Miranda's Big Mistake (32 page)

‘YUUURRGH!' grunted Chloe, her eyes stinging with sweat and her fingers aching with the effort of gripping Fenn's hand. She blinked and fixed her gaze on her toenails, which Miranda had last week painted a dazzling shade of turquoise. Right, okay, here it came again…

‘Push, Chloe,
push
,' urged the midwife, crouching like a wicket-keeper at the foot of the bed.

Honestly, what does she think I'm trying to do—suck it back in?

‘Nearly there,' Fenn murmured in her ear. ‘Come on, you can do it.'

The last midwife had gone off shift twenty minutes ago. This new one, charging in to replace her, was middle-aged, extremely brisk and sported a
Jesus Saves
badge pinned to the front of her uniform. Not having had time to peruse Chloe's notes at leisure, she was also under the impression that Fenn was the proud father-to-be.

Well, Chloe had to admit as Fenn wrung out the cold sponge and pressed it to her forehead, it was the kind of mistake anyone could make.

‘Right, all ready now for the final push,' warned the midwife, flexing her fingers in preparation for that all-important catch.

Breathlessly, Chloe gathered herself. It was like being an Olympic weightlifter, psyching yourself up…ooh…except they had the option of walking away…aargh…

‘Push right down, dear, as harrrd as you can.'

‘I'm puh-pushing.' What does it look like I'm doing, you stupid old witch? Knitting a pom pom hat?

‘Come on, Chloe, you're doing it,' shouted Fenn as the midwife went into a one-woman scrum at the foot of the bed.

‘Ouch.' Chloe winced as her own fingers went numb. ‘Fenn…I'm supposed to be squeezing
your
hand.'

‘God, I'm sorry! Don't talk! Push, Chloe, just PUSH PUSH PUSH!'

Obediently she pushed. The baby slithered out. Chloe gasped, ‘Oh!' and burst into tears.

‘It's a girl.' Fenn's voice broke as he said it. He still had one arm around Chloe, supporting her shoulders. She turned and gazed up at him, lost for words.

‘Let me just clean this wee one up a bit, then you can have her back.' The midwife, expertly snipping the cord, whisked the baby over to a waiting trolley.

Fenn squeezed Chloe's trembling hand. When he spoke at last, he said huskily, ‘I love you.'

And Chloe, flushed with a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration, smiled up at him and said, ‘I know.'

To her great surprise, she wasn't at all surprised. It was as if, deep down, she had known it all along.

Fenn bent his head and kissed her, months and months of pent-up emotion compressed into two seconds' worth of kiss.

Chloe tasted salt on his upper lip and whispered, ‘I love you too.'

Then the midwife was back, brandishing the wrapped-up baby like a raffle prize.

‘Here we are then, a beautiful daughter, seven pounds twelve ounces,' she announced proudly. ‘Now, who wants to hold her first?'

Chloe took the baby into her arms and together they examined her.

‘She's amazing,' said Fenn. ‘The whole thing's amazing. One minute she was a lump in there,' he pointed at Chloe's stomach, ‘and the next minute she's a person out here.'

‘Ahem.' Chloe glanced up at the clock. ‘It took a bit longer than a minute.'

‘I want to marry you,' Fenn blurted out suddenly. ‘I know it's too soon to be saying this, but I mean it. I'm serious, I want us to be a proper family. And that means marriage.'

Beneath the celebrity-hairdresser-single-man-about-town, Chloe realized with a rush of love, there beat the heart of an old-fashioned traditionalist. Astonishing but true.

And absolutely blissful to discover.

‘Just a little prick,' the midwife announced, plunging a hypodermic needle into Chloe's thigh.

‘Actually,' said Fenn, ‘that's not true.'

‘In that case, I'd love to marry you.' Chloe searched his face. ‘If you really mean it.'

‘I've never been more sure of anything in my life.'

