29. Molly
Chapter 29
Molly
R osie’s cake is finished. Or maybe that should be cakes? Over several phone conversations, they have decided on two separate tiers, one having a fairly traditional white christening look, but without the religious crosses or church bells that neither Rosie nor Syd feel any need for. There are baby shoes and bottles in alternate pink and blue icing arranged all around the edge and models of the babies themselves sitting together in the middle, with tiny dummies in their mouths. The other cake, in honour of the visitors from Oz, is a riot of brightly coloured sugar-paste balloons against a background of bright blue sky, with streamers laced around little dancing kangaroos and koalas. She has worried that it will look a mess, the two halves, representing the two reasons for the party, having no obvious connection, but they will be separated onto two levels of a chrome stand, a good six inches apart and offset at an angle, so they won’t actually touch. The wording piped around the lower board simply says Welcome , and that seems to cover both bases. It’s unusual and unconventional and fun, and actually pretty cool, even though she says so herself.
Molly has spent the whole of Friday on the finishing touches, keen to put it all together as near to the party date as possible to make sure the sponge tier is as fresh as it can be, even though the fruit tier for the christening half has been sitting in its tin, soaking up the sherry, for more than a week now.
She stands back and admires her handiwork, the cakes carefully placed separately in two large white boxes, ready to be delivered to the party. She has ordered a taxi for Sunday, knowing how impossible it will be to carry the boxes safely on a bus, and plans to get there early enough to get the cakes set up in pride of place before Rosie’s other guests arrive. She wonders if it would be okay to leave a few of her new business cards alongside it, in the hope of getting more orders, or is that a tad too mercenary at a friend’s party? She’ll take some anyway, and play it by ear.
Jack has been working late again. Once or twice this week he’s not been home until she’s already in bed. By the time he comes in this evening, the kitchen is tidy again, the work surfaces wiped clean and, apart from the boxes pushed back into a corner, there is nothing to show for all her hard work.
She makes them both a cup of tea and puts her feet up in front of the TV. She feels tired and Jack looks it too but, true to form, the baby isn’t. She can feel it moving, a little flicker below her ribs, and lays her hand over it. They say you should talk to it, sing to it, and that it will hear you, but she feels silly doing that in front of Jack, so she just massages gently over the bump.
‘I finished that big order today,’ she tells Jack as he slumps into the chair opposite. ‘For the girl I met at the clinic. And I’ve got some more gender-reveal cupcakes to make in the morning. I think the business is slowly starting to take off. There’s someone from the local paper coming to take photos and talk to me next week, for a feature on the small businesses page.’
‘That’s great. I’ll be able to retire soon then? And buy myself a Lamborghini!’
‘Not sure about that. A second-hand hatchback one day, if we’re lucky, maybe. With room for a buggy in the boot. But the cakes might bring in enough money to help pay for some of the baby stuff at least.’
‘And how is our little avocado today?’
‘Keep up, Jack. We went past the avocado stage a while back. She’s at least a full-sized mango by now, and on the way to being a sweet potato!’
‘She?’
‘Well, you know what I mean. He or she. We’ll find out in another week, but until then it doesn’t feel right to keep calling this little one it. ’
‘She, he, it… I feel like I want to combine them all and start calling it the little shit. But I don’t suppose you’d be over keen on that, would you?’
She gives him a stern look but laughs anyway. ‘Maybe not.’
‘Fancy doing anything tomorrow? While we still can.’
‘Not really, if you don’t mind. I get so tired, and you’ve been working your socks off. I think me and this little one could do with a bit of a rest. Can we just spend the day lazing about here? Together? And, by the way, I’m not sure about the while we still can comment. Having a baby won’t stop us doing things, Jack. Or I hope not anyway. In fact, it would be nice if we can start doing more. London has loads of great places to take a baby to. Parks, that museum with the huge dinosaur, the zoo, the river…’
‘It might be a bit soon for museums, Mol. Not really something a baby can appreciate.’
‘Okay, you could be right, those can wait a while, but I’m beginning to see the advantages of being in London now. I wasn’t sure I could settle here, but the baby will make a difference. I’m quite looking forward to going out and introducing him, her, it, shit or whatever, to some squirrels or monkeys. Or an elephant. Do they still have elephants at the zoo? I must find out. And having made some friends really helps too. We can walk our prams together. Which reminds me, I’ll be out for a few hours on Sunday, delivering the cakes, and I’ve been asked to stay on for the party. Quite a few of the other mums and babies will be there. You’re welcome to come.’
‘Probably not really my thing, so I’ll give it a miss if that’s okay. I might pop out myself and grab a drink or two if you’re not going to be around. I won’t be late though. I’ll probably be back before you are, once you and these other mums get chatting.’
‘And don’t forget I want us to go up and see Mum and Dad soon. I thought maybe straight after the scan next Friday? We’ll be able to tell both families at the same time whether we’re having a boy or a girl. Although Mum’s convinced she already knows.’
‘Yeah, okay. Book us onto the train. And I assume we’ll be taking some of those new cakes of yours with us? The coloured-middle ones?’
‘Of course. I’ll have to make them quickly that afternoon, once we get back from the hospital though. Or do it early and make some of each, as I have no idea which colour I’m actually going to need!’
‘No inkling? No preference?’
‘You know I haven’t. Nothing we could do to change things now, even if I did. It’s your little swimmers that made that decision months ago.’
‘Clever little buggers. If their swimming’s anything like mine, we’re lucky they made it at all. Probably struggled up your tubes doing doggy paddle!’
‘Lucky?’ She picks up on that one word, looking for the positivity that has been so clearly lacking lately.
‘What?’
‘You said we’re lucky. Is that how you feel now, Jack? Because I know it was all a shock to you, that you hadn’t really planned on being a daddy just yet.’ She looks at him, studies his face, still not quite able to figure out how he feels. There is something distant about him, and it worries her. ‘But you are happy about it now, aren’t you?’
He comes and kneels down next to her chair and pulls her towards him, her face resting into his shoulder, so she can’t see his expression. All she has are his words.
‘Of course,’ he says. ‘And, like you said, Mol, nothing we can do to change anything now anyway, is there?’