Shopaholic Ties the Knot

Thirteen

I’VE AGREED TO meet Suze at Sloane Square for a cup of tea. There’s a crowd of tourists milling around when I arrive, and for a moment I can’t see her. Then the throng disperses — and there she is, sitting by the fountain, her long blond hair haloed by the sun, and the hugest stomach I’ve ever seen.

As I see her, I’m all set to rush up to her, exclaim, “Oh God, Suze, it’s all a nightmare!” and tell her everything.

But then I stop. She looks like an angel, sitting there. A pregnant angel.

Or the Virgin Mary, perhaps. All serene and lovely and perfect.

And suddenly I feel all messed up in comparison. I’d been planning to unburden the entire situation on Suze, like I always do, and wait for her to think of an answer. But now… I just can’t. She looks so calm and happy. It would be like dumping toxic waste in some beautiful clear sea.

“Bex! Hi!” As she sees me she stands up, and I feel a fresh shock at how… well, how big she looks.

“Suze!” I hurry toward her and give her a huge hug. “You look amazing!”

“I’m feeling great!” says Suze. “How are you? How’s the wedding?”

“Oh… I’m fine!” I say after a pause. “It’s all fine. Come on. Let’s go and have some tea.”

I’m not going to tell her. This is it. For once in my life, I’m going to sort out my problems on my own.

We go to Oriel and get a table by the window. When the waiter comes, I order hot chocolate, but Suze produces a tea bag and hands it to the waiter.

“Raspberry leaf tea,” she explains. “It strengthens the uterus. For labor.”

“Right.” I nod. “Labor. Of course!”

I feel a little shiver at the base of my spine and smile quickly to cover it.

Secretly, I’m really not at all convinced about this whole giving birth thing. I mean, look at the size of Suze’s bump. Look at the size of a full-grown baby. And then tell me that’s going to fit through…

I mean, I know the theory. It’s just… to be honest, I can’t see it working.

“When are you due again?” I say, staring at Suze’s stomach.

“Four weeks today!”

“So… it’s going to grow even bigger?”

“Oh yes!” Suze pats her bump fondly. “Quite a bit, I should think.”

“Good,” I say weakly, as a waiter puts a cup of hot chocolate in front of me. “Excellent. So… how’s Tarquin?”

“He’s fine!” says Suze. “He’s up on Craie at the moment. You know, his Scottish island? They’re lambing at the moment, so he thought he’d go and help out. Before the baby comes.”

“Oh right. And you didn’t go with him?”

“Well, it would have been a bit risky.” Suze stirs her raspberry tea thoughtfully. “And the thing is, I’m not quite as interested in sheep as he is. I mean, they are really interesting,” she adds loyally. “But you know, after you’ve seen a thousand of them…”

“But he’ll be back in time, will he?”

“Oh yes. He’s really excited! He’s been to all the classes and everything!”

God, I can’t believe in a few weeks’ time Suze will have a baby. I won’t even be here.

“Can I touch?” I put my hand gingerly on Suze’s stomach. “I can’t feel anything.”

“That’s all right,” says Suze. “I expect it’s asleep.”

“Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“I haven’t found out.” Suze leans forward earnestly. “But I kind of think it’s a girl, because I keep being drawn to all these sweet little dresses in the shops. Like a kind of a craving? And they say in all the books, your body will tell you what it needs. So, you know, maybe that’s a sign.”

“So, what are you going to call her?”

“We can’t decide. It’s so hard! You know, you buy these books, and all the names are crap…” She takes a sip of tea. “What would you call a baby?”

“Ooh! I don’t know! Maybe Lauren, after Ralph Lauren.” I think for a few moments. “Or Dolce.”

“Dolce Cleath-Stuart,” says Suze thoughtfully. “I quite like that! We could call her Dolly for short.”

“Or Vera. After Vera Wang.”

“Vera?” Suze stares at me. “I’m not calling my baby Vera!”

“We’re not talking about your baby!” I retort. “We’re talking about mine. Vera Lauren Comme des Brandon. I think that’s got a really good ring to it.”

“Vera Brandon sounds like a character off Coronation Street! But I like Dolce. What about if it was a boy?”

