“Er…just…around,” I say vaguely, munching on my Kit Kat. “Kind of here…and here…” I gesture at my body. “It’s hard to explain.”
“You seem amazingly calm, Becky.” Paula is gazing at me as I check my teeth in my hand mirror for Kit Kat crumbs. “I’ve never seen a laboring woman with such self-control!”
“Well, I’m a Scientologist,” I can’t resist saying. “So I’m trying to keep as quiet as possible, obviously.”
“A Scientologist!” Her eyes open wide. “That’s amazing.” Then she frowns in alarm. “Aren’t you supposed to be in total silence?”
“I’m the sort that’s allowed to talk,” I explain. “But not scream or anything.”
“Wow. You know, I’m not sure we’ve ever had a Scientologist in here before!” She looks quite animated. “Do you mind if I just tell a couple of my colleagues?”
“Go ahead!” I nod absently.
As she hurries out, I crumple up my Kit Kat wrapper and throw it in the bin, frustrated. This is stupid. Venetia’s not coming, is she? They’re never going to page her. And I’m not even in the mood for seeing her anymore. I think I’ll go home.
“She’s in here!” The door is flung open and a whole crowd of young midwives floods into the room, led by Paula. “This is Rebecca Brandon,” she addresses the group in an undertone. “She’s four centimeters dilated and is using yoga to help deal with the pain. Because she’s a Scientologist she’s keeping very quiet and calm. You’d barely know she was having contractions!”
They’re all gawping at me as though I’m an extinct animal. I’m almost sorry to let them down.
“Actually, I think it might be a false alarm.” I pick up my bag and shrug on my coat. “I’m going home now. Thanks very much for all your help—”
“You can’t go home!” says Paula with a little laugh. She consults my chart and nods. “I thought so. Rebecca, your water has broken. You’ll run the risk of infection!” She pulls off my coat and takes my bag. “You’re staying here till that baby’s out!”
“Oh,” I say, stymied.
What do I do now? Should I tell them I made up that my water has broken?
No. They’ll think I’m a total loony. What I’ll do is wait till they leave me alone and then sneak out. Yes. Good plan.
“She could be in transition,” one of the student midwives is saying knowledgeably to another. “They often want to go home at that stage. They get quite irrational.”
“Rebecca, you really need to put on a hospital gown.” Paula is surveying me with anxiety. “The baby could be well on the way. How are the contractions feeling? Are they coming quicker? Can I examine you?”
“She’s requested minimal monitoring and examination,” chips in another student midwife, looking at my chart. “She wants everything natural. I think we should get a senior midwife in here, Paula.”
“No, don’t!” I say hurriedly. “I mean…I’d like to be left alone for a while. If that’s OK.”
“You’re very stoic, Rebecca,” says Paula, resting a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “But we can’t leave you alone! You don’t even have a birth partner!”
“I’ll be fine, honestly.” I try to sound casual. “Just for a few minutes. It’s…it’s part of my beliefs. The woman in labor needs to be on her own every hour to say a special chant.”
Go on. I’m willing them silently. Just leave me alone….
“Well, I guess we should respect your beliefs,” Paula says uncertainly. “OK. We’ll pop out for a while, but if you feel anything moving on, just press the buzzer.”
“I will! Thanks!”
The door closes and I subside in relief. Thank God. I’m out of this place as soon as the coast is clear. I grab my bag and coat and open the door a chink—but two midwives are still standing right by the door. Hastily I close it again, trying not to make any noise. I’ll have to wait a few moments more. They’re bound to move away soon, and I’ll make a dash for it.
I can’t believe I’m in this situation. I should never have said I was in labor, I should never have pretended my water had broken. God, it’s a lesson. I am never doing that again, ever.
After a little more time I check my watch. Three minutes have gone by. Maybe I’ll check the corridor again. I pick up my coat, but before I can creep forward, the door bursts open.
“Oh my God, Bex!” Suze bursts in in a flurry of blond hair and Miu Miu embroidered coat. “Are you OK? I came as soon as I heard….”
