Mad About You (23 page)

Babs didn’t come to work the next day. I had called her the night before, when I’d got back from Carol’s, but she hadn’t answered the phone. She had texted, though:
I’m fine, talk tomorrow
.

Thankfully, Gary was at a meeting so I didn’t have to face him. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself saying something – I was so angry with him for crushing my sister like this.

I tried calling Babs, but again, no answer. I tried every hour, but she never picked up. We spent the morning shooting the part where I do the guest’s makeup. They filmed me going through the process step by step, describing what I’m doing to the camera and showing what products I’m using. When we finished the segment at noon, I told Karen I was worried about Babs and wanted to pop over at lunchtime to check on her. She said that as they’d done the makeup shots I could leave for the day.

I rang Babs again. Still no answer. I sent a text telling her I was on my way. I was really beginning to worry.

As my taxi was heading towards her apartment I received a reply:
I’m not at home. Meet me 127 Harley Street
.

I was relieved. Babs had obviously decided to see an ob-stetrician. She was clearly taking control of the situation. Maybe I’d make it in time for her first scan. It would be lovely to be there with her to see the tiny baby. I wanted to be as big a support as I could. She’d need me. Having a baby on your own must be the loneliest thing in the world. I felt emotional
just thinking about it. James had been with me every step of the way with Yuri’s adoption and Lara’s early arrival and I had needed him. Babs would need me and, no matter what was going on in my crazy life, I was determined to be there for her.

The taxi pulled up beside a building with a small, discreet plaque that said ‘Westgate Clinic’. It was tucked away in a little courtyard off Harley Street. I pushed the door open and looked around the reception room. It was dimly lit and had a very sombre feel. I peered about the waiting area for Babs, but I couldn’t see her.

There was a woman who looked about the same age as me and had her eyes closed, listening to music on her earphones. Opposite her, a young girl was sitting beside an older woman, who I guessed was her mother. The girl, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen, was sobbing quietly. She looked terrified. The poor thing: having a baby at sixteen would be very difficult. She was practically a baby herself. To the girl’s right there were two women of about thirty. One was holding the other’s hand and kept whispering, ‘It’s for the best.’

I looked around the room and my eyes fell on a notice board. I moved closer to it and suddenly the penny dropped.

A door to the left opened and Babs walked out.

‘NO!’ I shouted. ‘NO WAY.’

Babs grabbed my arm and dragged me into a chair beside her. ‘Shut up,’ she hissed.

I stood straight back up and pulled her to her feet. ‘You’re not doing this.’

She yanked her hand away. ‘Yes, I am. Now sit the hell down and listen to me, or else leave.’

I sat down shakily.

‘Emma, I need you to listen and not speak. I spent all of last night thinking about having a child on my own. And the bottom line is, I can’t do it. I don’t want to bring up a kid by
myself. I stupidly thought Gary would leave his wife and we’d play happy families. I can’t believe I was so moronic and naïve.’ She sighed and twisted her hands together tightly. ‘Anyway, the thing is, I can barely look after myself. What the hell am I going to do with a baby? I was all gung-ho about it yesterday because in a way I wanted to have the baby to spite Gary, to throw it in his face. But that’s not a reason to give birth. I’m ambitious, I want a big career in TV, and a kid now is just not going to fit into my life. I’d be a shitty mother. We both know I don’t like kids, only yours, and even then I’m always glad to get home to my own space.’

‘I’ll help you,’ I interrupted. ‘I’ll look after the baby for you when you’re working. You’ll probably be a great mother. Yuri and Lara adore you.’

‘Yeah, because I’m the cool aunt who gives them junk food and huge presents. That’s who I am, Emma. I’m the aunt, not the mother. I don’t want the responsibility of motherhood. I started having a panic attack last night thinking about nappies and bottles and prams and schools and –’

I cut across her – I had to make her see that an abortion was not the answer: ‘That’s normal! All first-time mothers panic.’

Babs gripped my arm. ‘Emma, come on, we both know I’d be a disaster. I like my freedom. I’m selfish and egocentric and very ambitious. A baby will not fit into my life. I see how much you give to your kids and I admire you for it. But I am not going to bring a child into this world whose father doesn’t want to know it and whose mother can’t look after it.’

I was touched. Babs had never told me she admired me for anything.

‘I don’t want to sit at home with a baby. I don’t want to give up my life and live in the suburbs and become one of those boring school mums. I feel sorry for them.’

And in one fell swoop she was back to insulting me.

‘It’s not boring. OK, sometimes it is, but it’s also magical and fulfilling and joyful and precious. This baby is Yuri and Lara’s cousin. Think of the lovely times we’ll have together with our kids.’

