“Come through, come through! How old’s your wee one?” The old woman peers into the pram. “I can’t see the poor little thing for all your gubbins!”
“Er…well…”
The stand owner is beckoning me forward encouragingly. Everyone’s waiting for me to go first.
OK. I know I should be honest. I do know that.
But the queue’s gigantic, and Suze is waiting…and what does it really matter if there’s a baby in here or not?
“Is it a boy or a girl?” the old woman persists.
“It’s…a girl!” I hear myself saying. “She’s asleep,” I add hurriedly. “I’d like four hobbyhorses, please.”
“Ah, the dear little thing,” says the old woman fondly. “And her name?”
Ooh! Names!
“Tallulah,” I say impulsively. “I mean…Phoebe. Tallulah-Phoebe.” I hand the stall owner the money, take the hobbyhorses, and somehow balance them on the pram. “Thanks very much!”
“You be a good girl, Tallulah-Phoebe,” the old woman is clucking into the pram. “You be good for your mum and the new arrival.”
“Oh, she will!” I say brightly. “Nice to meet you! Thanks very much!” And I hastily wheel the pram away, feeling a giggle rise inside. I turn the corner and immediately spot Suze at the coffee counter, chatting to a girl with highlights and an off-road pushchair and three children in matching stripy tops tied to it with reins.
“Hi, Bex!” she calls. “What do you want?”
“Can I have a decaf cappuccino and a choc chip muffin?” I call back. “And I have to tell you what just happened—” I break off as the girl with highlights turns.
I don’t believe it.
It’s Lulu.
Lulu, Suze’s horrible friend from the country. My heart sinks like a stone as I wave cheerfully. What’s she doing here? Just as we were having such a good time.
They’re coming over toward me now, all the toddlers trailing in their wake like kites being dragged along a beach. Lulu is looking as sensible-mummy as ever, in her pink cords and white shirt and pearl earrings, which probably all came out of the same sensible-mummy catalog.
Oh God, I know that’s really bitchy. But I can’t help it. Lulu has rubbed me the wrong way ever since the first time we met and she totally looked down on me because I didn’t have any kids.(And also maybe because I took my bra off in front of all the children to entertain them. But I was really desperate, OK? And it’s not like they saw anything.)
“Lulu!” I force a smile. “How are you? I didn’t know you were coming today!”
“I didn’t know myself!” Lulu’s voice is so sharp and posh, it makes me wince. “I was offered a sudden promotion opportunity. For my new children’s cookbook.”
“Yes, Suze told me about that. Congratulations!”
“And congratulations to you!” Lulu eyes my bump. “We’ll have to get together sometime! Talk baby things!”
Lulu has never been anything other than mean and patronizing to me, all the times I’ve met her. But now suddenly because I’m having a baby we’re supposed to be friends?
“That would be super!” I say pleasantly, and Suze shoots me a look.
“There’s a section on pregnancy in my cookbook, actually….” Lulu rifles in her bag for a shiny book, illustrated with a photo of herself holding an armful of vegetables in her kitchen. “I must send you a copy.”
“Like, on cravings and stuff?” I take a sip of decaf. “I could do with some good nonalcoholic cocktail recipes.”
“I’ve called it ‘Think of the Baby.’” She frowns slightly. “It’s shocking, what some people put in their bodies while they’re pregnant. Additives…sugar…”
“Right.” I hesitate, chocolate muffin halfway toward my mouth, then defiantly stuff it in. “Mmm, yum.”
I can see Suze hide a giggle.
“Would your children like some?” I add, breaking it into crumbly pieces.
“They don’t eat chocolate!” Lulu snaps, looking horrified, as though I’ve tried to peddle them cocaine. “I’ve brought some dried banana snacks.”
“Lulu, sweetie?” A girl in a headset ducks down to our table. “Are you ready to come and do the radio interview? And then we’d like a photo of you and all the kids.”
“Absolutely.” Lulu bares her teeth in her horsey smile. “Come along Cosmo, Ivo, Ludo….”
“Go Dasher, go Dancer,” I mutter.
“See you later!” says Suze with a strained smile as they walk off. And all of a sudden I feel a bit ashamed. Lulu is Suze’s friend and I should make the effort. I’m going to be nice about her, I suddenly resolve. If it kills me.
“So…that was great, seeing Lulu!” I try to inject some warmth into my voice. “She’s right, we should all get together and have a good chat. Maybe we should meet up later on and have tea or something—”
“I don’t want to.” Suze’s low voice takes me by surprise. I look over, and she’s staring down into her cappuccino. Suddenly I recall Suze’s reaction at Mum’s house when I mentioned Lulu. That kind of tension in her face.
“Suze, have you and Lulu fallen out?” I say cautiously.
“Not exactly.” Suze won’t look up. “I mean…she’s done a lot for me. She’s been so helpful, especially with the children….”