As luck would have it, we don’t have to wait long for our first appointment with a midwife. A couple of days after seeing Doctor Maxwell, Scott and I are at the hospital to meet the person who’ll be guiding us through the next six months.
‘Nervous?’ he asks, casting me a sideways glance.
I grimace. ‘A little bit, what about you?’
He swallows hard but styles it out with an easy smile. ‘Weirdly yeah, but I don’t know why! I did some reading on the internet and we’re basically just going to be chatting about things like birth plans and prenatal care.’
I stifle a giggle. ‘Well, aren’t you just a big pregnancy encyclopaedia!’
He blushes. ‘Don’t laugh at me, I wanted to be prepared! I’ve got no experience of this stuff, so I didn’t know what to expect.’
‘Well you know at the twenty-week scan, they beam me up to the mother ship and start the experiments,’ I joke.
He gives my arm a playful push. ‘Very funny! Don’t pretend you haven’t been reading up on stuff too.’
It’s my turn to blush. ‘I started looking stuff up online yesterday, but I scared myself too much. Reading articles on pre-eclampsia and placenta praevia isn’t a great idea!’
‘Reminds me of when you used that online symptom checker and it said you probably had malaria!’ He laughs. ‘I told my mum about the baby. She called me a “silly boy” when I told her we weren’t together anymore, but she’s pretty excited about the whole thing.’
I try not to make my relief too visible. Some people find my mum scary – which, sometimes, she is – but she has nothing on Scott’s mum. Although she’s been nothing but lovely to me the handful of times I’ve met her, I’m petrified of the woman. She’s also married to a very rich man, so I’m fairly sure she has the means to get rid of me if she wants.
A door to my right opens and a friendly-looking woman steps into the waiting room.
‘Cleopatra Jones?’
There’s something about the kindness in the woman’s face that doesn’t make me cringe when I hear my full name. Scott and I stand up and she turns to face us.
‘That’s me!’ I say with a wave.
‘My name’s Lisa,’ the woman replies. ‘If you’d like to follow me, we’ll go through and get started.’
We follow her to a bright, sunny consulting room and sit down opposite her at a large desk. On the far wall, there’s a bed surrounded by a curtain that I really hope I don’t need to use today.
‘Don’t look so nervous,’ Lisa says with a reassuring smile. ‘We’re just going to have a chat about your pregnancy today, and things like where you might want to have the baby.’
‘Hospital is obviously the best choice,’ Scott says almost straight away. ‘There’s access to equipment, pain relief, medical professionals if something goes wrong. It’s a no-brainer.’
I fold my arms and glare at him. This big pregnancy encyclopaedia thing could get annoying very quickly if he keeps this up.
‘Actually,’ I say, trying to keep my voice calm and even. ‘I wouldn’t mind hearing about some of the other options.’
He frowns. ‘Like what, giving birth in a box under the stairs like a cat?’
Luckily for him, Lisa decides to interject. ‘There are lots of other birthing options if you don’t want to be here in the hospital. There’s a birthing centre not too far from here that specialises in water births, for example.’
Scott scoffs, but I cut in before he can voice his objections. ‘I’d like to know more about water births. I’ve heard it’s a really relaxing way to bring the baby into the world.’
Out the corner of my eye, I can see him fold his arms and shake his head. He’s muttering under his breath, but I’m not paying any attention to him. Lisa’s grin broadens. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s enjoying him being so uncomfortable.
‘A lot of women find them really beneficial. The water provides good pain relief and an informal environment to give birth in. I’ve got a leaflet here if you want to look at it?’
Scott decides he can’t help himself anymore and sits forward. ‘An informal environment is all well and good, but what if something goes wrong? Say a problem develops and we need a medical team. What happens then?’
I grit my teeth. ‘We won’t need anything, Scott. I’m the one who’s going to be giving birth, so maybe I should be the one asking the questions.’
He takes note of my tone and frowns. I give him a look that suggests we’ll be having words when this appointment’s over, so he should brace himself.
‘I’ll take that leaflet on water births, thanks,’ I say with a sweet smile.
*
We leave after a huge discussion on everything baby-related and booking the sixteen and twenty-week appointments. I make Lisa aware of my struggles with bulimia and body dysmorphia and she mentions that there’s counselling available if I want it. She checks my weight and measures my BMI to put it on my file. It’s a pretty special moment to hear I’m in a healthy range for both, but I manage to hold back my tears.
Scott, meanwhile, apparently has opinions on breastfeeding (‘it’s the only choice, Cleo!’), antenatal classes (‘we should start them as soon as possible’) and pain relief options (‘the stronger the better’). He apparently didn’t learn his lesson during the water birth discussion. By the time the appointment’s finished, I could quite happily strangle him.
