Charlotte
Wow. This house is just perfect for today. Perfect.
Nicki didn’t do it justice when she was describing it to me. In fact, she was practically lacklustre about her parents’ new place, but wow, it’s like Grand Designs- tastic . A glass cathedral in the sprawling downs countryside. I whip out my phone and take some pictures, because that’s surely what the house was built for – content. I put my tray onto the gravel and carefully pluck out one of the cupcakes. I hold it in front of the house and take a picture, uploading it with ‘Here for the baby shower for the luckiest baby in the universe!!!!!!!!! Little Women reunited!!!!’. I tag Nicki in, even though she rarely uses social media, then Lauren and Steffi. I return the cupcake to its slot in the tray and bend down to pick them up. OK. I have been too ambitious in how much I can carry from the car in one go. I wish I didn’t have such tiny child arms. I hop up the wooden steps to the front door, knocking on the glass with my elbow. As I wait for someone to answer, I notice that the cupcake icing is melting just from two minutes of being out in this heat. No no no. Don’t ruin the perfect swirl of the buttercream. I watched so many videos on how to get the right flick of my wrist for those. People think you angle the piping bag at a 45-degree angle, but you actually want to ice cupcakes dead on. I made two batches of practice cupcakes to get it right . . . Oh, it’s a shame about the heat. The surroundings would’ve been glorious but everywhere looks like straw. I hope there’s enough fridge space for all the food. I brought three coolers but maybe I should’ve got five, I— Oh, there’s Nicki. Wow, she is so pregnant!
Through the glass door, I see her slightly warped shape waddle into view.
‘Happy baby shower,’ I squeal when she opens the door, putting the cupcakes down again so I can hug her.
‘. Wow, you’re early. I’m not dressed yet . . . sorry.’
‘You’re huge,’ I squeal again. ‘So huge.’ Hugging her is proving to be quite difficult. Nicki is almost six feet tall and the most pregnant I’ve ever seen anyone. My head essentially lines up to the top of her bump.
‘Cheers, ,’ she raises both eyebrows as I pull away.
‘You look gorgeous, of course,’ I add. ‘Glowing. Perfect. Your hair! Your skin!’
She genuinely grins then. ‘Thank you. I feel like a gross fat sweaty whale, but I’ll try and see myself through eyes. Wow, those cupcakes look amazing. Did you make them?’
I nod and wave her away as she tries to lower herself to pick them up. ‘No no. I’ll get them. Wow. Air con. Amazing. I was so worried.’
I pick up the tray and follow Nicki into the main living space. She moves slowly, her hand on her lower back. Does she have pelvic girdle pain? She should go to an osteopath. I know a great one in Richmond. The cool air feels amazing and the cupcakes practically sigh in relief.
‘Yeah, the air con is essential. My parents bought a portable unit. It’s only on in this room, and means we can’t have the big windows open, but it will hopefully stop everything melting. I’ve been standing in front of it the last ten minutes,’ she smiles again. ‘It’s why I’m not dressed.’
‘Perfect. This is just perfect.’ My eyes dart around the room, making calculations about what to put where. Wow, this view. The whole back wall is solid glass and there’s sprawling fields wherever you look. They’re mostly dull and brown but the sight still makes me want to burst into a rendition of ‘Jerusalem’ . The air con unit hums aggressively in the corner, a giant tube running out of it into the glass doors. It ruins the aesthetic slightly – maybe I can cover that with some bunting? I spot the peony wall. ‘Oh, fab! The flowers are here,’ I say. Why have they put it there? In the corridor, so there’s no space to take photos? ‘Do you love them? Aren’t they the best?’
‘They’re . . . there’s a lot of them.’
‘Your baby is so lucky to be born in peony season. Did you plan it?’
‘Oddly enough, no.’
‘You’ll be able to give them peonies for their birthday every year.’
‘I guess. Not sure a baby is going to be that bothered by flowers though. Er . . . what are they for?’
I put the cakes down on the charcoal countertop and bounce over to check it out in more detail. ‘For photos, Nicki! It’s going to be such a lovely backdrop. I’ve got some props too. In my car, along with some other stuff.’
‘Props?’
Why does she sound suspicious?
