Three In a Bed Read online

‘Yes, fine,’ Susan answered. ‘But it will have to be tomorrow, I’m off on my Christmas cruise the day after.’

  ‘Oh lovely,’ said Bella thinking, yuck and she’ll come back looking all deep brown and leathery.

  ‘Why don’t we meet in the office at ten, go through everything, then have a nice lunch?’

  ‘That would be great,’ Bella answered.

  ‘Maybe Hector should be asked to have a look. He might come out with some unexpected genius,’ Chris put in.

  Bella and Susan didn’t say anything.

  Chris added: ‘He’s brilliant. Still a bit disorganized . . .’

  ‘And lacking in basic mathematical skills,’ Bella added quietly, so Hector couldn’t hear.

  ‘But brilliant,’ Chris said again. ‘He is going straight to the top.’

  Bella felt rattled by this. She was meant to be the up and coming office star, not barely-out-of-university-unbearably-pompous Hector. Not being childish at all, are we? she ticked herself off and drained her glass. Oh no, now what was she going to drink? Mineral water would be a bit suspicious. She accepted a refill.

  ‘How are you, darling?’ She turned her attention to Kitty.

  Kitty, squeezed into a tiny silver sequined dress with her hair cut in an extra-short spiky number, was looking sexy, cheeky and hardly bizarre at all.

  The mood was mellow. Platefuls of wonderful food arrived as Hector and Chris held court, trying to outdo each other with client anecdotes. Even Susan seemed quite relaxed. There was a nice buzz, Bella thought; Kitty still lusted after Hector and Chris still fancied her. How nice. Now on a third glass of wine, she was starting to feel just a little bit tipsy.

  Hector leaned over and whispered in her ear, ‘I’ve brought some stuff with me if you want a dose. Remember the laugh we had last time?’

  She giggled and turned back to him, leaning up close to his neat little ear and thinking how nice he smelled, smoky but with an undertone of expensive aftershave and laundry.

  ‘Thanks but I really shouldn’t, now that I’m pregnant,’ she whispered and they looked at each other in utter amazement: Hector astonished at what she had said, Bella astonished that she’d said it.

  ‘What??!!’ said Hector, then, ‘Did you lot know this?’ before she could stop him.

  Everyone looked at him. ‘Bella’s up the duff,’ he announced.

  Could three people have looked more shocked? She took in the expressions one at a time: Kitty looking delighted-shocked, Chris looking stunned-shocked and Susan looking absolutely furious-shocked.

  ‘That’s fantastic!’ Kitty spoke first.

  ‘How long have you known?’ Chris asked. Hardly surprising.

  ‘When is it due?’ from Susan.

  ‘Umm, I’m really sorry about this. I didn’t mean to say anything until after Christmas. It just slipped out.’ She was seriously flustered and glared at Hector, but it was rather lost on him.

  ‘I’m almost halfway there. The baby is due early June . . . ummm.’ She was totally rattled, looking at them all staring at her, open-mouthed. ‘Don is really pleased,’ she added, then, ‘And . . . so am I. We had a scan last week and it’s looking fine.’

  ‘Boy or girl?’ said Kitty excitedly.

  ‘Don’t know yet.’

  ‘I just can’t see you with a baby, Bella. It’s unbelievable’, this from Kitty again. Obviously everyone else still didn’t know what to say.

  ‘Congratulations,’ finally Chris spoke again. Well could she be surprised he was a bit taken aback? By now he’d probably worked out she’d been pregnant in Birmingham.

  ‘Well, we’ll have plenty to talk about at lunch tomorrow,’ said Susan and made it sound ominous.

  Somehow the meal carried on without revolving entirely round Bella and her news. She made it pretty clear she didn’t want to talk about it much, politely brushing off Kitty’s clumsy questions about maternity leave and what she was planning to do afterwards.

  By midnight she was a little drunk, over-anxious and exhausted. Gratefully she clambered into a cab and headed home, wondering how the hell she was going to handle Susan tomorrow.

  Chapter Eleven

  THE SQUARE MILE that formed the City of London, one of the richest square miles in the world, was eerily deserted on Saturdays. The shops, cafés and bars were closed, the pavements filled Monday to Friday with suits were empty, and the office towers abandoned apart from security guards and the odd weekend visitor like herself.

