Dyan Sheldon - And Baby Makes Two

Gerri started telling me about her new boyfriend. He was a bicycle courier and had a terrific body. Plus, he was gorgeous. Plus, he made good money.

Shinola kept crying, but the Gallaghers’ whining was pretty good at blocking her out. You could only just hear her under the music. Shanee glanced towards the hallway a few times, but I pretended I thought Shinola had gone back to sleep and Shanee didn’t say anything.

I started really enjoying myself again. Only now I didn’t feel grown up, like when I talked about having Shinola. I just felt like me.

Amie had a part-time job in one of the pizza places on the high street. The boss was a miserable old git, but the tips weren’t bad.

Shinola kept crying.

Shanee stood up suddenly. “I think we’d better get going.” She looked towards the hall.

“You don’t have to go so soon,” I said. I grabbed the pot from the table. “Why don’t I make us all more tea?”

Gerri and Amie both looked at Shanee.

“I’ve got stuff to do, too,” said Gerri.

Amie winked. “And I’m expecting an important call.”

That meant a boy.

I had to stop myself from shoving her back in her seat. “He’ll call back,” I insisted. “Just have another cup of tea.”

“Next time,” said Gerri.

Amie nodded. “Yeah, next time, Lana.”

“Why don’t you go and get the baby,” said Shanee. “We can let ourselves out.”

I watched the three of them leave the house from the front window. They didn’t even look back to wave goodbye. They were laughing and talking as though they couldn’t hear Shinola from the road. I knew that they could from the times that I’d left her to ring Les from the phone box so Hilary wouldn’t see the number on the phone bill. You could hear her from the high street.

I watched them all go off towards Shanee’s and I wondered if there would ever be a next time. And then, instead of going to Shinola, I burst into tears myself.

Although Les came round every couple of days before work, he was so busy after being on holiday that it was October before we finally managed to have lunch.

It wasn’t the best day to take Shinola out. I knew that. It was really cold for October and it was pouring down. But I wasn’t going to let a bit of bad weather put me off seeing Les.

Plus, I was really bored of being at home on my own all the time. Shanee was always busy with school and stuff, and, when she did come round, Shinola was always up and squawking so we could never really talk. Amie and Gerri never bothered coming round after that first time at all. They had more important things to do.

Anyway, I was so busy with everything else I had to do that I hadn’t made any more bottles after Shinola had her breakfast. Plus, I wanted her to wear the red and blue tartan dress Shanee gave her, but the tartan dress was still in the laundry from the last time she wore it. So, because of having to make her a couple of bottles, and wash and dry the dress, it took ages to get us ready.

As I was running late, I had to put my eye make-up on with one hand while I held Shinola on my hip with the other. She squirmed and gurgled so much that I ended up with one eye that looked naked and one eye that looked like someone’d punched me, and tears in both. I wiped off as much of the extra as I could.

“It’ll have to do,” I said to our reflection in the mirror. We didn’t look like the pictures I’d seen of Madonna and her baby, that’s for sure. We looked more like one of those advertisements in the paper asking for money to help kids in the Third World.

I sprayed some Tommy Girl on me and a tiny bit on Shinola. Even if we didn’t look like a trendy mother and daughter we could smell like them.

Shinola didn’t like the perfume.

I hoped she wasn’t going to turn out to be a tomboy. I looked down at her. She didn’t look very feminine. In fact, she looked sort of like a boy. What if she turned out to be a lesbian? I hadn’t thought about that.

I almost forgot about Les and lunch for a couple of minutes while I started worrying about all the things Shinola could turn out to be that I hadn’t thought of. I was starting to realize that having a kid wasn’t like buying a dress. When you bought a dress you knew what you’d bought: a dress. If you got home and realized it wasn’t a dress you would actually want to be seen in, alive or dead, you could take it back. But when you had a baby you didn’t really know what you’d got. Shinola drooled down my sweater. And you couldn’t take it back.

I put on another sweater and some more Tommy Girl. By now I was going to be lucky to get to McDonald’s on time, even if we had a helicopter. I threw a couple of nappies and a bottle into Shinola’s bag, stuck her in her buggy, and raced out of the house.

Catching a bus with a baby is about as much fun as catching a bus with a temperamental ostrich under your arm. I tried to take Shinola out every day if I could, so we were used to buses by now, but this was our first bus trip in the rain. Which meant we had more gear than usual. You never go anywhere with a baby without lugging enough stuff to go camping for a week.

To get on the bus, I had to take Shinola out of her buggy and fold it up. To get her out of her buggy, I had to remove her from the plastic bubble. Then, with one hand, I had to fold up the pushchair. Only it wouldn’t fold flat with the plastic bubble inside, and I couldn’t get it locked in place. Then I had to get Shinola and me and the buggy on to the bus. Nobody offered to help, not even when the damn thing sprang open and nearly pulled us back to the pavement.

It was one of those little single-decker buses, and because it was raining, it was packed. So once you got up the stairs there wasn’t actually anywhere to go.

“Seventy pence,” said the driver.

I didn’t have my money ready, and I couldn’t get it out because I only had two hands, and one of them was trying to hold the buggy shut and the other was trying to hold Shinola.

“Could you wait till I put the pushchair away?”

“Seventy pence,” said the driver.

As per usual, Shinola started to cry. I could feel everybody capable of even the slightest movement turn to look at us.

“For God’s sake,” I hissed at her. “Not now !”

But would she listen? Sometimes I worried that she was going to be like her grandmother.

By sort of wedging the buggy between me and the driver, I managed to fish the change from my pocket.

“Move back!” shouted the driver. “Everybody move back!”

I stuck the ticket between my teeth and tried to move back.

It was like trying to get a motorbike through a tin of sardines.

The luggage rack was full.

“Move back! Move back!”

As though she was joining in with the driver, Shinola was wailing, “Wahwah… Wahwah…”

I forced my way towards the back, saying “Excuse me,” and “Pardon me,” every time I whacked somebody with the buggy.

An old lady finally gave me her seat.

“Sounds like he might have a touch of the colic,” she said as we exchanged places.

“ She ,” I corrected. “But I don’t think it’s colic.”

I had no idea what colic was. It’s one of those words that everybody uses but no one ever tells you what it means. Plus, I really didn’t think it was anything like that. I was beginning to think she did it on purpose.

The old lady beamed down on us. “Isn’t he sweet? I remember when mine were that age.” She beamed again. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” she told me. “The time goes very quickly.”

Not quickly enough, if you asked me.

We were late, but Les was later. I reckoned he must’ve been held up in traffic.