‘I’d hate it. I could think of nothing worse than being on a beach or in a restaurant with screaming kids. After an hour in your house I want to run out the door – and, as I say, I like your kids. Emma, I know myself. I cannot do this.’

I paused and then I spoke all in a rush, not even knowing exactly what I was saying. ‘OK, I’ll raise it. We can pretend I adopted another child. Then no one needs to know. You can say you’ve put on weight, then take a little sabbatical and I’ll just arrive home and say I adopted another baby. No one will ever find out.’

Babs stared at me. ‘Are you mental? There is no way I’m going to have a child, hand it over to you and pretend it’s not mine. Forget it, Emma. Nothing, and I mean nothing, you can say will change my mind. When I made this appointment, the only thing I felt was relief. I know this is the right decision.’

I could see that she was absolutely determined to go through with it, but I gave it one last shot. ‘I’m begging you, please just come out with me and have a coffee and talk about it some more. Please don’t do it today. It could be a gorgeous little girl, a mini you. Please, just reconsider.’

Babs shook her head sadly. ‘Stop it, Emma. Just stop.’

Before I could say anything else, Babs’s name was called. I stood up and followed her through the door.

She turned back to me. ‘I’ll do this bit alone. I just need you to be here after, to help me get home. They said I might be a bit shaky after.’

I glared at her. ‘I am not sitting out here while you go in there alone. No way. I said I’d be here for you and I will.’

Babs nodded. ‘OK, but no more talking.’

Babs was taken to change into a gown and I met her in the ultrasound room. The doctor explained that they had to confirm the pregnancy, check the size of the foetus and rule out any potential problems or pitfalls. I tried to hold her hand as we stared at the screen, but she swatted me away.

‘You look about ten weeks gone,’ the doctor said, as we watched the little black shadow on the screen.

I stifled a sob.

The doctor asked Babs if she still wanted to go ahead with the procedure. In a very firm voice, she said, ‘Yes.’

I gave it one last shot. ‘Please don’t do this.’

She glared at me.

The doctor looked at his notes. ‘I see you’ve opted for a surgical termination with a local anaesthetic.’

‘What does that mean?’ I asked. ‘How long will it take? Well … How does it happen? What do I need to do? Can I stay with her?’

Babs sat up and wiped the ultrasound gel from her stomach. ‘No. I’m doing this bit alone. You can wait for me outside.’

The doctor asked the nurse to show me back to the waiting room and told me they’d call me when Babs was ready to go home. I kissed my sister on the cheek. She felt ice cold.

I hesitated. ‘Babs, I –’

‘Go.’ She pushed me away.

As the nurse escorted me out of the room, I asked her what the procedure would involve. She explained that a speculum is inserted into the vagina and then a local anaesthetic is administered to the cervix. Then a narrow tube, attached to an aspirator device, is inserted into the uterus and the contents are emptied using suction.

I put my hands over my mouth to stop the cry escaping.

The nurse patted me on the back. ‘The procedure takes about ten minutes. Your friend?’

‘Sister.’

‘Your sister will experience cramps and bleeding afterwards. We’ll keep her in the recovery room for about forty minutes to check her blood pressure and heart rate, and then, all being well, you can take her home.’

Exactly forty-five minutes later a nurse escorted Babs into the waiting room. She was bent over and shuffling. I jumped up and ran to help her. The nurse handed me a bottle of antibiotics. ‘Make sure your sister takes them,’ she instructed.

‘Are you all right?’ I asked. ‘You’re really pale.’

‘I just want to get out of here,’ she muttered.

‘Come back to my house. I’ll look after you,’ I said. ‘You shouldn’t be on your own.’

Babs nodded silently. She was shivering. I wrapped my coat around her shoulders. There were no words left to say. The whole way home in the taxi, she stared out of the window, bending over every now and then as the cramps stabbed at her. When we got back to my house, she had a shower and put on a pair of my pyjamas. I tucked her up in the spare bedroom and pumped her full of painkillers.

‘Thanks,’ she whispered. ‘I know you don’t approve of what I did, but thanks for being there for me.’

Tears slid down my cheeks. ‘I’m glad I could be. It’s just a pity it had to end this way.’

Babs rolled away from me and began to cry softly. I rubbed her back as she sobbed. It broke my heart to see my ballsy, confident sister so crushed.

After a few minutes she stopped crying. She said, ‘I don’t ever want to talk about this again. I never want it mentioned. I’m going to block it out and move past it. I have to.’ Her
voice began to break. Gathering her composure, she added, ‘As far as I’m concerned, it never happened.’

‘Maybe you should think about counselling,’ I suggested.

