Chapter Two It’s a Boy/Girl! （Delete as Appropriate） #3
It’s not quite what you’d call military precision, but it is all very well thought out – even if I do say so myself.
Keep it simple, stupid is a motto I try to live by as much as possible.
People don’t want over-complicated, even if it sounds like they do.
What they want is effective, memorable and exciting.
They just think that means over-complicated. But it really doesn’t.
Eloise and Conrad are extremely experienced at dealing with crowds, and being the centre of attention, so I can leave the ceremonies to them.
I rib them a fair bit for their jobs as influencers, but having a client who’s comfortable with being a big part of the event in a constant, upfront capacity is always a great help.
It’s the quiet or inexperienced people that can make things difficult.
You have to do a lot more of the heavy lifting publicly yourself, in those circumstances.
I don’t mind being the hostess with the mostess at these kinds of events, but I prefer not to do it if I can get away with it.
I can certainly get away with it today, given who I’m working for.
‘Everybody!’ squeals Eloise with delight. ‘It’s time for the big reveal!’
Several stunned pigeons fall out of a nearby tree thanks to the high-pitched sonic wave she generates. I wonder if the Navy could harness her power for warfare purposes?
Needless to say, this announcement captures everyone’s attention. Up to and including the residents of the graveyard a few streets away.
Conrad bids the throng of happy partygoers gather on the patio that leads from the house’s bifold doors.
We’ve been through this several times in previous days, and Conrad plays his part beautifully.
Everyone has a good view of the cannon. But at a safe enough distance, so that none of them are in the blast radius.
I spent several hours researching the best and safest glitter cannon that can be handled by a layman, and this was the one that came out on top in every review I managed to find.
I shake my head to clear the slightly blurry vision that’s afflicted me all morning. I have to pay attention here. This is the moment of truth, and I need to make sure that my clients are stood where they should be.
And indeed they are, God bless their little Instagrammable hearts.
Provided there are no technical issues with the big red button, everything should go off without a hitch. There will be bright lights and obnoxious music to accompany all the glitter in the world.
And there bloody shouldn’t be any problems, because I spent about as much time researching the electrical system I’m using as I did the cannon. Those sleepless nights have come in handy for something.
Eloise can barely contain her excitement. ‘Thank you all for coming today!’ she tells her bizarre collection of guests. ‘This is such an important moment for Conrad and me and we wanted to share it with the people we love most in the world!’
And the people who will share the content the most on social media, no doubt.
‘Yes, indeed,’ Conrad continues. ‘This is our first child, and revealing their gender to all of you in this manner is the perfect way for us to celebrate our good fortune.’ He gestures over at me, which makes me blink in surprise.
‘And we have our friend Charles to thank for this celebration. He has done a wonderful job putting it all together for us.’
The influencer gang all look over at me in the manner of people who have just realised there’s a moth in the room with them.
I return this sudden attention with a sheepish smile that feels very strange on my lips. I’m not usually this socially awkward. Must be the lack of sleep.
‘And now it’s finally time!’ Eloise exclaims, and I’m delighted that she does. Attention is immediately drawn away from me again, in the same manner attention would be drawn away from a small fluttery moth to a nuclear warning alarm going off.
‘We are both incredibly proud . . .’ she continues.
‘And incredibly grateful . . .’ Conrad adds.
‘To be able to tell all of you . . .’ Eloise says.
‘Our wonderful friends, both old and new . . .’ Conrad carries on.
They’ve clearly rehearsed this a great deal. I’m sure it’s supposed to be charming and inventive, but to me it sounds like they’re a pair of malfunctioning robots. I know AI is taking over everything online these days, but I didn’t realise it bled out into the real world quite so badly.
‘That we are going to have . . .’ Eloise cries, the excitement on her face at its most extreme, and her body vibrating so much it could result in friction burns, if she’s not very careful.
‘That we are going to have!’ Conrad repeats at the top of his voice.
They look lovingly at each other. Conrad takes Eloise’s hand in his, and they both press the big red button at the rear of the glitter cannon at the same time.
The boom is louder than even I’d anticipated. So much so that I hope I’m not going to have some of my fee docked for repairs to the bifold door glass.
