and as I step through, I can see prams stretching into the distance like an endless chrome shrubbery.
“Hi!” I say to a man in a green jacket and PRAM CITY badge. “I need a pram straightaway.”
“Of course!” He beams at me. “We normally deliver within four weeks—”
“No, I need one now,” I interrupt. “To take away. I don’t mind what kind.”
“Ah.” His face falls. “These are all for display only, I’m afraid….”
“Please?” I give him my most winsome smile. “You must have one you can sell me. Just one little pram? Some old one you don’t need anymore?”
“Um…right.” He glances nervously at my stomach. “I’ll…see what I can do.”
He bustles away, and I look around at the trendy prams. Suze is swooning over some state-of-the-art double buggy on a special podium of its own, and to my right, a pregnant woman and her husband are pushing an amazing contraption upholstered in black leather, with built-in drink holders.
“I knew you’d like it.” The woman is glowing with pleasure.
“Of course I do.” The man kisses the back of her neck, cradling her bump. “Let’s order it.”
I feel a sudden pang, deep inside. I want to try out prams with Luke. I want to go as a couple, and push prams around and for Luke to kiss me like that.
I mean, I know it’s a hectic time for him and he’s really busy at work. I know he’s never going to be some New Man who knows every brand of diaper and wears a fake pregnancy stomach. But still, I don’t want to have to do everything on my own.
And I bet he’d love that black leather one too. It’s probably even got a BlackBerry holder.
“Hey, Bex.” Suze comes over, pushing the twins with one hand and the state-of-the-art buggy with the other. “Do you think I need a new pram?”
“Er…” I look at the twins. “Isn’t that double buggy quite new?”
“Yes, but, I mean, this one’s really maneuverable. It would be really practical! I think I should get it. I mean, you can’t have too many prams, can you?”
There’s a kind of lust in her eyes. Since when did Suze become such a pramaholic?
“Definitely,” I say. “Maybe I should get it too!”
“Yes!” says Suze in delight. “Then we’d be matching! Have a go!” She hands it to me and I push it about for a bit. It is pretty cool, I have to say.
“I love the squidgy handles,” I say, squeezing them.
“Me too! And the cool wheel design.”
This is just how we used to be in clothes shops together. God, I never thought I’d get as excited by a pushchair as I do about a dress.
“Madam?” The assistant is back. “Here we are. I can let you buy this model today. Seventy pounds.”
He’s pushing an old-fashioned coach pram in an uninspiring shade of gray, with a pink lacy pillow and quilt. Suze stares at it, aghast.
“Bex, you can’t put the baby in that!”
“It’s not for the baby,” I say. “It’s for my shopping!” I plonk all my carrier bags inside and grasp the handles. “That’s better!”
I pay for it, and prize Suze away from the hi-tech buggy, and we head off to the Refreshment Zone, passing lots of stalls on the way. I buy a paddling pool, and a box of building blocks and a huge teddy and just sling them all on top of the pram. And there’s still room for loads more! Honestly, I should have bought a pram years ago.
“I’ll get the coffees,” says Suze as we near the cafe area.
“I’ll be there in a sec,” I say absently. I’ve spotted a stand with vintage-style hobbyhorses, which are absolutely gorgeous. I’ll buy one for the baby and one each for Suze’s children.
The only trouble is, there’s a massive queue. I maneuver the pram into line as best I can and lean on the handles with a sigh. I’m quite tired actually, after all this walking. In front of me is an old woman in a dark red raincoat. She turns, then pulls an expression of horror as she sees me leaning on the pram.
“Let this young lady through!” she exclaims, tapping the woman in front of her. “She has a baby and she’s expecting! The poor thing’s exhausted — look at her!”
“Oh!” I say, taken aback. Everyone is moving aside like I’m royalty, and the raincoat woman is urging me to push the pram forward. “Um…I don’t actually have a…”
“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…”