  Bella had dressed down – just a little bit – for the meeting with Susan and as she tapped in the entry code at the front door she wondered nervously how this was going to go.

  She was fifteen minutes early, but Susan was already there, in her office with her chair turned to the window. For once she wasn’t on the phone.

  Bella gave a tentative hello.

  The chair swivelled to face her. ‘Hello Bella, come in.’ Susan’s voice was neutral but Bella wondered if she’d made a wardrobe mistake when she saw her boss was in full office gear, with a beige rollneck sweater instead of a blouse as her one concession to informality.

  ‘Hi,’ Bella added, somewhat needlessly.

  ‘Sit down.’ With a faint smile, Susan gestured to a chair. ‘Well, that was quite a bombshell you dropped on us last night. Still, at least you don’t have a weight problem.’

  What was that? An attempt at a joke? Bella didn’t smile, just launched into her planned pitch: ‘Susan, I love my job. I love working for you. I’m planning to take a couple of months of maternity leave and come straight back. This is what I’ve always wanted to do.’

  ‘What, have a baby?’ Susan asked.

  ‘No, consult, for the best team in the country.’ Bella paused, then added, ‘You know I didn’t want children when I joined. But I met Don, we got married and my feelings changed. I hope you can understand that.’

  ‘Well, I don’t want to be messed around, Bella. Here you are promising me you’ll be straight back to work, working just as hard as you do now, but is that realistic?’ Susan snapped back.

  ‘I’ll make it realistic,’ Bella answered.

  ‘We’ll have to take you off Danson’s.’

  Not without a fight, you won’t, Bella felt her hackles rise. ‘I brought that job in, Susan. They want me to do it. Tell them 1 August and I’ll be there. Surely you owe me that?’

  Susan tapped long beige nails on the desk and finally said, ‘OK August the 1st, but you’ll take Hector on the job with you as your number two.’

  ‘Fine.’ It was not fine at all, but August was months and months away. She’d worry about that nearer the time.

  ‘OK, well, I’m impressed by your commitment,’ said Susan. ‘We’ll see how it works out.’

  The subject appeared to be closed, so Bella opened up her files and they began talking about Merris Group.

  She listened to Susan and learned. Her boss was as brilliant as ever.

  Bella had two whole weeks off for Christmas. She wasn’t due back at Merris until 3 January, whereas Don was off just for Christmas Day and 1 January, but she would be too busy to notice, she told herself.

  She had drawn up a typically ambitious ‘to do’ list for her holidays: buy Christmas presents, maternity clothes and a house (well, at least start looking). She also wanted to change hospitals. The ultrasound department had helped her make that decision with its third world waiting room and totally harassed staff. Sod that, she was going private.

  Bur first of all, she needed some relaxation, so Tuesday was going to be shopping day. Tania was awarding herself the day off so they could hit town together.

  ‘There’s this fabulous maternity shop around here,’ Tania assured her when they met for coffee at the start of the day. ‘I’ve already been looking for you.’

  Bella took in her friend’s recent chunky toffee highlights and bang up to the second manicure. She was the best possible person to take shopping: ‘I’m half French,’ Tania would declare. ‘I don’t know the meaning of post-reta
il guilt. We need these things! We need to look lovely!’

  ‘Let’s do the other stuff first, I just can’t see maternity wear shopping as fun,’ Bella said, gloomy at the prospect of getting even bigger.

  So they went to Selfridge’s and got the Christmas shopping well under way, buying picture frames, candlesticks, rugs, bed linen and books.

  Bella cheered up at last when she started shopping for Don. She’d planned to buy him a jumper, but got carried away and bought him the jumper, plus a shirt, plus a new black cashmere overcoat. ‘He only ever wears his battered oilskin thing,’ she told Tania. ‘Oh hell, I’m going to get him a new briefcase as well. It is Christmas.’

  ‘How are we going to carry all this?’ Tania asked.

  ‘In a cab,’ said Bella.

  ‘Are you as rich as you’re making out?’

  ‘Christmas bonus,’ grinned Bella.

  ‘Ah-ha, City bitch,’ Tania teased.

