“Right!” says Noura, making an obvious effort to stay pleasant. “Well, thank you for those…inspirational words.”
“No trouble!” Janice waves her knitting cheerily.
“We’re going to try a small breathing exercise now,” Noura continues, “which, believe it or not, will help with the contractions of early labor. I want you all to sit up straight and do some shallow breaths. In…out…that’s right….”
As I’m doing my shallow breaths, there’s a ping from my mobile.
What?????
Ha! I stifle a giggle and text back.
Is it love???
A few moments later my phone pings again with a new message.
We’re having a few problems.
Oh God. I hope Jess is OK. I didn’t mean to tease her.
It’s quite tricky, doing shallow breathing and texting at the same time. So I abandon the shallow breathing and type.
What problems? Why didn’t u tell me?
“Who are you texting, love?” says Janice, who has also abandoned shallow breathing and is consulting her knitting pattern.
“Oh…just a friend,” I say lightly as another text arrives. Jess must have abandoned whatever she’s doing too.
I didn’t want to bother you, it’s stupid.
Honestly. How can Jess think she’s bothering me? I want to know about her love life. I start texting U R my sister!!! when Noura claps her hands for attention.
“Relax, everyone. Now, we’re going to try a simple exercise, which should put your minds at rest. Your partner is going to take your arm and twist it, giving you an old-fashioned Chinese burn. And you are going to breathe through the pain. Focus your minds, stay relaxed…. Partners, don’t be afraid to increase the pressure! And you’ll see how you’re a lot tougher than you thought! Becky, I’ll take you, if that’s OK?” she adds, coming over.
My stomach flips nervously. I don’t like the sound of an old-fashioned Chinese burn. Or even a newfangled one. But I can’t wimp out; everyone’s looking at me.
“All right, then,” I say, gingerly holding out my arm.
“Obviously the pain of labor will be more intense than this, but just to give you an idea…”
She grasps my forearm. “Now breathe.…”
“Ow!” I say as she suddenly twists my arm. “Ow, that hurts!”
“Breathe, Becky,” instructs Noura. “Relax.”
“I am breathing! Owwww!”
“The pain’s getting stronger now….” Noura ignores me. “Imagine the contraction is peaking….”
I’m panting hard as she twists my skin even harder.
“And now it’s ebbing…it’s gone.” She releases my arm and gives me a smile. “You see, Becky? You see how you coped with that, despite your fears?”
“Wow.” I’m almost breathless.
“Do you think you learned something valuable there?” She gives me a knowing look. “Something that puts your fears into perspective?”
“Yes.” I nod earnestly. “I learned I definitely want an epidural.”
“Have a general anesthetic, darling,” interjects Mum. “Or a nice cesarean!”
“You can’t have a general anesthetic.” Noura stares at her incredulously. “They don’t just hand them out, you know!”
“Becky’s going to the top place in London!” Mum retorts. “She can have anything she wants! Now, darling, if I were you, I’d have the Thai massage and the water birth before labor begins, then the epidural and aromatherapy to follow….”
“This is labor!” Noura shouts, clutching her hair. “You’re having a baby, not ordering from a bloody room-service menu!”
There’s a shocked silence.
“I’m sorry,” she says, more calmly. “I…don’t know what came over me. Let’s have a short break. Help yourselves to drinks.”
She heads out of the room, and a muted babble of chatter breaks out.
“Well!” says Mum, raising her eyebrows. “I think someone needs to do their shallow breathing! Janice, shall we go to Liberty now?”
“Just let me finish this row….” Janice clicks frantically with her knitting needles. “There! All done. Coming, Becky?”
“I dunno,” I say, torn. “Maybe I should stay to the end of the class.”
“I don’t think that Noura knows what she’s talking about!” Mum says conspiratorially. “We’ll tell you everything you need to know. And you can help me choose a new handbag!”
“OK, then.” I get to my feet. “Let’s go!”
By the time I’ve finished shopping with Mum and Janice and had my hair appointment, it’s gone six. I arrive home to find Luke in the study. The lights are off, and he’s just sitting there in the gloom.
“Luke?” I put my bags down. “Is everything OK?”
He starts at my voice, and raises his head. I peer at him in surprise. His face is taut, with a deep crease between his brows. “It’s fine,” he says at last. “Everything’s fine.”
It doesn’t sound like it’s fine to me. I come into the study, perch on the desk opposite him, and study his face.
“Luke, what was the crisis at work today?”
“It’s not a crisis.” He musters a smile. “I used the wrong word. It was just…an incident. Nothing important. It’s all been resolved.”
“But—”