Babyville Page 0,68
said. Then, after a pause, “Maeve, love. I know you're going to have an, a you know . . .” She can't actually say the word. “. . . but you should be taking folic acid anyway. Not just for the ba . . . I mean that you need to be taking extra vitamins and minerals to keep yourself healthy.”
“I'm fine.”
“They'll help with the hormones,” Viv said, at which point I tore off the seal and downed three with a swig of cold cappuccino.
Ah yes. Cappuccino. I have read that coffee doubles your chance of miscarriage within the first three months of pregnancy, and have subsequently been drinking extra-strong cappuccinos from the moment I arrive at work until the moment I leave. The only unfortunate side effect thus far is that I'm spending most of my time at work sitting on a toilet seat, which isn't hugely constructive.
I came back from my thirteenth toilet break this morning (it was 10:34 A.M.) to find Mike Jones loitering outside my office door, pretending to be having an intimate chat with Stella but undoubtedly waiting for me.
“Hi, Mike.” I flash him my most flirtatious smile, but evidently my killer smile only works with a killer suit and killer high heels. A huge baggy jumper from the Men's Department of M & S combined with size-eighteen drawstring trousers isn't exactly the sexiest look in the world, I have to concede. (Although my boobs are now fantastic . . . )
He looks uncomfortable, but comes into my office and sits down, gesturing for me to do the same. “Um, everything all right?”
“Yes. Great. Everything all right with you?”
He nods distractedly, then lets out a big sigh, finally meeting my eye. “Maeve, I feel like this is déjà vu. I can't believe this is happening again but I've got to ask you what the fuck is going on.”
“What the fuck is going on?” I'm smiling, keeping the tone light, but my heart's pounding, because please God, let me not have jeopardized the one job I've wanted all my life.
“The word on the floor is that you're—”
“Turning into the Mad Bitch from Hell?” I cock an eyebrow and note his surprise. He thought I hadn't heard it.
“Turning into Julia?” I continue, chancing a grin, which is—thankfully—returned, together with an embarrassed shrug.
“Thank fuck for that. I thought you'd start screaming at me too.” He looks down warily at the chair on which he's sitting. The chair behind my desk. My chair.
“Yes,” I say, nodding wearily. “That is the Mad Bitch from Hell chair, and no, I don't think it will affect you as (a) you're a bloke and (b)—”
“I'm already a mad bastard?” He's enjoying this.
“Well.” I shrug. “That is the word on the floor.”
“Come on, then, Maeve. What's it all about? All I keep hearing is that you're throwing these tantrums and everyone's scared shitless of you. I had to give Julia a break because I couldn't have all her staff feeling that way, and now you've morphed into her and I want to know why.”
I sit up straight and look him in the eye, wait until I have his full attention.
“I'm pregnant.”
“You what.” The shock on his face is a picture, and I can see exactly what's going through his mind. First, fuck, why did I give the job to some stupid woman who's got herself up the duff in five minutes? Second, who the fuck am I going to get in to replace her, and third, hang on. She's single. Who the fuck is the father?
“Joke,” I say weakly, wishing I hadn't said anything, wishing I hadn't felt the need to put him to the test. His sigh of relief is audible.
“Fuck. I thought I was going to have a heart attack.” As Mike recovers from the shock, I think quickly. What the hell am I supposed to say? How the hell am I supposed to explain myself? Family problems? He'd want to know what. Mike Jones is not the sort of man to be satisfied with a vague explanation. “You don't like it?” he'd say. “Well, fuck off, then.”
“I'll tell you the truth if you won't tell anyone,” I say, and he leans forward, his attention immediately caught. “I've been having a few problems.”
Mike's eyes are full of sympathy.
“It's actually gynecological, one of my ovaries has a fibroid on it the size of a golfball, and my hormone levels are . . .” I don't have to say any more. Mike has already