Was it possible to be happier than this? Chloe leaned back against Fenn, her daughter in her arms, her eyes filling up with fresh tears of elation.

Marriage, excellent. The stern midwife, who disapproved mightily of couples who lived in sin, relented and patted Chloe's just-injected thigh.

‘Very sensible, dear. Glad to hear it. Let the Good Lord bless your union, and you'll be so much happier.' She broke into an indulgent smile. ‘I must say, it cheers me no end to hear a man repent his former sins.'

‘Me too.' Chloe tilted her head back and gazed lovingly up at Fenn. ‘And he's not even the father.'

The midwife's untended eyebrows shot up.

‘You mean…?'

‘I'm not the father,' Fenn said again, helpfully.

‘But you've just asked her to marry you!'

Fenn looked down at the baby girl he fully intended bringing up as his own. Already hopelessly besotted, he held out an index finger, and four tiny, almost translucent fingers instantly grasped it. Fenn marveled at her strength. He didn't understand how he could feel such an instantaneous rush of love for a baby, but he did.

He wasn't paying the midwife the least bit of attention. Perplexed, she turned back to Chloe.

‘He just asked you to marry him!'

‘I know, isn't it incredible?' Chloe shot her a dazzling smile. ‘I don't know what my husband's going to say when he finds out.'

***

The cutting was finished. The blow-drying was done. As Miranda got busy with the hairspray, a phone began to ring somewhere in the room.

‘Not mine,' said Magdalena, patting her silent handbag.

‘It's Fenn's.' Recognizing the tone of the ring and peering over her shoulder, Miranda located the phone on the marble work surface behind her, half hidden beneath a pile of towels. As she moved towards it, the ringing stopped. ‘Oh well, they'll leave a message.'

‘It might be Fenn. Calling to find out where he's left his phone,' said Magdalena. ‘That's what I do if I forget where I've put mine.'

‘There, all done.' Miranda finished spraying and stepped back, pleased with what she had achieved. ‘Now be honest, are you happy with this?'

‘I am, I love it.' Magdalena sounded distracted. ‘But what if it's Fenn, ringing with news about your friend's baby? Aren't you just bursting to know?'

The door swung open and Bev rushed in.

‘Fenn just called from the hospital. Chloe's had it!' She looked at Magdalena in surprise. ‘Wow, your hair looks
great
.'

Miranda gaped at Bev. ‘Really? She's had it already?'

‘Mother and baby doing fine,' Bev said importantly.

‘Boy or girl?' said Magdalena.

‘Girl.'

‘Name?' Magdalena and Miranda chorused simultaneously.

‘He didn't say. But you can go and see them right away.' Bev waved a tenner at Miranda. ‘And Fenn must be in a really good mood,' she went on. ‘He told me to take this out of the till to pay for your taxi.'

‘Well then, what are you waiting for?' demanded Magdalena, when Miranda dithered. ‘We're finished here, aren't we? Get on over to that hospital and tell your friend congratulations from me.'

‘She's had the baby.' Miranda realized she was beaming like an idiot. ‘Isn't that just
incredible
?'

‘Here.' Magdalena picked up Fenn's mobile and lobbed it at her. ‘Don't forget to give him his phone.'

‘Stand back, stand back!' Miranda burst into the side ward, almost flattening an auxiliary nurse against the wall. ‘It's all right, don't panic, I'm here now, make way for the official birth partner. Oh now, will you look at that? She's only gone and done it without me. For heaven's sake, Chloe, couldn't you have waited?'

‘Did my best,' said Chloe as Miranda enveloped her in a massive hug. ‘Crossed my legs and everything. Sorry.'

‘In that case I forgive you.
So.
' Miranda turned her attention to the baby, lying fast asleep in her Perspex cot. ‘You managed on your own, then. Look at her, what an angel! Phew, bet you're glad she looks like you and not Greg.'

‘Well—'

‘And has Fenn seen her yet? I must say, we were all pretty amazed when he rushed out of the salon like that.'

