And Baby Makes Two

Home Alone

When she lived with us, Hilary made me get up when she got up for work, even if I’d been awake half the night with Shinola. She said it was so she could see I had a proper breakfast, but I knew it was just to torment me and make me suffer like her. If she had to get up at seven, then I had to, too. The first thing she’d do when she got back from work was check to see that I’d done everything she thought I should’ve done in the day. “Did you do the washing… Did you tidy your room… Did you do the washing-up?” Nagnagnag. Supper was at seven-thirty, unless I hadn’t got round to starting it, when it was more like eight. Tea and biscuits were at ten, bed at eleven. Which is another example of how much living with Hilary Spiggs was like being in prison.

But now she’d gone I didn’t have to live by her schedule. Except for being on twenty-four hour call for Shinola, there was nothing I had to do at or by a certain time. I could have cereal for supper or eat breakfast at noon if I wanted. I could stay up watching telly till it shut down. I could fall asleep on the couch. I could do the housework when I felt like it. I could do as I pleased.

Which wasn’t all that much. We’d watch the morning kids’ programmes, and then we’d go out if it wasn’t raining too hard – down to the shops or the post office or whatever – and then the rest of the day we just mooched around. I always had either the telly or the radio on, just so I could hear adult voices. When Shinola had her afternoon nap, since I had nothing else to do that wasn’t a chore, I had one, too.

The ringing of the doorbell finally woke me up. The room was dark. I reckoned it must be Shanee on her way home.

I started to sit up, but Shinola kind of grunted and shifted.

I didn’t want her to wake up. I wanted Shanee to myself for a change. The last time I saw her I hadn’t heard anything she was saying, I was so busy with Shinola.

Very, very slowly and carefully, I rolled myself off the bed. Once I was safely on the floor I peered over the mattress. Her eyelids were kind of twitching but she wasn’t crying. Which meant she was still asleep.

Holding my breath, I crawled towards the door, keeping as low to the carpet as I could. When I was hidden behind Shinola’s cot I stopped. The door, thank God, was open. I took a deep breath and made a dash for it.

Shanee nearly knocked me over getting into the hall.

“For God’s sake, Lana. What took you so long? I thought I was going to drown out there.”

“Shh,” I whispered. “She’ll hear you.”

Shanee looked puzzled. “You mean Hilary’s back?”

“Not her. Shinola.”

“Oh,” said Shanee, and she tiptoed into the kitchen behind me.

“I did come round yesterday,” she said as I shut the hall door. She dumped her bag and her wet jacket on a chair. “But you never answered.”

“Babies really take up a lot of time,” I replied. “It’s not like school. You don’t get a lunch break. I must’ve been busy and didn’t hear you. Unless I was out.”

“Or sleeping,” said Shanee.

I didn’t like her tone.

“What’s that mean?”

“It doesn’t mean anything. I was only joking. You just never seem to be around when I call.” She removed a pile of stuff from another chair and sat down.

“Babies are also very exhausting,” I said. “It’s like being on guard duty twenty-four hours a day.”

“Well, you’re not doing such a brilliant job of guarding it,” she said. “The place looks like it’s been bombed.”

I glanced around. It had looked a little like something in a magazine when I’d finished de-Hilarizing it, but that was weeks ago. Shanee was right. Now it looked like something in a war zone.

“That’s Shinola,” I said. “I never get to finish putting anything away.”

“Speaking of work,” said Shanee. “Guess what? I got a part-time job!”

“Do you want tea?” I was already filling a pan with water.

“What happened to the kettle?” asked Shanee.

I shrugged. “It broke.” It burnt itself to a crisp. “You know Hilary, she only buys cheap junk.”

“And what about her nice blue teapot? Don’t tell me that broke, too.”

“Yeah,” I said. It broke when I threw it across the room. It was either the teapot or Shinola. “Everything’s breaking.”

“So, anyway,” said Shanee. “I got this part-time job!”

I told her that was brilliant.

“I know.” She hugged herself. “I am sooo excited. I’m working at that new gift shop with all the candles and the inflatable vases and stuff. They’ve taken me on for Christmas, but if I do OK I can probably have it for good.”

“I’ve got an appointment with the housing next week,” I said. “That’s pretty quick.”

Shanee nodded. “That is quick.” Without stopping for breath she went on, “It was such a piece of luck. There was a sign in the window so I got all my courage up and went in and asked. The woman said I had the right look.”