“Suze?” I stare at her, poleaxed. “What—”
“Your mum’s just coming,” she says breathlessly, throwing off her coat to reveal Danny’s “Yummy Mummy” T-shirt. “We were all together in a taxi when we got the news. Janice is getting some magazines and drinks and Kelly says she’s going to wait down in reception….”
“But how…”
I don’t understand. Is Suze psychic or something?
“I rang your mobile and the woman who answered told me it was the Cavendish ward.” Suze is babbling in excitement. “She said you’d left your phone in reception and you were in labor! We all freaked! So we told the taxi driver to turn round straightaway and I’ve canceled this dinner party we were throwing—” She stops abruptly as she notices my appearance. “Hey, Bex, why are you holding your coat? Is everything OK?”
“Rebecca’s doing great!” says Paula. She comes into the room and gently takes my coat out of my hands. “Four centimeters dilated already and she’s had no pain relief!”
“No pain relief?” Suze looks staggered. “Bex, I thought you were having an epidural!”
“Um…” I swallow hard.
“But she won’t put on a hospital gown for us,” adds Paula in reproof.
“Of course she won’t!” says Suze indignantly. “They’re revolting. Bex, didn’t you bring your bag? Don’t worry, I’ll go and buy you a T-shirt. And we need some music in here, and some candles maybe….” She looks around critically.
“Um…Suze…” My stomach is bunched with nerves. “Actually…”
“Knock, knock!” There’s a fresh voice at the door. “It’s Louisa here! Can we come in?”
Louisa? This can’t be happening. She’s the aromatherapist I hired for the birth. How the hell did she…
“Your mum’s been busy calling all the people on your list, just to make sure they knew!” Suze beams. “She’s so efficient! They’re all on their way.”
I can’t cope. Everything’s moving too quickly. Louisa has already got out some little vials of oils and is rubbing something orangey on the back of my neck. “There!” she says. “Does that feel good?”
“Lovely!” I manage.
“Becky!” Mum’s shrill voice is sounding from outside the room. “My darling!” She comes rushing in, clutching a bunch of flowers and a paper bag full of croissants. “Sit down! Take it easy! Where’s your epidural?”
“She’s managing without one!” says Suze. “Isn’t she amazing?”
“Without one?” Mum looks appalled.
“Becky’s using yoga and breathing techniques to cope with the pain,” says Paula proudly. “Aren’t you, Becky? She’s already four centimeters!”
“Love, don’t put yourself through it.” Mum grabs my arm, looking close to tears. “Accept the pain relief! Take the drugs.”
I feel like my tongue’s glued to the bottom of my mouth.
“Now, this is jasmine oil,” comes Louisa’s gentle voice in my ear. “I’ll rub it into your temples….”
“Becky?” Mum says anxiously. “Can you hear me?”
“Maybe she’s having a contraction!” exclaims Suze, grabbing my hand. “Bex, breathe….”
“You can do it, love!” Mum’s face is screwing up tighter and tighter, as though she’s in labor herself.
“Focus on the baby.” Paula’s eyes are gazing intently into mine. “Focus on that lovely baby of yours coming out into the world….”
“Look.” I finally find my voice. “I…the thing is, I’m not in
labor….”
“Becky, you are.” Paula rests her hands on my shoulders.
“Bex, conserve your energy!” Suze shoves a straw into my mouth. “Have some Lucozade. Then you’ll feel better!” Helplessly I suck at the sickly drink, and then stop dead as I hear hurried footsteps approaching. I know those footsteps. The door swings open and this time it’s Luke, his face pale, his eyes dark and tense as he surveys the room.
“Thank God. Thank God I’m not too late….” He seems almost speechless as he comes toward me on the bed. “Becky, I love you so much…. I’m so proud of you….”
“Hi, Luke,” I say feebly.
Now what the fuck do I do?
The thing is, in a lot of ways this is the perfect birth.
It’s twenty minutes later and the room is full of people. Felicity the reflexologist has arrived and is manipulating my toes. Maria the homeopath is measuring out some pills for me to take. Louisa is arranging essential oil burners around the place.
