Hello, My Name is May. Rosalind Stopps
me too,’ said May and the two women smiled at each other. May thought how lovely Helen was. She was dark skinned, possibly Asian, with long black curly hair. Even pregnant, she shone out as something rare in the litter-flying grime of Hull city centre. Beautiful, like a lizard from a beach landscape or a fire in the distance. May blushed at her silliness for thinking such things.
‘You really do suit being pregnant,’ May said.
Helen laughed. ‘Well I’m never going to be pregnant again,’ she said, ‘so maybe I should have a photograph taken. I haven’t got any pictures, and I can promise you, this little one is going to have absolutely no brothers or sisters.’
‘A dog?’ said May. ‘I was thinking, for mine, maybe a dog might be company for her.’
‘For her?’ said Helen, raising her eyebrows. ‘So you think you know the sex then? Have you done that wedding ring test, where you loop the ring on a hair from your head and dangle it over your belly to see which way it swings?’
‘I have not,’ said May, ‘and if you’re asking me that, I know you’re not the rational woman I thought you were a moment ago. Sometimes I think she’s a girl and I say her, sometimes a boy. Today she’s Amelia or Rose.’
They both laughed, and May felt an unfamiliar warmth, a sense of camaraderie.
‘I’d ask if you want to come for a cup of coffee, in Binns,’ Helen said, ‘but coffee is out of my budget right now.’
May was happy that the hike in coffee prices had not just affected her. She had been so lonely recently, she had started to believe that everyone else was still swilling coffee like they used to, and that she was the only one who had had to give it up.
‘Tea it is then,’ said May.
May was excited. She hadn’t realised how much she needed someone to talk to, and Helen was the best company May had met in a long time. The only company.
‘I should tell you,’ Helen said as they sat down in the department store cafe, ‘I’m a lone mum, I’m on my own with this one, a single mother, I think that’s what the papers say.’
May wondered for a brief moment what that would be like.
‘You’re brave,’ she said, ‘I don’t know how I’d manage without Alain.’
‘I guess you’re one of the lucky ones,’ Helen said. ‘A good man and a straightforward life, well done you.’
Helen sounded as if she meant it, as if she really was pleased for May. May felt embarrassed at her good fortune.
‘Maybe I can help,’ May said. ‘You know, when your little one is born. Many hands make light work and all that stuff.’
Anything, she thought, I’ll do anything to have a friend.
‘Ha,’ said Helen, ‘tell me that again when you’ve had that baby. Have you ever looked after a baby?’
‘I babysat for the vicar’s little boy when I was a teenager,’ May said. As soon as she had said it, she realised how silly she sounded. As if looking after someone else’s child for a few hours would be any kind of preparation. And vicar – how prim did that make her sound?
‘I mean…’ she said and both women exploded with laughter.
‘I’ll know where to come for advice if this lump of a baby has any spiritual queries,’ Helen said, ‘seeing as you might have a direct line.’
‘Oh my goodness,’ said May, ‘I’m not, I mean I don’t know why I said that, but please don’t think I’m some kind of religious nutcase.’
‘Just because you said the word “vicar?”’ Helen said. ‘Don’t worry, I think I’ll let you off.’
May liked Helen more and more. Humour, she thought, she’d been missing that recently. And closeness to another woman. She wondered if it would be rude to ask Helen about her baby’s dad. What must it be like, she wondered as she stirred her tea, how did she manage the loneliness?
‘I feel like we’ve been friends for a while,’ Helen said. ‘Isn’t that weird?’
‘No,’ said May, ‘it isn’t weird, I feel it too. Maybe meeting when you’re very pregnant is like meeting in wartime or something.’
May hoped that she didn’t sound too ridiculous. Why had she thought of wartime? She was pregnant and happy, wasn’t she?
‘Exactly,’ said Helen. ‘When the bombs and the babies start flying, it’s time for us women to stick together.’
There was an awkward silence as May tried to think what to say next. She didn’t want to scare Helen away by being too needy, and she wasn’t quite sure why it was all so important.
‘We’re moving soon,’ May said, ‘to Bangor. My husband has a job there.’
‘Bangor?’ said Helen. ‘It’s lovely there, I went for a university interview, gorgeous. You don’t sound too happy about it though, surely you’re not going to pine for the mean streets of Hull?’
May laughed. She couldn’t trust herself to speak for a moment. She had no idea, none at all, why she felt so low. It must be a pregnancy thing, she thought. It was ridiculous to be so pleased to talk to someone else, ridiculous.
‘We went there last week,’ May said, ‘and stayed in a nice hotel and everything. I didn’t get to see the flat because I didn’t feel well, but Alain did and he said it’s lovely. Huge grounds and everything, it goes with the job.’
Helen stirred her cold tea.
‘Sounds lovely,’ she said. ‘Maybe me and Baby Lump here will be able to come to stay.’
‘Oh yes,’ said May, ‘that would be amazing.’
May noticed that Helen seemed less bouncy.
‘Are you OK?’ she said.
‘Yes, sorry, I’m fine,’ said Helen, ‘only I feel lonely, that’s all, and hearing about your plans, I’m just worried. What if I can’t do this on my own?’
May realised how thoughtless she had been. Typical May, she thought, thinking about yourself instead of other people.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, ‘I haven’t even asked about you. Is he involved, your baby’s dad? Is he going to help you?’
Helen looked around as though she might find an answer written on the wall, or out of the window. May wished she could kick herself for being so thoughtless.
‘That’s a story for another day,’ Helen said. ‘Don’t worry about me, I’m fine, I’ve got a politics degree and it would take more than a tiny baby and a stupid man to stop me. I’m going to be a writer. I’ve been on my own for about a month now and it’s just fabulous. Honestly, I’m hard up but there’s the dole, and the landlord at the local pub gives me the odd shift, cash in hand. No one tells me what to watch on TV, or what to eat. I never have to worry about anyone else, May. Imagine that.’
May found that she couldn’t imagine that, not quite. It didn’t seem possible.
May thought about that later, when she was back home. Neither of the women had telephones, so she and Helen had exchanged addresses but May wasn’t at all sure whether they would be able to meet again. Binns cafe, they had said, they would both try to get to Binns cafe on Friday mornings if they could.
‘It’ll be fine for me,’ Helen had said. ‘Fire, flood and pestilence permitting, I’ll be here.’ It was May who might have the difficulty, but she couldn’t explain that to herself, let alone Helen. Still, even if they never met again, May thought that it had been wonderful to talk to another woman.
May put on the dress Alain liked and spent the afternoon cooking. A celebration meal, she thought, a Bangor special. She