Babyville Page 0,73
the night of Chuck's Great American Rib 'n' Beef Extravaganza. Calm and reassuring were not the words I would have used to describe him that night. The night of conception.
Christ. I hadn't thought of that. Imagine if I did have a baby. Imagine them asking where they were conceived and having to explain that no, it wasn't in the Cipriani in Venice, or the George V in Paris. It was in a dirty, seedy alleyway in Soho, and it lasted all of five minutes. A fantastic five minutes, but five minutes nevertheless.
All the more reason not to have this baby.
“I just wondered how you were feeling.” Mark laid the bag on the desk, and I eyed it curiously. “Although now I think you might actually be a bit pissed off.” He frowned, seeing me looking suspiciously at the bag. “In fact I think I've done something really stupid and maybe I should take the books back and leave right now.” He moved to take the bag but I grabbed it and pulled out two books.
The Pregnancy Question and Answer Book and What Does My Baby Look Like Today?
Oh.
“Shit. I'm sorry,” Mark said warily. “I thought that since we haven't made a decision, just in case you do decide to keep the baby you might want to know some stuff.”
“Like what kind of stuff?”
“Like the kind of stuff you shouldn't be eating.”
“Such as?” I don't even know why I bothered to ask.
“Sushi. Unpasteurized meat and cheese. Liver . . .”
“I see you've become quite the expert.”
“I knew I shouldn't have done it,” he sighed. “I'll take them back.”
“No. Wait. I want to show you something.” I flicked through What Does My Baby Look Like Today?, and found exactly what I was looking for. A picture of a baby at nine weeks. A blob. A nothing. “That”—I turned the book around and pushed it over the desk to Mark—“is what the baby looks like.”
It didn't have the desired effect. Mark shook his head. “Incredible,” he said in awe, while I sighed and wondered how he could think a shapeless blob that resembles nothing very much could be incredible.
“Would you look at the books?” he said finally. “Just the early stuff about keeping yourself healthy. Just in case.”
“Okay.” I nodded, knowing I'd drop them in the nearest dustbin outside the tube. “Sure. I can do that.”
“So what are you up to this weekend?” His tone was too fake-casual for my liking.
“A party tonight. The pub tomorrow afternoon with friends, then a club in the evening. I think Sunday I'll take it easy and stay at home with a few beers.”
He looked horrified. “You are joking?”
“Of course I'm bloody joking. I'm exhausted. My idea of a good night right now involves a bottle of bubble bath and bed by 10 P.M.” I didn't tell him it was actually bed by 8 P.M. I didn't want to sound too sad.
“Do you, um. Well, I thought maybe we could go out or something? I could take you for dinner tomorrow night.”
Oh, for fuck's sake.
“Oh, for fuck's sake.”
“What's wrong?”
“Mark, you don't have to patronize me by pretending to be interested in me because I'm carrying your child, and nor do you have to waste your time trying to be nice to me in the hope that you'll bring me round to your way of thinking. I don't want a relationship and I don't want a baby. And going out for dinner with you isn't going to bloody well change that. Do you understand?”
“Sure.” He stood up, his face hard. “I understand perfectly well.” And without saying another word he turned and left the office, leaving me feeling like shit. Once again.
That afternoon Sam the post boy dropped off the internal mail.
“Feels like a big one,” he said with a cheeky grin, dropping a large, heavy envelope onto my desk.
I opened it up to find two bottles of Crabtree and Evelyn bubble bath with a note attached: “Maeve. I wasn't trying to patronize you. Enjoy your bath. (Not too hot and no gin . . . ) Mark.”
Good. No “Love.'' That I don't think I could have handled.
“You know people will start to talk,” I said to Mark two weeks after that, when I agreed to meet him for a drink in the bar at lunchtime. (Mark: half a lager. Me: Highland Spring.)
Mark laughed. “They'll be saying we're having an affair.”
“Better that than we're having a baby.”
He looked up sharply. “Are we? Are you ready to talk about