“You mean second-hand clothes and hair like a squirrel’s nest?”

Shanee laughed. “Fashion’s catching up with me. Black and purple and your cousin’s old motorcycle boots are considered very in this season.”

Shinola had made it through the doorbell, but the sound of adult laughter was too much for her. She couldn’t stand the thought of me being happy without her for three seconds.

Shanee was on her feet. “Do you want me to get her?”

“Just mind her head,” I said. “Her neck’s still a little wobbly.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” said Shanee.

When she came back with Shinola, she was telling her all about her new job.

“So, I’ll be able to get you something really special for your first Christmas,” she was telling her. “But that’s not the best part. The best part is that I’ve seen some really cool guys in there, buying incense and stuff.”

I loved the way she talked more to Shinola than she did to me.

“Do you think she’s grown?” I asked. “I think she’s grown a lot. Half her clothes don’t fit her any more.”

Shanee leaned her head close to Shinola’s like they were conspirators or something.

“In fact,” she told her, “there’s even a very cool guy who works there. He came in as I was leaving.”

“The doctor said I can start her on solids soon.”

“Your pan’s boiling.” Shanee sat down with Shinola. “And I get paid for being there and I get a discount as well. I can’t believe my luck.”

I stared into the fridge. The fridge could’ve been in a war zone, too.

“I’ve run out of milk,” I announced. And everything else. There was nothing in the fridge but an egg box (without any eggs), a couple of bendy carrots, half a tin of spaghetti and an empty bottle of ketchup.

“S’all right,” said Shanee. “I never take milk at home because there’s always pieces of spat-back food in it.”

I gazed into the tea caddy. I seemed to have run out of tea, too. When had that happened? I was sure there’d been tons left. Shinola and I had done a shop at the beginning of the week. Hadn’t we? I remembered walking down the high street. I remembered looking in the windows of the clothes shop and the shoe shop … but I didn’t remember going into the supermarket.

“And guess what else?” said Shanee.

There weren’t any cups.

I mean, there were cups, but they weren’t all in the kitchen, and the ones that were in the kitchen weren’t really clean. I yanked a couple from the sink.

“I can’t guess,” I said. “My brain’s geared for baby things.”

Plus, I was distracted. I was having trouble rinsing the cups because there were a few other things in the sink and there wasn’t much room.

“Amie’s brother’s going to take driving lessons,” said Shanee. “Then they’re going to save up for a car.”

I stood in front of the cups so she couldn’t see me using one old tea bag for both of us. “Really?”

I took down the tin we kept the biscuits in, but there was nothing in it but a handful of crumbs. I couldn’t have done a shop.

“Then maybe next summer we can all go to her parents’ cottage in Suffolk for a week. All on our own,” Shanee went on. “Won’t that be brilliant?”

I could tell that when she said “we” she wasn’t including me. Which was fine. I wouldn’t be able to go anyway. Even if Les didn’t mind – since by then we’d have our own flat and be together – I wasn’t going to be the kind of mother who went off with her friends the way Hilary used to go off with Charley whenever she liked.

I put the mugs on the table. “I think I’m going to teach Shinola to swim in the summer,” I told Shanee. “The baby book says infants can learn to swim painlessly.”

I couldn’t really swim myself. But I liked wearing swimsuits. I wouldn’t mind sitting by the edge of the pool, watching Shinola amaze everybody by being able to swim before she could walk.

“I’ve heard—” Shanee began. But as soon as I sat down Shinola started whingeing and she broke off. “I think she wants her mum,” Shanee finished.

She blew on her tea while I struggled with Shinola. “Anyway, we might even go to France for a day, as well. If they get a car that can go that far.”

Shinola was wide awake by now. I tucked her against my hip so I could more or less hold her steady.

Shanee fished something out of her mug.

“So, what’ve you been up to?” she asked. “I thought you were going to ask me to mind Shinola when you wanted to go out.”

“I don’t really feel like going out,” I lied. I did feel like going out, and Les asked me to go bowling and stuff like that, but he never gave me enough notice to ask Shanee. Not that I was going to admit that to Shanee. She was always probing about Les, as if she didn’t like him or something. Which was really stupid, since she’d never met him. “My domestic side is taking over.” I fished something out of my mug. “Les says he can’t believe I’m pretty and a mother type.”

Shanee smiled. “We’re all going ice-skating on Saturday if you want to come.”

