Janice inhales sharply. ‘Well,’ she begins, glancing at Martin as though for support. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything, but—’
‘Spoiled?’ Mum cuts her off with a laugh. ‘Nonsense! There’s nothing wrong with Minnie, is there, my precious? She just knows her own mind!’ She strokes Minnie’s hair fondly, then looks up again. ‘Becky, love, you were exactly the same at her age. Exactly the same.’
At once I relax. Mum always says the right thing. I glance over at Luke – but to my surprise he doesn’t return my relieved smile. He looks as though some new and alarming thought has transfixed him.
‘Thanks, Mum.’ I give her a fond hug. ‘You always make everything better. Come on, let’s get home.’
By the time Minnie’s in bed, I’ve cheered up. In fact I’m feeling really festive. This is what Christmas is all about. Mulled wine and mince pies and White Christmas on the telly. We’ve hung up Minnie’s stocking (gorgeous red gingham, from the Conran shop) and put out a glass of sherry for Father Christmas and now Luke and I are in our bedroom, wrapping up her presents.
Mum and Dad are really generous. They’ve given us the whole top floor of the house to live in, so we have quite a lot of privacy. The only slight downside is, our wardrobe isn’t that big. But it doesn’t matter, because I’ve taken over the guestroom wardrobe too – plus I’ve arranged all my shoes on the bookshelves on the landing. (I put the books in boxes. No one ever read them, anyway.)
I’ve put up a hanging rail in Dad’s study, for coats and party dresses, and stacked some hat boxes in the utility room. And I keep all my make-up on the dining table, which is the ideal size, in fact it could have been designed for make-up. My mascaras fit in the knife drawer, my straightening irons go perfectly on the hostess trolley and I’ve put all my magazines in piles on the chairs.
I’ve also stored just a few teeny things in the garage, like all my old boots, and this amazing set of vintage trunks I bought at an antique shop, and a Power Plate machine (which I bought off eBay and must start using). It’s getting a bit crowded in there now, I suppose – but it’s not like Dad ever uses the garage for the car, is it?
Luke finishes wrapping a jigsaw puzzle, reaches for a Magic Drawing Easel, then looks around the room and frowns.
‘How many presents is Minnie getting?’
‘Just the usual number,’ I say defensively.
Although to be honest, I was a bit taken aback myself. I’d forgotten how many I’d bought from catalogues and craft fairs and stashed away, throughout the year.
‘This one’s educational.’ I hastily whip the price tag off the Magic Drawing Easel. ‘And it was really cheap. Have some more mulled wine!’ I pour him another glass, then reach for a hat with two red sparkly pom-poms. It’s the cutest thing, and they had them in baby sizes, too.
If we had another baby, it could wear a pom-pom hat to match Minnie’s. People would call them The Children in the Pom-Pom Hats.
I have a sudden alluring image of myself walking down the street with Minnie. She’d be pushing her toy pram with a dolly in it and I’d be pushing a pram with a real baby in it. She’d have a friend for life. It would all be so perfect …
‘Becky? Sellotape? Becky?’
Suddenly I realize Luke’s said my name about four times. ‘Oh! Sorry! Here you are. Isn’t this lovely?’ I jiggle the red pompoms at Luke. ‘They had them for babies, too.’
I leave a significant pause, letting the word ‘babies’ hang in the air and using all my powers of marital telepathy.
‘This Sellotape is crap. It’s all shredded.’ He discards it impatiently.
Huh. So much for marital telepathy. Maybe I should introduce the subject by stealth. Suze once persuaded her husband Tarkie to go on a package holiday to Disneyland so stealthily that he didn’t even realize where they were going till they were on the plane. Mind you, Tarkie is Tarkie (sweet, unsuspicious, usually thinking about Wagner or sheep). And Luke is Luke (totally on the case and always thinking I’m up to something. Which I am NOT.)
‘So that’s fantastic news about Arcodas,’ I say casually. ‘And the house.’
‘Isn’t it great?’ Luke’s face cracks briefly into a smile.
‘It’s like all the pieces of the jigsaw are falling into place. At least, nearly all the pieces.’ I leave another meaningful pause, but Luke doesn’t even notice.
What’s the point of peppering your conversation with meaningful pauses if no one notices? I’ve had enough of being stealthy, it’s totally overrated.
‘Luke, let’s have another baby!’ I say in a rush. ‘Tonight!’
There’s silence. For an instant I wonder whether Luke even heard. Then he raises his head, looking totally astonished.
‘Are you nuts?’
I stare back at him, affronted.
‘Of course I’m not nuts! I think we should have a little brother or sister for Minnie. Don’t you?’
‘My petal.’ Luke sits back on his heels. ‘We can’t control one child. How on earth would we control two? You saw the way she behaved today.’
Not him, too.
‘What are you saying?’ I can’t help sounding hurt. ‘Do you think Minnie’s spoiled?’
‘I’m not saying that,’ Luke says carefully. ‘But you have to admit, she’s out of control.’
‘No she’s not!’
‘Look at the facts. She’s been banned from four Santa’s Grottos.’ He ticks off on his fingers. ‘And St Paul’s Cathedral. Not to mention the incident at Harvey Nichols and the fiasco at my office.’