‘Emma, I don’t need counselling. I need you to promise me that you’ll forget this and never bring it up with me again.’

‘I can’t promise to forget it, but I promise not to raise the subject if you really don’t want me to. But I want you to know that you can talk to me about it any time you feel like it.’

‘I will never discuss it again.’

‘Fine.’ I wasn’t going to argue with her now. ‘Look, you’re not going to feel very well for a few days. What do you want me to say to work?’

‘Tell them I have the flu and I’ll be back on Monday. I’ll be fine after the weekend. I need work to distract me. I’m going to show that bastard he can’t ruin my career. I’m going back to work with a vengeance.’ She pulled the duvet up and buried her head under it.

‘OK – but, Babs, you need to look after yourself. Only go in on Monday if you feel up to it. Why don’t you stay here for the weekend?’

‘I’d like that,’ she said wearily. ‘Now can you go?’

I kissed her head and left her to sleep away her memories and block out her pain.

It was nice having Babs with us. She seemed to like having the children around and was very affectionate with them. She was still tired and crampy, but I didn’t see anything to suggest that she regretted her decision or was depressed. It wouldn’t have been my choice, but I understood that it just hadn’t been the right time for her – or the right man. That was for sure.

On Saturday night, James and I were due to go to his parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary party. I didn’t want to leave Babs alone, but she insisted that I go and offered to babysit. When she woke up late on Saturday morning, though, she announced that she was feeling much better and asked if she could come to the dinner with us.

‘Seriously?’ I was shocked that she’d want to be there. ‘It won’t be a lot of fun. James’s family are very reserved.’

‘I’m bored. I need to get out and have a few drinks,’ Babs said.

‘OK. I’m glad you’re feeling better.’

‘I feel fine, Emma. I need to get out of the house and blow this off.’

‘Well, don’t drink too much and watch what you say. James’s parents are easily shocked,’ I warned her.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t make a show of you. I’ll just sit in a corner, drink and smile.’

I somehow doubted that.

James was out getting the team ready for their game that afternoon, so I took it upon myself to call my
mother-in-law, Anne. I explained that my sister was staying with me for a few days and asked if it would be all right for her to come along to the dinner. She was very sweet and said, yes, of course, she’d be delighted to get reacquainted with Babs.

As I was talking to Anne on the house phone, I heard my mobile pinging in my bag. I froze, thinking it might be another crazy text. After I’d said goodbye to James’s mother, I pulled it out, then breathed a sigh of relief. It was from Lucy, asking if I was free for dinner on Monday night. I texted her quickly and we arranged a time and place.

Babs had no clothes with her, apart from her tracksuit, so she had to wear one of my dresses, with a big belt to hold it up because she was two sizes smaller than me. At least she looked respectable. I put on a plain navy dress, which Babs insisted I accessorize with a bright green scarf, which made it look much better.

I did my sister’s makeup. She needed a lot of concealer to hide the black circles under her eyes and extra blusher as she was still very pale. When she asked me for bright red lipstick, I didn’t argue. It gave her ghostly face a lift.

That day James’s team had won their second cup match, thank God. He had sounded very jubilant when he’d called. At least it meant he’d be in good form for the evening. He was doing some post-match analysis, so we agreed to meet him at the restaurant. Claire arrived to babysit the children.

‘Wow,’ Babs said, as Claire took off her coat to reveal a figure-hugging red top.

‘You look great!’ I exclaimed. ‘Were you out with your boyfriend?’

She shook her head. ‘No, but I’ll be seeing him later on.’

‘How long have you been dating?’ Babs asked.

Claire looked at the floor. ‘A few weeks.’

‘Well, you look a million times better. I never would have thought you had such a hot body under all those baggy clothes you used to wear. You’re quite a dark horse, aren’t you, Claire? I bet we don’t know the half of what you get up to in your time off.’

Claire blushed and hurried out to find the children, who were in the lounge.

‘Be nice!’ I muttered. ‘You’ll make her really uncomfortable. She can’t cope with too much attention. She’s very shy.’

Babs snorted. ‘If she’s so shy, why is she walking around in a low-cut top and skin-tight jeans?’

‘It’s the first time she’s ever worn anything remotely revealing. It’s great to see – it shows she’s growing in confidence. This boyfriend is working wonders. She’s so much happier in herself and looks so much better.’

Babs shook her head. ‘She’s weird.’

‘She’s great. Now, come on, let’s go. James’s parents are sticklers for punctuality.’

‘It’s only six! Are we going for the early-bird special?’

‘Anne is seventy-eight and Jonathan is eighty-two. They like to eat early. No rude comments and no cursing. They don’t do bad language.’

