Shopaholic & Baby (Shopaholic #5)

Shopaholic & Baby (Shopaholic #5) Page 129

“OK!” I put the face mask over my nose and mouth and breathe in deeply. Wow. This is fantastic! I feel like I just downed a bottle of champagne!

“Hey.” I take the mask away and give Luke a beatific smile. “That’s really nice. You should try it.”

“Becky, you’re doing amazingly.” He’s clasping my hand tight, not taking his eyes off me. “Is everything OK? Is everything going according to your birth plan?”

“Er…most things!” I say, avoiding his eyes, and quickly suck in some more gas and air. Oh God. I have to tell him. I have to.

“Luke…” I lean forward, feeling a bit tipsy from the gas and air. “Listen,” I whisper in his ear. “I’m not having the baby.”

“Darling, don’t worry.” Luke strokes my forehead. “No one’s in any hurry. It takes as long as it takes.”

Actually…there’s a thought. I mean, the baby’s going to come out sometime, isn’t it? I could just stay here and not say anything and drink Lucozade and watch the telly. And eventually something will happen and they’ll just say, “Becky was in labor for two weeks, poor thing!”

“I spoke to Dr. Braine, by the way,” Luke adds. “He’s on his way over from the Portland.”

“Oh.” I try to hide my dismay. “Great!”

In desperation I breathe in the gas and air again, trying to come up with a plan. Maybe the bathroom has a window I could climb out of. Or I could say I want to walk down the corridor, and then find a newborn baby and just quickly borrow it for a moment….

“I thought you were with Venetia Carter?” Paula stops writing on my notes. “Isn’t she on her way?” She glances at her watch. “If not, one of the senior midwives will need to examine you soon. Are you feeling any pressure, Becky?”

“Um…a bit, yes!”

She has no idea.

“Here.” Louisa gives me a pot of oil to sniff. “Clary sage for stress.”

“So, Paula, does labor ever go…backward?” I ask the question casually, trying to hide my sudden spark of hope.

“No.” Paula laughs. “Though it feels like it sometimes!”

“Ha-ha!” I join in her laughter and flop back on my pillows, inhaling the clary sage for stress. What I need is an essential oil for telling people you’re not in labor and they’ve all got to go home.

There’s a knock at the door and Suze looks up. “Ooh. That might be Jess. She said she was on her way….”

“Come in!” calls Paula. The door opens. And I freeze.

It’s Venetia. She’s wearing operating scrubs with her hair all bundled into a green cap, and she looks totally glamorous and important, like she’s been saving lives all day.

Bitch.

For an instant Venetia looks pretty shocked too, but then almost at once she comes over to the bed, a professional smile at her lips.

“Becky! I had no idea the patient they paged me about was you. Let’s have a look and see how you’re getting on….” Shetakes off her green cap and her hair tumbles radiantly down her back. “Luke, how long has she been in? Fill me in on what’s been happening.”

She’s doing it again. She’s cutting me out. She’s trying to bewitch Luke.

“Leave me alone!” I exclaim in fury. “I’m not your patient anymore and you’re not having a look at anything, thank you very much.”

Suddenly I don’t care about being in labor. Or pretend-labor. Or whatever I’m in. It’s not too late; I can still have my big confrontation. As everyone gapes, I cast away the gas and air mask and heave myself off the bed.

“Suze, can you give me that bag please?” I say in a trembling voice. “The carrier under the bed.”

“Yes! Here.” Suze hands me the carrier bag. “Is that her?” she adds in my ear.

“Uh-huh.” I nod.

“Cow.”

“That’s a good idea, Becky!” Paula’s saying in bright, uncertain tones. “Keeping upright will help the baby descend….”

“Venetia, I have something to return to you.” My voice is very slightly slurred, which is the fault of that stupid gas and air. And I keep breaking into a smile, which is a bit annoying. But anyway, she’ll get the message.

“Luke doesn’t want these.” I reach into the bag and throw the support stockings at her. They land on the floor and everyone looks at them.

Oh. I’ve got a bit confused.

“I mean…these.” I chuck the cuff link box, hard, and it hits Venetia on the forehead.