“Harvey. Or Barney,” I say after a little thought. “Depending on whether it was born in London or New York.”

I take another sip of hot chocolate — then look up, to see Suze gazing at me seriously.

“You wouldn’t really have a baby in America, would you, Bex?”

“I… I don’t know. Who can tell? We probably won’t have children for years yet!”

“You know, we all really miss you.”

“Oh, not you, too, Suze.” I give a half-laugh. “I had Mum on at me today to move back to Oxshott.”

“Well, it’s true! Tarkie was saying the other day, London just isn’t the same without you.”

“Really?” I gaze at her, feeling ridiculously touched.

“And your mum keeps asking me if I think you’ll stay in New York forever… you won’t, will you?”

“I honestly don’t know,” I say helplessly. “It all depends on Luke… and his business…”

“He’s not the boss!” says Suze. “You have a say, too. Do you want to stay out there?”

“I don’t know.” I screw up my face, trying to explain. “Sometimes I think I do. When I’m in New York, it seems like the most important place in the world. My job is fantastic, and the people are fantastic, and it’s all wonderful. But when I come home, suddenly I think, Hang on, this is my home. This is where I belong.” I pick up a sugar packet and begin to shred it. “I just don’t know whether I’m ready to come home yet.”

“Oh, come back to England and have a baby!” says Suze wheedlingly. “Then we can be mummies together!”

“Honestly, Suze!” I take a sip of chocolate, rolling my eyes. “Like I’m really ready to have a baby!” I get up to go to the ladies’ room before she can say anything else.

On the other hand… she has got a point. Why shouldn’t I have a baby? Other people do — so why not me? I mean, if I could somehow bypass the actual having it bit. Maybe I could have one of those operations where you go to sleep and don’t feel anything. And then when I woke up I’d have a baby!

I have a sudden pleasant vision of Suze and me walking up the road together, pushing prams. That might be quite fun, actually. I mean, you can buy loads of gorgeous baby things these days. Like cute little hats, and tiny denim jackets… And — yes — doesn’t Gucci do a really cool baby sling?

We could have cappuccinos together, and walk round the shops, and… I mean, that’s basically all mothers do, isn’t it? Now that I think about it, I’d be perfect at it!

I must definitely have a chat with Luke.

It’s not until we’re leaving Oriel that Suze says, “So, Bex, you haven’t told me anything about the wedding!”

My stomach gives a little swoop, and I turn my head away, under the pretense of putting on my coat.

I’d kind of managed to forget about the whole wedding issue.

“Yes,” I say at last. “Well, it’s all… um… fine!”

I’m not going to bother Suze with my problems. I’m not.

“Was Luke all right about you getting married in England?” She looks anxiously at me. “I mean, it didn’t cause a rift between you or anything?”

“No,” I say after a pause. “I can honestly say that it didn’t.”

I hold the door open for her and we walk out into Sloane Square. A column of schoolchildren in corduroy knickerbockers is crowding the pavement, and we stand aside, waiting for them to pass.

“You know, you made the right decision.” Suze squeezes my arm. “I was so worried you were going to choose New York. What made you finally decide?”

“Er… this and that. You know. So, erm… did you read about these new proposals to privatize the water system?”

But Suze ignores me. Honestly, isn’t she interested in current affairs?

“So what did Elinor say when you called off the Plaza?”

“She said… erm… well, she wasn’t pleased, of course. She said she was very cross, and… er…”

“Very cross?” Suze raises her eyebrows. “Is that all? I thought she’d be furious!”

“She was furious!” I amend hurriedly. “She was so furious, she… burst a blood vessel!”

“She burst a blood vessel?” Suze stares at me. “Where?”

“On her… chin.”

There’s silence. Suze is standing still in the street, her expression slowly changing. “Bex—”

“Let’s go and look at baby clothes!” I say hurriedly. “There’s that really sweet shop on the King’s Road…”

“Bex, what’s going on?”

“Nothing!”

“There is! I can tell. You’re hiding something.”

“No, I’m not!”

“You did call the American wedding off, didn’t you?”

“I…”

“Bex?” Her voice is as stern as I’ve ever heard it. “Tell me the truth.”

Oh God. I can’t lie any more.

“I… I’m going to,” I say weakly.

