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  “OK. Let’s move on.” Noura is in the center of the room again. “From glancing through these answers, it’s clear that a lot of you are concerned by the thought of labor and how you’ll cope with it.” She looks around the group. “My first response is: don’t worry. You can cope. All of you.”

  A nervous laugh goes around the room.

  “Yes, contractions can be intense,” Noura continues. “But your bodies are designed to withstand them. And what you must remember is, it’s a positive pain. I’m sure you’ll both agree?” She looks over at Mum and Janice, who has got out her knitting and is clicking away.

  “Positive?” Janice looks up, horrified. “Ooh no, dear. Mine was agony. Twenty-four hours in the cruel summer heat. I wouldn’t wish it on any of you poor girls.”

  “They have better drugs these days,” chimes in Mum. “My advice is take everything they’ve got.”

  “But there are natural, instinctive methods you can use,” Noura puts in quickly. “I’m sure you found that rocking and changing position helped with the contractions?”

  Mum and Janice exchange doubtful glances.

  “I wouldn’t have said so,” says Mum kindly.

  “Or a warm bath?” Noura suggests, her smile tightening.

  “A bath?” Mum laughs merrily. “Dear, when you’re gripped by agony and wanting to die, a bath doesn’t really help!”

  I can tell Noura’s getting a bit frustrated, by the way she’s breathing more deeply and balling her hands into fists.

  “But it was worth it in the end? The pain seemed a small price to pay, compared to the life-affirming joy?”

  “Well…” Mum gives me a doubtful glance. “Of course, I was delighted to have my little Becky. But I did keep it at the one child. We both did, didn’t we, Janice?”

  “Never again.” Janice shudders. “Not if you paid me a million pounds.”

  As I glance around the room I can see that all the girls’ faces have frozen. Most of the men’s too.

  “Right!” says Noura, making an obvious effort to stay pleasant. “Well, thank you for those…inspirational words.”

  “No trouble!” Janice waves her knitting cheerily.

  “We’re going to try a small breathing exercise now,” Noura continues, “which, believe it or not, will help with the contractions of early labor. I want you all to sit up straight and do some shallow breaths. In…out…that’s right….”

  As I’m doing my shallow breaths, there’s a ping from my mobile.

  What?????

  Ha! I stifle a giggle and text back.

  Is it love???

  A few moments later my phone pings again with a new message.

  We’re having a few problems.

  Oh God. I hope Jess is OK. I didn’t mean to tease her.

  It’s quite tricky, doing shallow breathing and texting at the same time. So I abandon the shallow breathing and type.

  What problems? Why didn’t u tell me?

  “Who are you texting, love?” says Janice, who has also abandoned shallow breathing and is consulting her knitting pattern.

  “Oh…just a friend,” I say lightly as another text arrives. Jess must have abandoned whatever she’s doing too.

  I didn’t want to bother you, it’s stupid.

  Honestly. How can Jess think she’s bothering me? I want to know about her love life. I start texting U R my sister!!! when Noura claps her hands for attention.

  “Relax, everyone. Now, we’re going to try a simple exercise, which should put your minds at rest. Your partner is going to take your arm and twist it, giving you an old-fashioned Chinese burn. And you are going to breathe through the pain. Focus your minds, stay relaxed…. Partners, don’t be afraid to increase the pressure! And you’ll see how you’re a lot tougher than you thought! Becky, I’ll take you, if that’s OK?” she adds, coming over.

  My stomach flips nervously. I don’t like the sound of an old-fashioned Chinese burn. Or even a newfangled one. But I can’t wimp out; everyone’s looking at me.

  “All right, then,” I say, gingerly holding out my arm.

  “Obviously the pain of labor will be more intense than this, but just to give you an idea…”

  She grasps my forearm. “Now breathe.…”

  “Ow!” I say as she suddenly twists my arm. “Ow, that hurts!”

  “Breathe, Becky,” instructs Noura. “Relax.”

  “I am breathing! Owwww!”

  “The pain’s getting stronger now….” Noura ignores me. “Imagine the contraction is peaking….”

