The Baby Diaries

Jacki: I thought so. Thirsty?

Me: I am, yeah.

Jacki: [gesturing to a barman] Here, it’s coming over now. [taking two drinks from the waiter]

Me: [smelling it] Oh … lovely. Thank you. What is it? [lifting it to my mouth]

Jacki: It’s called a Belladonna.

Me: [wetting my lips with it] Mmm, what’s in it?

Jacki: Gin and rum. And apricot liqueur.

Me: [still holding the glass to my lips] MmmMMMm.

Jacki: And a double whisky.

Me: [putting glass down] Alright, enough. [wiping mouth] Oh, that is good though. How long have you known?

Jacki: I had an email from Polka Dot telling me they were looking for my replacement editor and would let me know as soon as they could.

Me: What?

Jacki: Which is exactly how I felt. Why the hell didn’t you tell me, Kiki?

Me: Well, partly because I only found out really recently –

Jacki: So you didn’t know last time I saw you?

Me: Um.

Jacki: Was this a pity silence? Was I so sad that you couldn’t even tell me you were pregnant?

Me: No, of course not!

Jacki: So what was it, then?

Me: It wasn’t pity, it was just tact. You were sad, because of course you would be, because your husband …

Jacki: He’s not my husband.

Me: I’m sorry, Jacks. You know what I mean. Of course you would be sad, and we were talking about that, and I didn’t think it was appropriate to say, ‘Hey, guess what! I’m having a baby!’

Jacki: [quiet] OK. Alright, Keeks. What a pair we are, hey?

So Jacki drank both the Belladonnas, and I drank some amazing ginger and apple things, and we stayed there for a while. I told her about the scan, and how my family and Polka Dot were taking it.

Me: Hey, Jacks, do you want to be godmother to this baby? Well, not godmother godmother. Non- godmother. What do you say?

Jacki: Did you just think of that?

Me: Nope.

Jacki: Kiki?

Me: Please? It’s all so medical I could do with a little laughter and colour in the mix. As long as the colour isn’t flesh pink or wound red.

Jacki: Oh, you do know how to sell it, Kiki. Can I think about it?

We kissed and said goodbye, and I headed home to collapse on the sofa and tell Thom the good news.

Thom: Jacki Jones Jacki?

Me: Yes.

Thom: As the baby’s godmother?

Me: Non-godmother. I’m not dunking my baby for anybody.

Thom: Jacki Jacki Jones?

Me: Yes, Thom.

Thom: [thinking] Sure, that sounds nice.

December 7th

Thom woke me up this morning.

Thom: Uh, Kiki?

Me: Unnnnn. What?

Thom: What was the last thing you got in the advent calendar?

Me: Nnnnidunno. Mm. Maybe … oh, a lip balm. Why? What did you get today?

Thom: Look.

I finally opened my eyes to see what it was. Thom was holding up a slightly chewed stumpy pencil, the kind of thing Dad always keeps behind his ear at college. I felt baffled, then I realised that Susie had finally excelled herself.

Me: Oh my God … it was Susie!

Thom: How do you work that out?

Me: When she was over the other night, she had me rooting around for ages, trying to find a top she’d lent me. That bloody crafty wolf.

I roared with laughter, and we agreed that Susie deserved to be congratulated on her effective sabotage. I also determined to swap one of her parcels for her own little surprise before she got our congratulations. I was pretty amazed neither of us had had this brainwave before, to be honest. But if she wants to play mean, we can play mean.