“You’re going to?” Suze’s voice rises in dismay. “You’re going to?”

“Suze—”

“I should have known! I should have guessed! But I just assumed you must have called it off, because your mother kept on organizing her wedding, and no one said anything about New York, and I thought, oh, Bex must have decided to get married at home after all…”

“Suze, please. Don’t worry about it,” I say quickly. “Just stay calm… breathe deeply…”

“How can I not worry about it!” cries Suze. “How can I not worry? Bex, you promised me you were going to sort this out weeks ago! You promised!”

“I know! And I’m going to. It’s just… it’s been so difficult. Deciding between them. They both seemed so perfect, in completely different ways—”

“Bex, a wedding isn’t a handbag!” says Suze incredulously. “You can’t decide you’ll treat yourself to two!”

“I know! I know! Look, I’m going to sort it out—”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because you’re all lovely and serene and happy!” I wail. “And I didn’t want to spoil it with my stupid problems.”

“Oh, Bex.” Suze gazes at me silently — then puts an arm round me. “So… what are you going to do?”

I take a deep breath.

“I’m going to tell Elinor the New York wedding is all off. And I’m going to get married here in England.”

“Really? You’re completely sure about that?”

“Yes. I’m sure. After seeing Mum and Dad… and Mum was so sweet… and she has no idea what I’ve been planning behind her back…” I swallow hard. “I mean, this wedding is everything to her. Oh God, Suze, I feel so stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t want to get married at the Plaza. I don’t want to get married anywhere else except at home.”

“You won’t change your mind again?”

“No. Not this time. Honestly, Suze, this is it.”

“What about Luke?”

“He doesn’t care. He’s said all along, it’s up to me.”

Suze is silent for a moment. Then she reaches in her bag for her mobile phone and thrusts it at me.

“OK. If you’re going to do it, do it now. Dial the number.”

“I can’t. Elinor’s in a Swiss clinic. I was planning to write her a letter—”

“No.” Suze shakes her head firmly. “Do it now. There must be someone you can call. Call that wedding planner, Robyn, and tell her it’s off. Bex, you can’t afford to leave it any longer.”

“OK,” I say, ignoring the leap of apprehension inside me. “OK, I’ll do it. I’ll… I’ll call her.”

I lift up the phone — then put it down again. Making the decision in my head was one thing. Actually making the call is another.

What’s Robyn going to say? What’s everybody going to say? I wouldn’t mind a little time, just to think through exactly what I’m going to tell them…

“Go on!” says Suze. “Do it!”

“All right!”

With trembling hands I lift the phone and dial 001 for America — but the display remains blank.

“Oh… dear!” I exclaim, trying to sound upset. “I can’t get a signal! Oh well, I’ll just have to phone later—”

“No you won’t! We’ll keep walking till you get one. Come on!” Suze starts marching toward the King’s Road and I scuttle nervously along behind her.

“Try again,” she says as we reach the first pedestrian crossing.

“Nothing,” I quaver. God, Suze looks incredible, like the prow of a ship. Her blond hair is streaming out behind her, and her face is flushed with determination. How come she’s got so much energy, anyway? I thought pregnant women were supposed to take it easy.

“Try again!” she repeats after every three hundred feet. “Try again! I’m not stopping till you’ve made that call!”

“There’s nothing!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Frantically I punch at the buttons, trying to trigger a signal. “Look!”

“Well, keep trying! Come on!”

“I am! I am!”

“Oh my God!” Suze gives a sudden shriek and I jump in terror.

“I’m trying! Honestly, Suze, I’m trying as hard as I—”

“No! Look!”

I stop still, and turn round. She’s stopped still on the pavement, ten yards behind me, and there’s a puddle of water at her feet.

“Suze… don’t worry,” I say awkwardly. “I won’t tell anybody.”

“No! You don’t understand! It’s not…” She stares at me wildly. “I think my waters have broken!”

“Your what?” I feel a thud of pure fright. “Does that mean… Are you going to—”

This can’t be happening.

“I don’t know.” I can see panic rising on Suze’s face. “I mean, it’s possible… But it’s four weeks early! It’s too soon! Tarkie isn’t here, nothing’s ready… Oh God…”

I’ve never seen Suze look so scared before. A choking dismay creeps over me, and I fight the temptation to burst into tears. What have I done now? As well as everything else, I’ve sent my best friend into premature labor.

