“Er…no,” I say in surprise. “Of course not.”
“She was at a loose end, and we thought we might go to Liberty’s afterward to look at fabrics for the nursery. Dad’s painted it yellow, but we haven’t decided on curtains….” She glances at my bump. “Any inklings on whether it’s a boy or a girl?”
My mind flicks to the Gender Predictor Kit, still hidden in my underwear drawer three weeks after I bought it. I keep getting it out, then losing my nerve and putting it back. Maybe I need Suze as moral support.
“Not really,” I say. “Not yet.”
The passenger door opens and Janice gets out, trailing a bundle of knitting.
“Becky, love!” she says breathlessly. “Do you need to bleep the door, Jane?”
“Close it, then I’ll bleep it,” orders Mum. “Give it a good slam.”
I can see a pregnant girl in a brown dress ringing the bell of a house several doors down. That must be the place!
“I was just listening to a message from Tom,” Janice says, bundling her knitting into a straw bag, together with a mobile phone. “I’m seeing him later. He’ll be full of Jess! It’s Jess this, Jess that—”
“Jess?” I stare at her. “And Tom?”
“Of course!” Her whole face is shining. “They do make a lovely couple. I don’t want to hope, but…”
“Now, remember, Janice,” says Mum firmly. “You can’t chivvy these young things.”
Jess and Tom are going out? And she hasn’t even told me? Honestly. I asked her the morning after the party what was going to happen with Tom, and she just looked all embarrassed and changed the subject. So I assumed it hadn’t taken.
I can’t help feeling a bit miffed. The whole point of having a sister is that you phone her up and tell her about your new boyfriend. Not keep her totally out of the loop.
“So…Jess and Tom are in a relationship?” I say, to make sure.
“They’re very close.” Janice nods vigorously. “Very, very close. And I have to say, Jess is a super girl. We get on like a house on fire!”
“Really?” I try not to sound too surprised, but I can’t see Janice and Jess having much in common.
“Oh yes! We all feel like family. In fact, Martin and I have put off our cruise next summer, just in case we have a—” She breaks off. “Wedding,” she whispers.
Wedding?
OK. I need to talk to Jess. Now.
“Here we are,” says Mum as we approach the door, which has a sign on it: PLEASE ENTER AND REMOVE YOUR SHOES.
“What exactly happens at a prenatal class?” asks Janice, slipping off her Kurt Geiger sandals.
“Breathing and stuff,” I say vaguely. “Preparing for the birth.”
“It’s all changed since our day, Janice,” puts in Mum. “They have childbirth coaches these days!”
“Coaches! Like tennis players!” Janice seems tickled by this idea. Then her smile drops and she clasps my arm. “Poor little Becky. You have no idea what you’re letting yourself in for.”
“Right,” I say, a bit spooked. “Well…er…shall we go in?”
The class is being held in what looks like a normal sitting room with beanbags arranged in a circle, on which several pregnant women are already sitting, with their husbands awkwardly perched beside them.
“Hello.” A slim woman with long dark hair and yoga trousers comes over. “I’m Noura, your prenatal teacher,” she says in a quiet voice. “Welcome.”
“Hi, Noura!” I beam at her and shake hands. “I’m Becky Brandon. This is my mum…and this is Janice.”
“Ah.” Noura nods knowingly and takes Janice’s hand. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Janice. You’re Becky’s…partner? We have another same-sex couple coming later on, so please don’t feel—”
Oh my God! She thinks—
“We’re not lesbians!” I cut her off hurriedly, trying not to giggle at Janice’s bemused expression. “Janice is just our neighbor. She’s going to Liberty’s with Mum afterward.”
“Oh, I see.” Noura seems a bit let down. “Well, welcome, the three of you. Take a seat.”
“Janice and I will get the coffees,” says Mum, heading toward a table at the side of the room. “You sit down, Becky love.”
“So, Becky,” says Noura as I lower myself gingerly onto a beanbag. “We’re going round the room, introducing ourselves. Laetitia has just explained she’s having a home birth. Where are you having your baby, Becky?”
“With Venetia Carter at the Cavendish,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Wow,” says a girl in a pink dress. “Doesn’t she do all the celebrities?”
“Yes. Actually, she’s a really close friend,” I can’t resist adding. “We’re going out tonight.”
“And have you considered what kind of birth you would like?” continues Noura.
“I’m having the water birth with lotus flowers and Thai massage,” I say proudly.
“Wonderful!” Noura marks something on her list. “So you’d ideally like an active birth?”
“Er…” I picture myself lolling in a nice warm pool, with music playing and lotus flowers floating about, and maybe a cosmopolitan in my hand. “No, I think probably quite inactive, actually.”
“You want an…inactive birth?” Noura appears nonplussed.