his eyes. I liked Will; he was showing more spark now.

  Right now my vagina wasn’t feeling particularly magical or wondrous. I was also painfully aware of what my poor unsuspecting vag was going to go through in not-very-many weeks’ time: scrutiny by various members of hospital staff, some painful war-wounds delivering my gigantic baby… It all felt pretty terrifying.

  ‘Lovely,’ Maggie continued, undeterred and looking happy again. ‘Now that we’ve broken the ice, let’s get to the nitty-gritty. Hands up who’s made a birth plan already?’

  Helen, Lucy and Susie raised their hands. I instantly felt insecure again, for not having done mine.

  ‘I have it here,’ Helen said, putting the rest of us to shame. She had taken a folded-up piece of paper from a pocket at the back of her pristine notepad and was waving it excitedly, as though it held the meaning of the Da Vinci code.

  ‘That’s great, ladies. You don’t have to tell us what’s in it – I’m always happy to have a natter one-on-one if you’d like to, it’s a very personal choice. But I would say that writing a simple and informed birth plan – or a “vaginal instruction plan”, a V.I.P. as I call it – is a useful exercise to help ensure your wishes are known by your partner and birth team, and, of course, your beloved vagina.’ She paused for dramatic effect, and presumably to check our cheeks had remained a shade not far off beetroot. I was starting to think Maggie wasn’t the kind of person I would want in close proximity if I was actually in labour. I imagined her doing something embarrassing like shouting about my ‘magical vagina’ instead of finding someone to give me an epidural in my moment of need.

  ‘So, for those who have not yet created their V.I.P., let’s look at the options,’ she continued, before adding to the three who had raised their hands: ‘You might want to change your plans at the last minute – so you should find this relevant and useful too.’

  I reached into my bag again, this time for my notepad and pen. Like most of my notepads, it was filled with half-finished sketches and doodles. I turned to a blank page and scribbled down ‘Write Birth Plan’, underlining it twice. Then I doodled ‘V.I.P.’ next to it, noticing my hand was shaking slightly. I felt thoroughly out of my depth.

  Chapter Three

  Lucy

  I hoped I hadn’t made too much of an effort with my appearance, wearing a new black maternity dress bought especially for this occasion, new 40-denier tights and my trusty Golden Goose trainers. I’d applied more make-up than I’d worn in previous weeks, including a neat cat-eye flick to my eyeliner and a slick of a new scarlet Urban Decay lipstick. There was nothing like red lippy to put a spring in my step, even if those steps were more of a waddle, and my stomach was full of flutte
ring butterflies, as well as a baby. I’d given myself an eight out of ten, and hoped that my smart appearance would help me to give a good impression. The day had come to go forth and see if I could make a friend, or two.

  Once the introductions and discussions about birth plans were done, we broke for lunch.

  I watched with pleasure and relief as everyone made appreciative noises as they tucked in to my salad. It was the only dish that was completely polished off and I couldn’t help feeling a little smug. I played down the fact it had taken me nearly all of yesterday to create and actually felt a bit silly for having put in so much effort, when clearly most of them had bought their offerings from a shop that morning. When Helen and Susie asked me about the ingredients, I told them it was a family recipe. Helen and Ian had brought a pasta salad with tuna, cherry tomatoes and sweetcorn. The tuna had started to turn brown, since it had been left out all morning. I felt sorry for them as it was barely touched, but there was no way I was going to risk eating it.

  Aisha wasn’t much of a cook either, judging by the shop-bought ciabattas. She seemed to be a little embarrassed because she set them down on a pretty plate, blurted out that she hadn’t read the part of the letter about bringing a sharing dish until this morning, and then made an excuse to get some fresh air. She needn’t have worried though, because they were delicious and all gone within a matter of minutes. Will and Carol had supplied deli-counter offerings from the big Sainsbury’s, so my biggest rivals for ‘dish of the day’ were Susie and Lin, whose decision to bring dessert would have been a good one, only their box of ‘vegan superfood brownies’ tasted more like bird food than the glorious stodgy ‘proper’ brownies from Gail’s bakery down the road. What a wasted opportunity – with a room full of pregnant ladies, chocolate brownies would have been a much better idea.

  I checked my phone while everyone else continued chatting and saw that Oscar had WhatsApped.

  O: How did the salad go down?