“Suze, I’m so sorry,” I gulp.

“It’s not your fault! Don’t be stupid!”

“It is! You were so happy and serene, and then you saw me. I should just stay away from pregnant people—”

“I’ll have to go to the hospital.” Suze’s face is pale. “They said to come in if this happened.”

“Well, let’s go! Come on!”

“But I haven’t got my bag, or anything. There’s loads of stuff I need to take…” She bites her lip worriedly. “Shall I go home first?”

“You haven’t got time for that!” I say in a panic. “What do you need?”

“Baby clothes… nappies… stuff like that…”

“Well, where do you…” I look around helplessly, then, with a sudden surge of relief, spot the sign for Peter Jones.

“OK,” I say, and grab her arm. “Come on.”

As soon as we get into Peter Jones, I look around for an assistant. And thank goodness, here comes one, a nice middle-aged lady with red lipstick and gold spectacles on a chain.

“My friend needs an ambulance,” I gasp.

“A taxi will be fine, honestly,” says Suze. “It’s just that my waters have broken. So I should probably get to the hospital.”

“Goodness!” says the lady. “Come and sit down, dear, and I’ll call a taxi for you…”

We sit Suze down on a chair by a checkout desk, and a junior assistant brings her a glass of water.

“Right,” I say. “Tell me what you need.”

“I can’t remember exactly.” Suze looks anxious. “We were given a list… Maybe they’ll know in the baby department.”

“Will you be OK if I leave you?”

“I’ll be fine! Contractions haven’t even started.”

“You’re sure?” I glance nervously at her stomach.

“Bex, just go!”

Honestly. Why on earth do they put baby departments so far away from the main entrances of shops? I mean, what’s the point of all these stupid floors of clothes and makeup and bags, which no one’s interested in? After sprinting up and down about six escalators, at last I find it, and come to a standstill, panting slightly.

For a moment I look around, dazed by all the names of things I’ve never heard of.

Reception blanket?

Anticolic teats?

Oh, sod it. I’ll just buy everything. I quickly head for the nearest display and start grabbing things indiscriminately. Sleeping suits, tiny socks, a hat… a teddy, a cot blanket… what else? A Moses basket… nappies… little glove puppets in case the baby gets bored… a really cute little Christian Dior jacket… gosh, I wonder if they do that in grown-up sizes too…

I shove the lot onto the checkout desk and whip out my Visa card.

“It’s for my friend,” I explain breathlessly. “She’s just gone into labor. Is this everything she needs?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m afraid, dear,” says the assistant, scanning a baby bath thermometer.

“I’ve got a list here,” says a nearby woman in maternity dungarees and Birkenstocks. “This is what the National Childbirth Trust recommends you take in.”

“Oh, thanks!”

She hands a piece of paper to me and I scan the endless typed list with growing dismay. I thought I’d done so well — but I haven’t got half the stuff they say here. And if I miss anything, it’ll turn out to be completely vital, and Suze’s whole birth experience will be ruined and I’ll never forgive myself.

Loose T-shirt… Scented candles… Plant sprayer…

Is this the right list?

“Plant sprayer?” I say bewilderedly.

“To spray the laboring woman’s face,” explains the woman in dungarees. “Hospital rooms get very hot.”

“You’ll want the home department for that,” puts in the assistant.

“Oh, right. Thanks.”

Tape recorder… soothing tapes… inflatable ball…

“Inflatable ball? Won’t the baby be a bit young to play with a ball?”

“It’s for the mother to lean on,” says the woman kindly. “To alleviate the waves of pain. Alternatively she could use a large bean bag.”

Waves of pain? Oh God. The thought of Suze in pain makes me feel all wobbly inside.

“I’ll get a ball and a bean bag,” I say hurriedly. “And maybe some aspirin. Extra-strong.”

At last I stagger back to the ground floor, red in the face and panting. I just hope I’ve got all this right. I couldn’t find an inflatable ball in the whole of the stupid shop — so in the end I grabbed an inflatable canoe instead, and made the man pump it up for me. I’ve got it wedged under one arm now, with a Teletubbies bean bag and a Moses basket stuffed under the other, and about six full carrier bags dangling from my wrists.