‘You just had to jump in at every opportunity, didn’t you?’ I shout as we head to his car. I’m so angry I almost drop my pregnancy notes in a puddle. ‘I know you’ve been doing a lot of reading Scott, but you need to rein it in! And don’t dismiss water births altogether either, I’m seriously considering one.’
‘I don’t want my baby to be born in a paddling pool with no medical help!’ he argues. ‘And I’m sorry for getting a bit overexcited, but I’m not sorry for caring about you and the baby. This is a huge deal for me, Cleo, and maybe I went overboard today but it’s only because I want to make sure everything goes smoothly. I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to either of you.’
I take a deep breath and look at him. ‘Nothing’s going to, trust me. Even if I decide to have a water birth, that doesn’t mean something’s going to go wrong. And if it does, the hospital’s really near the birthing centre; they can have me here in five minutes if they need to. I get that this is all new and exciting and a bit scary, but please try and relax. I know you’ve been doing your research, and that’s great, but just try and hold back with the outbursts for a bit, OK?’
Scott nods, digging his hands into his pockets. ‘I can do that. It was a lot to take in today, wasn’t it? I still can’t quite believe this is happening.’
‘You’re telling me,’ I reply, running my hands through my hair. ‘It still hasn’t quite sunk in yet. Listen, Scott … thanks for being here today. With everything that’s been going on with us, I was scared I’d end up going to these appointments by myself and … well, it meant a lot that you were there.’
We stop and face each other for a moment, forgetting we’re standing in the middle of the hospital car park.
‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ he says. His eyes are soft and I’m reminded of just how gorgeous they are. ‘Cleo … no matter what happens with us, you’ll never be alone in this. I promise.’
He reaches for my hand and gives it an affectionate squeeze. I feel myself melt a little as I remember how it used to be between us: the intimacy, the friendship, the trust. For a brief second, I can’t remember what drove us apart …
Until his phone goes off.
He sighs and fishes it out of his jeans pocket. I catch a glimpse of the name on the screen: Kayleigh.
‘Who’s that?’ I ask.
‘Oh, she’s just a new client, that’s all,’ Scott replies. ‘She’s just texting to book her next session with me.’
‘Your clients don’t usually text you, do they?’ I say, trying not to sound like I’m being nosy even though I am. ‘They usually book their next session with you after they’ve finished their latest one.’
He nods and shrugs. ‘Yeah, usually but Kayleigh and I swapped numbers because her workload can be a bit unpredictable sometimes. She finds it easier to book by text when she knows what day she can do.’
Seconds later, his phone goes off again and he bursts out laughing when he reads his new text. My hackles rise, although I’m not sure why.
‘Something funny?’ I try to keep any trace of annoyance out of my voice.
He shakes his head. ‘Nothing, Kayleigh just sent me a funny video of a dog on a skateboard.’
Well, isn’t Kayleigh a hoot?
I grit my teeth and consider asking him to let me see it – I need all the laughs I can get right now, after all – but decide not to. Something about Scott’s new gal pal has me riled, although I’m not sure what it is. Maybe it’s the dopey grin currently plastered to his face as he gazes at his phone, or the pregnancy hormones coursing through my veins but, whatever it is, I’m angry.
‘Isn’t that nice?’ I reply, my voice laced with barely concealed venom. ‘Anyway, I’d better get going. Lots to do and all that.’
I start to walk away and hear Scott jogging to catch up with me. ‘Is everything OK?’ he asks. ‘I mean, you’re not … jealous of Kayleigh, are you? She’s just a client.’
I splutter out an incoherent reply and fold my arms across my chest. ‘Of course I’m not jealous! We’re not together Scott, and we haven’t been for a while. You can see who you like whenever you like. It doesn’t affect me.’
‘Look, I can see you’re clearly upset about it. Plus you’re having my baby, so who I see does affect you, whether you want to admit it or not.’
‘OK, you’re right about that,’ I admit. ‘But I’m not jealous. I meant what I said, we’ve been broken up for over a year now and it’s not looking likely that we’ll get back together. It’s just …weird for me to think of you with someone else, that’s all.’
‘Well it won’t be happening any time soon,’ he assures me. His eyes fall away from me and I can see hurt cross his face. ‘Do you really think there’s no chance of us getting back together?’
The words are so quiet I can barely hear them. ‘Scott, you left me. I didn’t want us to break up; you were the one who said you were going, with or without me. You knew I didn’t want to leave everything we had here, and that we’d have to break up if you went by yourself. I’m sorry, but I don’t see a way back for us.’