  I’m panting hard as she twists my skin even harder.

  “And now it’s ebbing…it’s gone.” She releases my arm and gives me a smile. “You see, Becky? You see how you coped with that, despite your fears?”

  “Wow.” I’m almost breathless.

  “Do you think you learned something valuable there?” She gives me a knowing look. “Something that puts your fears into perspective?”

  “Yes.” I nod earnestly. “I learned I definitely want an epidural.”

  “Have a general anesthetic, darling,” interjects Mum. “Or a nice cesarean!”

  “You can’t have a general anesthetic.” Noura stares at her incredulously. “They don’t just hand them out, you know!”

  “Becky’s going to the top place in London!” Mum retorts. “She can have anything she wants! Now, darling, if I were you, I’d have the Thai massage and the water birth before labor begins, then the epidural and aromatherapy to follow….”

  “This is labor!” Noura shouts, clutching her hair. “You’re having a baby, not ordering from a bloody room-service menu!”

  There’s a shocked silence.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, more calmly. “I…don’t know what came over me. Let’s have a short break. Help yourselves to drinks.”

  She heads out of the room, and a muted babble of chatter breaks out.

  “Well!” says Mum, raising her eyebrows. “I think someone needs to do their shallow breathing! Janice, shall we go to Liberty now?”

  “Just let me finish this row….” Janice clicks frantically with her knitting needles. “There! All done. Coming, Becky?”

  “I dunno,” I say, torn. “Maybe I should stay to the end of the class.”

  “I don’t think that Noura knows what she’s talking about!” Mum says conspiratorially. “We’ll tell you everything you need to know. And you can help me choose a new handbag!”

  “OK, then.” I get to my feet. “Let’s go!”

  By the time I’ve finished shopping with Mum and Janice and had my hair appointment, it’s gone six. I arrive home to find Luke in the study. The lights are off, and he’s just sitting there in the gloom.

  “Luke?” I put my bags down. “Is everything OK?”

  He starts at my voice, and raises his head. I peer at him in surprise. His face is taut, with a deep crease between his brows. “It’s fine,” he says at last. “Everything’s fine.”

  It doesn’t sound like it’s fine to me. I come into the study, perch on the desk opposite him, and study his face.

  “Luke, what was the crisis at work today?”

  “It’s not a crisis.” He musters a smile. “I used the wrong word. It was just…an incident. Nothing important. It’s all been resolved.”

  “But—”

  “How are you?” He strokes my arm. “How was the class?”

  “Oh.” I cast my mind back. “Er…it was fine. You didn’t miss much. Then I went shopping with Mum and Janice. We went to Liberty’s and Browns….”

  “You haven’t been overdoing it?” He surveys me with concern. “Did you take a rest? Remember what Venetia said about your blood pressure?”

  “I’m fine!” I wave an arm in the air. “Never felt better!”

  “Well.” Luke glances at his watch. “We should be going soon. I’ll take a quick shower and call a taxi.” His voice is cheerful enough, but as he gets up I notice a tense set to his shoulders.

  “Luke…?
?? I hesitate. “Everything’s all right, isn’t it?”

  “Becky. Don’t worry.” Luke takes both my hands in his. “Everything’s fine. We have little crises every day. It’s the nature of the job; you know it is. We deal with them and we move on. Maybe I am more preoccupied than usual. I’m just very busy right now.”

  “Well…OK,” I say, mollified. “Go and have your shower.”

  He heads down the corridor to our bedroom and I dump my bags in the hall. I am quite tired, actually, after my afternoon with Mum and Janice. Maybe I’ll have a shower too, after Luke’s finished. I could use my revitalizing rosemary gel and do some invigorating yoga stretches.

  Or else I could have a quick Kit Kat. I go into the kitchen and am just getting the box down, when the doorbell rings. That can’t be the taxi already.

  “Hello?” I say into the intercom.

  “Hi, Becky?” A crackly voice comes back. “It’s Jess.”

  Jess?

  I press the buzzer in astonishment. What’s Jess doing here? I didn’t even know she was in London.