‘Actually, he's—'

‘Quite the knight in shining armor, in fact. You'll never guess what my client said when she heard what was going on! She thought Fenn must be the
father
—'

‘Ahem. Which client was this?'

At the sound of Fenn's voice, Miranda spun round. There he was, leaning against the door, for all the world as if he
were
the baby's father.

‘Um, Magdalena Rosetti.'

Fenn looked startled.

‘You mean
you
cut her hair?'

‘I had to.' She beamed at him. ‘There wasn't anyone else.'

‘Jesus, what did you do?'

‘Just an asymmetric urchin crop and dyed it olive green.' Miranda shrugged. ‘She said she wanted something different.'

‘This is a joke, right?' Fenn lowered his voice as the baby stirred in her crib.

‘Of course it's a joke. Haven't I been telling you for ages how brilliant I am? Oh, and you left your phone behind.' Miranda tossed it across the room at him. ‘There's a message on there somewhere, too. Honestly, you wouldn't believe how nosy Magdalena is—she actually wanted to
listen
to it.' She returned her attention to Chloe while Fenn listened to his message. ‘So, tell me
everything
. How did it go?'

As she sat on the edge of the bed and listened to the gory details, Miranda couldn't help feeling relieved that she hadn't, in the end, been called upon to do her birthing-partner bit. Chloe truly didn't seem to mind, and it had all ended well. Phew.

Except…except, why did the niggling suspicion persist that something else had happened that she didn't know about?

What in heaven's name could it be? Chloe was looking elated—well, that was understandable, given the circumstances—but wasn't she also looking the tiniest bit apprehensive? And why, Miranda wondered, did she keep glancing across at Fenn, almost as if she was waiting for him to get off the phone before she said whatever else it was she was clearly plucking up the courage to say?

‘Is everything all right?' said Miranda, when Fenn had finished listening to his message.

‘Yes.' Chloe sounded breathless.

‘Are you sure?'

‘Um, yes…'

There was a long, long pause. Miranda saw Fenn look at Chloe and smile slightly. Chloe went pink, like an actress on stage who has forgotten all her lines.

The silence lengthened.

Mystified, Miranda said, ‘Would somebody please tell me what's going
on
?'

Fenn held out his phone.

‘Here.' He pressed Replay, turned the volume up to maximum and handed it to Miranda. ‘Perhaps it would help if you listened to this.'

She took it.

‘Fenn, hi, it's Tina!' sang a female voice with a faint twang to it.

‘That's his sister. She lives in New Zealand,' Miranda explained in a kindly aside to Chloe, who was listening as intently as she was.

‘Now look, I haven't spoken to you for a fortnight,' Tina carried on, ‘and I need to know what's happening over there. It's not fair, Fenn—you can't tell me you've fallen in love with this pregnant Chloe person—'

‘
What?
' shrieked Miranda.

‘—and then clam up on me like this. Okay, I know I wasn't thrilled when you first told me, but if she's that important—'

‘WHAT?' howled Miranda.

‘—if she really means that much to you, then go for it. Maybe I overreacted a bit. The thing is, if you've met someone you're completely crazy about and you're sure she's the one—'

THE ONE!!!
mouthed Miranda, jabbing an astonished finger at Chloe.

‘—then I'm happy for you. And when we fly over to London next month I'd love to meet her. So tell this Chloe how you feel and fix something up, will you? I can't wait to meet the girl who made my little brother finally fall in luuurve…'

There was the sound of merry laughter, then a click as the message ended.

Miranda gazed at Chloe in wonderment.

‘I don't believe it. This is…incredible! And he's done it, hasn't he? He's already told you, and you're both looking so smug and smirky and disgustingly happy, it's obvious you feel the same way about him.'

Imagine, all this
stuff
had been going on and they hadn't even had the decency to so much as
hint
at it before now. Outrageous! Miranda made a brave stab at sounding suitably outraged, but she couldn't pull it off. Her heart wasn't in it. She was happy for them too, dammit.