I glance at my watch — and to my utter horror I see that I’ve already been twenty-five minutes. I’m half expecting to see Suze sitting on the chair holding a baby in her arms.

But there she is, still on the chair, wincing slightly.

“Bex. There you are! I think my contractions have started.”

“Sorry I took so long,” I gasp. “I just wanted to get everything you might need.” A box of Scrabble falls out of one of the bags onto the ground, and I bend to pick it up. “That’s for when you have an epidural,” I explain.

“The taxi’s here,” interrupts the lady with gold spectacles. “Do you need some help with all that?”

As we make our way out to the chugging taxi, Suze is staring at my load in utter bewilderment.

“Bex… why did you buy an inflatable canoe?”

“It’s for you to lie on. Or something.”

“And a watering can?”

“I couldn’t find a plant sprayer.” Breathlessly I start shoving bags into the taxi.

“But why do I need a plant sprayer?”

“Look, it wasn’t my idea, OK?” I say defensively. “Come on, let’s go!”

Somehow we cram everything into the taxi. A canoe paddle falls out as we close the door, but I don’t bother trying to get it. I mean, it’s not like Suze is having a water birth.

“Tarkie’s business manager is trying to reach him,” says Suze as we zoom along the King’s Road. “But even if he gets on a plane straight away, he’s going to miss it.”

“He might not!” I say encouragingly. “You never know!”

“He will.” To my dismay I can hear her voice starting to wobble. “He’ll miss the birth of his first child. After waiting all this time. And doing the classes, and everything. He was really good at panting. The teacher made him do it in front of everyone else, he was so good.”

“Oh, Suze.” I feel like crying. “Maybe you’ll take hours and hours, and he’ll still make it.”

“You’ll stay with me, won’t you?” She suddenly turns in her seat. “You won’t leave me there?”

“Of course not!” I say, appalled. “I’ll stay with you all the time, Suze.” I hold both her hands tight. “We’ll do it together.”

“Do you know anything at all about giving birth?”

“Erm… yes,” I lie. “Loads!”

“Like what?”

“Like… um… you need hot towels… and…” Suddenly I spot a baby milk carton poking out of one of the bags. “… and many babies require a vitamin K injection after the birth.”

Suze stares at me, impressed. “Wow. How did you know that?”

“I just know stuff,” I say, pushing the carton out of sight with my foot. “You see? It’ll be fine!”

OK, I can do this. I can help Suze. I just have to stay cool and calm and not panic.

I mean, millions of people give birth every day, don’t they? It’s probably one of those things that sounds really scary but is quite easy when it comes to it. Like a driving test.

“Oh God.” Suze’s face suddenly contorts. “Here it comes again.”

“OK! Hang on!” In a flurry of alarm I scrabble inside one of the plastic bags. “Here you are!”

Suze opens her eyes dazedly as I produce a smart cellophaned box. “Bex — why are you giving me perfume?”

“They said get jasmine oil to help ease the pain,” I say breathlessly. “But I couldn’t find any, so I got Romance by Ralph Lauren instead. It’s got jasmine overtones.” I rip off the packaging and squirt it at her hopefully. “Does that help?”

“Not really,” says Suze. “But it’s a nice smell.”

“It is, isn’t it?” I say, pleased. “And because I spent over thirty quid, I got a free beauty bag with exfoliating body mitt and—”

“St. Christopher’s Hospital,” says the driver suddenly, drawing up in front of a large redbrick building. We both stiffen in alarm and look at each other.

“OK,” I say. “Keep calm, Suze. Don’t panic. Just… wait there.”

I open the taxi door, sprint through an entrance marked “Maternity,” and find myself in a reception area with blue upholstered chairs. A couple of women in dressing gowns look up from the magazines they’re reading, but other than that, there are no signs of life.

For God’s sake. Where is everybody?

“My friend’s having a baby!” I yell. “Quick, everyone! Get a stretcher! Get a midwife!”

“Are you all right?” says a woman in white uniform, appearing out of nowhere. “I’m a midwife. What’s the problem?”

