“The Cavendish? The one with all the double beds and wine lists?”

“Yes.” I can’t help a smirk.

“You’re so lucky, Bex! And what’s Venetia Carter like?”

“She’s fab! She’s really young, and cool, and she has all these really interesting ideas about childbirth, and”—I hesitate—“and she’s Luke’s ex-girlfriend. Isn’t that amazing?”

“She’s…what?” Suze sounds like she can’t believe her ears.

“She’s Luke’s ex. They went out at Cambridge together.”

“You’re having your baby delivered by Luke’s ex-girlfriend?”

First Mum, then Suze. What’s wrong with everyone?

“Yes!” I say defensively. “Why not? It was years ago and it only lasted about five minutes. And she’s attached to someone else now. What’s the problem?”

“It just seems a bit…weird, don’t you think?”

“It’s not weird! Suze, we’re all grown-ups. We’re all mature, professional people. I think we can get past some old, meaningless fling, don’t you?”

“But I mean, she’ll be…you know! Poking about.”

This thought had crossed my mind. But then, is it any worse than Dr. Braine poking about? To be honest, I’m in denial about this whole birth business happening at all. I’m half hoping they’ll invent some new labor-substitute device by the time I reach my due date.

“I’d be paranoid!” Suze is saying. “I once met this ex of Tarkie’s—”

“Tarquin has an ex?” I say in astonishment, before I realize how this sounds.

“Flissy Menkin. Of the Somerset Menkins?”

“Of course,” I say, as though I have a clue what the Somerset Menkins might be. They sound like china pots. Or some kind of galloping disease.

“I knew she was going to be at this wedding last year, and I practically spent the whole week getting ready. And that was with clothes on!”

“Well, I’ll get a really good bikini wax,” I say airily. “And maybe I’ll have a cesarean. And the point is, she’s the top baby-deliverer in the country! She should be used to it by now, don’t you think?”

“I s’pose.” Suze still sounds doubtful. “But still. Bex, if I were you, I’d steer clear. Go back to your other doctor.”

“I don’t want to steer clear.” I feel like stamping my foot. “And I totally trust Luke,” I add as an afterthought.

“Of course!” says Suze hastily. “Of course you do. So…did he chuck her, or the other way around?”

“I don’t know,” I admit.

“Hasn’t he told you?”

“I haven’t asked him! It’s irrelevant!” Suze is starting to rattle me with all her questions. “Guess what? I got Crème de la Mer in the welcome pack,” I say to distract her. “And a voucher for Champneys!”

“Ooh!” Suze perks up. “Can you take a guest?”

I’m not going to let Suze and Mum freak me out. They don’t know anything about it! Luke and I have a totally stable, trusting relationship. We’re having a baby together. I feel totally secure.

On the way home that night I pop into Hollis Franklin quickly, just to look at baby linen. Hollis Franklin is such a gorgeous shop, it’s got a Royal Warrant and apparently the Queen herself shops there! I spend a happy hour looking at different thread counts, and by the time I arrive back home, it’s seven. Luke is in the kitchen, drinking a beer and watching the news.

“Hi!” I say, putting down my bags. “I got the baby some sheets from Hollis Franklin!” I pull out a tiny crib sheet embroidered with a tiny crest in each corner. “Isn’t that adorable?”

“Very nice,” says Luke, examining it. Then he catches sight of the price tag and blanches. “Jesus. You paid that for a baby sheet?”

“They’re the best,” I explain. “They’re four hundred thread count!”

“Does the baby need four hundred thread count? You realize it’ll throw up on these sheets?”

“The baby would never throw up on a Hollis Franklin sheet!” I say, indignant. “It knows better than that.” I pat my bump. “Don’t you, darling?”

Luke rolls his eyes. “If you say so.” He puts the sheet down. “And what’s in the bigger bag?”

“Matching sheets for us. The duvet cover’s coming separately, and the pillow shams as soon as they’re in stock—” I break off at his appalled expression. “Luke, we’ll have the crib in our bedroom! We have to coordinate!”