Chapter 28
28
The Underground journey had been a piece of cake. Several side-stabbing ninja kicks from the bump accompanied by surprised yelps of pain from Sarah ensured that she was quickly offered a seat. However, when she reached Paddington Station, her good fortune dried up.
‘You have to be joking,’ she said. A large sign by the entrance to the station informed her that the train line was currently undergoing repair work and, therefore, a replacement bus service would be put on for all passengers.
‘And how long’s that going to take?’ A man behind her spoke the exact words she and probably everyone else on the platform was thinking. He was sharply dressed in a suit, with coloured brogues and his top button undone and tie pulled loose. He looked like the type of man who spent his weekdays in a London studio and his weekends in a large, five-bedroom detached all with en-suites and walk-in wardrobes.
‘The buses are over there.’ Someone pointed in the direction of the car park. ‘It says they’ll be leaving at the same time. I guess we’d better get going.’
Following the masses, Sarah headed with the crowd towards the car park, where a large coach had an A3 piece of paper with the various stops taped to the inside of its windscreen.
‘This is probably going to take the whole night,’ Brogues whinged as he headed up the steps in front of her. Using the handles on both sides, Sarah lifted herself up the steps, pausing at the top to speak to the driver.
‘Any idea how long it will take to get to Wokingham?’ she said.
Behind the steering wheel, the driver began a long inhale before she noticed the excessive bump beneath Sarah’s dress. Her look changed to one of more wearied pity.
‘Still gotta do all the other stops first, love. And there’s the road works. Wish it could be quicker, but there’s nothing I can do.’
‘I understand,’ Sarah replied, aware that she hadn’t actually got an answer, but even if she had, it wouldn’t have made any difference. She didn’t have any other way home. So, whether it was one hour or five, she was on this bus for the long haul.
Feeling like there was a long night ahead of her, Sarah slumped down into a seat and pulled out her phone. No missed calls. No messages. Of course there weren’t; she had Drew’s phone, she reminded herself. Still, he could have rung her from someone else’s phone – it wasn’t like her number was hard to remember, and she’d had it for long enough. Smacking her lips in annoyance, she held down the button on the side of her device and switched it off. It wasn’t like he could say anything that could put this right, anyway.
‘Is it okay if I sit here?’ a young woman asked, indicating the seat beside Sarah on the aisle. Sarah nodded, despite the fact she had absolutely no say over where anyone sat at all. The girl smiled sweetly.
Another five minutes passed before the bus finally pulled away from the station, timed perfectly with another lurch of Sarah’s stomach. Clenching her jaw, she inhaled and tried to suck the pain back down. She had thought Eva was bad, with all the twisting and turning she did, but this one was giving her a run for her money. If it kept on behaving like that, she didn’t know how she was going to last another four weeks with it inside her.
‘Are you all right?’ the girl next to her asked. ‘I’ve got some water in my bag if you’d like?’
Sarah began to shake her head before changing her mind. ‘Actually, would that be okay?’
‘Of course.’ She reached down into her bag, pulled out the metal bottle, and passed it to Sarah, who quickly unscrewed the lid and took a drink.
‘Thank you,’ she said, passing it back.
‘No worries. Keep it. I’ve got another two in here. I hate paying for bottled water, don’t you? I mean, water? Seriously? How dumb do companies think we are?’ The girl’s eyes moved to her bump momentarily and stopped her rambling. ‘Is it your first?’ she said.
‘Third,’ Sarah replied.
‘Oh, wow, you look so young.’
‘Thanks?’ Sarah said. Although she wasn’t sure if it was meant as a compliment or not.
‘How much longer have you got to go? Can’t be that long, can it? I mean, you’re pretty big. The bump, that is. It’s a great bump.’
‘Umm, thank you.’
It was apparent the girl wanted to keep talking; no wonder she had asked if it was all right to sit there before she sat down. While Sarah wasn’t much in the mood for conversation, it was probably better than sitting and fuming over what a complete and utter dick her husband was.
‘Four weeks,’ she said. ‘I’ve got four weeks to go. A bit less, actually. Assuming he comes on time. My other two were late.’
‘Wow, that’s not long. My sister had a baby boy last month. My third nephew. Third, can you believe that? She was trying for a girl, you know. That’s why she had a third. She won’t say that, of course, but I’m her sister. I know these things. She says she’s stopped now and everything, but she ain’t. I told my mum, I said, “I bet you, she’s gonna have another. And I bet it’ll be a boy too.” Look.’ The girl’s hands were back in her bag, this time feeling for her phone. She handed it to Sarah. On the lock screen was a photo of her sitting on a sofa with the tiniest of newborns on her lap, and two other children, similar-looking in age to George and Eva, were sitting on either side.