He sighs and throws his hands up in the air. ‘Cleo, I know I made a mistake. There wasn’t a day I was in Australia that I didn’t think of you and how much I wished I’d stayed. I want to make it up to you, but you won’t let me! You know, sometimes I think you were waiting for something bad to happen with us. You still see yourself as that shy, anxious girl who was afraid to be a part of the world, don’t you? You still don’t believe that anyone could really love you enough to want to stick around.’
Those words stop me in my tracks. I feel as though someone’s slapped me in the face as I turn around to face him, praying the tears don’t decide to come right now.
‘Well you didn’t, did you?’ I whisper. ‘You just keep on leaving me; first to go to Australia, then you did it again after we spent the night together. I let you love me, I trusted you, and you fucked it up twice. Not me, you. So spare me the armchair psychology, Scott. I’ve got bigger things to worry about right now, like having our baby.’
Before we can snipe at each other anymore, I spin on my heel and stalk across the car park. Scott calls after me to come back so he can explain, but I ignore him. There’s nothing he can say that I’ll want to hear. I curse myself for nearly getting lost in the moment when he took my hand. That certainly won’t be happening again.
*
When I get back to my cottage, I flop onto the couch and burst into tears. Bloody pregnancy hormones. I can’t get the idea of Scott cosying up to his new client out of my mind, no matter how hard I try, and I can’t help feeling like I’m going to be the one holding the baby. He’ll be way too busy gallivanting around with his stunning new girlfriend to bother with me and the baby.
And what happens if he decides he wants to leave again? Maybe he’ll want to seek out a new adventure in America or go back to Australia? What will happen with the baby then? I hate the thought of him or her growing up without a dad because he’s too busy chasing dreams round the world.
I look down at my stomach and pat it. ‘I’m afraid it’s just you and me, kid. We’ll have to be our own little team since Daddy might not be around much.’
How has it come to this, I wonder. How have I ended up alone in my cottage, talking to my unborn baby who, according to Doctor Maxwell, is barely the size of a kumquat? I let my head flop back against the couch as I try to remember the time where my life made sense. In just a few days, my tidy little world has been turned completely upside down and will never be the same again.
I head to the kitchen to see if there’s any chicken paella left in the fridge, but my hand falls away from the handle when I see what’s pinned to the door.
My bucket list.
My wildest dreams, all in one place.
I slip it out of its magnetic holder and can’t resist a smile. Quite a few of the items are ticked off: conquer my body issues, learn a new language, figure out what I really want to do with my life. My eyes drift to the last item – let myself fall in love – and my heart sinks. I ticked it off with unreserved glee when Scott and I finally got together, all the while thinking ‘aren’t I a lucky so-and-so?’ If only I could’ve seen what was around the corner …
I neglected my bucket list for a while before my break-up. As I slipped into comfortable domesticity with Scott, my wildest dreams sort of fell by the wayside. Not forgotten exactly, just put on hold in favour of ‘living in the moment’ with my apparently perfect boyfriend. The remaining items – ridiculously exotic holiday, zorbing, getting a tattoo – can’t exactly be tackled right now, since I’ve got the baby to think of. Slipping into a giant plastic sphere and rolling down a hill doesn’t go well with being nearly three months pregnant. Nevertheless, since I became a single lady again, I’ve made a real effort to tick off the remaining items. It might be almost time to make a whole new list, filled with a whole host of other challenges to complete. If I do, will I be able to fit them in around my new and very unexpected adventure? Can I be Cleo the dreamer and Cleo the mum too?
‘Only me!’ A very familiar voice rings through from the hall.
Oh great, just what I need: an impromptu visit from my mother.
‘I’m in the kitchen!’ I say, heaving a weary sigh. After the day I’ve had, I really can’t face my mum picking over every decision I’ve ever made. She’s not as bad as she used to be, luckily, but still has her moments.
‘Oh Cleo, you look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards! Please tell me you didn’t go out in public like that,’ she says, throwing her bag on the counter and coming over to fix my hair.
‘It’s a messy bun, Mum! Please, just leave it eh?’ I jerk my head away from her grasp and put my bun back to normal.
She fixes me with a suspicious stare, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes. ‘Where were you off to so early this morning anyway? And you’ve got your black blazer on; you usually only wear that when you’ve got an interview.’
My brain makes frantic scrambles as it tries to find a valid excuse. I can’t tell her where I’ve really been; I’m just not ready yet.
Think Cleo, think!
‘I was … erm … I was …’
I’m quite literally saved by the bell. As I make a mad dash down the hall to see who’s at the door, I breathe a huge sigh of relief. I’ve never been so grateful for a well-timed distraction.
I throw open the door and Scott barges in without so much as a casual hello.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ I ask, not entirely sure I want to know the answer.
