Shopaholic & Baby
Page 112
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“Of course I do!” says Suze, backtracking. “Of course. But you know, when you’re pregnant, things can seem worse than they really are…. You can overreact….”
“I am not overreacting! She tried to steal my husband! What, you think I’m deluded? You think I made it all up?”
“No!” says Suze hastily. “Look, I’m sorry. Maybe she did go after him. But…she didn’t get him, did she?”
“Well…no.”
“So. Just let it go. You’re having a baby, Bex. That’s the important thing, isn’t it?”
She looks so anxious, I can’t tell her my secret fantasy of bursting into the Holistic Birth Center unannounced and telling everyone exactly what a deceitful home-wrecker Venetia Carter really is.
Then how holistic would she look?
“All right,” I say at last. “I’m letting it go.”
“Good.” Suze pats my arm. “So, what time do we have to leave?”
I’m going back to The Look today, even though I’m officially now on maternity leave, because they’re opening the waiting list for the new Danny Kovitz line. Danny is going to be there from twelve noon, signing Tshirts for people who register, and the store has already had hundreds of inquiries!
The whole thing has suddenly become huge news — helped by Danny being photographed the other night in a clinch with the new guy in Coronation Street. All the papers have suddenly taken up the story and we’ve had loads of publicity. Danny was even on Morning Coffee this morning, assessing spring fashions on the sofa (he said all the outfits were hideous, which they loved) and telling everyone to come to The Look.
Ha! And it was all my idea to get him involved.
“Let’s go in a few minutes,” I say, glancing at my watch. “There’s no rush. They can’t exactly fire me for being late, can they?”
“I guess not….” Suze edges back to the sink, past our brand-new Warrior pushchair, which is in the corner, still in its packaging. There wasn’t room for it in the nursery, and the hall is cluttered with a Bugaboo (they were on special offer) and this cool three-wheeler which has an integrated car seat. “Bex, how many prams did you order?”
“A few,” I say vaguely.
“But where are you going to keep them all?”
“It’s OK,” I assure her. “I’m having a special room for them in the new house. I’ll call it the Pram Room.”
“A Pram Room?” Suze stares at me. “You’re having a Shoe Room and a Pram Room?”
“Why not? People don’t have enough different rooms. I might have a Handbag Room too. Just a small one…” I take a sip of raspberry leaf tea, which according to Suze helps speed up labor, and wince at the revolting taste.
“Ooh, what was that?” says Suze, alert. “Did you feel a twinge?”
Honestly. This is the third time she’s asked about twinges since she arrived this morning.
“Suze, it’s not due for another two weeks,” I remind her.
“That doesn’t mean anything!” says Suze. “Those dates are all a conspiracy by doctors.” She studies me closely. “Do you feel like sweeping the floor or cleaning out the fridge?”
“The fridge is clean!” I say, a bit offended.
“No, you dope!” says Suze. “It’s the nesting instinct. When the twins were due I suddenly got this mania for ironing Tarkie’s shirts. And Lulu always starts vacuuming the whole house.”
“Vacuuming?” I look at her dubiously. I can’t imagine having an urge to vacuum.
“Totally! Loads of women scrub the floor—” She breaks off as the buzzer sounds, and picks up the entry phone. “Hello, the Brandon residence!” She listens for a moment, then presses the entry button. “It’s a delivery. Are you expecting something?”
“Ooh, yes!” I put my cup down. “It’ll be my Christmas things!”
“Presents?” Suze brightens. “Is there one for me?”
“Not presents,” I explain. “Gorgeous decorations. It was so weird — I had this sudden urge yesterday, like I had to get Christmas all sorted before I had the baby. So I’ve ordered new angels for the tree, and an Advent candle, and this gorgeous nativity scene….” I take a bite of cookie and munch it. “I’ve got it all planned for the new house. We’ll have a huge Christmas tree in the hall, and garlands everywhere, and gingerbread men which we can put on red ribbons….”
