“I thought you were with Venetia Carter?” Paula stops writing on my notes. “Isn’t she on her way?” She glances at her watch. “If not, one of the senior midwives will need to examine you soon. Are you feeling any pressure, Becky?”
“Um…a bit, yes!”
She has no idea.
“Here.” Louisa gives me a pot of oil to sniff. “Clary sage for stress.”
“So, Paula, does labor ever go…backward?” I ask the question casually, trying to hide my sudden spark of hope.
“No.” Paula laughs. “Though it feels like it sometimes!”
“Ha-ha!” I join in her laughter and flop back on my pillows, inhaling the clary sage for stress. What I need is an essential oil for telling people you’re not in labor and they’ve all got to go home.
There’s a knock at the door and Suze looks up. “Ooh. That might be Jess. She said she was on her way….”
“Come in!” calls Paula. The door opens. And I freeze.
It’s Venetia. She’s wearing operating scrubs with her hair all bundled into a green cap, and she looks totally glamorous and important, like she’s been saving lives all day.
Bitch.
For an instant Venetia looks pretty shocked too, but then almost at once she comes over to the bed, a professional smile at her lips.
“Becky! I had no idea the patient they paged me about was you. Let’s have a look and see how you’re getting on….” Shetakes off her green cap and her hair tumbles radiantly down her back. “Luke, how long has she been in? Fill me in on what’s been happening.”
She’s doing it again. She’s cutting me out. She’s trying to bewitch Luke.
“Leave me alone!” I exclaim in fury. “I’m not your patient anymore and you’re not having a look at anything, thank you very much.”
Suddenly I don’t care about being in labor. Or pretend-labor. Or whatever I’m in. It’s not too late; I can still have my big confrontation. As everyone gapes, I cast away the gas and air mask and heave myself off the bed.
“Suze, can you give me that bag please?” I say in a trembling voice. “The carrier under the bed.”
“Yes! Here.” Suze hands me the carrier bag. “Is that her?” she adds in my ear.
“Uh-huh.” I nod.
“Cow.”
“That’s a good idea, Becky!” Paula’s saying in bright, uncertain tones. “Keeping upright will help the baby descend….”
“Venetia, I have something to return to you.” My voice is very slightly slurred, which is the fault of that stupid gas and air. And I keep breaking into a smile, which is a bit annoying. But anyway, she’ll get the message.
“Luke doesn’t want these.” I reach into the bag and throw the support stockings at her. They land on the floor and everyone looks at them.
Oh. I’ve got a bit confused.
“I mean…these.” I chuck the cuff link box, hard, and it hits Venetia on the forehead.
“Ow! Shit!” She clasps her head.
“Becky!” Luke remonstrates.
“She’s still after you, Luke! She sent you a Christmas present!” Suddenly I remember my Latin. “Uti…barberi…” My tongue keeps tripping up. “Nam… I mean …tui…”
Fuck.
Latin’s a stupid language.
“Love, are you delirious?” Mum looks anxious.
“Becky, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Venetia looks as though she wants to laugh.
“Just leave us alone.” I’m quivering with anger. “Leave me and Luke alone.”
“You paged me,” Venetia reminds me, and takes the chart from a nervous Paula. “Now, where are we at with this baby?”
“Don’t change the subject!” I yell. “You told me that you and Luke were having an affair. You tried to freak me out.”
“An affair?” Venetia opens her eyes wide. “Becky, Luke and I are just old friends!” She gives her silvery laugh. “I’m sorry, Luke. I realize Becky has a problem with me. But I had no idea she was quite so possessive….”
She looks totally reasonable, standing there in her green medical-authority uniform. And I’m the deranged, drugged pregnant woman in a baggy T-shirt.
“Ven, it’s fine,” says Luke, looking uncomfortable. “Listen, we’ve got Charles Braine coming to supervise. Maybe you should…leave.”
“Maybe I should.” Venetia nods conspiratorially at Luke, and I feel a stab of white-hot rage.
“Luke, don’t just let her get away with it! She said you were lovers! She said you were leaving me for her!”
“Becky…”
“It’s true.” Angry tears are running down my face. “No one believes me, but it’s true! She said the minute you saw each other again it was just a question of when and where. She said you were intoxicated with each other, and it was like Penelope and…someone. Othello.”
“Penelope and Odysseus?” Luke stares at me.
“Yes! That’s it. And you were meant to be together. And that I didn’t have a marriage anymore….” I wipe my runny nose with my T-shirt sleeve. “And now she’s pretending I’m a completely deluded psycho….”
Something has changed in Luke’s eyes. “Penelope and Odysseus?” he says, an edge to his voice. “Ven?”
There’s a prickling silence.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” Venetia says smoothly.