Authors: Wendy Perriam
M
ARIA GAZED, ENTHRALLED
, at the fuzzy black-and-white shapes on the monitor.
‘Those are the heart valves,’ Sue, the ultrasonographer, explained, ‘and you can see they’re opening and closing exactly as they should. In fact, the heart looks fine altogether.’
Maria exchanged a smile with Amy, who was lying on her back on the couch, her naked belly exposed. As she glanced at its gently swelling curve, then back to the amazing images on-screen, Maria felt secretly glad that Hugo had left, late last night, for a lightning trip to Dubai, so that it was
she
who was here with her daughter, bonded in so intimate a way. He had, of course, accompanied Amy to her first scan, but this second,
twenty-week
one was actually more important, since all the structures of the developing foetus were now clearly visible, making it easier to detect any abnormalities.
So far, there had been none, thank God: head, brain, eyes, lips, spine, heart all given the OK. But although Amy seemed supremely confident about every aspect of the pregnancy, she herself was worryingly aware of the high
incidence
of stillbirths and intrauterine deaths, especially in older mothers. So, as Sue continued checking, first, the foetal lungs and diaphragm, then the stomach and abdominal wall, Maria realized she was holding her breath. One anomaly and the baby’s whole life and future could be threatened.
‘All fine,’ Sue declared, moving the transducer slightly lower. ‘And the kidneys look perfectly normal,’ she added. ‘The urine’s flowing freely into the bladder – again exactly as it should. You may not realize, Amy, that for the last few months your baby’s been doing a secret little pee every half an hour.’
Amy laughed. ‘Good for him – or her!’
‘Well, if you
want
to know the gender, we can probably tell you at this stage.’
‘No,’ Amy put in, quickly. ‘We’d prefer it to be a surprise.’
Maria knew that Hugo was hoping for a boy, whereas her daughter hadn’t stated any preference. She herself had maintained a tactful silence about her fervent wish for a girl. That wish was even stronger since Amy had told her, earlier this morning, that if the baby
were
a girl, she would be christened not just Hannah but Hannah Maria. The news had touched her deeply; even made her feel that, in some mysterious fashion, both she and her mother would live again, in and through this child – and live richer lives, in every sense. Amy had also confided that she and Hugo planned on having a second child, which had delighted her still more. Neither she nor Hanna had managed more than one – nor Theresia, either – so Amy and Hugo’s eventual family would break the unhappy pattern of only children and absent fathers.
‘The placenta’s in a good position,’ Sue confirmed, as she continued with the scan, ‘well away from the cervix. And there’s sufficient amniotic fluid for the baby to move freely. Everything looks fine, in short – no anomalies at all, not at this stage, anyway. I’ll just take a few more measurements and then you’re done and dusted, Amy.’
While her daughter was getting dressed, Maria returned to the
waiting-room
, where she was surrounded by women in various stages of pregnancy. Despite the inappropriate environment, she took the chance to luxuriate in the Kiss again, as she’d been doing almost every minute during the last nine heady days. Not only did it merit a capital letter, it deserved a place in the
Guinness Book of Records
as the most electrifying Kiss in history – and that despite her initial fear that she would be unable to respond. Yet, for all the aching length of time since anyone had kissed her, her lips and mouth and tongue had instantly quickened into life. And the effect had lasted hours. Too fired up even to think of going home, she had walked for miles – walked rapturously and blindly – reliving every tiniest sensation; his tongue still probing hers; his hands still on her breasts ….
‘Right, Mum, all done.’
As Amy breezed back in, she rocketed from Felix’s embrace, experiencing an undertow of guilt. No way could she tell her daughter that she was entangled with a man – a man she hardly knew, a man she was seeing again tonight, when things might go still further. It would seem totally
inappropriate
for someone of her age; someone about to be a grandmother.
‘I suggest we take a taxi,’ Amy said, buttoning up her jacket, ‘and scoot along to Sloane Square. There’s this new baby shop just opened, so I thought we’d have a look at it and maybe buy a few things.’
‘But shouldn’t you be resting after the scan?’
‘Whatever for? It’s just a routine check-up. Damn! I’ve broken a nail. Hold on a sec while I file it smooth.’