Shiny pink glitter bursts forth from the cannon in a spreading plume that flies a good ten feet into the air, and straight at the partygoers. The lights snap on around the edges of the garden, suffusing absolutely everything in a garish pink light that I wish I’d brought sunglasses for.
The song ‘You My Baby Girl’ bursts into life, the thumping bass beat and electronic vocals doing to my ears what the lights are doing to my eyes.
This is quite literally the worst thing that can happen to somebody who’s had two hours’ sleep. I have to shut my eyes tight for a moment against the glare.
Still, at least it should be big enough and loud enough for Eloise and Conrad to be delighted by its ostentatiousness. After all, these are the people who do a regular Instagram update on Mardi Gras every March. It’s a very popular thing for them. Gets millions of likes.
I open my eyes again, expecting to see Eloise jumping up and down like Tigger on a kilo of cocaine.
But instead, she is frozen like a statue.
Odd.
All her friends are whooping and cheering the reveal of her baby girl. You’d think she’d be beside herself.
But no. She’s just stood there, a slack-jawed expression on her face, and her eyes as wide as saucers.
Maybe I went a bit too far with the reveal. Maybe it was all a bit too much for her, and something has short-circuited.
Conrad is equally silent, but his face has gone bright red. He is also staring at me with eyes that burn with a German intensity possibly not seen since the Allied forces crossed the Rhine.
‘Vot have you done?!!’ he exclaims over the loud music, the anger really bringing out his accent.
‘What?’ I reply, suddenly understanding that he is extremely mad at me for some reason. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Vhy vould you do this?!’ he rages.
‘Do what?’ For the first time today, I have a completely clear mind, but for all the wrong reasons. The adrenaline dump that’s suffusing my entire being is sending me into a fairly extreme fight-or-flight response.
I’ve done something very wrong here.
‘Vhy vould you say we are having ze girl?!!’
The partygoers have realised that something is not quite as it should be – not least because the usually animated Eloise has suddenly decided to do her impression of a gobsmacked statue.
They are looking between me and Conrad with no small degree of confusion.
Glitter is still falling from the sky, like pink radioactive ash.
Someone somewhere with some common sense has flicked off the horrific music.
It’d be a little hard to hear it anyway, because a bomb has obviously just gone off, and I appear to be the one responsible.
‘Because you are!’ I say, and for some reason I point at Eloise’s belly as I do this. ‘There’s a girl in there,’ I insist.
‘No zere is not!’ Conrad demands, his hands becoming fists. ‘We are having a boy!!’
I look at him dumbfounded for a moment.
‘No, you’re not,’ I tell him. ‘You’re having a girl.’
‘No ve are not!’
I nod my head. ‘Yes, you are. You most definitely are.’
I am insistent, because I know I’m right.
There is no way I would get such a fundamental thing wrong about today. I spent hours making sure the big red button worked properly. I wouldn’t get the gender of the baby wrong, now would I?
Conrad must be mistaken.
This is obviously an epically stupid position to take, but I’ve had two hours’ sleep, and my addled brain cannot comprehend the horror of what I’ve clearly done. The father of the child is just a little bit more likely to know what gender it is than me, after all.
Suddenly, Eloise lets out a braying wail that makes me want to call in the emergency services.
Enormous, photogenic tears start to flow down her cheeks, as if on cue.
She hugs her belly protectively.
‘He thinks my baby Zaxxel is a girl!!’ she screams to the heavens.
‘That’s because she is!’ I reply, with almost the equivalent level of dismay in my voice.
‘Zaxxel iz not a girl’s name!’ Conrad insists.
Which is something I cannot argue with, given that Zaxxel is not a bloody name for anything – save a defunct Eastern European electronics firm from the 1980s.
‘But your email said you were having a girl!’ I tell him, pulling out my mobile phone. ‘Here, I’ll prove it to you!’
In approximately thirty seconds from now, my world is going to come to a swift and disastrous end. So, let’s just bask in this half-minute we have left – where I still have a career, and some sense of self-worth – shall we?
. . . aah. Lovely.
Got anything nice planned for the rest of the year? Holiday? Maybe a little light renovation of the house? Perhaps you would like to start a new job as a freelance events co-ordinator? I hear there’s a very definite opening coming up in the sector in about five, four, three, two