Shopaholic & Baby
Page 21

“You won’t be able to do that for much longer,” says Suze, watching me.
“Why?” I look up in alarm. “Is it bad for the baby?”
“No, you dope!” She laughs. “You won’t be able to reach!”
That’s a weird thought. I can’t even imagine being that big. I run a hand over my tummy and the baby bounces back at me.
“Ooh!” I say. “It kicked really hard!”
“You wait till it starts poking knees out and stuff,” says Suze. “It’s so freaky, like having an alien inside you.”
You see, this is why you need a best friend when you’re pregnant. Not a single one of my baby books has said “It’s so freaky, like having an alien inside you.”
“Hi, darling.” Tarquin is at the door again. “Shall I put Wilfie down?”
“Yes, he’s finished.” Suze hands over the sleepy baby, who nestles into Tarquin’s shoulder as if he knows he belongs there.
“Do you like my nails, Tarkie?” I say, wriggling my toes at him. Tarquin is so sweet. When I first knew him he was totally weird and geeky and I couldn’t even hold a conversation with him — but somehow he’s got more and more normal as the years have gone by.
He looks blankly at my nails. “Marvelous. Come on, old chap.” He pats Wilfie gently on the back. “Up to Bedfordshire.”
“Tarkie’s such a good dad,” I say in admiration as he disappears out of the room.
“Oh, he’s great,” says Suze fondly as she starts feeding Clementine. “Except he keeps playing Wagner at them all the time. Ernie can sing Brunnehilde’s aria from start to finish in German, but he can’t speak much English.” Her brow crumples. “I’m getting a bit worried, actually.”
I take it back. Tarquin is still weird.
I get out my new mascara and start applying it to my lashes, watching Suze make funny faces at Clementine and kissing her fat little cheeks. She’s so lovely with her children.
“D’you think I’ll be a good mother, Suze?” The words pop out of my mouth before I even realize I’m thinking them.
“Of course!” Suze stares at me in the mirror. “You’ll be a brilliant mother! You’ll be kind, and you’ll be funny, and you’ll be the best-dressed one in the playground….”
“But I don’t know anything about babies. I mean, honestly, nothing.”
“Nor did I, remember.” Suze shrugs. “You’ll soon pick it up!”
Everyone keeps saying I’ll pick it up. But what if I don’t? I did algebra for three years, and I never picked that up.
“Can’t you give me some parenting tips?” I put away my mascara wand. “Like…things I should know.”
Suze wrinkles her brow in thought. “The only tips I can think of are the real basics,” she says at last. “You know, the ones that go without saying.”
I feel a twinge of alarm.
“Like what, exactly?” I try to sound casual. “I mean, I probably know about them already….”
“Well, you know.” She counts off on her fingers. “Things like having a bit of first aid knowledge…making sure you’ve got all your equipment…You might want to book a baby massage class….” She hoists Clementine onto her shoulder. “Are you doing Baby Einstein?”
OK, now I’m freaked out. I’ve never heard of Baby Einstein.
“Don’t worry, Bex!” says Suze hastily, seeing my face. “None of that really matters. As long as you can change a nappy and sing a nursery rhyme, you’ll be fine!”
I can’t change a nappy. And I don’t know any nursery rhymes.
God, I’m in trouble.
It’s another twenty minutes before Suze finishes feeding Clementine and hands her over to Tarquin.
“Right!” She closes the door behind him and turns with sparkling eyes. “No one’s about. Give me your wedding ring. I just need some string or something….”
“Here.” I rummage in my dressing table for an old Christian Dior gift-wrap ribbon. “Will this do?”
“Should do.” Suze is stringing the ribbon through the ring. “Now, Becky. Are you sure you want to know?”
I feel a flicker of doubt. Maybe Luke’s right. Maybe we should wait for the magical surprise. But then — how will I know what color pram to get?
“I want to know,” I say with resolution. “Let’s do it.”
“Sit back, then.” Suze knots the ribbon, meets my eye, and grins. “This is exciting!”