  “The taxi’s booked for fifteen minutes’ time.” Luke puts his head round the kitchen door, wearing only a towel.

  “You’d better get some clothes on,” I say. “Jess is just coming up in the lift!”

  “Jess?” Luke looks taken aback. “We weren’t expecting her, were we?”

  “No.” I hear the gentle chime of the doorbell to our apartment and start giggling. “Quick, get dressed!”

  I swing the door open to see Jess, dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a tight brown tank top, which actually looks quite cool in a seventies, retro way.

  “Hi!” She gives me a stiff hug. “How are you, Becky? I’ve been seeing my tutor, and I thought I’d drop by. I tried ringing, but the line was busy. Is it OK?”

  She looks slightly nervous. Honestly! As if I’m going to say no, it’s not, go away.

  “Of course!” I warmly clasp her back. “It’s fab to see you. Come on in!”

  “I brought a present for the baby.” She reaches in her rucksack and pulls out a brown romper, with I Will Not Pollute the World printed on the front in beige.

  “Er…fab!” I say, turning it over in my fingers. “Thanks!”

  “It’s made of natural hemp,” Jess says. “Are you still planning an all-hemp wardrobe for the baby?”

  All-hemp? What on earth is she—

  Oh. Maybe I did say something like that at Mum’s party, just to stop her lecturing me about evil bleached cotton.

  “I’m going…part hemp, part other fabrics,” I say at last. “For…er…biodiversity.”

  “Excellent.” She nods. “And I meant to say, I can get you a changing table on loan. There’s a women’s student cooperative which lends out baby equipment and toys. I’ve brought the number.”

  “Right!” I quickly kick the door of the nursery shut before she spots my Circus Tent changing station with integrated puppet show, which arrived yesterday from Funky Baba. “I’ll…bear that in mind. Come and have a drink.”

  “Have you made the baby wipes yet?” Jess follows me into the kitchen.

  Not the baby wipes again. I can’t tell her I threw all the rags away at Mum’s house.

  “Er, not yet…” I hastily cast around. “But I’ve done some other stuff.” I grab a striped tea towel from the rack and tie a knot in the end. “This is a homemade organic toy,” I say casually, turning round. “It’s called Knotty.”

  “That’s great.” Jess examines it. “What a simple concept. Far better than any manufactured rubbish.”

  “And I’m planning to…paint this spoon with nontoxic natural paint.” Feeling emboldened, I take a wooden spoon from the drawer. “I’ll give it a face and call it Spoony.”

  God, I’m good at this eco-recycling lark. Maybe I’ll start my own newsletter!

  “Anyway, let me get you a drink.” I pour Jess a glass of wine and plonk down opposite her. “So. What’s going on? I couldn’t believe it when Janice said you were going out with Tom!”

  “I know,” says Jess. “I’m sorry, I should have told you. But it’s been so…” She breaks off.

  “What?” I say, agog. Jess is staring into her glass without drinking.

  “It’s not really working out,” she says at last.

  “Why not?”

  Jess is silent again. She hasn’t really cracked this whole talking-about-boyfriends thing, has she?

  “Go on,” I cajole. “Everything you say is totally safe with me. I mean…you do like him, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do. But…” She exhales. “It’s just…”

  “Becky?” Luke puts his head round the door. “Oh, hi, Jess. I don’t want to break things up, but we should be going soon….”

  “You have plans,” says Jess, stiffening. “I’ll go.”

  “No!” I put a hand on her arm. The one time Jess ever drops in on me and asks my advice, I’m not sending her away. This is exactly what I imagined us doing when I first met her. Two sisters, popping round to each other’s places, talking about boys….

  “Luke.” I make a snap decision. “Why don’t you go on ahead and I’ll join you at the bar?”

  “Well, if you’re sure.” Luke kisses me. “Good to see you, Jess!”

  He heads out of the kitchen and as I hear the front door close I rip open a mini-packet of Pringles. “So. You like him….”

  “He’s great.” Jess is fiddling with the rough skin on one of her fingers. “He’s bright, and interesting; he has sound views…and he’s good-looking. I mean, that goes without saying.”

