An Almost Perfect Moon. Jamie Holland
enormous to contemplate, and now it had happened he didn’t really know what to say or do.
‘Brilliant,’ he told her; it was the first word that came into his mouth. ‘Have you called the midwife?’
‘Yes, darling.’
‘And a taxi? You need to be in hospital right away.’
‘Ben, calm down. I’m fine – I can certainly wait for you to come home.’
‘Luce, please. You know what the midwife said: as soon as your waters break, you should go straight to hospital in case of infection.’
‘Ben – darling – calm down. I’m fine, honestly. Just come home, and then we’ll go in. An extra half-an-hour won’t make any difference.’
‘Jesus,’ said Ben. ‘Alright, if you insist, but I’m coming back right now, okay?’
‘I am, I promise.’ His heart-rate had quadrupled and his palms were sweating. ‘I’ll be back right away.’ He ran his hands through his hair. This was it. This was bloody it. He was about to become a bloody father.
Tara put her head round the door. ‘Everything Okay?’
‘Yes, no, look, I’ve got to go. It’s beginning.’
‘Deep breaths,’ Tara told him coolly.
Ben smiled at her sarcastically, then rushed over to Carl’s office.
‘Carl, look, terrible timing, I know, but the baby’s on its way,’ Ben told him.
‘Right. So are you saying you’re going now?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK, but you’re going to have to keep closely in touch with Steve, and I still want you going through that press release when it arrives.’
‘Sure,’ said Ben, as Steve joined them.
‘Steve, you continue the work on the merger model, and e-mail the press release to Ben as soon as it comes in. Ben, let everyone know you’re out of the office and keep in touch with me and Steve. Yes?’
‘Fine,’ said Ben.
‘And Ben – congratulations. Tell your wife her timing’s terrible.’
For eight months, since they’d first found out Lucie was pregnant, they’d been building towards this moment. Ben had read books on the subject, dutifully dragged Lucie to the ante-natal classes, watched Look Who’s Talking, and mentally prepared himself. But sitting in the back of the taxi, anxiously clicking his fingers, he realized he knew nothing. He didn’t know what he should be doing, what they would do when the baby was actually born, or how he could help Lucie. He’d tried to persuade her it might be a good idea to get a maternity nurse – just for a couple of weeks – but Lucie had scoffed at the idea. ‘How hard can it be?’ she’d riposted. ‘I don’t need some total stranger hanging around my house telling me what to do.’ Still, with things as they were at work now, he wondered about raising the matter again. Outside, the traffic slowly crawled along the Embankment, and he cursed repeatedly. It was nearly eleven in the morning, what the hell were they all doing? Hadn’t they realized rush hour was supposed to be over? He leant forward and tapped his feet, wondering whether there was any time in this stupid city when there wasn’t a traffic jam.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he said out loud, throwing himself back in his seat and clasping his head. His heart still pounded, only now even faster and more heavily. He felt sick with worry and nerves. Panic, that was what he felt, sheer panic.
The same could not be said of Lucie.
‘Hi, darling you’re back.’ She said as he rushed into the sitting room. She was walking up and down, eating a yoghurt and looking calm and quite contented, unfazed by the ordeal ahead of her. Ben could only sit down and marvel at his wife’s serenity. She’d been this laid back all the way through the pregnancy. ‘Do we have to go to the ante-natal classes?’ she’d pleaded. ‘They’re all so bloody earnest. I don’t see why we can’t just read about it instead.’ But Ben had insisted, anxiously taking notes while Lucie’s attention wandered. Really, she’d been amazing, as she was with everything. No morning sickness, nor any signs of excessive tiredness. In fact, it was only really recently that she’d grumbled about the back-ache and discomfort when trying to sleep. They’d still gone out, still seen their friends; and where Ben constantly worried about the baby’s health and lived in fear of it developing some terrible deformity, Lucie seemed more concerned that it should have enough outfits, costumes and the right kind of three-wheeled buggy. ‘I’m not going to look like some awful washed-up old hag,’ Lucie told him cateogorically, ‘I want to be a glamorous mother with a glamorous child.’
‘But aren’t you worried about it all being OK?’ Ben had asked her one time as they scoured Baby Gap.
‘Not really,’ she told him, picking up a little pink outfit with ‘Cool’ written on it, ‘you do all the worrying for me. No point in us both getting het up.’
All the same, Ben had still insisted they have an ordinary pram too. At the ante-natal class, they’d been quite emphatic about that: for the first three months, it was important for the baby to lie flat, and he was going to play it by the book, even if Lucie wasn’t.
‘Come on, Luce,’ said Ben. He was standing in the hallway, clutching Lucie’s overnight bag just as the phone rang again. But she had already picked up the receiver. He’d only been back a few minutes and yet in that time Lucie’s sister Susie, and Vanessa, her mother, had both rung. Then Steve had called his mobile, the jarring cacophony of ringing phones adding to his increasing stress.
It was Vanessa again.
‘Mum, I’m fine, honestly – I’ve got Ben here … he’s being brilliant actually, so there really isn’t … no … no … we’ll call you later … NO, MUM, I don’t want you watching me give birth. Bye.’ She put the phone back.
‘Luce, please,’ urged Ben.
Lucie ambled through to the hallway. ‘Jesus, she is just impossible sometimes.’ Then putting on a shrill voice she mimicked, ‘“But darling, it’s not natural being without your mother, and Ben’s a man and he’s bound to be hopeless.” What bollocks – Oh, yow!’ she cried again, grimacing and clutching her stomach. ‘Can’t be too long now.’ She looked up, giving him a reassuring smile. With a protective arm around her, Ben ushered her out of the front door.
But there was still a little way to go yet. At the hospital, Lucie was quickly put to bed, but there was still no sign of the baby. Afternoon dragged on to evening, and Ben started to feel increasingly helpless, alternately pacing up and down antiseptic corridors and clutching Lucie’s hand at her bedside. The last few hours were tortures. Lucie’s pain became increasingly apparent, but he was powerless to do anything about it. This was a full-on attack against all his natural instincts to be gallant and protective towards her. It shocked him to see someone normally so composed and pragmatic about everything yell and clench her teeth, sweat pouring down her face. And somehow so undignified: legs straddled, and people gaping at her ever-widening vagina. Thank God he was born a man, and saved from all the shoving and prodding that went on. Strange thoughts circulated his mind. He suddenly remembered how once he’d had to drop his pants for a doctor when he was about twelve: it had been the most embarrassing moment of his life. But such concerns were clearly the last thing on Lucie’s mind as she grimaced and shrieked and puffed. He hated to think of her suffering so much, but what could he do? There was a limit to how often he could say, ‘I’m right here, darling, you can do it,’ in sympathetic yet determined tones.
But the baby finally emerged just after midnight, red, angry, but complete with a shock of dark hair. Lucie started laughing then crying, then doing both at the same time. Ben just gawped open-mouthed. His son! A brand new human being, alive and perfectly formed. He stared, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what they had achieved.