‘You know, just silly things. Some cardboard storks, nappies, dolls, etc. It’s going to be hilarious.’ People always think photo booths are cheesy until they’re actually in one – then you have to basically yank them out. You can’t go wrong with a photo booth, that’s what I say. Flower walls too. Scorn all you like but they have a siren call.
Did Nicki just shudder? Surely not? She went wild at the photo booth in my wedding. We got given a copy of the pictures and I think Nicki was in at least 75 per cent of them. She waddles over to the air con and stands in front of it again, putting her hands out like she’s warming them in front of a fire. She lifts her top up, closes her eyes, and lets the air attack her bump. I can’t help but look at her stretched stomach with the popped bellybutton.
‘Sorry, give me a moment,’ she says, eyes still closed in bliss. ‘I swear I have to do this every ten minutes to stop my foetus boiling inside of me. The baby’s going to come out fucking . . . poached if this weather continues.’
‘I’m going to get stuff from the car before it all melts.’
‘Do you want some help? My dad’s around here somewhere being useless. But he knows how to carry stuff.’
‘That would be great, thanks. I don’t think I’ve seen your dad since your wedding.’
‘He’s the same. I’ll go find him. Give me another second.’
I gasp quietly as I see the baby move beneath her skin. I expect tears to sting, but none arrive. In fact, I get a thrill. In eight months’ time, if everything goes OK, my stomach will look like that. My body will be stretched, my face doughy, my ankles double their size. I will be at my own baby shower, which will be very difficult to organise as I’ve used up all my manifestation ideas on today.
It’s too hot to wait for Nicki’s dad, so I run back outside, the heat feeling even heavier compared to the air con of the glass house. Just as I’m trying to fit as many baked goods onto my tiny arms as possible, a car pulls up, and out comes Nicki’s mum carrying four giant bags of ice.
‘Oh my, . How are you?’ She greets me with a wide smile. ‘Wow, those all look amazing. Do you need any help?’
‘Hello Mrs Davies. Yes, that would be great.’
She swings all the ice into one hand and loads two cupcake trays onto her other arm. I don’t know why Nicki whinges about her mum and how ‘stressful’ she is. She unpacks my car in five minutes flat, and, even during that time, devises a ‘system’ for what goes where. We’d just finishing floating the dummies when Nicki’s dad comes downstairs wearing the most ridiculous pair of shorts. ‘I’m here to unpack the car,’ he announces, like he’s bringing actual cavalry.
‘Too late Mr Davies,’ I say, plopping the last dummies in. ‘But let’s get a photo of the three of you in front of the peony wall.’ I beckon Nicki over. ‘Come on, closer closer.’ Nicki’s dad stares at the flower wall like it’s made out of triffids. ‘That’s what this is for then?’ He asks.
‘For photos, Dad,’ Nicki replies, turning sideways and cradling her bump while I grin. Nicki acts reluctant, but she also knows her angles. ‘Literally just for photos.’
‘I . . . I’m not sure I get it.’
‘Just smile,’ I tell him. ‘Stand behind Nicki. Yes, that’s it. Well done. Cheese on the count of three. Ready? One, two, three, cheese!’
I take about twelve snaps so there’s hopefully one they all like. What did people do before smartphones? I have vague memories of getting film developed in Boots when I was a child. If you gurned at a key historical moment, you were stuck with that gurn. How did we all cope?
‘You all look wonderful. Right.’ I check the time on my phone. ‘Lauren and Steffi will be here in an hour. Let me just check my spreadsheet.’
‘Spreadsheet?’ Nicki asks, peering over my shoulder.
‘When have I not had a spreadsheet?’ I ask her, and we grin at each other.
‘True. Umm, can I quickly look at the photos you just took?’ I smile again, this time to myself. Told you! Nicki’s secretly as basic as all of us. I hand her my phone and she swipes through.
‘Oh, I look horrific. My face is double the size! Can you take them again?’
‘Of course.’
‘Dad!’ Nicki herds him back like he’s a dog on the loose. To be fair, he was about to stick his finger in the icing of one of the cupcakes. ‘Back here. We’re taking the photo again. I look horrific.’
It takes thirty attempts before there’s one everyone’s happy with. ‘At least the peony wall looks amazing in every photo,’ Nicki grumbles, as she reluctantly pings herself the one photo they all like.
