“What if its destiny is to become the world’s greatest-ever wrestler?” Luke raises his eyebrows. For a few moments I’m flummoxed.
“It’s not,” I say at last. “I’m its mother and I know.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Brandon?” The receptionist calls over and we both look up. “Dr. Carter will see you now, if you’d like to go through.”
I feel a flurry of nerves. OK, here I go. Stake my claim.
“Come on, darling!” I put my arm firmly round Luke’s shoulders and we head down the corridor, me staggering slightly because I’m thrown off-balance.
“Hello, you guys!” Venetia is coming out of her room to greet us. She’s dressed in black trousers and a sleeveless pink shirt cinched with the most fabulous shiny black crocodile belt. She kisses us both on each cheek and I catch a whiff of Chanel’s Allure. “Great to see you again!”
“It’s great to see you too, Venetia,” I say, raising my eyebrow in an ironic if-you-have-any-plans-to-steal-my-husband-you-can-forget-about-them way.
“Marvelous. Come on in….” She ushers us into the room.
I’m not sure she noticed my eyebrow maneuver. I might have to be more obvious.
Luke and I sit down, and Venetia perches on the front of her desk, dangling her Yves Saint Laurent heels. God, she’s got a good wardrobe for a doctor. Or even not for a doctor.
“So. Becky.” She opens her notes and studies them for a moment. “First of all, we have the blood test results back. All your levels are fine…although we might want to watch that hemoglobin. How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling great, thanks,” I say at once. “Very happy, very loving…Here I am, in a wonderful marriage, expecting a baby…and I’ve never felt closer to Luke in my life.” I reach out and grab Luke’s hand. “Wouldn’t you agree, darling? Aren’t we particularly close at the moment? Spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and…and…sexually!”
There. Take that.
“Well…yes,” says Luke, looking slightly stunned. “I suppose we are.”
“That’s lovely to hear, Becky,” Venetia says, giving me a strange look. “Although I was really meaning your own physical state. Any faintness, nausea, that kind of thing?”
Oh, right.
“Er…no, thanks,” I say. “I’m fine.”
“Well, then. Let’s pop you up and we can have a look.” She gestures to the examination table and I obediently get up onto it. “Lie back, make sure you’re comfortable…. Is that a little stretch mark I see?” she adds gaily as I lift up my top.
“A stretch mark?” In horror I grab the metal side-grip and try to struggle up. “I can’t have! I use a special oil every night, and a lotion in the morning, and—”
“Oops, my mistake!” says Venetia. “Just a stray fiber from your T-shirt.”
“Oh.” I collapse in slight posttraumatic shock and Venetia starts feeling my abdomen.
“Although, of course, stretch marks normally appear at the last minute,” she adds conversationally. “So you may still get them. Those last few weeks of pregnancy can be cruel. I see my patients waddling in, desperate for their babies to be out….”
Waddling?
“I’m not going to waddle,” I say with a little laugh.
“I’m afraid you will.” She smiles back. “It’s nature’s way of slowing you down. I always think it’s only fair to give my first-time patients a heads-up on the realities to come in pregnancy. It isn’t all roses and sunshine, you know!”
“Absolutely,” puts in Luke. “We appreciate that, don’t we, Becky?”
“Yes,” I mutter as Venetia wraps a blood pressure cuff round my arm.
This is a lie. I don’t appreciate it. And just to make it crystal clear: I am never going to waddle.
“Blood pressure’s just a little high….” She frowns at the screen. “Make sure you take it easy, Becky. Try to take a rest every day, or at least get the weight off your feet. And try to stay nice and calm….”
Stay calm? How am I supposed to do that when she’s telling me I’ve got stretch marks and am going to waddle?
“Now, let’s have a listen….” She smears some gel on my stomach and gets out the Doppler, and I relax a little. This is my favorite bit of every appointment. Lying back, listening to the baby’s heartbeat going wow, wow, wow over the fuzzy background noise. Remembering that there’s a little person in there.
“That all sounds fine….” Venetia moves away to the desk and scribbles something on her notes. “Oh, Luke, that reminds me — I spoke to Matthew the other day and he’d love to meet up. And I found that article by Jeremy we were talking about….” She rifles in her desk drawer and holds out an old copy of the New Yorker. “He’s come such a long way since Cambridge. Have you read his book on Mao?”
“Not yet,” says Luke, heading toward the desk and taking it from her. “I’ll read this when I have time. Thanks.”
“You must be busy,” Venetia says sympathetically. She pours a glass of water from the cooler and offers one to Luke. “How are all the new offices working out?”
“Good.” Luke nods. “The odd hiccup, of course…”
“But it’s fabulous that you’ve got Arcodas as a client.” She leans on the desk, frowning intelligently. “It must be the way forward, to diversify out of finance. And Arcodas’s rate of expansion is phenomenal — I was reading a piece about it in the FT. Iain Wheeler sounds very impressive.”