‘Well, we didn’t exactly leave things on good terms this morning, did we? Not after you stormed off again!’ he shouts.
My eyes dart to the kitchen and I cross my fingers that Mum hasn’t heard the commotion just yet. That’s the last thing I need today.
‘Please Scott, keep your voice down,’ I whisper pleadingly.
‘No, I won’t keep my bloody voice down! For the last eight weeks, you’ve pushed me away and I’ve had enough, Cleo! I’m going to tell you exactly why I left you the morning after we spent the night together and we’re finally going to clear the air about Australia too. Maybe then we can find a way to move forward. If you don’t like what I have to say then I’ll leave, but at least listen to me.’
I can hear some footsteps coming from the kitchen. It’s my very own Jaws theme tune; my mum’s getting closer.
‘Scott, look—’
‘No Cleo, we have to find some way of clearing the air between us. It’s not just about us anymore, is it? In six months, we’re going to be parents and if we can’t be around each other, it’s the baby who’ll lose out. I don’t want to miss out on being part of my child’s life.’
‘And what baby would that be, Cleopatra?’
Any hope I had of stopping my mum from finding out about the baby is well and truly gone. I shoot Scott a murderous glare, then turn around to face the music.
‘Mum … I’m pregnant. Ten weeks, and Scott’s the father. We … spent the night together after he got back from Australia, but we aren’t getting back together.’
An eerie silence falls over my cottage as I wait for someone, anyone to react. Mum stares right at me, looking like she’s about to pass out, and Scott doesn’t know where to put himself.
‘I …’ Mum swallows and pauses as she clutches her chest. Her skin is the colour of chalk and she grabs onto the kitchen doorframe.
Scott and I exchange worried looks.
‘Mum, are you OK?’ I ask. ‘Scott, run and get her a glass of water please.’
He dashes off towards the kitchen while I try to manoeuvre Mum into the living room to sit down. It’s no mean feat doing it on my own, but I eventually manage it. Her head sinks forward and she covers her face with her hands. A strange noise follows, one that sounds like a cat having its tail stood on. I back away towards the door to give her some space, not wanting to startle her by getting too close. Scott returns a few seconds later with the glass of water.
‘Is she OK?’ he whispers. ‘Has she said anything? That noise doesn’t sound good.’
I shake my head. ‘No, she’s just sort of … sitting there, really. Do you think she needs to see a doctor?’
He shrugs. ‘I don’t know, I’ve never seen her like this before.’ He turns to look at me. ‘You know, it’s kind of funny, isn’t it? It’s taken your mum having a meltdown for us to be civil to one another.’
I chuckle and nod in agreement. ‘Yeah, we were at each other’s throats a minute ago, and now we’re trying to work out if my mum’s been possessed or not! Should I go up to her, maybe give her a hug?’
Scott frowns as he observes her. ‘No, stay back for a minute. She might lash out or something and I don’t want her hurting you.’
‘I can hear, you know!’ she yells from the sofa. ‘I might be in shock, but I haven’t gone deaf!’
I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘Are you OK, Mum? Do you want a cup of tea or something?’
She looks up at me and I can see tears shining in her eyes. ‘What I want is for you to sit down and tell me how you’ve made such a God-awful mess of your life. But a cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss either, I suppose.’
I look at Scott, who nods and slopes back off to the kitchen. I perch myself on the edge of an armchair and prepare for a medley of ‘how could you? What will people think?’ Maybe there’ll even be a special encore performance of her favourite number, ‘you’re a bitter, crushing disappointment’.
‘So …’ Mum trails off for a moment to collect herself. ‘What’s been going on, Cleopatra?’
That question is a lot harder to answer than it might sound. My mouth opens and closes as I try to work out the best way to tell her everything. Eventually, I decide there’s no way to make it sound better. I’m just going to have to come out with it and hope for the best.
‘Scott and I … we bumped into each other in the pub after he got back to Silverdale.’ I decide to gloss over the finer details for now. ‘And a few days ago, I found out I was pregnant. We’re not getting back together for the baby’s sake; in fact, we haven’t really decided what we’re doing yet. But we’ll figure it out, OK? And you’ll be an awesome grandma!’
Scott comes back, carrying two cups of tea. He hands one to me and puts my mum’s on the coffee table.
‘She’s right,’ he replies. ‘The baby will be lucky to have you as a grandma.’
Mum’s head snaps up and I can see a murderous glare on her face. ‘Under no circumstances will I be called grandma! The baby can call me Nina, since that’s my name.’
Scott and I burst into fits of giggles and as the heavy atmosphere disperses, I finally feel that everything might be alright after all.