I gave her a look. “With Shinola?”

Shanee shrugged. “I thought maybe Les could look after her for a couple of hours. Give you a break.”

“I don’t need a break,” I said quickly. “I’ve never been happier.” I bounced Shinola on my knee. “As far as I’m concerned, this is what life is all about. Anyway, Saturday’s no good for Les. He’s really busy at weekends.”

Shanee stopped staring into her tea to see what else was in there and stared at me.

“Well, what about Saturday night?” she pushed. “Gerri’s parents are away for the weekend and she’s having a party. Shinola could sleep in one of the bedrooms.”

The thought of being at a party with Shinola was even worse than the thought of being at a party without Les.

“What about New Year? My mum and her new bloke are taking the brats to Wales straight after Christmas and I’m allowed to have some friends over.”

I laughed. “Your mother has a bloke?”

I’d never seen Shanee’s mother with her hair combed, never mind make-up. Who’d be interested in her?

Shanee grinned. “It’s wild, isn’t it? But you know what the best part is? Derek’s a dentist. Can you believe it? They met in an Oxfam shop. They were both after the same jacket.”

I couldn’t believe that a dentist would fall for a woman with four kids whose idea of getting dressed up was to wear a flannel shirt over her T-shirt and jeans.

I sighed. “Christ… Things don’t always turn out like you think they will, do they?”

“Almost never,” said Shanee. “But the point is, that gives you plenty of time to sort out a baby-sitter.” She looked so chuffed you’d think she’d won the lottery. “Derek’s even giving me money for food. Isn’t that excellent?”

“For God’s sake, it’s only November, Shanee. I can’t think that far ahead.” I was barely able to think about tomorrow, I was always so worn out by today.

Shinola’s fist swung out to knock my mug off the table and spill weak but scalding tea over both of us, but I managed to grab her just before she made contact.

“Me and Shinola live one day at a time.”

If you could call it living.

Shanee’s eyes sort of darted around the room. I could tell that she didn’t call it living either, but all she said was, “Well, as far as the rest of the world is concerned, the holiday season has already begun.” She grinned. “Party, party, party… Be there or be square…”

“I don’t know…”

Even though I hadn’t thought about it, I knew I wanted to spend New Year’s Eve with Les. He had a green linen suit he bought in the sales that he wore for special occasions. I hadn’t seen it, but he’d told me all about it. I reckoned I’d get something blue to complement it. Les wouldn’t want to hang out in a council flat with a bunch of teenagers, but maybe we could drop by for half an hour. So everyone could get a good look at him and eat their hearts out. It didn’t matter any more if he found out I was younger than he thought. He was going to find out when we went for our marriage licence anyway, wasn’t he?

“I’ll have to check with Les. He may have other plans.”

Shanee scraped some dried formula from the table with a long purple nail. I’d had to cut all my own nails short so I didn’t stab Shinola.

“I thought Les went to his mother’s for Christmas,” said Shanee. “In Norfolk.”

“Norwich,” I corrected. “But that was last year. This year he may not go.”

He hadn’t actually said he wouldn’t, but I couldn’t believe he’d want to miss his daughter’s first Christmas. Not even if his mother did make the best fruit-cake in Britain.

“Whatever,” said Shanee. “Let me know.”

Now that she’d brought it up, Christmas was stuck in my mind. I had this flash of me and Shinola in identical outfits, sitting around the tree with Les. I could always get a fruit-cake from Marks and Sparks.

“What do you think about me and Shinola dressing alike for Christmas?” I dug my spoon in the sugar and lifted it towards my mug. “I saw this picture in one of the Sundays and the mother and daughter both had the same velvet and lace dresses.”

Shinola squirmed and the sugar went flying.

“I think oilskin might be better,” said Shanee. “Or plastic. Something that’s easy to clean.” She sipped her tea. Carefully. “So…” She smiled encouragingly. “How’s it going?”

“Fine. Everything’s brilliant. It’s bliss having the old cow out of the house. Every day’s a holiday.” I smiled to prove how happy I was. “How about you?”

“Great.” Shanee’s head bobbed up and down. “School’s a lot of work, but I’m enjoying it and it’s going well. And now that Lucy’s got Derek I’ve got more time for myself. That’s why I can take this job.”

“That’s brilliant.”

It was also ironic. It used to be Shanee who could never do anything because she was stuck in the flat helping her mum and I was the one who was always on the go. Now Shanee had more time and I had none. Not even just less but none. I was still holding Shinola’s soppy little fist, but I must’ve squeezed it too hard or something because she started howling.

