Graham! Our first little grandchild. It looks
just
like my mother!”
“Your mother?” retorts Dad incredulously, grabbing the prints from her. “Are you blind?”
“Becky, I’ve knitted a few bits and pieces for the baby,” Janice puts in timidly. “Some little matinee jackets…a shawl…a Noah’s Ark set…I made
three
of each animal, just in case of mishap….”
“Janice, that’s so kind of you,” I say, touched.
“It’s no trouble, love! I enjoy knitting. Of course, I always hoped that Tom and Lucy might…” Janice trails off with a brave, bright smile. “But that wasn’t to be.”
“How is Tom?” I ask cautiously.
Tom is Janice’s son. He’s about the same age as me, and got married three years ago, in this big, fancy wedding. But then it all went a bit wrong. His wife, Lucy, got a tattoo and ran off with a guy who lived in a caravan, and Tom turned very weird and started building a summerhouse in his parents’ back garden.
“Oh, Tom’s very well! He lives mainly in the summerhouse now. We leave him food on trays.” Janice looks a little beleaguered. “He says he’s writing a book.”
“Oh, right!” I say encouragingly. “About what?”
“The state of society.” She swallows. “Apparently.”
There’s silence as we all digest this.
“What sort of state does he think society’s in?” asks Suze.
“Not very good,” whispers Janice.
“Have another cup of tea, Janice, love.” Mum pats her hand comfortingly. “Or a sherry?”
“Just a small sherry,” says Janice after a pause. “I’ll help myself.”
As she heads across the room to the drinks cabinet, Mum puts down her cup. “
Now
, Becky,” she says. “Did you bring all your catalogs?”
“Here!” I reach for the bag I brought in with me. “I’ve got Blooming Marvellous, Great Little Trading Company, The Little White Company….”
“I brought JoJo Maman Bébé,” chimes in Suze. “And Italian Baby Cashmere.”
“I’ve got all of those.” Mum nods, reaching for a stack of catalogs in the magazine rack. “Have you got Funky Baba?” She waves a catalog bearing a picture of a baby in a clown costume.
“Ooh!” says Suze. “I haven’t seen that one!”
“You take that,” I say. “I’ll take Petit Enfant. Mum, you do Luxury Baby.”
With a happy sigh we all settle down to flicking through images of infants on playmats and wearing cute T-shirts and being toted in stylish baby carriers. Honestly, it’s worth having a baby just for all the gorgeous
stuff
.
“I’ll turn down the corner of the page if I see something you should get,” says Mum in a businesslike way.
“OK, me too,” I say, fixated on a spread of babies dressed up as animals. We
have
to get the baby a polar bear snowsuit. I turn down the corner and flip to the next page, which is full of adorable miniature ski-wear. And look at the tiny pom-pom hats!
“Luke, I think we should take the baby skiing from really early on,” I say as he enters the room. “It’ll help its development.”
“
Skiing
?” He looks taken aback. “Becky, I thought you hated skiing.”
I do hate skiing.
Maybe we could go to Val d’lsère or somewhere and wear the cool clothes and just not ski.
“Becky!” Mum interrupts my thoughts. “Look at this crib. It has a built-in temperature control, lullaby light show, and soothing vibrating action.”
“Wow,” I breathe, looking at the picture. “That’s
amazing
! How much is it?”
“The deluxe version is…twelve hundred pounds,” says Mum, consulting the text.
“Twelve hundred pounds?” Luke nearly chokes on his cup of tea. “For a
crib
? Are you serious?”
“It’s state of the art,” points out Suze. “It uses NASA technology.”
“NASA technology?” He gives an incredulous snort. “Are we planning to send the baby into space?”
“Don’t you want the best for your child, Luke?” I retort. “What do you think, Janice?”
I look across the room, but Janice hasn’t
just
like my mother!”
“Your mother?” retorts Dad incredulously, grabbing the prints from her. “Are you blind?”
“Becky, I’ve knitted a few bits and pieces for the baby,” Janice puts in timidly. “Some little matinee jackets…a shawl…a Noah’s Ark set…I made
three
of each animal, just in case of mishap….”
“Janice, that’s so kind of you,” I say, touched.
“It’s no trouble, love! I enjoy knitting. Of course, I always hoped that Tom and Lucy might…” Janice trails off with a brave, bright smile. “But that wasn’t to be.”
“How is Tom?” I ask cautiously.
Tom is Janice’s son. He’s about the same age as me, and got married three years ago, in this big, fancy wedding. But then it all went a bit wrong. His wife, Lucy, got a tattoo and ran off with a guy who lived in a caravan, and Tom turned very weird and started building a summerhouse in his parents’ back garden.
“Oh, Tom’s very well! He lives mainly in the summerhouse now. We leave him food on trays.” Janice looks a little beleaguered. “He says he’s writing a book.”
“Oh, right!” I say encouragingly. “About what?”
“The state of society.” She swallows. “Apparently.”
There’s silence as we all digest this.
“What sort of state does he think society’s in?” asks Suze.
“Not very good,” whispers Janice.
“Have another cup of tea, Janice, love.” Mum pats her hand comfortingly. “Or a sherry?”
“Just a small sherry,” says Janice after a pause. “I’ll help myself.”
As she heads across the room to the drinks cabinet, Mum puts down her cup. “
Now
, Becky,” she says. “Did you bring all your catalogs?”
“Here!” I reach for the bag I brought in with me. “I’ve got Blooming Marvellous, Great Little Trading Company, The Little White Company….”
“I brought JoJo Maman Bébé,” chimes in Suze. “And Italian Baby Cashmere.”
“I’ve got all of those.” Mum nods, reaching for a stack of catalogs in the magazine rack. “Have you got Funky Baba?” She waves a catalog bearing a picture of a baby in a clown costume.
“Ooh!” says Suze. “I haven’t seen that one!”
“You take that,” I say. “I’ll take Petit Enfant. Mum, you do Luxury Baby.”
With a happy sigh we all settle down to flicking through images of infants on playmats and wearing cute T-shirts and being toted in stylish baby carriers. Honestly, it’s worth having a baby just for all the gorgeous
stuff
.
“I’ll turn down the corner of the page if I see something you should get,” says Mum in a businesslike way.
“OK, me too,” I say, fixated on a spread of babies dressed up as animals. We
have
to get the baby a polar bear snowsuit. I turn down the corner and flip to the next page, which is full of adorable miniature ski-wear. And look at the tiny pom-pom hats!
“Luke, I think we should take the baby skiing from really early on,” I say as he enters the room. “It’ll help its development.”
“
Skiing
?” He looks taken aback. “Becky, I thought you hated skiing.”
I do hate skiing.
Maybe we could go to Val d’lsère or somewhere and wear the cool clothes and just not ski.
“Becky!” Mum interrupts my thoughts. “Look at this crib. It has a built-in temperature control, lullaby light show, and soothing vibrating action.”
“Wow,” I breathe, looking at the picture. “That’s
amazing
! How much is it?”
“The deluxe version is…twelve hundred pounds,” says Mum, consulting the text.
“Twelve hundred pounds?” Luke nearly chokes on his cup of tea. “For a
crib
? Are you serious?”
“It’s state of the art,” points out Suze. “It uses NASA technology.”
“NASA technology?” He gives an incredulous snort. “Are we planning to send the baby into space?”
“Don’t you want the best for your child, Luke?” I retort. “What do you think, Janice?”
I look across the room, but Janice hasn’t
Similar Books
