Babyville by Jane Green

thinks for a few seconds, then leans forward again with a few Soup-Dragonish noises.
    “Nope,” Jason shakes his head. “That doesn't sound like the Soup-Dragon at all.”
    “Go on, then, you do it.”
    “Can't. I can, however, do a rather good impression of a Clanger.” And with that he says in a singsong voice, “Du du? Du du du du du du. Du. Du du.”
    “That's rubbish!” Julia starts laughing. “They whistled. Like this.” And she purses her lips together and whistles a conversation as the rest of the table stop talking and look at them.
    “Clangers!” shouts Maeve, who has been sitting reasonably quietly on the other side of Jason. Evidently the plan was for Maeve and Jason to get together, but Jason's never been one for redheads, and thus far he's left it to Charles, one half of Charles and Claudia, to keep Maeve amused. “See?” Julia turns to Jason triumphantly. “Told you it was a whistle.”
    “But it wasn't quite a whistle,” says Maeve.
    “See?” Jason's turn to be triumphant. “Told you it was my du du.” He du du's a bit more for the benefit of the table, all of whom agree that it definitely wasn't a du du, was more like a whistle.
    “Okay, okay,” Bella interrupts with a hand up in the air just as the main course is being placed in front of her. “What about
Hector's House
? That was always my favorite.”
    “Hector's House!”
the whole table chorus in delight, all being roughly the same age, all having grown up with the same television programs.
    “What was
Hector's House
about, though?” asks Jason, as everyone starts laughing, convinced that they loved it, despite no one fully remembering it.
    “Mr. Benn!”
Julia shouts, aware now that this has become a nostalgia free-for-all.
    “Now there was someone who really should have come out of the closet years ago.” Jason raises his glass in a silent toast to Mr. Benn.
    Everyone has something to offer.
Crystal Tipps and Alistair; Mary, Mungo and Midge;
and then the pièce de résistance:
Pipkins.
    “Oh God,” groans Julia. “I loved Pipkins. Remember what a snob Octavia was?”
    “And what about Hartley Hare?” Nobody has noticed Sam and Chris making their way round the table to their seats, and everyone starts laughing. Hartley Hare. Who has even thought about Hartley Hare for years?
    Bella stands up to give Sam a hug, although it's not easy with the ever-growing baby.
    “Twins?” Bella cannot resist, and Sam hits her.
    “Oh fuck off,” she laughs, because she knows that Bella knows how fed up she is with being told she must be carrying an entire rugby team.
    “You look exhausted, Chris,” Julia says, turning to Sam's husband, who reaches over to kiss her on the cheek, then raises his eyebrows.
    “Not bloody surprising, given that Sam is either lumbering out of bed to go to the bloody loo about thirty times a night, and not even trying to keep the noise down in the bathroom, or tossing and turning and making the whole bloody house rock.”
    He looks terrible. Exhausted, but as he says this he gives Sam's shoulder an affectionate squeeze all the same.
    “Why should I be the only one to suffer?” Sam huffs, sitting as close to the table as she can while pulling a giant-sized bottle of Gaviscon out of her bag, thumping it on the table next to her wineglass.
    “What the hell is that?” Bella points at the green bottle with a look of horror on her face as Sam undoes the cap and takes a giant swig straight from the bottle.
    “Heartburn,” Sam explains, sighing with obvious relief as it hits the spot. “Everyone says that if you have terrible heartburn—which I have—then you're having a very hairy baby.”
    “Is that true?” Mark is fascinated.
    “Apparently so, but it wouldn't surprise me. Like mother like daughter.” She catches Chris's eye. “Or son, but all I can tell you is at this rate I really am going to be giving birth to a monkey.”
    Sam and Bella are soon catching up on all their news, and Julia is