  “Absolutely!” I say after a pause.

  To be honest, Tom has never done it for me. (Despite Janice and Martin’s conviction that I’ve been hopelessly in love with him my whole life.) But to each their own.

  “So the problem is…” I circle my hands, prompting her.

  “He’s so needy. He calls me about ten times a day; he sends cards covered with kisses….” Jess looks up with a disparaging expression and I can’t help feeling a bit sorry for poor old Tom. “Last week he tried to get my name tattooed on his arm. He phoned me to tell me he was doing it, and I got so angry, he stopped after J.”

  “He’s got a J on his arm?” I can’t help giggling.

  “Up near his elbow.” She rolls her eyes. “It looks ridiculous.”

  “Well, maybe he was trying to look cool,” I suggest. “You know, Lucy wanted him to get a tattoo but he wouldn’t. He probably just wanted to impress you.”

  “Well, I’m not impressed. And as for Janice…” Jess thrusts her fingers through her cropped hair. “She rings me up nearly every day on some pretense or other. Have I had any thoughts about Tom’s Christmas present? Do I want to join them on a wine-tasting weekend to France? I’ve really had enough of it. So I’m thinking of ending it.”

  I look up in dismay. Ending it? But what about the baby being a ring-bearer?

  “You can’t give up just because of a few little details!” I protest. “I mean, apart from the tattoo, are you getting on OK? Do you ever argue?”

  “We had a pretty big argument the other day.” Jess nods as she says it.

  “About what?”

  “Social policy.”

  Oh, this just proves it. They’re made for each other!

  “Jess, talk to Tom,” I say on impulse. “I bet you can work things out. Just for the sake of a tattoo…”

  “It’s not just that.” Jess wraps her arms round her knees. “There’s…something else.”

  “What is it?”

  With an intake of breath, it hits me. She’s pregnant too. It has to be. God, how cool! We’ll have babies together and they’ll be cousins and we’ll take cute pictures of them playing in the grass together….

  “I’ve been offered a two-year research project in Chile.” Jess’s voice pricks my bubble.

  “Chile?” My mouth drops open in dismay. “But that’s…miles away.”

  “Seven thousand,” she says, nodding
.

  “So…are you going to go?”

  “I haven’t decided. But it’s a fantastic opportunity. It’s a team I’ve wanted to join for years.”

  “Right,” I say after a short silence. “Well, then…you should go.”

  I have to be supportive. This is Jess’s career. But I can’t help feeling a bit doleful. I’ve only just got to know my long-lost sister, and now she’s disappearing off to the other side of the world?

  “I’ve pretty much decided that I will.” She raises her head and I find myself looking right into her speckly hazel eyes. I’ve always thought Jess had pretty eyes.

  Maybe the baby will have speckly hazel eyes just like that.

  “You’ll have to send me lots of pictures of my niece or nephew,” says Jess, as though reading my mind. “So I can see it grow up.”

  “Of course! Every week.” I bite my lip, trying to digest all this. “So…what about Tom?”

  “I haven’t told him yet.” She hunches her shoulders. “But it’ll mean the end for us.”

  “Not necessarily! You could have a long-distance relationship…. There’s always e-mail….”

  “For two years ?”

  “Well…” I trail off. Maybe she’s right. They met only a few weeks ago. And two years is a pretty long time.

  “I can’t give up a chance like this for some…man.” She sounds like she’s arguing with herself. Maybe she’s more torn than she’s letting on. Maybe, underneath it all, she really has fallen for Tom.

  But even I can see it. Jess’s work has been her life. She can’t just abandon it now.

  “You have to go to Chile,” I say firmly. “It’ll be amazing for you. And it’ll work out with Tom. Somehow.”

  The Pringles seem to have disappeared, so I get up and head for the cupboard. I open the door and survey the shelves dubiously. “We’re out of chips…. I’m not supposed to eat nuts…. We’ve got some old Ritz crackers….”

  “Actually, I brought some popcorn,” says Jess, looking a bit pink about the face. “Toffee flavored.”

  “You what?” I gape at her.

  “It’s in my rucksack.”