Chapter 5: Five - The Idea of You

Lucy felt the beginnings of a headache as Tansy banged her palm on the table. ‘I am not being deliberately difficult and I refute the suggestion. I think what you need to understand, John, is that pitching is what I do! I have successfully won the JBBD account, which is still our second-biggest grossing client, and the Met diversity campaign.’ She counted on her fingers, as she reeled off the details.

‘Are we going to have to sit and listen to a complete list of your achievements and accolades, Tansy?’ John interrupted. ‘Because if that’s your intention, it might be quicker if you simply gave us a copy of your CV. I wouldn’t want to miss any crucial detail that might clearly indicate your suitability over mine. I mean, did you for example ever get a citizenship award at school or have you run a half-marathon? I would like to take this opportunity to point out that I came second in a Rubik’s cube timed assessment when I was fourteen.’

‘Very funny.’ Tansy glared at her male counterpart across the boardroom table, with the twitch of a smile on her lips. John was popular and funny, and in any other circumstances she probably would have been on his side, a friend.

‘Okay. Okay.’ Lucy sat forward and took a deep breath. ‘This isn’t getting us anywhere.’ She had hoped that by bringing into the boardroom the two top candidates to lead on the green energy project, they might be able to discuss the best way to proceed, allocate tasks, identify the first point of contact for the client and get moving. It had, however, quickly deteriorated into this mock gladiatorial display. Both were more than capable of heading up the pitch, and she was acutely aware that she had to bury her favouring of Tansy based purely on the fact that they were friends outside of the workplace, even though having her on the pitch would make the long hours and lengthy rail and car journeys travelling to and from meetings so much more bearable.

‘We are getting quite close to the first deliverable; it’s mid-May already.’

‘Yes, thank you, John. I’m aware of the date.’ Lucy gave him a small smile. This was actually a lie; she hadn’t been aware of the date, not at all. ‘Let’s take a break for lunch, I’ll give it some thought and then we can come back in here in an hour and decide how we go forward.’ She closed her laptop and reached for her handbag.

‘But . . .’ Tansy pulled a face of irritation, fumbling for words, as Lucy left the room.

Mid-May, mid-May! The words rattled around her brain as she swept down the stairs and out into the bustling crowds on Victoria Street, where workers and tourists filled the pavement, some clutching small brown paper bags that contained their lunch, eager to get back to their desks, and others holding cameras aloft. Each group travelled at a quite different pace, proving an irritation to the other. Lucy didn’t seem to notice; with a spring in her step she tripped up and down the kerb, dodging crowds and keeping a determination to her stride that meant idlers made way for her in the throng. She paused as she entered the store, pulled a basket from the stack by the front door, and closed her eyes briefly.

April the seventh, so add on seven days, April fourteenth, April twenty-first, twenty-eighth, May the fifth, twelfth, nineteenth, and now twenty-second . . . makes it six and a half weeks since my last period.

Her heart skipped as she did the maths, stepping forward into the aisles, her eyes searching for what she was looking for.

* * *

It wasn’t that they had planned to try, far from it; they had simply neglected to be overly careful, trusting Mother Nature to do what she thought best. They had been told that it might be a while before her cycle regulated itself, and she had thought any lack of menstruation might be down to that. It had felt like a relief not to make the decision and go with the flow, as it were, but now, with the pregnancy testing kit safely ensconced inside her handbag as she made her way back towards the office, Lucy was beyond excited.

She was also delighted that the bathroom at work was empty. She locked the cubicle door and hung her bag from the hook on the wall before trying, as silently as possible, to peel the cellophane from the packet. Her fingers twitched in anticipation as she opened the box and ripped impatiently at the foil-wrapped spatula with her teeth. Holding the white plastic stick above the toilet bowl, she closed her eyes, not daring to think about the possibilities.

Calm down. Take a breath.

‘Lucy? Are you still in here?’ Tansy’s voice bounced off the tiled walls. ‘I saw you walk in; I was waving across the foyer, but I don’t think you saw me.’ She sounded a little put out.

‘Good God, Tansy. Can’t I have five minutes’ peace?’ She extricated the little stick and balanced it on the tissue dispenser.

‘Sure, I just wanted to say—’

‘Tansy! Honestly, I should be able to use the bathroom without being harassed by you.’ She laughed, in spite of her frustration. ‘Please go away!’

‘Okay. Shall I come back in five minutes?’ her friend pushed.