Fenn and Chloe, who'd have thought it for a moment?

But the weird part was, when you
did
actually think about it, it made absolute sense.

The baby, flailing her feet and fists, opened her long-lashed eyes at last and gazed up at Miranda.

‘Blimey, she really does look like you!' Instantly smitten, Miranda picked her out of the crib and held her up to the light for closer inspection. Solemn navy-blue eyes, white-blonde hair like a dandelion clock, strategically positioned dimples designed for flirting, and a fabulous pouty rosebud of a mouth with a streamer of saliva trailing down…

‘So cute when babies do it,' said Miranda, ducking out of the line of fire, ‘so unattractive on grown men.' She kissed each dimpled cheek in turn. ‘Oh, look at those eyebrows…isn't she just fab? I can still be her mad aunt, can't I? Missing the birth doesn't mean I'm disqualified.' A thought belatedly struck her and she turned to Fenn. ‘So where were you when all this was happening? Pacing up and down outside smoking an imaginary cigarette?'

‘I was in the delivery room.' Fenn couldn't conceal his pride.

‘He stayed all the way through,' said Chloe, reaching for his hand.

‘Talk about jumping in at the deep end.' Miranda goggled. ‘It
must
be love.'

‘It is.' Fenn gave Chloe's fingers a squeeze. ‘I've asked Chloe to marry me.'

Good grief.

‘And they haven't even had sex yet,' Miranda told the wide-eyed baby in her arms. ‘Honestly, some people do things a funny way round, don't they?' Abruptly, she looked up. ‘You haven't even told me her name. What are you calling her?'

Chloe shook her head. ‘We haven't decided.'

Miranda noted that ‘we' with secret delight.

‘Something that goes with Lomax,' said Fenn.

Miranda ruffled the baby's dandelion-puff hair and beamed at the pair of them.

‘I've got it. You can call her L'Oréal.'

***

‘No sense of adventure, that's what you've got,' Miranda told Fenn, lifting a beaming Mattie out of her car seat and weaving her through the air like Superman. ‘I still think you should have called her L'Oréal.'

‘That's why I'm marrying Chloe and not you,' said Fenn. ‘Now, any more cases to bring out, or is that the lot?'

Florence and Tom were off on the cruise of a lifetime, flying from Heathrow to Miami before boarding ship and spending the next thirty days sailing in indecent luxury around the Caribbean. Fenn and Chloe had come over to Tredegar Gardens to see them off. Mattie, now seven weeks old, flashed her toothless grin at everyone she clapped eyes on, captivating even the taxi driver who was loading the cases into the boot.

Miranda held Mattie, wrapped up in her scarlet snowsuit, against her shoulder. Bending her head and breathing in the smell of just-washed infant, she watched Fenn help Florence out of her chair and into the back of the cab. In less than two months he had acquired a live-in lover and a baby, both of whom he adored beyond measure. It suited him, too; he had never looked happier.

Sometimes, Miranda was beginning to discover, doing things the wrong way round turned out—mysteriously—to be the best way after all.

‘How's Bruce getting on in the shop?' Chloe was eager to know. Bruce hadn't been able to disguise his glee when she had rung him straight after the birth.

‘So you're telling me you won't be back this afternoon? This is too much, Chloe. It's the final straw. I'm sorry, but you're fired.'

‘Okay.' Shrugging happily, Chloe had smiled at Fenn. ‘Fine by me.'

‘Bruce?' said Miranda. ‘Oh, he's got a new assistant, called Petunia. Apparently she's twenty-three stone and looks like a bulldog chewing a wasp.'

‘Heavens.' Chloe was alarmed. ‘Poor Bruce.'

‘Oh no, don't feel sorry for him. She's just what he wanted. Someone so ugly that no man's
ever
going to want to have sex with her,' Miranda explained. ‘That way, she's never going to get pregnant.'