‘That’s the point,’ I say, keen to get my phone back. I hadn’t scheduled this photoshoot to last over ten minutes and I’m keen to return to the spreadsheet and see where I can make up time. Also, I worry Matt will message while she’s holding it and ruin the surprise for later.
‘OK. So, what’s next on the list?’ Nicki asks. ‘I’ve got a burst of energy, give me a job.’
‘No jobs for you. Well, hang on.’ I skip over to my wheelie suitcase and come back with a package.
‘What’s this?’ Nicki holds it up, squinting. ‘A bump mask?’
I nod. ‘I thought you’d need some downtime before everyone arrives. This is a sheet mask for your bump.’
‘A what ?’
‘I got one that’s supposed to be cooling and hydrating. I’ve given you 45 minutes of self-care in the spreadsheet. I’m afraid we’re down to 33 minutes because things have run over a bit. But look here, the instructions say you leave it on for twenty, so there’s still plenty of time.’
‘I never knew such things existed.’ She holds it gingerly between two fingers. ‘I can’t just laze about while you set everything up though.’
‘Nicki, it’s your baby shower. You’re supposed to just relax and enjoy.’
‘Let me help for a few minutes, so I don’t feel like a giant useless blimp, then I promise I’ll have a nap.’ She claps and her mum stands to attention like a hyper dog, awaiting instruction. ‘What needs doing?’
I feel a ripple of stress. How long is she going to help for, exactly? And will her nap then clash with the tea and catch-up time I’ve scheduled in with the other Little Women? She’s supposed to rest now, not later. No, no, no, . Stop it. Come on. Things don’t go to plan. That’s OK. And you’ve built the spreadsheet to include 20 per cent flexibility.
‘We don’t want to set up the food yet because it’s too hot,’ I tell her. ‘But balloons need blowing up for the arch, while I set up the rest of the games.’
Nicki grins. ‘Perfect. Show me balloons. I can blow balloons.’
‘And, Mrs Davies? I was hoping you’d be able to baby proof? And then set up the cots upstairs? I’ve got two travel cots. They should be easy enough to assemble.’
Her mum gives me a huge hug. ‘Oh, . You think of everything, don’t you? I can’t wait until it’s your turn, you’re going to make such a good mother someday.’
‘Mum!’ Nicki grabs her arm. ‘Sorry . She . . . er . . . she . . .’ It’s too awkward a sentence to finish and we all blush against the slate of the kitchen tiles.
‘It’s OK,’ I tell Nicki.
‘What is it?’ her mum asks. ‘Sorry love. I was just saying—’
‘So, what’s on the spreadsheet?’ Nicki cuts her off. ‘Is there anything for Dad to do other than eat the food before anyone arrives? I CAN SEE YOU DAD,’ she calls, and we all whip around to see him finger-deep in a cupcake in the kitchen.
‘I’m just taste-testing them,’ he replies with no guilt whatsoever. Nicki will no doubt put this all down to male entitlement or something, but I’m actually quite pleased the cupcakes are that irresistible.
‘Are they OK?’ I ask him. ‘Not too much rose water?’
He makes a perfection sign back, and takes that as a free pass to pick it up and stuff it into his mouth.
‘Please give him a job so I don’t kill him,’ Nicki whispers.
‘When you’re done taste-testing, do you mind setting up some black-out blinds for us?’ I ask him. ‘To go in the napping rooms?’
He gives a thumbs up with his mouth full of pink icing and Nicki rolls her eyes.
We all set to work, and it’s nice it being just Nicki and I while her parents create the napping stations.
‘Sorry I didn’t stuff the goody bags until now,’ I tell her, as we set up a mini factory line on the table.
Nicki’s holding up the personalised shower gel bottles and tilting her head. ‘No, it’s fine. I just . . . this is so much . I’m sure nobody minds about goody bags . . . but, they’re lovely. Thank you.’
I hand her a party bag decorated with storks that’s ready to be finished off with the bottles. ‘It’s nothing. I love you. You’re having a baby. That’s wonderful. I told you, today is going to be perfect.’