‘No! Don’t come back in five minutes. I’ll see you back in the boardroom as we agreed, sheesh!’

‘Was that a “sheesh, I am going to make you lead on this project” or a “sheesh, I’m giving it to the inexperienced, youthful John who has a horrible habit of running his tongue up around his gums, hoping he might find a snack”?’

‘It’s “sheesh, go away, Tansy!”’ She shook her head and placed her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands, looking up only when she heard the bathroom door close.

It was hard to monitor how long she had waited, but she figured it was long enough by the time she had restored her clothing, flushed the loo and gathered the stick into her sweating palms.

Lucy squinted at the pregnancy test, holding it up to her face to confirm what she thought she saw in the little results window.

Pregnant 3+

She read it again. 3+

And again. 3+

3+

This meant that she was more than three weeks pregnant!

Closing her eyes, she silently pogoed up and down inside the cubicle holding the test to her chest.

Taking a minute to compose herself, Lucy washed her hands thoroughly and practised her neutral expression in the mirror, which was difficult. A wide grin kept splitting her face, which instantly caused her tears to prick. She coughed and opened the bathroom door, ready to face the world.

‘Or maybe we could share the role.’

‘God, you made me jump!’ She darted back as her friend continued to hassle her, having only managed to make it to the corridor by the bathroom door – hardly the space Lucy had been hoping for.

‘Yes! That’s a brilliant idea. Share the role.’ She nodded. ‘Decide between yourselves where your strengths lie and lead on those areas. Let me know who’s looking after what. Great work, Tansy!’

‘Oh, thank you.’ Tansy looked a little taken aback, as if she had fully expected her suggestion to be rebuffed. ‘Where are you going now?’

Lucy looked back over her shoulder as she hitched her handbag on to her arm and made for the stairs. ‘I need to see Jonah; shan’t be too long.’

‘Is everything okay? Please tell me it’s not a resurgence of the bubonic plague?’ her friend called across the rapidly filling reception, as elevators disgorged workers, bike couriers and delivery drivers into the open space.

‘No! You are quite safe,’ she shouted, taking the stairs two at a time.

* * *

‘Jonah Carpenter Motors’: the shiny chrome letters seemed to twinkle in the glint of the sun.

‘Hello, Mrs Carpenter.’

‘Oh, hi!’ Lucy dared not confess that this greeting was one that still threw her a little off balance, as much as it thrilled her. Mrs Carpenter . . . She instinctively ran her thumb over the little platinum band on her left hand, smiling at the smartly dressed, bubbly girl on reception. ‘Is Jonah free? If he’s busy, please don’t disturb him,’ she gabbled, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious about turning up at his workplace. ‘I was passing, so . . .’

‘He’s on a conference call right now, but will be done in about five minutes. Can I get you a drink or anything while you wait?’

‘No, but thank you. I’ll just sit here, if that’s okay?’ She pointed at the ultra-stylised black leather couch that sat behind a chrome and smoked-glass table.

‘Sure.’ The girl nodded and turned her attention to her computer screen.

In front of Lucy on the table sat two iPads, each with a gallery of stunning photographs of the cars at the three garages across London. She picked one up and let her finger scroll right to left. Even she had to admit the close-up pictures of hand-stitched scarlet leather, chrome accelerators and a brushed aluminium gearstick made her want to grab a ride in one of these sleek high-priced machines. She placed the iPad back in its place and let her eyes rove the spotless showroom. The white floors were polished to a high shine, the picture windows were immaculate and there wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen. That ‘new car’ smell hung tantalisingly in the air. The streamlined vehicles themselves shone under a myriad of spotlights and uplighters with neon strips glowing from the floor. It made the place feel space-age, and it was a million miles from the cluttered soft wooden surfaces and wonkily fitted drawers of their home.

Lucy looked up and there he was, walking towards her across the showroom in his navy suit and open-necked white shirt. His expression carried a worried little crease between his eyebrows. It was unusual for her to turn up at his workplace.

‘Everything okay?’ he asked as he approached. He placed his hands on her shoulders, as if she might be in need of this instant physical comfort.

She felt a jolt of love in her gut for this handsome man. She nodded quickly. ‘Everything’s fine. I just wanted a quick word.’ She eyed the receptionist and the slick-looking young sales duo, who were busy tapping into keyboards at their desks in the corner.