‘He was eight weeks early,’ she said, taking the phone back to gaze at the picture herself. ‘He was well tiny.’
‘God, that must have been terrifying.’ Sarah had never particularly enjoyed the delay that had come with both George and Eva, but she would have rather had it that way than the other.
‘Yeah, I mean it was. But my sister, she’s well chilled. And he was super strong. Like, she was worried a bit and stuff, but she knew, you know. He’s doing really well. Home and everything. Although he still can’t fit into any of the clothes I bought him. It’s cool, though. I just bought him more.’
Sarah chuckled. Despite her loquaciousness, she was warming to the girl. Partway through her chuckle, another searing pain around her diaphragm struck. She clenched her jaw and fist simultaneously.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ the girl asked. ‘That’s the second time you’ve looked like that.’
‘It’s fine. It’s just pre-labour, that’s all.’ Or surges, as her Mind Birthing class would call them. ‘They happen all the time.’ A small twinge in her abdomen warned her that another one was likely incoming. She had suffered days of them with George, a full forty-eight hours of expecting him to drop any minute; she wasn’t going to fall for that again, although they hadn’t been quite so painful or close together back then.
For half an hour, Sarah let the girl natter away to her, telling her about the date she had been on the night before and the college course she had just started. She was endlessly forthcoming with information, from the pictures the guy had sent her beforehand, to the meetup itself and to the allergy issues she had with dairy. Despite the oversharing, it hardly felt like Sarah had her undivided attention. It was a sign of the times, she thought, how the girl, midway through the conversation, would constantly glance down at her phone. The first two or three times, Sarah thought that maybe a message had come through, but after the fourth or fifth time, she concluded it had to be some kind of nervous tick. Like the planet might suddenly implode if she went too long without checking it. It’s just a way of life , Sarah thought, suspecting that she was scarily similar in her inability to go more than four minutes without checking social media.
‘I know I want to do something with people, but I just haven’t worked out what type of people.’ The girl was now talking about why she had switched her college course three times already. Sarah grimaced as she nodded, trying to smile her way through the current pain that was searing its way through her sides. ‘I thought that maybe I’d work with little kids and stuff, you know, like in a kindergarten or something. But then you have them all day, you know. And kids can be freaking annoying. It’s different when they’re your own, I bet.’
‘I think you get sick of them faster,’ Sarah replied.
The girl opened her mouth as if to speak, although before any words escaped, her eyes were back on her phone again. When her face came back up to Sarah, it had paled slightly.
‘I know you’re the expert at this,’ she said, holding out the screen. ‘But I’ve been timing and stuff. You seem to be having one of those pains every five minutes. Are they normally as regular as that?’
Sarah clicked her neck from one side to another, trying to bring a little relief to her muscles. Everywhere had been cramping since she sat down.
‘What was that?’ she said.
‘Those pains. They’re every five minutes. Real regular. Aren’t they meant to be random if they’re the other ones? Those pre-labour ones?’
Sarah frowned and looked at the phone. While she was certain the girl meant well, it was almost impossible that Sarah would have found herself in the early stages of labour without realising it. And not all of the pains felt like the same anyway. Some were almost certainly the bump shifting around and practising Taekwondo. No doubt, the baby would tire itself out soon enough. ‘Honestly, it’s fine. This isn’t the real thing. I’ve done it before.’ An awkward silence grew between the pair. ‘So, tell me about the courses again…’ Sarah tried. It didn’t take much. Soon, the girl was talking about the possibility of moving into hospitality. When Sarah felt her stomach muscles tighten again exactly five minutes later, she just gritted her teeth. As silently as she could manage, she dragged in a lungful of air through her nose, which she expelled in an extended hiss.
‘Was that another?’ The girl had unclipped her seat belt and crouched in front of her seat by Sarah’s feet in a manner that made Sarah feel about a hundred times more awkward. ‘Is there someone you need to call? Is there anyone you need me to call?’
‘No, no, it was just wind,’ Sarah lied. ‘I’ve just had a bit of indigestion recently. That’s all.’
Sarah swallowed. There. It was fine. There was no way she’d have been able to just breathe down through it if it had been a real contraction. Not even with all the Mind Birthing bullshit in the world on her side. She’d get home, get out of this ridiculous dress, and make herself a cup of tea. A cup of tea would help.