She takes the bag, plops in the bottle and adds in an iced biscuit and a flourish of scented confetti. She won’t meet my eye. ‘Sorry about my mum just now.’
‘Honestly, it’s fine.’ I hand her another bag, wanting to keep up momentum so I don’t blab out my news. It’s way too early to tell anyone and it’s her day. I can’t overshadow it like that. Lauren once came back from her sister’s wedding and said a bloke had proposed during the reception. Can you imagine? I almost had to lie down when she told me.
‘Are you OK? With today? Everything . . .’ Nicki trails off.
I hand her two more bags. ‘I’m more than OK. I can’t wait.’
‘But with . . .’
Oh, Nicki. I’m fine. I’m so fine I’ve hand-baked sixty cupcakes. What does she want? Me to wear a flashing I ’ m fine badge at all times?
‘I’m honestly so, so, happy for you.’
And it’s true, mostly. I’ve not let my own fertility journey make me sour and unable to share in my friend’s happiness. I’ve been determined to have grace. When I tried manifesting a baby, part of The Secret is acting like your dream has already come true. So, I imagined I was as fertile as Queen bloody Victoria was, so, of course, I’d be delighted when my friends fell pregnant one by one, almost without trying. For the whole first year of us trying. ‘ Congratulations, congratulations. Oh, well done, what magical news. Congratulations. ’ I even managed to grit my teeth and grin through the accidentals. ‘ Wow, unplanned, eh? Gosh, yes, it must be hard that you weren ’ t prepared to get pregnant right now. But happy accident, yes? ’ I liked every photo scan that arrived on my feed – commenting ‘ CONGRATULATIONS WHAT AMAZING NEWS. OMG WHAT A LUCKY BABY TO HAVE YOU AS PARENTS. ’ One day it would be my turn. One day I’d get to post the scan. One day I’d complain about morning sickness or ask for advice online about the best maternity pillows.
One day, one day, one day.
Then, after two years of me trying and two failed IVF attempts, Lauren fell pregnant.
‘A bit of a shock,’ she confided, followed with, ‘Sorry .’
I finally got jealous when an old school friend posted on Instagram about her miscarriage. Not even a post about her baby, but her traumatic miscarriage.
‘ At least you know you can get pregnant ,’ a dark voice whispered.
The Secret wasn’t working. Good karma wasn’t being returned. My ravaged body couldn’t keep up the pretence anymore.
I didn’t react to the post. I pretended it hadn’t happened. She won’t have noticed. She was being divulged with support, and people telling her how brave and inspirational she was. That’s when I realised I might be getting a little bit broken. And, the next week, when Nicki told the Little Women group chat that she and Matt were pregnant.
‘ A little bit unexpected, as we ’ d only just started trying, but here we go . . . ’
. . . something really broke.
Nicki had sent me a private message first.
Hey lovely. How are things? It’s been too long as always. I thought about calling you, but I figured you’d perhaps want some time to react to this news and be allowed to feel whatever you feel without pressure, so I’m messaging you instead. I’m 13 weeks pregnant. I’m about to tell the other LWs but wanted to give you a heads up. I can imagine this news will bring up mixed emotions for you, and I love you and I really hope and believe this will happen for you one day soon. Lots of love xxx
I read it and reread it.
It was so thoughtful. So well considered. And yet I still found myself saying, ‘Oh fuck you,’ out loud.
It’s so easy to be magnanimous when you can get pregnant through fucking . . . osmosis, just by holding a Clear Blue test in Boots or something.
How did she know I wasn’t delighted for her? How dare she make that assumption? She has no idea what it’s like. Fuck you, Nicki, and your bulging uterus. Fuck you.
Then I started crying.
And I was still crying when Seth came home from work drinks five hours later. I showed him the message and all he had to say was ‘I see,’ and I knew he truly did as he was the only one who’d gone through this hell with me. He cried a bit too, and we sat with our backs to the wall until past midnight, just steeping in our sadness like forgotten teabags. When we finally scraped ourselves into bed, we both lay awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep in our pain. It had hurt too much for too long now and it needed to stop hurting. Seth and I had become miserable and exhausted from years of false, expensive hope, prearranged lovemaking, invasive tests, and horrible success statistics where you slowly realise you’re the rule, not the exception. I had to let go.
