And Baby Makes Two

him. He probably had another girlfriend. Maybe more than one. That was why he was always so busy. I wondered who he really went to Greece with. Or maybe he went to Greece like he went to Norwich. Maybe he’d been in London all the time. All the time I was sitting in the house on my own. All the time I was in labour. All the time.

I made up our love. I made up our happiness. I made up our future and our present. But of all the things I made up maybe the worst thing was that I made up Les. He wasn’t independent. He wasn’t going to be a big success. He wasn’t even very nice really. He was just OK. He was an OK bloke with a boring job he pretended was important who still lived with his mum. For all I knew, she did pick out his clothes. Maybe he didn’t even have good dress sense.

I kept hearing Shanee say, You’re only young once… You’re only young once…

Yeah, I thought. And I’d thrown it away. I’d never done anything in my whole life that wasn’t a mistake.

I was only young once and now I was old. Five years from now, I’d still be exactly where I was. I’d be scrimping for this and saving for that. I’d be shopping in Kwik Save and charity shops. I wouldn’t go to art school like Shanee, or for weekends in the country with my friends. I’d never have my dream house or my dream family. Because that was all they were. Just dreams. My real house was the flat I’d lived in since I was little. My real family was Shinola.

We passed Shanee’s on the way up the road. You could hear the music all the way down at the corner. The music and the laughter and the shouting of teenagers who’d had a few drinks and were having a good time. And for a second I could actually see myself in there with them. Not like I was earlier in the evening, but like I should’ve been. Like who I used to be.

Shinola was crying by the time we got to the flat. I turned the telly on loud so I’d hear another voice and then I got Shinola ready for bed. I did it like I was a robot. Change nappy … heat bottle … put on pyjamas…

She took her bottle all right, but she didn’t want to be put in her cot. Because I’d been holding her so much.

“Tough titties,” I told her. And I slammed the bedroom door behind me.

I could still hear her in the living-room. I turned the telly up even louder and put on the stereo, but I couldn’t drown her out. Mrs Mugurdy started doing her dance on my ceiling. I didn’t want a fight with Mrs Mugurdy just then. I turned everything down and went back to the bedroom.

I had the hall light on, so I could see her even though the room was dark. I looked down on Shinola, wide- awake and screaming, but what I saw was Les’s mother, blocking the entrance to Number Seventy-one and smiling like I was a beggar or something.

She didn’t know about me even vaguely. It never occurred to her that I was Les’s girlfriend. It never occurred to her that I was holding her grandchild in my arms.

And that’s when I finally started to cry.

It was like some giant was shaking me, I was sobbing so much.

What did my life amount to? Bloody nothing, that’s what. I had a ratty old council flat that I’d end up dying in, and a baby named after a shoe polish. And it wasn’t even British shoe polish.

Shinola cried and I cried. I don’t know for how long. And all I wanted was to go back. To go back a year and be Lana Spiggs again, not Shinola Spiggs’ mum. That’s all I wanted. I just wanted to be where I used to be, with a future.

I stopped crying, but Shinola didn’t.

I wished she would go away. Just disappear. Then everything could go back to the way it was. I’d go back to do my GCSEs and go to parties and maybe even go to drama school. Shanee could move in with me and share the flat. We’d be like Friends. Mrs Mugurdy might die and a couple of guys get her flat. Then we’d really be like Friends.

Shinola kept shrieking.

“Shut up!” I shouted. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut bloody up!”

But she wouldn’t, would she?

“Just go away!” I begged. “Just go away!”

Suddenly I saw how easy it would be to wipe the last year right out of my life. Just put the pillow over her head for a couple of minutes. That was all. Just hold it there.

It wasn’t really like I was thinking it, it was like I was dreaming it.

I watched myself pick up the quilt Nan had made her and throw it over Shinola. I watched myself pick up the pillow and put it over her head.

The New Year’s chimes started ringing on the telly. Outside I could hear fireworks and people shouting. I pressed down.

One … two … three … four … five…

One tiny fist poked out from under the quilt and the pillow. It waved in the air.

And I could see her holding on to my hair, the way she always did. She wasn’t covered up in the cot, she was in my arms, pulling my hair so much it hurt. I don’t know, it just got to me, that’s all. It was Shinola’s hand, and there was always gunge between the fingers. I remembered counting them in the hospital.

Six … seven … eight … nine…

I could never go back. Unless I got amnesia, I was never going to be the way I was. If I’d wanted to get rid of Shinola, I should’ve done it before she was born.

Ten … eleven…

If I wasn’t going to go back, then I might as well go forward. I couldn’t see that I had much choice.

I threw the pillow and quilt across the room. Shinola was purple and gasping. I was so scared I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there hugging her.

Twelve…

I hadn’t heard the phone ring but I heard the answering machine pick up.

“Happy New Year, Lana and Shinola!” shouted Hilary and Charley. “Happy New Year!”

Shinola coughed and all this baby snot blew across the front of my dress.

“Well, I guess it’s just you and me,” I told Shinola.

Shinola’s fingers twisted themselves around my hair.

I winced in pain.

“Happy New Year to you, Shinola Spiggs,” I said. “Happy New Year to us.”