‘Sit down to do it.’ Maria patted the adjoining chair. ‘You need to take the weight off your feet. But it’s fantastic, isn’t it, that the scan was so
reassuring
?’
‘I’d say! And Hugo’s delighted, too. I gave him a quick ring just now.’
‘Lord, how are things going? It must be pretty tense.’
‘Well, of course, he’d no idea when all this first cropped up it would ever involve a court case. He just assumed they’d sort things out in an informal sort of way. But the client’s breathing fire and has now issued writs against the main contractor, the sub-contractor
and
the consultancy firm that
originally
appointed Hugo to take charge. Apparently, this particular client is a notoriously bad payer, so I suspect it’s just a ruse on his part, to avoid handing over the final whack of the total cost. Also, Hugo says the wretched guy tends to issue court proceedings on the flimsiest of grounds, so it seems they’re up against a rather tricky character.’
‘I’m sorry to be thick, darling, but I still don’t understand quite what’s going on. I know about the basic problem, but how is Hugo implicated?’
‘Well, as project manager, the client blames him for any fault that develops. And it appears they used an inferior coating to protect all that fancy steel cladding on the hotel’s exterior. In Dubai, steel corrodes very rapidly, because most of the buildings face the sea and there’s masses of salt in the air, so it needs a high-grade protective coating. It’s actually called pvfd – poly vinyl fluoride – but forget the technicalities. The crux of the matter is that the paint’s beginning to peel and the steel’s already rusting. It’s meant to last a good twenty years but, from the looks of things, it won’t last more than a couple. The client’s claiming they deliberately used an inferior coating to save on costs and ratchet up their profits.’
‘But surely Hugo wouldn’t do a thing like that?’
‘No, ’course not. But corruption’s rife over there, so a suspicious Arab client might smell a whiff of it, even when there’s not the slightest cause. Or he may just be indulging in brinkmanship – doing everything he can to get his outstanding payments reduced. And, as far as I can gather, the
contractors
were
rather rushed to complete the project on schedule and may have failed to check the detailed spec. I seem to remember Hugo saying he passed it over to an assistant, and – who knows? – perhaps the fellow just didn’t have the necessary experience.’
‘Gosh, what a ghastly mess!’
‘Yes, and I suspect it’ll drag on quite a while yet. I mean, this is only the initial meeting, when all the experts get together and exchange opinions and
facts. But there’s still a chance they’ll manage to settle out of court, so let’s not spoil our day, Mum.’
Maria concurred entirely. However worrying the whole imbroglio might be, the all-important fact at the moment was that the baby had been given the all clear, at least until the next scan.
‘Right, let’s go.’ Amy jumped to her feet, having finished the nail repair.
Proudly, Maria took her arm as they emerged from the antenatal
department
and sauntered down the corridor. Once they had negotiated the hospital’s huge revolving doors and were outside in the street, Amy darted forward and flagged down an empty cab. An unnecessary extravagance, Maria couldn’t help but think, when three buses were approaching on the opposite side of the road. And, considering the heavy traffic all along the Fulham Road, a taxi would be no quicker than a bus.
‘
Enjoy
it, for heaven’s sake!’ she heard Kate whisper – a voice often in her head these days, now that she and Kate were closer. So she settled back contentedly while Amy rang the office. A taxi ride for her daughter was invariably a chance to catch up on her calls and she was already deep in discussion with Rebecca, her PA.
So, creeping back to Felix again, she relived last Friday’s class, when he’d had a private word with her and begged her to come home with him, once the class was over and the others had all left.
‘Yes!’ her avid body whooped, but her spoilsport mind took a rather different view, urging caution, circumspection; for fear of seeming too eager or – worse – an easy lay. Only after protracted argument had she agreed to postpone the visit till this evening, and her nervousness had been building ever since, wondering what might happen between them. And, if it came to undressing, he was bound to regard her body as too fat. He might even lose all desire and –
‘Great, Mum!’ Amy said, snapping her mobile shut. ‘The client’s not expected until three, which means we can have lunch out, once we’ve been to Babybliss.’
Maria made an effort to banish Felix from the cab. ‘Perfect, darling. It’s a real treat to have some together.’
‘You’re not lonely in London, are you? I’d hate to think you wished you hadn’t come.’