‘I’m going to organise Nicki’s baby shower,’ I told him in the dark. ‘I’m going to make it the best baby shower the world has ever known.’
‘What? , no . . .’ He turned over and kissed my shoulder. ‘It will hurt too much.’
‘I’m going to give her everything I ever wanted. I have to let go, Seth. We both need to.’
‘There’s still hope. Another round of . . .’
‘No.’ I shook my head, beyond resolute. ‘I’m organising her baby shower. I may as well put time and energy into a baby that’s actually going to exist rather than the false hope of one existing.’
He hugged me close to him and kissed the top of my head. ‘If that’s what you need to do then that’s what you need to do.’
We’d both cried until morning.
And now, here I am. Stuffing party bags for Nicki, with Nicki. Free of the jealousy. Free of the pain – apart from mild cramping in my stomach that Google reassures me is from implantation. It wasn’t my plan but the universe has rewarded me for my emotional maturity and graciousness under immense pain. And, wow, the relief. The relief that my body can get pregnant. It can produce a urine stream that turns two lines blue on an expensive stick of plastic. We didn’t even conceive through IVF! I literally manifested this baby through positive energy. And, if this party goes perfectly, if everything goes to plan, then I know that my baby will make it to full-term. Today has to be perfect, everything depends on it.
‘Well you’re amazing, ,’ Nicki tells me, reaching over and squeezing my hand. ‘I don’t know how you do all this, and teach, and also look so well-groomed all of the time. You’ve been so strong in the face of . . . everything.’
The white elephant loitering between us isn’t an elephant but Nicki’s straining stomach. She takes a few more bags off me and adds the finishing touches. Her voice shifts and she glances at me sideways as she adds confetti. ‘Did you . . . err . . . see that article Steffi posted last week?’
She asks innocently enough but I can hear edge. I put down the bag I’m holding. ‘The one about being child-free?’ I ensure my voice is totally neutral.
‘Yeah, that one.’
‘I saw it.’
I start working again. I put a lollypop in the bag and hand it to her.
‘And?’ she presses.
‘And what?’
Nicki holds the bag and adds nothing to it, looking at me full-on now. ‘You don’t think it was a bit . . . insensitive?’
I refuse to nibble. Only good energy today, please, Nicki. ‘If it’s how she feels, I guess that’s how she feels.’
‘ Really? After everything you’ve been through with . . . you know . . . you didn’t feel...?’
She’s surveying my face closely, looking for an entry point. I know I would make her day if I lay into Steffi right now, but I’m not going to. When all that Steffi stuff kicked off, Lauren and I made a solemn promise to never be drawn into it, knowing the Little Women would disintegrate if we did. I even made Lauren write the solemn promise out on paper and put it in my safe, that’s how important this group is to me. I’d really hoped everyone would be over it by now, but those two are determined to piss each other off. OK, yes, privately I admit, Steffi posting that article really messed with my frequency. I still wouldn’t have told that to Nicki.
‘It wasn’t tactful, no,’ I say breezily.
‘I just don’t see the fuss about the whole child-free thing,’ Nicki begins. ‘Like, nobody is thinking about her that much. It’s just not A Thing.’
I raise both eyebrows and determinedly pick up another goody bag. ‘She told me she’s got you a super nice present today,’ I say. ‘She’s really chuffed with herself.’
‘Oh . . .’
‘And I think she has a hard time dating and not wanting kids. I don’t think men are very kind to her about it.’
In fact, I know they’re not. Steffi may game face around Nicki, but not me. She has rung me crying many times, asking to come stay for the weekend. I always quite like it when Steffi gets dumped. Obviously, I want her to find her penguin, but I also really enjoy sleeping in my granny annexe with her, watching Disney films, and giving each other manicures.
‘Oh . . . that’s shit.’
It’s certainly time to change the subject and I break into a smile. ‘I’m so excited for us all to be together again. It’s been too long. I can’t wait to see Woody! Isn’t it crazy he’s going to be in the same year at school as your baby? What if they fall in love?
I visibly watch Nicki take the hint. She smiles and follows my lead. ‘It’s mad isn’t it? Oh my God, a Little Women wedding. Can you imagine? I wish I knew what it was going to be.’