“My friend’s in labor! She needs help immediately!”

“Where is she?”

“I’m here,” says Suze, struggling in through the door with three bags under one arm.

“Suze!” I say in horror. “Don’t move. You should be lying down! She needs drugs,” I say to the nurse. “She needs an epidural and general anesthetic and some laughing gas stuff, and… basically, whatever you’ve got…”

“I’m fine,” says Suze. “Really.”

“OK,” says the midwife. “Let’s just get you settled into a room. Then we can examine you and take a few details…”

“I’ll get the rest of the stuff,” I say, and start heading back toward the doors. “Suze, don’t worry, I’ll be back. Go with the midwife and I’ll come and find you…”

“Wait,” says Suze urgently, suddenly turning round. “Wait, Bex!”

“What?”

“You never made that call. You never canceled the New York wedding.”

“I’ll make it later,” I say. “Go on. Go with the midwife.”

“Make it now.”

“Now?” I stare at her.

“If you don’t make it now, you’ll never make it! I know you, Bex.”

“Suze, don’t be stupid! You’re about to have a baby! Let’s get our priorities right, shall we?”

“I’ll have the baby when you’ve made the call!” says Suze obstinately. “Oh!” Her face suddenly twists. “It’s starting again.”

“OK,” says the midwife calmly. “Now, breathe… try to relax…”

“I can’t relax! Not until she cancels the wedding! Otherwise she’ll just put it off again! I know her!”

“I won’t!”

“You will, Bex! You’ve already dithered for months!”

“Is he a bad sort, then?” says the midwife. “You should listen to your friend,” she adds to me. “She sounds like she knows what she’s talking about.”

“Friends can always tell the wrong ’uns,” agrees the woman in the pink dressing gown.

“He’s not a wrong ’un!” I retort indignantly. “Suze, please! Calm down! Go with the nurse! Get some drugs!”

“Make the call,” she replies, her face contorted. “Then I’ll go.” She looks up. “Go on! Make the call!”

“If you want this baby born safely,” says the midwife to me, “I’d make the call.”

“Make the call, love!” chimes in the woman in the pink dressing gown.

“OK! OK!” I scrabble for the mobile phone and punch in the number. “I’m calling. Now go, Suze!”

“Not until I’ve heard you say the words!”

“Breathe through the pain…”

“Hello!” chirps Robyn in my ear. “Is that wedding bells I hear?”

“There’s no one there,” I say, looking up.

“Then leave a message,” says Suze through gritted teeth.

“Another deep breath now…”

“Your call is so important to me…”

“Go on, Bex!”

“All right! Here goes.” I take a deep breath as the bleep sounds. “Robyn, this is Becky Bloomwood here… and I’m canceling the wedding. Repeat, I’m canceling the wedding. I’m very sorry for all the inconvenience this is going to cause. I know what a lot you’ve put into it and I can only guess at how angry Elinor will be…” I swallow. “But I’ve made my final decision — and it’s that I want to get married at home in England. If you want to talk to me about this, leave a message at my home and I’ll call you back. Otherwise, I guess this is good-bye. And… thanks. It was fun while it lasted.”

I click off the phone and stare at it, silent in my hand.

I’ve done it.

“Well done,” says the midwife to Suze. “That was a tough one!”

“Well done, Bex,” says Suze, pink in the face. She squeezes my hand and gives me a tiny smile. “You’ve done the right thing.” She looks at the midwife. “OK. Let’s go.”

“I’ll just go and… get the rest of the stuff,” I say, and walk slowly toward the double doors leading out of the hospital.

As I step out into the fresh air I can’t help giving a little shiver. So that’s it. No more Plaza wedding. No more enchanted forest. No more magical cake. No more fantasy.

I can’t quite believe it’s all gone.

But then… if I’m really honest, it only ever was a fantasy, wasn’t it? It never quite felt like real life.

This is real life, right here.

For a few moments I’m silent, letting my thoughts drift, until the sound of an ambulance siren brings me back to the present. Hastily I unload the taxi, pay the driver, then stare at the mound of stuff, wondering how on earth I’m going to get it all inside. And whether I really did need to buy a collapsible playpen.