‘Of course.’ Gripping her hand, he trailed her behind him until they were safely in the confines of his office, where he pulled the cord until the venetian blinds obscured them.

‘This is a lovely surprise.’ He smiled at her, before kissing her on the mouth.

Lucy pulled away. ‘Jonah.’

‘What?’ He looked concerned.

‘I’m pregnant.’

‘What?’

‘I’m pregnant.’ She smiled, speaking a little more slowly this time.

‘No!’ He gasped.

‘Yes!’ she squeaked.

He pulled her towards him. ‘Oh, Lucy!’ He held her close. ‘You haven’t said anything. I didn’t know whether to bring it up, or what to ask . . .’

‘I didn’t know what to say!’ She laughed. ‘And it honestly didn’t occur to me that I might be, not really. I’ve had a couple of periods since, you know.’ She shook her head, not wanting to sully the moment. ‘And then nothing, and I thought that was my body resetting itself, and then this morning I was in a meeting with John and Tansy and we were talking about the date and it fired something inside me. I realised it had been a while since my last period and here we are!’ She bit her lip.

‘Are you sure?’ He searched her face, needing confirmation.

She shrugged free of his embrace and rummaged in her handbag, locating the plastic spatula; she held it up towards his face. Jonah pulled his head back on his shoulders and narrowed his eyes, which, after a second or two, misted. He cupped his palm over his mouth and nose.

‘Yes!’ She beamed. ‘I’m absolutely sure.’

‘Oh God, Lucy. I knew it. I knew that we’d crack it.’ He again pulled her towards him in a tender hug, as if she were already in an advanced state and needed careful handling. ‘Clever girl.’ He kissed her head.

‘Clever us,’ she corrected.

She felt him exhale against her body. ‘We can put what happened behind us and enjoy this.’

She nodded against his chest. ‘Yes, we can.’

‘How do you feel?’ he asked.

‘I feel great! Really great, excited, bit nervous,’ she confessed.

‘No, don’t be. These things just happen, that’s what the doctor said, and he said that there was no reason why we couldn’t try again when we were ready – and here we are, ready!’

‘More than ready. I’m really excited!’ She squealed with her fists clenched.

‘Me too. We’ll have to celebrate tonight. I love you, Mrs Carpenter.’

‘I love you too.’

‘You are going to be a mum!’ He beamed.

‘I am.’ She closed her eyes, relief and joy washing over her. ‘I’m going to be a great mum.’

Later that night, Lucy was nestled on the sofa when she heard the sound of Jonah’s key in the door.

‘Where are you?’ he called out, crashing and bashing his way through the front door. By the sound of it, he was laden with bags. This meant a nice supper, and her mouth watered at the prospect.

‘Ah, and we have some decent music playing!’ He chuckled as Def Leppard’s ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me’ blared from the sound system.

‘Not intentionally.’ She laughed. ‘It’s that blasted shuffle system. If I had my way, there would only be my tunes on it.’

She smiled at the sound of Jonah dumping the groceries in the kitchen before he poked his head around the door. ‘How’s my girl?’

‘I’m good.’ She sighed, resting her busy hands in her lap.

‘And she’s off already! What are you making?’ He knelt on the floor by her feet, letting the soft strands of white wool slip through his fingers.

Reaching for the pattern, she abandoned the needles. ‘Look at these.’ Opening up the page, she held up the image of a pair of delicate booties, fastened with a tiny loop over a pearl button and a matching hat with a little bobble-like blob that sat on the top of it. ‘How cute are they?’ She wrinkled her nose.

‘They are brilliant.’ He kissed her nose. ‘Feels like we are back on track, doesn’t it?’ He smiled.

‘It really does.’

‘So how pregnant are you? How can we tell?’ he asked, his face full of excitement.

‘I should have an appointment at the hospital in a few weeks; they are giving me an early scan because of everything.’ She swallowed, not wanting to dwell on that time, as if this second chance wiped out all the bad. ‘They’ll give me a date and work out how far I am and everything then.’ She shrugged. ‘The pregnancy test doesn’t go any higher than three weeks plus, but if I had to guess, I think I’m probably about six weeks, so still very early days, but I feel so great!’ she emphasised. ‘I have already had a little glimpse at my baby book, and even at six weeks what’s going on is just amazing. The ectoderm is in place, which will form the baby’s brain, skin and nerves. And the endoderm, which will become the lungs and liver. And the mesoderm, which will become the baby’s bones and muscles.’ She sat upright, smiling as if she had passed a test.