The doorbell sounds and I head to the door. I open it to see two men holding massive cardboard boxes, plus a huge bulky parcel which must be the life-size models of Mary and Joseph.
“I am not overreacting! She tried to steal my husband! What, you think I’m deluded? You think I made it all up?”
“No!” says Suze hastily. “Look, I’m sorry. Maybe she did go after him. But…she didn’t get him, did she?”
“Well…no.”
“So. Just let it go. You’re having a baby, Bex. That’s the important thing, isn’t it?”
She looks so anxious, I can’t tell her my secret fantasy of bursting into the Holistic Birth Center unannounced and telling everyone exactly what a deceitful home-wrecker Venetia Carter really is.
Then how holistic would she look?
“All right,” I say at last. “I’m letting it go.”
“Good.” Suze pats my arm. “So, what time do we have to leave?”
I’m going back to The Look today, even though I’m officially now on maternity leave, because they’re opening the waiting list for the new Danny Kovitz line. Danny is going to be there from twelve noon, signing Tshirts for people who register, and the store has already had hundreds of inquiries!
The whole thing has suddenly become huge news — helped by Danny being photographed the other night in a clinch with the new guy in Coronation Street. All the papers have suddenly taken up the story and we’ve had loads of publicity. Danny was even on Morning Coffee this morning, assessing spring fashions on the sofa (he said all the outfits were hideous, which they loved) and telling everyone to come to The Look.
Ha! And it was all my idea to get him involved.
“Let’s go in a few minutes,” I say, glancing at my watch. “There’s no rush. They can’t exactly fire me for being late, can they?”
“I guess not….” Suze edges back to the sink, past our brand-new Warrior pushchair, which is in the corner, still in its packaging. There wasn’t room for it in the nursery, and the hall is cluttered with a Bugaboo (they were on special offer) and this cool three-wheeler which has an integrated car seat. “Bex, how many prams did you order?”
“A few,” I say vaguely.
“But where are you going to keep them all?”
“It’s OK,” I assure her. “I’m having a special room for them in the new house. I’ll call it the Pram Room.”
“A Pram Room?” Suze stares at me. “You’re having a Shoe Room and a Pram Room?”
“Why not? People don’t have enough different rooms. I might have a Handbag Room too. Just a small one…” I take a sip of raspberry leaf tea, which according to Suze helps speed up labor, and wince at the revolting taste.
“Ooh, what was that?” says Suze, alert. “Did you feel a twinge?”
Honestly. This is the third time she’s asked about twinges since she arrived this morning.
“Suze, it’s not due for another two weeks,” I remind her.
“That doesn’t mean anything!” says Suze. “Those dates are all a conspiracy by doctors.” She studies me closely. “Do you feel like sweeping the floor or cleaning out the fridge?”
“The fridge is clean!” I say, a bit offended.
“No, you dope!” says Suze. “It’s the nesting instinct. When the twins were due I suddenly got this mania for ironing Tarkie’s shirts. And Lulu always starts vacuuming the whole house.”
“Vacuuming?” I look at her dubiously. I can’t imagine having an urge to vacuum.
“Totally! Loads of women scrub the floor—” She breaks off as the buzzer sounds, and picks up the entry phone. “Hello, the Brandon residence!” She listens for a moment, then presses the entry button. “It’s a delivery. Are you expecting something?”
“Ooh, yes!” I put my cup down. “It’ll be my Christmas things!”
“Presents?” Suze brightens. “Is there one for me?”
“Not presents,” I explain. “Gorgeous decorations. It was so weird — I had this sudden urge yesterday, like I had to get Christmas all sorted before I had the baby. So I’ve ordered new angels for the tree, and an Advent candle, and this gorgeous nativity scene….” I take a bite of cookie and munch it. “I’ve got it all planned for the new house. We’ll have a huge Christmas tree in the hall, and garlands everywhere, and gingerbread men which we can put on red ribbons….”
The doorbell sounds and I head to the door. I open it to see two men holding massive cardboard boxes, plus a huge bulky parcel which must be the life-size models of Mary and Joseph.
