14

15 November

Mark’s happy and supportive response to the news of the baby gave Lisa a bit of hope that being a forty-two-year-old mum was going to be OK after all. At least she now knew that Mark would help, but Lisa was not in the clear yet.

Lisa and Mark decided that they needed to see a midwife before they told anyone else, to be on the safe side. These days, younger, more excitable girls seemed to tell everyone about their babies six minutes after conception. Lisa would have been happy to wait the full forty weeks. She could just say she was eating too many pies.

Mark said Lisa needed to face her future.

‘You sound like my sister!’ said Lisa.

‘Just because your sister says something doesn’t mean it’s wrong,’ said Mark. ‘She thinks I’m great and I am.’

Lisa had to smile.

They made an appointment with the midwife and the shame began.

Co-parenting might be very modern and accepted down south, or in big cities. But there, in a tiny village near Leicester, it was a different story. The local midwife was Jane Davis. Lisa had gone to school with Jane, but they had never been friends. Jane had been good at maths but never let Lisa copy her homework. Lisa had been captain of the netball team but had never picked Jane. That was a decision Lisa regretted now, as Jane raised an eyebrow and noted that Lisa and Mark had different names and addresses.

‘And will these addresses be the same at the time of the birth?’ Jane Davis asked. She was as good as holding a shotgun to Mark’s head. ‘How’s Keith, then, Lisa? I haven’t seen him for a while,’ added Jane.

‘You’re a midwife,’ Lisa pointed out. ‘He’s unlikely to need your services.’

It was not the moment for Lisa to defend herself, or to tell Jane about the Big Breasted Woman and the upset she’d caused. After all, Lisa was flat on her back with her legs in stirrups. And she’d just handed over a pot of wee. It was not a position of strength.

‘Well, having this baby won’t be the same as the others,’ said Jane Davis. She glumly shook her head. ‘You’re a very, very old mum, now.’

Lisa had thought the same thing but was cross to hear Jane Davis say it.

‘I’m not that old,’ said Lisa. ‘Loads of women my age or older have babies. Madonna was older.’

‘You are hardly Madonna,’ said Jane.

Lisa thought that, while this was true, it didn’t need saying. She listened crossly as Jane listed lots of scary tests that were needed because of her age. She felt dizzy. Mark suggested they go for a drink. Jane pulled a funny face. Mark turned red and said he meant orange juice.

The chat with Lisa’s mum didn’t go much better.

‘I’m pregnant,’ said Lisa.

‘Funny thing, dear, I thought you said you were pregnant,’ her mum laughed. ‘I must have my hearing checked.’

‘I am pregnant,’ said Lisa

‘When’s the wedding?’ asked her mum.

‘We haven’t talked about a wedding.’

‘Give me Mark’s address and I’ll send your father round.’

Lisa’s dad was only five foot nine in his prime. He weighed less than Lisa did on her wedding day. Mark was six foot one and beefy. Lisa didn’t think sending her dad round to Mark’s was a good idea, although it showed a certain sweetness in her parents’ relationship.

Lisa told her mum she didn’t want to get married. And that the baby, while not planned, was still great news. And that Mark and Lisa would be very happy co-parenting from different homes. After all, Keith and Lisa did it with the other three.

Lisa thought she sounded believable. Her mum tutted. She wanted to be angry at Lisa, but was secretly excited at the idea of knitting bootees. Also she was trying to stop herself laughing because Lisa had used the term ‘co-parenting’ – Lisa who had problems with the expression ‘partner’!

‘I wonder what Carol will have to say,’ said Lisa’s mum.

Lisa’s blood ran cold.

Lisa didn’t have to break the news to Carol, though, because by the time Lisa dialled Carol’s number, she found her mum had already passed on the good news.

‘You lied to me!’ said Carol.

‘No, I was mistaken,’ said Lisa.

‘How could you be so stupid?’ asked Carol.

‘It happens!’ said Lisa.

‘Yes, to teenagers. Not to old women.’

Lisa slammed down the phone. If she’d been able to, she’d have rammed it down Carol’s throat.