‘Well, I look like a granny in this dress you lent me, so I’ll just act like one too.’

‘Perfect.’

We arrived at Rules, the oldest restaurant in London, at exactly seven o’clock. It was decorated in red velvet and the subtle lighting gave it a warm, cosy feel. The walls were covered with beautifully framed paintings, cartoons and sketches.
Anne and Jonathan Hamilton were waiting for us, with Imogen, Henry and James.

The Hamiltons were always on time. They almost had a nervous breakdown when they came to Dublin to visit me and James when we got engaged. Mum and Dad had invited them for dinner. They’d said, ‘Come at eight-ish.’ In Irish terms that meant under no circumstance should you even think about coming near the house before nine. But, true to form, they had arrived at eight sharp. Thinking it was the man from the wine shop delivering the bottles they had ordered, my mum answered the door in her dressing-gown and rollers. She was so shocked to see James’s parents that she slammed the door and ran upstairs to get dressed. Whereupon Dad reopened the door and invited the bewildered pair into the lounge. He proceeded to fling newspapers, magazines and stray slippers under the couch. Then he gave them a large glass of wine each and left them alone while he went to shave and put on a clean shirt.

They’d spent the next hour sitting alone in the lounge, with occasional visits from Dad to refill their glasses and from Mum to apologize for slamming the door in their faces. At nine, everyone else arrived, and proceeded to drink and chat until ten. As the food was about to be served, the neighbours called in – they’d seen the light on and decided to pop in for one drink. Mum didn’t have enough food for the four neighbours, so she put the dinner back in the oven until they’d left. By the time the neighbours did leave, it was close to eleven and Anne and Jonathan were both fast asleep on the couch – drunk, starving and exhausted.

When they came back to Dublin, it was for our wedding. The invitation said three, so they turned up at four and missed the entire ceremony.

Babs and I walked over to say hello to everyone. Henry
jumped up first to give us a kiss. ‘Good to see you, Emma. You look super as always. Hello, Barbara, what a nice surprise to have you with us.’

Imogen remained seated, looked us up and down slowly, then air-kissed us. Anne and Jonathan welcomed us warmly and James ordered us drinks.

‘Vodka and slimline tonic. Make it a double,’ Babs said. This did not bode well. Mixing alcohol with antibiotics was never a good idea.

‘Well done on the game today,’ Henry said to a radiant James.

‘Thanks. Bloody relieved, I can tell you. It was a close call.’

‘Fantastic try in the last five minutes. Marvellous winger that Gordonson,’ Jonathan enthused.

‘He’s really stepped it up this season,’ James agreed.

While the men dissected the match, Anne leant over to me. ‘We can’t believe we’ve seen so little of you since you moved here,’ she said. ‘Between James’s work and our travels, it’s been a very busy time. You must come down for Sunday lunch next week. I insist.’

‘That’d be lovely,’ I said. I’d been a bit hurt that James’s parents hadn’t made more of an effort. We had seen them twice in the first month. Then they’d gone away on a six-week cruise and we hadn’t seen them since their return.

‘How was the holiday?’ I asked.

‘Marvellous,’ Jonathan enthused. The rugby analysis had ended.

‘Really?’ Babs said, draining her vodka and ordering another. ‘I always thought cruises would be incredibly boring. Full of really old people shuffling around complaining about piles and bunions.’

There was silence, then Henry burst out laughing. ‘I’d forgotten how funny you are,’ he said.

‘A few more vodkas and I’ll be a riot!’ Babs winked at him.

‘How are you finding London life, Emma?’ Imogen cut across her husband’s laughter.

I caught James’s eye. ‘To be honest, it’s been more difficult than I’d thought. It was a big upheaval for all of us.’

Imogen rearranged her velvet headband. ‘I think it’s fair to say, Emma, that you don’t make things easy for yourself. You should have rented a house in a smarter area and sent the children to a decent school. Has Lara started talking yet? My goodness, the day I was there all the poor child could say was “Ribbit” – it was most disturbing. I said to Henry when I got home, “You must call James and have that child seen by a psychologist.”’

Henry squirmed. ‘I obviously chose not to call you. I’m sure it’s just a phase.’

‘Good decision,’ James said. His face was blank but he was staring hard at Imogen. Yes! Finally he was seeing her for the witch she was.

I clasped my hands to stop myself slapping Imogen’s fat face. Through gritted teeth, I said, ‘Lara never stops talking. She was pretending to be a frog that day. It was no big deal.’

‘She does that all the time,’ Babs put in. ‘You should see her cow impression – it’s hilarious. I think she’s going to be a brilliant actress. I bet you she wins an Oscar one day.’