  They hit the maternity shop and wandered round the racks fending off shop assistants.

  ‘Let me just look around for a bit,’ Bella told them grumpily. ‘God, everything is so twee,’ she complained to Tania. ‘It’s all pink tie cardies and lilac pinafores. I can’t turn up for a board meeting in a cardie.’

  Bella went to the changing room and was brought one outfit after another.

  She flatly refused to try on any pinafores or dungarees: ‘Hello, dungarees??’ she said sternly. ‘They look cute on the under twos. And no, I cannot go to work in a pinafore.’ She was given a grey jersey skirt suit. It was stretchy, it had no lining, no tailoring, no shoulder pads. It looked like a track suit masquerading as a suit and Bella’s gloom deepened.

  ‘Well, it’s the only type of suit they’ve got,’ Tania told her. ‘Try it with this white smock thing. It might not look too bad.’

  And it didn’t look too awful, she had to admit, although the skirt was a sad, sad, elasticated thing with a front that looked like an empty carrier bag.

  ‘OK, one polyester suit in grey and one in black. Two smock things – one white, one pink. What else can I wear for work?’ Bella asked.

  ‘What about this?’ One of the assistants brought in a perfectly acceptable long black Lycra tunic with a deep V neck. There was a matching knee-length skirt to wear underneath.

  ‘This is more like it.’ Bella slipped it on. She didn’t look too bad at all, sort of sexily pregnant. Her desired intention.

  ‘OK, what other colour does it come in?’

  ‘Grey,’ said Tania, her image consultant skills rather stretched to the limit.

  ‘Black and grey? This is pregnancy, not mourning. Well, I’ll take them both. So, any maternity leather trousers?’ This was a joke.

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact there are,’ the assistant surprised her.

  ‘Hurray! I’ll have them please. Plus some of the fitted body things and hell, maybe even a pink cardigan.’

  She tried everything on again for Don when he got home.

  ‘It’s not so bad, is it?’

  ‘I don’t know about the suits.’

  ‘You have a point.’

  ‘Have you been whacking your credit cards?’ he asked, but not disapprovingly; it was her money, after all. Well, actually it was Mr Visa’s but . . .

  ‘Just a bit, but I got my Christmas bonus. It was very good and very deserved.’

  ‘Well don’t go over the top with my present, because I don’t get a bonus.’ He sounded sulky now.

  ‘OK,’ she said. Oops too late, she thought.

  ‘Where are we going for Christmas lunch? Do you want to take me and Maddie out somewhere posh?’ she asked him, taking a sip of her white wine spritzer and trying to pretend that it tasted nice even though it had only a millimetre of wine in it.

  ‘What about here at home?’

  ‘No no, we’re not doing that whole plum pudding and turkey thing just for the three of us sitting at home. What will we do all day?’

  ‘We’ll have fun. I always have fun when I’m with you and Mum,’ he smiled at her.

  ‘I want to go out. Let’s go to a really nice restaurant for Christmas lunch.’

  ‘OK, if you like,’ he answered.

  ‘Does that mean you wouldn’t like it?’

  ‘I don’t mind, Bella, you choose.’ He was lying across the sofa and looked like he was about to reach for the TV remote control.

  ‘We have to have a house talk, Don. We are still going to buy a house, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yup, that’s the plan.’ He didn’t sound that enthusiastic.

  ‘It’s a good investment. I think we should spend as much as we can. We can use the savings for a deposit and furniture, decorating and stuff. Well, we’ll have to borrow a bit extra for all that, I suppose.’

  She was treading as carefully as she could – note use of ‘the’ savings, not ‘my’. It was a tricky subject because he earned less than her and did not like to be reminded of it. She didn’t know exactly how much he earned – they had separate bank accounts – but she knew his tax code. And she knew for a fact he had no savings at all – part of his ‘life’s too short, I’m still young, everyone’s so materialistic’ philosophy.

  ‘So how big a mortgage do you have in mind?’ He looked up at her.

  ‘Well, we could do four times my salary, but I’ve found someone who’s prepared to lend us three times our joint.’

  ‘So how much is that?’ Don asked.

