Preoccupied with checking her phone for a message from her boss, the length of the queue she was in and the question of whether the baby needed one or two giant cookies for breakfast, Jenny didn’t notice the woman’s splayed palms until they landed squarely on her stomach. She jumped so high she nearly lost hold of her sandwich.

‘Look at your beautiful bump! How long have you got?’

Jenny took a small step backwards. ‘Five weeks.’ It wasn’t a problem that the woman was touching The Bump – although a bit of warning might be nice – but there was no time for a conversation about the delights of pregnancy today. Eva was an even-tempered boss, but she hated lateness more than a missing apostrophe, and Jenny needed her in a good mood. She pushed her sandwich along the counter and focused on the jar of cookies. Avoid eye contact. Buy the sandwich. Get to work.

But Queue Woman didn’t get the message. ‘Is this your first one?’

‘Yep.’ Jenny nodded. ‘First one.’

Here came The All-Knowing Smile. She got it a lot now. Why did everyone assume they knew better than her?

‘You’ve certainly got a lot of changes coming your—’ Leaning forward, the woman scrutinised Jenny’s sandwich. ‘Is that bacon and brie?’

Jenny knew what was coming next. ‘Actually, I’ve researched and apparently…’

Queue Woman snatched the sandwich out of her hands, scanned the selection on the counter and replaced it with a ham and cheddar panini. ‘Thank God I was here. You nearly ate soft cheese!’ The Smile again. Accompanied by a shake of the head. ‘Pregnancy brain.’ Leaning down, she stage-whispered at Jenny’s stomach. ‘Silly Mummy.’

Jenny looked at the ceiling. She just wanted to buy a sandwich – and a cookie or two – and get to work. At least in the office people still talked to her face rather than her midriff. They’d enjoyed their joke of pointedly counting off the months since her wedding and had then barely mentioned her pregnancy since.

But now she needed to talk about it. Maternity leave started next week and she still hadn’t been able to pin down her boss about the plan for her column. Eva had evaded her questions, as if the ‘Girl About Town’ articles would write themselves. Admittedly, they wouldn’t need to cover the column for long because Jenny was only going to be off for six months and she’d also pick up some of the work from home once the baby was settled. Writing when it slept.

Queue Woman was back at face level. Frowning.

‘You look tired. Do you need to sit down?’ She lowered her voice. ‘My friend was about your age when she had her first baby and she said it was exhausting.’

Thirty-seven is not old! Jenny bit her tongue. Even her doctor had said her ovaries were chucking out eggs like the last day of the January sales and that she should ‘get on with it’ if she wanted a baby. Just showed how much he knew.

‘No, I’m fine, thanks. Really.’

The queue began to move and Jenny bought the panini she hadn’t chosen, three cookies and a large latte – decaf, to avoid another lecture. On the way out, her mobile buzzed in her bag. A message from Eva.

At last.

---

If Eva asked for something to be done soon, it meant now. But Jenny’s bladder, or the baby sitting on it, couldn’t have cared less. Halfway back to the office, she had to waddle furiously into M&S to find a toilet.

Thank God. No queue. But the cubicles were built for toothpicks. Reversing in seemed easiest, but she still whacked her elbow on the wall trying to wriggle her maternity tights off her hips. These reinforced passion-killers had become a begrudged necessity. The other option was maternity trousers, but their elasticated front sections made her feel like an entrant to a pie-eating contest.

Maybe Queue Woman was partly right. Some things had changed in the last few months. For a start, Jenny’s idea of a good time had become lying on the sofa watching First Dates whilst licking Marmite off the top of a crumpet. But she was pregnant, for goodness’ sake; there was a small human being inside her. Once the baby was here, her body would return to normal and the rest of her life would follow. She’d be able to stay awake past 9 p.m., wear clothes that didn’t resemble camping equipment and be out and about researching nightlife for ‘Girl About Town’.

Finally, she escaped the cubicle. Only to be caught at the wash basins by another one of the ‘It’ll change your life’ brigade. The Bump got another feel. A rather damp one.

‘Oh, look at you! You’re about to pop any minute!’

‘Five weeks to go.’ Maybe she should have a countdown display on her forehead?

Toilet Woman put her head on one side. ‘Oh, I remember it well. Such an exciting time. Getting everything ready, reading all the baby books, thinking up names.’ She motioned towards Jenny’s cup and chuckled. ‘Enjoy your hot drinks while you can. You won’t be getting many of those soon.’

Why wouldn’t she be able to have a hot drink? Because she might spill it over the baby?

‘Sorry, I really need to go. I have to meet my boss and make a plan for my maternity leave.’

Toilet Woman did The All-Knowing Smile. ‘You may feel differently once baby is here. I couldn’t even think about going back to work and leaving mine.’ She sighed. ‘I just loved them too much.’

Jenny felt her morning sickness make a surprise return. Toilet Woman should meet her sister, Claire. The two of them would get along like a 1950s house on fire.

---

The main office of Flair magazine was open plan. Deadline day on a weekly magazine meant a buzz of activity: boxes of beauty product freebies spilled over desks, last-minute telephone conversations hunting down the latest celebrity news, photos of interviewees being approved or rejected. Head-height cubicle walls hid people from sight, but you could hear every phone conversation, every sandwich being unwrapped, from across the room.

Jenny made straight for her desk and flopped onto her chair. She had given up five-inch heels in favour of flats around month six, but that didn’t stop her feet from screaming.

There was a commotion going on at Lucy’s desk; people were shaking her hand and Lucy was flicking that perfect hair of hers all over the place. Jenny spotted one of their regular freelance photographers, Brian, and beckoned him over.

She used her eyes to motion in Lucy’s direction. ‘What’s going on over there?’

‘Hmm? Where?’ Brian dropped his head and stared at the sheet of proofs he was holding as if they were the most interesting thing he had ever seen. He was attractive if you didn’t know he had the morals of a premiership footballer.

Jenny took the proofs from him and used them to point. ‘Over there. Little Miss Shiny Shoes and friends.’

Brian followed the direction of her gaze as if he had only just noticed the Lucy Fan Club in action. ‘Oh. That. Uh, Lucy just got a, uh, a promotion.’ He picked up a stapler from the desk and studied it, opening and closing the part where the staples went in. ‘You obviously haven’t been told.’

Jenny took the stapler out of his hands. Her heart was beating faster. Maybe that was just the sugar rush from the third cookie. ‘Told what?’

Brian ran a distracted hand through his hair. ‘Why am I always in the wrong place at the wrong time? I try not to get involved with anything, but…’

Jenny grabbed his wrist with both her hands, as if she were about to give him a Chinese burn. ‘Spill.’

Brian took a deep breath and let it out in one go. ‘Eva has given Lucy “Girl About Town”.’

Jenny froze, turned to look at Lucy, then turned back to stare at Brian. She let go of his arm. Maybe she’d misheard him. Or maybe he was confused. ‘Girl About Town’ was her column. ‘Who told you that?’

Brian shrugged, held up his hands and backed away. ‘Don’t shoot the messenger.’

As if on cue, the phone on Jenny’s desk buzzed. Eva’s name flashed up on the screen. Jenny picked it up.

‘I thought I asked you to come and see me as soon as you got in?’