Page 14 of The Baby Plan

Sophie stood outside the smart, dark green door of the attractive semi-detached Victorian house with her niece in her arms, wondering if she was making a seriously stupid decision coming to see Samson’s home at all. Was the whole idea of her and Alana staying with him ridiculous? She didn’t know herself at the moment, everything in her life had been thrown into disarray so suddenly. She felt she was stuck in some sort of survival mode; dealing with each new challenge and decision as well as she could as they arose, and doing her absolute best not to panic completely when it seemed that practically every day she was making huge, life-altering choices, with no real idea how they would pan out. At the forefront of her mind was always Alana. Every choice presented to her was dealt with according to how the repercussions of her decision would affect her niece.

She glanced around surreptitiously. It seemed like a good area. All the houses were a little back from the road, with small front gardens and wrought iron gates. The pavement was clean and tree-lined, and there was no traffic as it wasn’t a through road.

She heard Mutt begin to bark as he presumably realised there were people outside, and was getting up the courage to knock on the front door when it was opened by Samson.

“You found it!” he said cheerfully, the huge grey dog by his side wagging its tail frantically at the sight of his new friends.

“Good directions,” replied Sophie with a smile, though she eyed Mutt apprehensively as she handed Alana to her father.

“Come on through. Would you like a cuppa?”

“Sure, thanks,” said Sophie, feeling awkward as she followed Samson inside and along his entrance hall.

“Your house is lovely,” she commented honestly, taking in the original wooden bannisters on the staircase and all the other carefully restored Victorian features.

“Thanks, I’ve lived here for a couple of years. It was a bit of a mess when I bought it, but it’s turned out pretty well I think.”

That sounded like Samson had done the work himself; Sophie was impressed.

They passed a large dining room cum sitting room and went down a couple of steps. There was a small utility room off the hallway and then the kitchen. A scrubbed pine table was the focal point of the space and French doors led out onto a patio garden, with a black cast iron table and chairs shaded by an old, gnarly pear tree laden with growing fruits. It was a beautiful day and a soft breeze blew in through the doors, wafting with the delicious cooking smells filling the kitchen.

A fancy highchair was positioned in the corner of the room Sophie noticed. Samson saw her looking at it. “Do you think it’ll be all right for her?” he asked. “It said it was for six months plus and easy to clean.”

Sophie couldn’t help thinking it was rather sweet that he was so concerned about getting exactly the right thing for Alana. “It’s lovely,” she said.

“I thought we’d eat outside if that’s OK?”

“Great,” she said. “Can I do anything to help?”

“Would you be able to rinse the salad for me? The salad spinner’s next to the sink and the salad’s in the bowl on the table.”

Sophie set to work on the salad, noticing as she did, how comfortable Samson was with Alana. He seemed much more confident today holding her in one arm and chatting to her as he made the teas.

He handed Sophie her mug; she was surprisingly touched he’d remembered how she took it.

“Food will be about half an hour. Shall we go outside?”

The garden matched the house: beautifully designed and lovingly maintained. Old brick walls covered in honeysuckle enclosed the space, and beds filled with fragrant herbs and shrubs were dotted around the edges.

He’d set up a playpen filled with multi-coloured balls for Alana in the garden. He popped her in it, and the baby immediately began joyfully throwing the balls out, one by one, much to the adults’ amusement. It could have been a clichéd scene out of a catalogue, she mused.

“I’ve been trying to learn about Alana’s age group, and what she should be eating and playing with...” Samson began.

“Oh yes,” said Sophie edgily, preparing herself for Samson telling her she was doing everything wrong with her niece and that he knew much better ways to do it, all based on the latest scientific research. Especially if she somehow let slip that her sole experience with Alana was no longer than his own. That was a fact she was determined to keep to herself.

“It’s complicated, isn’t it?” he continued, absentmindedly pushing back his hair with his hand. “I mean, there are so many contradictions. How do you know if you’re doing anything right?”

Relieved, Sophie let out her held breath and blurted, “I know, it’s impossible!”

“I just want one book or website which says exactly what to do!”

“I guess every baby’s different . . .”

“That’s what’s so tricky! I spent half an hour staring at jars of baby food this morning trying to decide what to get Alana for lunch. I was going to cook her something from scratch, but it seems there are different levels of lumpiness and I had no idea what she was on.”

“I’m sure whatever you got her will be fine,” said Sophie smiling. She decided not to mention she’d brought a jar of baby food with her. It was in Alana’s nappy bag because she hadn’t been sure if he’d have anything in that was suitable.

“I ended up buying her the same as you’d sent with her yesterday,” Samson admitted.

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