Shopaholic & Baby (Shopaholic #5)

Shopaholic & Baby (Shopaholic #5) Page 1

ONE

OK. DON’T PANIC. Everything’s going to be fine. Of course it is.

Of course it is.

“If you could lift up your top, Mrs. Brandon?” The sonographer has a pleasant, professional air as she looks down at me. “I need to apply some jelly to your abdomen before we start the scan.”

“Absolutely!” I say without moving a muscle. “The thing is, I’m just a teeny bit…nervous.”

I’m lying on a bed at the Chelsea and Westminster hospital, tense with anticipation. Any minute now, Luke and I will see our baby on the screen for the first time since it was just a teeny blob. I still can’t quite believe it. In fact, I still haven’t quite got over the fact that I’m pregnant. In nineteen weeks’ time I, Becky Brandon, née Bloomwood…am going to be a mother. A mother!

Luke’s my husband, by the way. We’ve been married for just over a year and this is a one hundred percent genuine honeymoon baby! We traveled loads on our honeymoon, but I’ve pretty much worked out that we conceived it when we were staying in this gorgeous resort in Sri Lanka, called Unawatuna, all orchids and bamboo trees and beautiful views.

Unawatuna Brandon.

Miss Unawatuna Orchid Bamboo-tree Brandon.

Hmm. I’m not sure what Mum would say.

“My wife had a slight accident in the early stages of pregnancy,” Luke explains from his seat beside the bed. “So she’s a little anxious.”

He squeezes my hand supportively, and I squeeze back. In my pregnancy book, Nine Months of Your Life, it says you should include your partner in all aspects of your pregnancy, otherwise he can feel hurt and alienated. So I’m including Luke as much as I possibly can. Like, last night I included him in watching my new DVD, Toned Arms in Pregnancy. He suddenly remembered in the middle that he had to make a business call, and missed quite a lot — but the point is, he doesn’t feel shut out.

“You had an accident?” The sonographer pauses in her tapping at the computer.

“I fell off this mountain when I was looking for my long-lost sister in a storm,” I explain. “I didn’t know I was pregnant at the time. And I think maybe I bashed the baby.”

“I see.” The sonographer looks at me kindly. She has graying brown hair tied back in a knot, with a pencil stuck into it. “Well, babies are resilient little things. Let’s just have a look, shall we?”

Here it is. The moment I’ve been obsessing over for weeks. Gingerly I lift up my top and look down at my swelling stomach.

“If you could just push all your necklaces aside?” she adds. “That’s quite a collection you have there!”

“They’re special pendants.” I loop them together with a jangle. “This one is an Aztec maternity symbol, and this is a gestation crystal…and this is a chiming ball to soothe the baby…and this is a birthing stone.”

“A birthing stone?”

“You press it on a special spot on your palm, and it takes away the pain of labor,” I explain. “It’s been used since ancient Maori times.”

“Mm-hmm.” The sonographer raises an eyebrow and squeezes some transparent gloop on my stomach. Frowning slightly, she applies the ultrasound probe thing to my skin, and instantly a fuzzy black-and-white image appears on the screen.

I can’t breathe.

That’s our baby. Inside me. I dart a look at Luke, and he’s gazing at the screen, transfixed.

“There are the four chambers of the heart….” The sonographer is moving the probe around. “Now we’re looking at the shoulders….” She points to the screen and I squint obediently, even though, to be honest, I can’t see any shoulders, only blurry curves.

“There’s an arm…one hand…” Her voice trails off and she frowns.

There’s silence in the little room. I feel a sudden grip of fear. That’s why she’s frowning. The baby’s only got one hand. I knew it.

A wave of overpowering love and protectiveness rises up inside me. Tears are welling in my eyes. I don’t care if our baby’s only got one hand. I’ll love it just as much. I’ll love it more. Luke and I will take it anywhere in the world for the best treatment, and we’ll fund research, and if anyone even dares give my baby a look—

“And the other hand…” The sonographer’s voice interrupts my thoughts.

“Other hand?” I look up, choked. “It’s got two hands?”

“Well…yes.” The sonographer seems taken aback at my reaction. “Look, you can see them here.” She points at the image, and to my amazement I can just about make out the little bony fingers. Ten of them.