Jonah laughed loudly. ‘It sounds like you might have accidentally swallowed that textbook.’

‘I can’t help it.’ She leant forward. ‘I find the whole thing so fascinating – that at just six weeks all that is already in place and it’s still only so teeny!’ She held her thumb and forefinger out, showing a very small gap between the two.

There was a moment of quiet while the two looked at each other, letting their new joyous state wash over them.

‘I’m going to take really good care of you.’ He stood, dusting the knees of his suit trousers.

‘You always take good care of me.’

‘Yes, but I mean properly take care of you. I want to make sure you don’t have an ounce of stress or worry and that you can take it easy. Don’t suppose you fancy giving up your job, do you?’ He closed his eyes and raised one shoulder, cowering away from her, as if preparing to take the force of her response.

‘No, I don’t. But I will slow down when the baby arrives. I don’t want to miss a second, Jonah. I’ll take extended leave and enjoy every bit of it.’

‘Deal.’ Jonah clapped. ‘And now I shall make you a delicious supper. How do you like the sound of stuffed ballotine of chicken with fresh asparagus and pomme purée?’ he asked, as he left the room.

‘Sounds fancy and delicious!’ Lucy picked up her needles and resumed knitting.

‘Oh, meant to say . . .’ He popped his head back around the door frame. ‘I spoke to Geneviève today and she is all for Camille coming over for the summer. Not a word of protest. I was amazed.’

His expression told her that this made him happy, and she felt her heart swell at the prospect of welcoming the girl into their home. She so wanted to get it right, picturing day trips with Camille to museums or maybe jaunts out for lunch. This excitement, however, was tinged with sadness; it was rare for Jonah to show his absolute love of being a dad, and at that moment she wanted more than anything to have this baby enriching both of their lives.

He tapped the door frame, as if having a thought. ‘Unless of course we should say our plans have changed? I mean, we are in a different position now.’ He looked a little concerned.

‘No! Of course not. It will be lovely to have her here. I can’t wait to meet her. But I do think we need to decorate the spare room, make her feel really welcome, and she can be part of this pregnancy from the outset and that will make her feel more connected to you and the baby.’ She rubbed her hand over her tummy. ‘A lovely little family.’

‘God, how did I get so lucky?’ He stared at her.

‘I think it was largely down to the fact that we’d both had a little too much wine and everyone else at the christening was taken.’ She laughed and turned her attention to the pattern with a feeling of warmth spreading over her. She had almost forgotten how much she loved being pregnant.

* * *

I often think about how I would dress you. And to be honest I change my mind a lot! I think when you were little I’d have put you in traditional clothes, all the knitted things that I have made, of course, and some made by my mum and my gran too. I love the idea of cradling you in something that has been touched by the hands of all those generations of women. Then if I think of you as a toddler, I picture you in dungarees with striped T-shirts underneath and cute little bow barrettes in your curly hair. Or sometimes I see you in a really over-the-top party dress with a net petticoat and flowers, the full works. I think you’d hate it, but would look adorable.

I bought you a dress once. It makes me cry to think about that, but I did. I can’t really explain why. I was in a department store looking for a bread bin and I found myself in the children’s clothes department. The place was crowded with parents and their children, most looking like they wanted to be anywhere else, irritated by the outing. I stopped at a display and saw these tiny little dresses in red and white gingham. They had a beautiful smocked yoke and a dainty Peter Pan collar edged in red ribbon. A woman came over and asked me what size I was looking for. I saw you so clearly that I smiled and said, ‘It’s for my daughter; she’s nearly ten months.’ I stood back and watched, as she worked her fingers nimbly through the display, looking for the size I wanted. She called out then to her colleague across the floor, as she held the dress up. ‘Do we have this in ten or twelve months for this lady’s little girl?’ My heart swelled! It was oh so wonderful! That she thought it possible that I could have a child, that I could be a mum! I smiled at her and in her eyes I was just like every other woman in that department at that time. I was someone who had had a baby. And it felt . . . it felt incredible. I paid for the dress they had located, and watched as they wrapped it in tissue, before placing it inside a little bag. I didn’t want to bring it home, in case anyone found it, so I carefully laid it on the wall of the car park where I had left my car. I hoped, I still hope, that someone found it and a little girl got to wear it. A little girl like you.