I have Mum and Suze sitting on one side of me, with Luke on the other. I’ve got a flannel on my forehead and a water spray in my hand and I’m wearing a long baggy T-shirt which Suze and Mum basically manhandled me into. I’m relaxed, music is playing, I’m managing without an epidural….
There’s only one tiny hitch. And I still haven’t plucked up the courage to tell anyone.
“Becky, would you like some gas and air?” Paula is approaching me with a face mask attached to a tube. “Just to take the edge off the pain.”
“Er…” I hesitate. “Well, OK. Thanks!”
“Breathe it in just as you feel the contraction beginning,” Paula instructs, handing me the mouthpiece. “Don’t leave it too late!”
“OK!” I put the face mask over my nose and mouth and breathe in deeply. Wow. This is fantastic! I feel like I just downed a bottle of champagne!
“Hey.” I take the mask away and give Luke a beatific smile. “That’s really nice. You should try it.”
“Becky, you’re doing amazingly.” He’s clasping my hand tight, not taking his eyes off me. “Is everything OK? Is everything going according to your birth plan?”
“Er…most things!” I say, avoiding his eyes, and quickly suck in some more gas and air. Oh God. I have to tell him. I have to.
“Luke…” I lean forward, feeling a bit tipsy from the gas and air. “Listen,” I whisper in his ear. “I’m not having the baby.”
“Darling, don’t worry.” Luke strokes my forehead. “No one’s in any hurry. It takes as long as it takes.”
Actually…there’s a thought. I mean, the baby’s going to come out sometime, isn’t it? I could just stay here and not say anything and drink Lucozade and watch the telly. And eventually something will happen and they’ll just say, “Becky was in labor for two weeks, poor thing!”
“I spoke to Dr. Braine, by the way,” Luke adds. “He’s on his way over from the Portland.”
“Oh.” I try to hide my dismay. “Great!”
In desperation I breathe in the gas and air again, trying to come up with a plan. Maybe the bathroom has a window I could climb out of. Or I could say I want to walk down the corridor, and then find a newborn baby and just quickly borrow it for a moment….
“I thought you were with Venetia Carter?” Paula stops writing on my notes. “Isn’t she on her way?” She glances at her watch. “If not, one of the senior midwives will need to examine you soon. Are you feeling any pressure, Becky?”
“Um…a bit, yes!”
She has no idea.
“Here.” Louisa gives me a pot of oil to sniff. “Clary sage for stress.”
“So, Paula, does labor ever go…backward?” I ask the question casually, trying to hide my sudden spark of hope.
“No.” Paula laughs. “Though it feels like it sometimes!”
“Ha-ha!” I join in her laughter and flop back on my pillows, inhaling the clary sage for stress. What I need is an essential oil for telling people you’re not in labor and they’ve all got to go home.
There’s a knock at the door and Suze looks up. “Ooh. That might be Jess. She said she was on her way….”
“Come in!” calls Paula. The door opens. And I freeze.
It’s Venetia. She’s wearing operating scrubs with her hair all bundled into a green cap, and she looks totally glamorous and important, like she’s been saving lives all day.
Bitch.
For an instant Venetia looks pretty shocked too, but then almost at once she comes over to the bed, a professional smile at her lips.
“Becky! I had no idea the patient they paged me about was you. Let’s have a look and see how you’re getting on….” Shetakes off her green cap and her hair tumbles radiantly down her back. “Luke, how long has she been in? Fill me in on what’s been happening.”
She’s doing it again. She’s cutting me out. She’s trying to bewitch Luke.
“Leave me alone!” I exclaim in fury. “I’m not your patient anymore and you’re not having a look at anything, thank you very much.”
Suddenly I don’t care about being in labor. Or pretend-labor. Or whatever I’m in. It’s not too late; I can still have my big confrontation. As everyone gapes, I cast away the gas and air mask and heave myself off the bed.
“Suze, can you give me that bag please?” I say in a trembling voice. “The carrier under the bed.”
“Yes! Here.” Suze hands me the carrier bag. “Is that her ?” she adds in my ear.
“Uh-huh.” I nod.
“Cow.”