“Are you Becky Bloomwood?” A voice interrupts my thoughts and I look up, to see a young midwife standing at the door.

“Yes!” I feel a tremor of alarm. “Is Suze all right?”

“She’s fine, but her contractions are intensifying now, and we’re still waiting for the anesthetist to arrive… and she’s saying she’d like to try using”—she looks at me puzzledly—“is it… a canoe?”

Oh my God.

Oh my God.

I can’t even begin to… to…

It’s seven o’clock in the evening, and I’m completely shattered. I have never seen anything like that in my life. I had no idea it would be so—

That Suze would be so—

It took six hours altogether, which is apparently really quick. Well, all I can say is, I wouldn’t like to be one of the slow ones.

I can’t believe it. Suze has got a baby boy. A tiny, pink, snuffly baby boy. One hour old.

He’s been weighed and measured, and apparently he’s a really healthy size, considering he came early. A nurse has dressed him in the most gorgeous white and blue baby suit and a little white blanket, and now he’s lying in Suze’s arms, all curled up and scrumpled, with tufts of dark hair sticking out over his ears. The baby that Suze and Tarquin made. I almost want to cry… except I’m so elated. It’s the weirdest feeling.

I meet Suze’s eyes, and she beams euphorically. She’s been beaming ever since he was born, and I’m secretly wondering if they gave her a bit too much laughing gas.

“Isn’t he just perfect?”

“He’s perfect.” I touch his tiny fingernail. To think that’s been growing inside Suze, all this time.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” says a nurse, coming into the warm, bright room. “You must be exhausted.”

“Thanks very much,” I say gratefully, stretching out a hand.

“I meant Mum,” says the nurse, giving me an odd look.

“Oh,” I say flusteredly. “Yes, of course. Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” says Suze. “Give it to Bex. She deserves it.” She gives me an abashed smile. “Sorry I got angry with you.”

“That’s all right.” I bite my lip. “Sorry I kept saying, ‘Does it really hurt?’ ”

“No, you were great. Seriously, Bex. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Some flowers have arrived,” says a midwife, coming in. “And we’ve had a message from your husband. He’s stuck on the island for the moment because of bad weather, but he’ll be here as soon as he can.”

“Thanks,” says Suze, managing a smile. “That’s great.”

But when the midwife goes out again, her lips begin to tremble. “Bex, what am I going to do if Tarkie can’t get back? Mummy’s in Ulan Bator, and Daddy doesn’t know one end of a baby from the other… I’m going to be all on my own…”

“No, you aren’t!” I quickly put an arm round her. “I’ll look after you!”

“But don’t you have to go back to America?”

“I don’t have to go anywhere. I’ll change my flight and take more vacation days.” I give her a tight hug. “I’m staying here with you for as long as you need me, Suze, and that’s the end of it.”

“What about the wedding?”

“I don’t need to worry about the wedding any more. Suze, I’m staying with you, and that’s that.”

“Really?” Suze’s chin quivers. “Thanks, Bex.” She shifts the baby cautiously in her arms, and he gives a little snuffle. “Do you… know anything about babies?”

“You don’t have to know anything!” I say confidently. “You just have to feed them and dress them up in nice clothes and wheel them around the shops.”

“I’m not sure—”

“And anyway, just look at little Armani.” I reach into the white bundle of blanket and touch the baby’s cheek fondly.

“We’re not naming him Armani!”

“Well, whatever. He’s an angel! He must be what they call an ‘easy’ baby.”

“He is good, isn’t he?” says Suze, pleased. “He hasn’t even cried once!”

“Honestly, Suze, don’t worry.” I take a sip of tea and smile at her. “It’ll be a blast!”

FINERMAN WALLSTEIN

Attorneys at Law

Finerman House

1398 Avenue of the Americas

New York, NY 10105

Miss Rebecca Bloomwood

251 W. 11th Street, Apt. B

New York, NY 10014

May 6, 2002

Dear Miss Bloomwood:

Thank you for your message of April 30, and I confirm that under the fourth clause I have added the section “(f) I give and bequeath to my gorgeous godson Ernest, the sum of $1,000.”

May I draw your attention to the fact that this is the seventh amendment you have made to your will since drawing it up a month ago?

With kind regards,

Jane Cardozo