‘No, I’m absolutely fine. I did feel a bit spare at the outset, but now I have my weekly classes and Kate just round the corner, I’ve plenty to do till the baby arrives. Oh, by the way, talking of babies arriving, how are Chloe’s getting on?’
‘Really well, apparently, although she complains she’s as big as three
elephants and too uncomfortable to sleep at night. But the twins are
monitored
every second minute by some frightfully eminent obstetrician. Nicholas works as a hedge-fund manager, so they can afford to go private, you see – and private schools, as well, of course. He’s already planned for the twins to follow him to his old prep school and then to Marlborough. Which reminds me, Mum, we’ve decided to put the baby’s name down for St Peter’s Primary School.’
‘What, now?’ Maria exclaimed. ‘Before it’s even born?’
‘The earlier the better, if you want to be sure of a place. We can’t do a Chloe-and-Nicholas – not with our hefty mortgage. But, according to reports, St Peter’s is the next best thing. And we
are
in the catchment area.’
‘Is that the school behind the cathedral? I’ve passed it several times.’
‘No, that one’s Catholic. St Peter’s is C of E, which poses a bit of a problem, because the vicar’s incredibly strict about prospective parents being paid-up Anglicans. Hugo and I are agnostic, if we’re anything, but we’ve decided it might be worth our while to start showing up at church each week.’
Maria could barely conceal her sense of shock. For all her scepticism towards aspects of the Church, religion for her was so serious a matter it seemed profoundly wrong to adopt a set of beliefs, or change
denominations
, simply to further one’s own advantage. ‘But isn’t there a good state
Catholic
school?’ she asked, partly out of loyalty to Hanna. ‘I went to a pretty decent one myself and that was in the wilds – and so did you, for that matter.’
The car behind started hooting so obstreperously they could barely hear themselves speak. Amy raised her voice above the din. ‘No, nothing in the same class as St Peter’s – or not locally, in any case.’
‘But maybe in the next five years there will be,’ Maria persisted, wondering why she was championing Catholic education when her own faith was so half-hearted. ‘Do you have to decide things quite so early?’
Amy nodded vehemently. ‘The competition’s really fierce, so the sooner we establish an interest, the greater our chances.’
Best let the matter go, she decided, and simply be glad that her
grandchild
would receive a decent education. Besides, the taxi had now pulled up at Babybliss.
‘Oh, what a darling little shop!’ Amy enthused, once they were inside and surrounded by racks of babygros, diminutive sailor-suits and frilly party frocks.
Maria felt it was tempting fate to be buying baby clothes at so early a stage – although Hugo’s mother, Beatrice, clearly didn’t share her concern,
since she had already sent a parcel containing four exquisite matinee jackets and an ostentatious christening gown. Maria gave silent thanks that Hugo’s parents lived in deepest Shropshire and apparently had no desire to pitch in with hands-on baby care, but simply planned occasional visits and a
financial
contribution. She couldn’t compete when it came to such largesse, but at least there would be no rival grandma vying for the day-to-day role. Beatrice had even remarked that she found the title ‘Grandma’ ageing and downbeat and would prefer to be known as ‘Glam-ma’. But how long would glamour last, Maria reflected wryly, when one was intimately involved with a puking, pooing infant?
‘Don’t you just love this shawl?’ Amy held the fine lace against her cheek. ‘It’s so soft it’s like a cobweb.’
‘Yes, it’s beautiful – and I’m going to buy it for you.’
‘Don’t be silly, Mum. It’s not exactly cheap.’
‘No arguments. I want to give you something special for once. It can be your Mother’s Day present – the first time you’ve qualified!’
Amy’s mobile shrilled through her words of thanks. ‘Shit! I hope that’s not Rebecca.’
It
was
Rebecca, so while Amy moved to a quiet corner of the shop to continue with the call, Maria grabbed the shawl and took it to the cash register. Once it had been double-wrapped in layers of tissue and embossed white paper printed with gold storks, she hid it at the bottom of her bag – a surprise for Sunday next. Her money was dwindling fast, since she had splashed out only yesterday on a black lace bra and pants. Tachbrook market had been no help this time: it sold only passion-killing styles in puce-pink nylon or prim white interlock. Not quite the thing for—