“That’s a good idea, Becky!” Paula’s saying in bright, uncertain tones. “Keeping upright will help the baby descend….”
“Venetia, I have something to return to you.” My voice is very slightly slurred, which is the fault of that stupid gas and air. And I keep breaking into a smile, which is a bit annoying. But anyway, she’ll get the message.
“Luke doesn’t want these.” I reach into the bag and throw the support stockings at her. They land on the floor and everyone looks at them.
Oh. I’ve got a bit confused.
“I mean…these.” I chuck the cuff link box, hard, and it hits Venetia on the forehead.
“Ow! Shit!” She clasps her head.
“Becky!” Luke remonstrates.
“She’s still after you, Luke! She sent you a Christmas present!” Suddenly I remember my Latin. “Uti…barberi…” My tongue keeps tripping up. “Nam… I mean …tui…”
Fuck.
Latin’s a stupid language.
“Love, are you delirious?” Mum looks anxious.
“Becky, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Venetia looks as though she wants to laugh.
“Just leave us alone.” I’m quivering with anger. “Leave me and Luke alone.”
“You paged me,” Venetia reminds me, and takes the chart from a nervous Paula. “Now, where are we at with this baby?”
“Don’t change the subject!” I yell. “You told me that you and Luke were having an affair. You tried to freak me out.”
“An affair ?” Venetia opens her eyes wide. “Becky, Luke and I are just old friends!” She gives her silvery laugh. “I’m sorry, Luke. I realize Becky has a problem with me. But I had no idea she was quite so possessive….”
She looks totally reasonable, standing there in her green medical-authority uniform. And I’m the deranged, drugged pregnant woman in a baggy T-shirt.
“Ven, it’s fine,” says Luke, looking uncomfortable. “Listen, we’ve got Charles Braine coming to supervise. Maybe you should…leave.”
“Maybe I should.” Venetia nods conspiratorially at Luke, and I feel a stab of white-hot rage.
“Luke, don’t just let her get away with it! She said you were lovers! She said you were leaving me for her!”
“Becky…”
“It’s true.” Angry tears are running down my face. “No one believes me, but it’s true! She said the minute you saw each other again it was just a question of when and where. She said you were int
oxicated with each other, and it was like Penelope and…someone. Othello.”
“Penelope and Odysseus?” Luke stares at me.
“Yes! That’s it. And you were meant to be together. And that I didn’t have a marriage anymore….” I wipe my runny nose with my T-shirt sleeve. “And now she’s pretending I’m a completely deluded psycho….”
Something has changed in Luke’s eyes. “Penelope and Odysseus?” he says, an edge to his voice. “Ven?”
There’s a prickling silence.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” Venetia says smoothly.
“Who are Penelope and Odysseus?” Suze whispers in my ear, and I shrug helplessly.
“Venetia…” Luke looks at her directly. “We were never Penelope and Odysseus.”
For the first time ever, I see Venetia falter. She doesn’t say anything, but just stares at Luke with a kind of defiance. Like she wants to say, Yes, we were.
OK, I have to know. “Luke, who are Penelope and Odysseus?” I ask.
I’m really hoping they’re not a PR guy and an obstetrician who get together after the wife is pushed out of the picture.
“Odysseus left Penelope to go on a long journey,” says Luke, his eyes still pinioning Venetia’s. “The Odyssey. And Penelope waited faithfully for him. For twenty years.”
“Well, she hasn’t waited faithfully for you!” Suze says, pointing an indignant finger at Venetia. “She’s had affairs all over the place!”
“Venetia, did you tell Becky we were having an affair?” Luke’s stentorian voice makes us all jump. “Did you say I was leaving her for you? Did you try to break her confidence?”
“Of course I didn’t,” says Venetia coldly. Her eyes are hard but her jaw is trembling slightly, I notice.
“Good.” Luke’s tone is still scathing. “Well, let’s make it crystal clear once and for all. I would never have an affair with you, Venetia. I would never have an affair with anyone.” He turns to me and takes both my hands. “Becky, there is nothing whatsoever between me and Venetia, whatever she might have said. We dated for a year. As teenagers. That’s it. OK?”