Anne laid a hand gently on my arm. ‘I’m sure she’s as bright as a little button, but we were concerned when Imogen told us about the incident. You see, I had an aunt who was a little … ah … different, so I’m afraid Lara’s behaviour could be genetic.’

I glared at James, but he had reverted to his rugby conversation with his father and hadn’t heard his mother’s comment.

‘There is nothing wrong with Lara. She’s actually one of
the cleverest kids in her class. Her teacher told me she’s a joy to teach.’ This was a big fat lie. The only thing Miss Timmons had said was that Lara was very spirited, which had sounded more like a negative than a positive.

Anne looked relieved. ‘Wonderful! I’m so pleased to hear that.’

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Babs ordering another vodka. She was drinking way too fast.

Imogen fiddled with her pearl necklace. ‘Has your son grown at all? My goodness, I couldn’t get over how tiny he still is. I said to Anne, “He’s the same size Thomas was when he was two.” He’ll be a midget if he doesn’t grow. Have you thought about growth hormones?’

‘There was a fellow in school with me who was small. He became the most fantastic jockey.’ Henry tried to be helpful.

‘Yuri is growing at a normal and healthy pace.’ I was furious with Imogen. I could feel sweaty patches forming under my arms. At this rate, I wouldn’t make it to the starter without throwing something at her.

‘Normal!’ Imogen snorted. ‘He’s the smallest four-year-old I’ve ever seen. Of course, his mother was probably a drug-addicted prostitute. I saw a documentary on those Russian orphanages. They showed the mothers abandoning their children on the doorstep. They were utterly appalling women. I’d say most of the children are completely damaged and will end up addicted to drugs, too.’

There was a silence and everyone looked uncomfortable. I didn’t trust myself to open my mouth – I’d either start screaming or crying. It was Babs who reacted first: ‘Does that mean your mother looked like the back of a horse, had a voice like a foghorn and insulted everyone she ever met?’

I loved my sister.

‘How dare you –’

Babs drained yet another drink. ‘How dare I what? Insult you? If you can dish it out, you should be able to take it. You’ve just been rude about my niece and nephew and I’m not having it. They’re amazing kids.’

‘Henry,’ Imogen snapped, ‘are you going to let her insult me?’

‘You were a tad harsh,’ Henry noted, as his wife glared at him.

James addressed Imogen: ‘Emma is Yuri’s mother and the person he loves most in the world. The woman who gave birth to him may have been a prostitute or she may have been a sweet young girl who was unable to look after him. It doesn’t matter, because we are his parents and he is our son. He may never grow to be six feet tall, but he is a giant in our eyes.’

‘Well said.’ Babs patted him on the back.

I blinked furiously to stop the tears falling down my cheeks. This was the James I knew and loved. This was the man I had married.

Jonathan cleared his throat. ‘Shall we take our seats and order?’

‘I’ll keep my mouth shut, shall I? Apparently I’m not allowed to have an opinion this evening,’ Imogen grumbled, as we headed to the table.

The rest of the meal went relatively smoothly. We kept the conversation on safe ground – sport, books and theatre. Babs, however, continued to drink at a fast pace and kept telling us that her favourite book was
Fifty Shades of Grey
and winking at Jonathan, who didn’t know where to look. I kept pouring her water and trying to get her to drink some.

At coffee, James politely asked how Thomas was getting on at boarding school.

‘Marvellously,’ Imogen barked.

‘Not well,’ Henry said, at the same time.

My ears pricked up. I wasn’t letting this one go. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that, Henry. What’s going on?’

Henry put his coffee cup down. ‘I’m afraid he’s on a final warning.’

‘What?’ Anne, Jonathan and James looked shocked. Clearly this was bad.

‘What does that mean?’ Babs asked. ‘Is he getting expelled?’

‘Henry!’ Imogen’s face was purple. ‘Stop this nonsense. Thomas is fine.’

I was enjoying every minute of her discomfort.

‘Imogen, this is our family. We can be honest with them.’ Henry turned to Babs. ‘Final warning means that if he misbehaves again, he’ll be expelled, yes.’

‘Expelled!’ I gasped loudly for effect. ‘Wow, that really is serious. What did he do?’

‘I had no idea.’ Anne frowned and looked upset. ‘We thought Thomas was thriving at St David’s. Imogen told us so.’

‘Apparently not,’ Babs said, grinning.

‘He’s been bullying one of the other boys. Tormenting the poor chap on a daily basis apparently.’ Henry was clearly crestfallen that his ten-year-old son was such a tosser.

‘Are you sure?’ James asked. ‘Could the boy be exaggerating or maybe out to get Thomas?’