I push her playfully on the shoulder. ‘I thought you wanted a surprise?’
Nicki rubs her stomach. ‘I know. I’m an idiot. I made such a big thing of it but now I’m too proud to tell Matt I’ve changed my mind.’
We laugh, then stop as it makes us too hot. Only two bags left. I sprinkle them with goodies and pass them on. My armpits are starting to smell already. I’ve been too scared to wear any deodorant in case it causes miscarriage. There’s no evidence from anywhere that’s even a thing, but I’m getting this vibe from my Dove stick, and won’t apply it. ‘Not long to wait now at least.’ I poke Nicki’s tummy, feigning ignorance about today’s masterplan.
‘I guess. Only a month more to wait.’ She sprinkles the last of the confetti. ‘Voila! Oh, I can’t wait to see Woody and Lauren and everyone. It’s been so long. Thanks so much, .’
‘I told you, today’s going to be SO GREAT.’
If I say it enough, it will manifest. If I believe it enough, it will come true. ‘Right, these are all done,’ I say, collecting the bags up. ‘You should take some Me Time before the others get here. Your mum and I can set everything else up.’
Nicki stretches and yawns, her top riding up so I get another peek of weird alien skin. ‘You know what? I will nap. The baby woke me at five. Thanks again , for everything.’
‘It’s going to be perfect.’
‘So you keep saying.’
She staggers out holding her lower back. I watch as she pauses in front of the air con unit, blasting her stomach with it, then she picks up a handful of crisps from a bowl on the main table and waddles up towards the bedrooms.
‘Nicki! Wait!’ I hold up her baby bump mask. ‘You forgot this!’
When the door closes behind her to keep the cool air in, I check the spreadsheet. I’d scheduled five minutes downtime after Nicki went for her rest, so I could rest myself. Seth’s obsessed with me resting since we found out. But, ticking off my to-do list is more restful than sitting down and now is my only chance to set up the surprise. I get my handbag from where I tucked it next to the front door, and I carefully lift out the smoke grenade. I twist the device around in my palm, smiling as I imagine the joy it’s going to cause. Right. Let me read the instructions again.
‘ Take off cap, pull ring pull, point away from body and face . . . ’
Right, safety first. Especially with this tinderbox of conditions outside. I rummage in a cupboard til I find a mop bucket, then I fill it with water and drag it towards the sliding doors. The heat has intensified in the short time I’ve been inside. I’ve already cancelled the egg and spoon race sadly, which happily buys me twenty extra minutes. It’s peaceful to be away from the roar of the air con, and I stand and appreciate all the nature sounds for a moment. The chorus of birdsong and rustle of leaves in the soft breeze. In the distance, the low drone of a neighbouring lawnmower drifts over. Maybe, once the baby comes, we should move to the countryside? If the baby comes . . .
I scan the decking to figure out where best to plant the smoke grenade. I rang Matt yesterday to finalise the plan and he’s going to hide under the decking until he hears me call attention to the vagina pinata outside the window. Then Matt will tug the grenade, release the coloured smoke, and then step through it, holding his sign saying ‘It’s A Girl!’ I worried that Nicki will be so surprised her waters will break, but I googled it and that’s apparently an urban myth.
‘I’m so excited it’s a girl,’ Matt said. ‘A really little woman to join your club.’
I actually cannot wait for today. The stars are aligned. Mercury isn’t in retrograde. Good karma is sprinkling itself onto us like confetti.
Right, if I wedge the firework here, between the decking, with only the top out – people won’t notice it, will they? I carefully take the top off – it’s like peeling back a cylinder can of sardines. All Matt has to do is tug the ring pull. There. Done. I scan around and drag over a plant pot of summer pansies, arranging it slightly in front so the cylinder doesn’t show. I take a quick photo and ping it off to Matt, with ten firework emojis and ten heart-eyes emojis.
And finally , safety first. I put the mop bucket at the bottom of the steps in case anything goes wrong. But it won’t. It can’t. The universe and I forbid it.
Evidence item no. 9
Attached photograph shows four of the suspects, posing under a balloon arch outside Vista Cottage. Data from the smartphone indicates it was taken at precisely 9:37am, almost four hours before the fire broke out. All suspects are smiling.