And Baby Makes Two

wanted everything to fall apart. She was waiting for me to beg her to come back. She was waiting for me to say that she’d been right and I’d been wrong. But I wasn’t going to. I was going to pull myself together and go on. I’d had a couple of temporary setbacks, that was all. Minor, temporary setbacks. The only thing that could really ruin my plans was if me and Les broke up. And that was never going to happen.

But not having any money was a problem. I had nine people to buy Christmas presents for, not counting Les and Shinola. I didn’t want to make Hilary think I wasn’t coping by turning up with nothing.

I took another Rolo from the packet. I was meant to be eating them slowly because they were a treat. Sort of like a gift from God. I’d gone to the newsagents for a box of matches because the pilot light wasn’t working on the stove. I couldn’t be bothered putting Shinola in her buggy, so I just carried her to the shop in my arms. The shop was busy and, as per usual, Shinola was whingeing. I was trying to shut her up while we waited in the queue by showing her the sweets on the counter.

I shook a box of Maltesers. “Look,” I said. “What’s that, Shinola?”

Shinola didn’t like the Maltesers.

I picked up a packet of Smarties and shook that.

She didn’t like them either.

I’d just picked up the Rolos when an old lady came out from the back of the shop and asked who was next.

The woman behind me gave me a shove. “That’s you.”

“A box of matches, please,” I said, and I shoved my hand in my pocket for the money.

It wasn’t until we were outside that I realized that at the same time as I’d gone for the change, I’d stuck the Rolos between me and Shinola.

I was looking at them now the way I’d looked at them then. With wonder.

Then I’d been wondering if I should take them back.

Now I was wondering if I could do it again.

It didn’t take me long to work out that I could do it again. And again. And again.

It was a hell of a lot easier than taking a bottle from a hungry baby, I’ll tell you that. Especially if you have a baby to help you.

It took me about three minutes to work out that supermarkets were the easiest places to nick things from. And because it was Christmas there was more to nick than tins of soup. Hilary moaned and groaned every year when they changed all the aisles round to fit the stuff for Christmas in. “Where the hell have they put the eggs?” she’d shriek. “Why can’t they leave things where they were?” But the extra aisles of gifts and chocolates were the answer to my prayers. It was convenient, one-stop shopping as far as I was concerned.

I was really careful, of course. The last thing I needed was to get me and Shinola arrested. Hilary Spiggs would throw a major fit if her granddaughter ended up behind bars. She probably wouldn’t be too happy about me being behind bars, either. A disadvantage of being sixteen that I hadn’t thought of before was that now they could put me in prison.

Shinola and I went to the shops we always went to. Everybody knew us ’cause I always chatted to the people on the tills about Shinola and the weather and stuff like that. It was the only adult conversation I had, not counting Les and the occasional phone call from Shanee or a close female relative. I reckoned they wouldn’t be watching me because they knew me. They’d just think, oh there’s that girl and her adorable baby, and never even suspect. Plus, I always bought something. That way, if I did get caught, they’d believe me if I said it was a mistake. “Oh, my God!” I’d cry. “I forgot all about that. It was caught in the baby’s blankets.” And we never went to the same shop twice in a row. We spread ourselves around.

I had almost everything in less than a week. Chocolates for my nan and Charlene’s kids, aftershave for each of the men, bath oils for my sisters and the Spiggs, and a stuffed toy for Shinola.

There was only one present I needed that couldn’t be had in a supermarket. And that, of course, was Les’s. I would’ve waited till after Christmas Day, to see if someone gave me some money, but Les was going to Norwich to visit his mum on Christmas Eve, so I couldn’t put it off.

What I wanted to get Les was a gold I.D. bracelet that I saw in the Argos catalogue. I was going to have his initials engraved on the front and Love, Lana on the back. Only now I couldn’t even afford the one in the pawnshop with someone else’s initials on it.

My second choice was a pair of Tazmanian Devil socks I’d seen on Oxford Street. Les loved Taz. He even had a Taz air freshener in his car. It wasn’t a great present, but I reckoned it was a thoughtful one.

It took me a while to work up my courage for this. Shop assistants on Oxford Street were programmed to look out for shoplifters, and you could never completely get out of their view or away from the cameras. Plus, I couldn’t afford to buy anything, not unless they had some socks on sale for fifty pence.

I filled a couple of old Body Shop and Miss Selfridge carrier bags with stuff of mine, you know, so they’d think I really was shopping, but I was counting on Shinola. She was the one who would have to create the distraction.

For once Shinola did what I wanted her to do. The second we walked into the shop she started howling. I leaned over her buggy to comfort her, but she wasn’t having any of it. There were a couple of other customers and two salesgirls in the shop, and they all gave me sympathetic smiles. I tried rocking the buggy, but the shop was so small that I couldn’t help bumping into things. I kept apologizing and trying to calm her down. I became frazzled and distressed. I lifted her out, blankets and all.

“Please, love…” I begged loudly. “We have to find something for your dad.”

Everybody else became frazzled and distressed, too. One of my fellow shoppers fled and the other grabbed a pair of boxers and a scarf and raced to the till. I slipped the socks into Shinola’s quilt and stuck her back in her buggy.

Still projecting, the way they taught us to in drama, I said, “We’ll have to go if you’re going to carry on like this. We’ll come back tomorrow.”

And that was that: a piece of cake. Chocolate with cherries on top.

I turned the buggy round and started towards the door.

“I’ll be back,” I promised the salesgirls.

They smiled and waved and called back “Bye” and “See you later.”

But just as I got to the door my luck changed.

A group of girls, weighed down with about a dozen carrier bags each, charged in. They were giggling insanely over something. I was about to push past them when I realized who they were.

I was astonished. That’s the only word for it: astonished. I mean, how many shops are there in London? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Tens of thousands of shops and twenty-four hours in a day, and at exactly the same time as me, Shanee, Gerri and Amie are overcome by an irresistible desire to buy socks on Oxford Street. There must be a God; this sort of thing couldn’t happen without planning.

“Lana!”

“Lana!”

“Lana!”

Shinola, taking her cue from God, went as quiet as a flower. The little treasure. I could’ve thrown her through the window.

“Shanee! Gerri! Amie!” I shrieked back. “What are you doing here?”

“Christmas shopping,” said Shanee.

“This is the last stop,” said Amie. “I’m shopped out.”

Gerri laughed. “You’re never shopped out till you’re dead.”

“What about you?” asked Shanee. She gave me a smile. “Looking for something for Dad?”

I smiled back. “Yeah, only Shinola’s been fussing, so I’m taking her home.”

Amie made a face at Shinola, who, leaving my script completely, smiled back and gurgled.

“She seems all right now,” said Gerri.

“We won’t be long,” said Shanee. “Why don’t you wait and we can all go home together?”