Tom came up to them and gave Miranda's shoulder an affectionate pat.

‘We're ready to go. You look after yourself, sweetheart.'

‘And you look after Florence. If she'll let you.' Miranda rolled her eyes at this—it was a pretty daunting prospect—but if anyone could pull it off, it was Tom. Since getting together, the change in Florence had been heartwarming.

‘Behave yourself now,' Florence ordered from the back seat. She cackled with laughter as Mattie, with a ladylike hiccup, gracefully deposited a mouthful of curdled milk on the shoulder of Miranda's black sweater. ‘No getting up to mischief.' Florence waggled her eyebrows friskily as she spoke. ‘Not unless you know I'd approve.'

‘It's been so long, I can't remember what mischief is.' Miranda said it jokily, but it was horribly close to the mark. Everyone, it seemed, had a rip-roaring sex life these days except her. Even Chloe, for heaven's sake, who had last week been given the go-ahead from her unsuspecting GP to ‘resume relations with her husband'.

If she wished.

Chloe had certainly wished. And, she had later shyly confided to Miranda, it had all gone Very Well Indeed. Furthermore, having only ever slept with one other man before, she now realized that contrary to what Greg had always told her, he wasn't brilliant in bed at all. In fact, compared with Fenn, he'd been completely
average
—

‘Send me postcards,' Miranda blurted out to Florence, banishing the troublesome memory from her mind. It wasn't that she wanted to have sex with Fenn—good grief, no!—but Chloe's verdict had come as a bit of a bombshell, all the same. If Greg was only average, well…

I must get out more, thought Miranda. I'm missing out on goodness knows what.

The trouble was, the only person she really wanted to get out more
with
had gone off with someone else and was no longer about.

‘Are we ready?' said Tom, as Chloe leaned through the open window to give Florence a kiss goodbye.

‘Got my hip-flask.' Florence patted her coat pocket with satisfaction. ‘That and a passport's all I need.'

‘You should behave yourself too,' Miranda said, when it was her turn at the window.

‘Are we allowed to get married?'

‘Only to each other.'

‘Me, marry some pervy vicar? Hah, you must be joking.' Florence exchanged a look of mock horror with Tom. But beneath the folds of Florence's dashing black cape, Miranda realized, there was some serious hand-holding going on.

Honestly, what were they like?

‘If they had acne, they'd pass as a couple of teenagers,' she said when the taxi had disappeared around the corner.

‘Except teenagers can't afford to cruise the Caribbean,' Chloe pointed out. ‘Oops, Mattie's just thrown up on your shoulder again. D'you want to give her to me?'

‘Come in for a bit,' Miranda urged, feeling suddenly lonely. A whole month alone in an otherwise empty house loomed ahead. What if she went a bit mad and started talking to herself?

But Chloe was still holding her arms out, ready to take Mattie back.

‘We can't. We're driving up to my mother's for the day.' Sensing Miranda's disappointment, she said, ‘It's a big family party. Oh, but you could come along too if you like.'

Miranda shuddered and shook her head, recalling the last time she and Chloe's mother had met, outside Adrian's house in Milligan Road.

‘It's okay, I'm fine. Loads to do, really.'

Fenn, taking Mattie from her, said, ‘Like changing into a clean sweater.'

‘Is he always this bossy?' Miranda rolled her eyes. ‘Because if you decide you can't stand it a minute longer, you could always run away, you know, come back and live with me.'

Fenn swiftly fastened Mattie into her car seat in the back of the new Volvo. The days of the black Lotus had long gone. Chloe smiled.

‘Thanks, but I think I'll stay where I am.'

Envying them for being so happy, Miranda stood and waved until the dark green Volvo was out of sight. She turned and made her way back into the house, catching a whiff of baby-sick as she went.

Right, now what?

Apart from stripping off her sweater, which appeared to be a bit of a must.