  ‘Well, I’m guestimating for you because I know how coy you are but I’d work it out as . . .’ she suddenly felt awkward about coming out with it, so she scribbled the figure on the little pad of Post-Its beside her and passed it to him.

  ‘Da-na,’ she tried to make a joke of it.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ he said, sitting up. ‘That’s not far off half a million pounds. What the hell would the monthly repayments be?’

  ‘One and a half times our rent. I’ve found a very good deal.’

  ‘Bella, I don’t want you to bite off more than you can chew. Especially with a baby on the way.’

  God, that sounded patronizing.

  ‘Yeah, I know, Don. But I am planning to go straight back to work and I’m expecting them to make me a partner next year and I really want to have a house of my own . . . our own,’ ouch, she corrected herself immediately.

  ‘Oh please cheer up.’ She went to sit on the sofa beside him. ‘This is such an exciting time, new house, new baby. Aren’t you excited about it all?’

  She cuddled up to him and turned her face to kiss him. He kissed her lightly on the lips then, to her surprise, broke away.

  ‘Bella, I’ve had a few really stressful days, I’m very tired and I think I’ll head off to bed,’ he said.

  ‘Oh OK,’ she sighed. ‘Good night then, I’m going to stay up for a bit, if that’s OK.’

  ‘Yeah fine.’ He nodded vaguely and stood up to go.

  She suspected he was suffering from a classic case of income-related impotence. Never mind, he’d get over it. So she earned a bit more than him, well quite a lot more with bonuses. So what?

  She stretched out on the sofa and reached over for her cigarette pack. She shook out the last one and lit up.

  Lying there quietly she put her hand on the bump and thought about the baby. She knew there was something perverse about the fact that she only really had the peace and quiet to concentrate on the baby growing and existing inside her when she paused for a cigarette break.

  ‘I’m doing the best I can,’ she whispered to the little person down there. ‘I’m down to five a day, extra mild, sometimes just two. I really, really hope that’s OK with you. I’m very sorry I can’t give up for you.’

  She breathed the smoke in and out several times, then added: ‘You are definitely going to be much smarter than me and not smoke. Mind you, I hope you’re not too much smarter than me because I’m pretty clever and I don’t want you to be one of those mad, genius types.’

  Oh God, she laughed at herself, not that I’m g
oing to be a pushy mother or anything.

  Chapter Twelve

  ON 3 JANUARY she was back at her desk at Merris Group. It had been a good holiday, bar a small tantrum over her Christmas presents to Don.

  He had given her a pair of small diamond earrings, then been a little less than grateful when she’d given him all her gifts.

  He’d said ‘Bella, you really shouldn’t have,’ and meant it. She’d ended up yelling at him, when Maddie was out of the room, that it was her money and if she wanted to spend it on him, she should bloody well be allowed to. They’d smoothed it over later, but it still bothered her that he was upset at her generosity. She hadn’t been trying to prove what a big fat wage earner she was or anything. She’d wanted to spoil him, remind him how much she loved him.

  Over her fortnight off, her bump had suddenly swelled into a definite, undisguisable entity. She was not going to get away with skirts safety-pinned at the waist and jackets worn open any longer. As she’d stood in front of the wardrobe that morning, she’d had to face the fact that she was going to have to put on one of the horrible jersey suits and break the pregnancy news at Merris.

  Not that it would cause any problems; her contract would be over well before her maternity leave kicked in. But it embarrassed her, having to bring her personal life so blatantly into the office, it seemed kind of unprofessional. But what else could she do? Leave the baby in an incubator at home?

  Strangely, conference was postponed to the afternoon, so Mitch was the first person to come into her little office and wish her a Happy New Year.

  ‘Hello, Bella, did you have a good holiday?’ he asked sticking his head round the door.

  She swivelled round in her chair. ‘Hello.’

  ‘You look different,’ he said. ‘What’s different about you?’

  ‘I ate too much Christmas pudding,’ she said putting her hands round her bump.

  ‘Oh my God, you’re pregnant!’

  ‘Well you should know, you’ve seen it all before.’

  ‘Congratulations. And who may I ask is the lucky man?’

  ‘Mitch! You can ask that at engagements, not conceptions. I’m a happily married woman.’