“I’ll tell you what,” said Shanee. “If you and Les want to go somewhere nice, there’s this really cool restaurant down near Leicester Square. You’d really like it. They’ve got parrots and everything.”

There’d definitely been a lot of changes in Shanee’s life in the last couple of months. The only place she’d ever been at Leicester Square before was the tube.

“Shh…” I hissed at Shinola. “It’s not time for your bottle. Let me and Shanee talk.”

Shanee, who grew up in a house where quiet was when only three people were shouting, kept on talking.

“It was Edna Husser’s birthday,” she informed me. “She took ten of us there for supper.”

I didn’t know who Edna Husser was. She must be new. But I wasn’t all that interested just then. As per usual, Shinola’d decided to give it her all. I’d’ve squeezed her again if it wouldn’t’ve made it worse.

“And then we went to that virtual reality thing.”

“Shinola,” I begged. “Please… Why don’t you give Shanee a big smile? Show her what a good baby you can be…”

They call it projectile vomiting for a reason.

Shanee wiped it off her hand with a bib that was so dirty you couldn’t tell if it was decorated with rabbits or bears.

“I’d better get going.” She pushed back her chair. “I’ve got a ton of homework. I’ll give you a ring later on, all right? After Shinola’s asleep.”

She’d be lucky.

Shanee never rang. For days after her last visit I rushed to the phone every time it rang, but it was never Shanee. Sometimes it was my nan or Charlene, and a couple of times it was Dara on her mobile, ringing on her way to a meeting or a business dinner, but most of the time it was the same person. The last person on earth I had anything to say to. Hilary Let-me-run-your-life Spiggs.

“So how are you doing?”

“About the same as I was doing when you rang last time. Just blooming fine.”

“How’s the housekeeping money holding out?”

This was something Hilary asked every time she phoned, as if she was programmed, and it was also a trick question. If I told her the truth – that if it wasn’t for my Child Benefit and the fifty quid my nan sent me in case I wanted to buy myself a treat, and the fifty quid Dara sent me so I’d have some extra money for Christmas, and the twenty-five quid Charlene sent me for Shinola, I’d have about fifty pence to my name – she’d’ve done her impersonation of Hurricane Mitch.

“Just great,” I assured her. “Everything’s brilliant. I should get my first giro soon.”

“And how’s Shinola?”

“She’s brilliant, too.”

I could hear her sigh.

“Charley’s doing a job up in Camden,” my mother went on. “We were thinking he could pick you two up on his way home one night and you could come down for supper. You could spend the night if you wanted, or he could run you home afterwards.”

This was another irony. When we lived together she was always shouting at me, and now that she didn’t live with me she was always trying to get me to go down for a visit. I reckoned she just wanted to check up on me. You know, make sure I hadn’t been beating the baby or taking drugs or something.

“We’d love to,” I lied. “But I’m pretty busy this week.”

“Next week then.”

“I’ll have to see how things go.”

There were a few seconds of silence that I took to be defeat. But it wasn’t. It was her regrouping.

Hilary Spiggs cleared her throat. “Mrs Mugurdy says she’s seen your boyfriend a couple of times.”

It was just as well I didn’t go out much. Mrs Mugurdy probably had a key so she could go through the flat when I wasn’t in to make sure I wasn’t trashing the place.

“Mrs Mugurdy should mind her own business, too,” I told her.

“She said he seems very nice,” said my mother.

I couldn’t believe it. Maybe she missed me – or maybe just missed the flat – but she was ready to make peace. This was her way of giving up. Mrs Mugurdy obviously reported back that Les not only didn’t have face piercings or a motorcycle, but that he had a nice car and dressed well and was very polite. Hilary Spiggs was relieved.

But I wasn’t going to fall into her trap and say anything more about Les. I knew her. If I said he was nice, within five minutes she’d have his name, address, and NHS number.

I said, “Um…”

“I hope he’s contributing,” said my mother.

I didn’t say anything.

“Well?” she persisted. “Is he contributing?”

If I said yes, I wouldn’t be able to come up with some unexpected expense to get some more money out of her. If I said no, she might forget how nice Mrs Mugurdy said he was and lie in wait to confront him herself.

“Of course he is,” I assured her. “He’s not a wanker.”

“That I already know,” said my mother.