Page 92 of The Last Train Home
I’m researching the maternity unit at the hospital nearest my parents in Enfield. It’s only four months until the baby arrives. I’m over the halfway mark now and am settling into being pregnant. Ifeelpregnant – not just bloated and a bit sick if I even so much as smell coffee. I wasn’t expecting to pour a cup of decaf one day around six weeks in and retch uncontrollably. Now I can’t sit in coffee shops any more, even if I’m ordering a juice.
I’ve got used to sharing my body with this little person who’s now the size of a salad item. ‘Hi, little avocado,’ I say as I feel a small flutter inside me. I look pregnant too. A bump has well and truly formed. I’ve been reading all the baby books, and have been updating Sean regularly as he or she grows. Creating new life is a miracle and it’s also fascinating. Sean can’t deal with the pictures showing the womb and what’s going to happen. It’s one of the reasons he won’t let us join a group birthing class.
‘I can’t even think about it or talk about it on my own terms, Abbie. How am I going to be able to sit and listen to alecture, week in, week out, on someone else’s terms? I can’t force the class leader to stop talking if I don’t like what she’s saying, can I?’
Maybe I should join a group on my own, but I’d probably have to dip out early if I’m going to fly home to have the baby. I’ve looked into flying when heavily pregnant and I have until thirty-six weeks, latest, to get a flight back to London. That means I have to be gone from Singapore by the end of June or the airline won’t let me fly. The last thing the cabin crew needs is me giving birth in the aisle of a 747.
And then I’ll have a month to myself, cocooned in my family home and waiting for the little avocado to grow into a melon that’ll emerge into the world. I’m having a baby. This is still so … foreign, but so utterly, unbelievably wonderful.
I feel secure knowing that Mum, Dad and Natasha are on standby. And Sean will fly over a few days before my due date, I guess, so he can make it on time. Hopefully I won’t go into labour early. Although we’ve not really discussed any of this in great depth. There’s plenty of time to work out the finer details, though.
And then, when the baby is established in the world and after I’ve been to Natasha and Will’s wedding, we will fly back to Singapore to be with Sean. Maybe I’ll be able to join a mother-and-baby group, so I can make some more friends and not feel so lonely. I think that’s what’s crept up on me recently as some of our European friends have relocated to pastures new. Perhaps it’s been the high level of work I’ve had that’s staved off the loneliness, keeping me busy. But it’s been there, slowly bubbling under the surface, rising effervescently to the top. I’m sure I’ll be fine when I’m back, with a baby, being busy.
I look around our sleek apartment, where I spend most of my days working. This is where my life is, sort of, although I feel pulled towards the life I left behind in London. Sean is here. His job is here. He’ll never leave, not now he’s been made regional director. Our plan to make this the starting point as we moved around the world has ended. His ambition is admirable. But I think it might be costing us … something. I’m just not sure what, yet.
Chapter 59
Abbie
April 2010
It’s Natasha and Will’s engagement party today. Obviously I’m not there – stuck as I am on the other side of the world. And even if I was going, flights over Europe have been disrupted, thanks to an Icelandic volcano going off and there being ash clouds everywhere. Natasha’s been sending me pictures of the dresses she’s chosen and we’re having a Skype video call, so we can talk through all the options.
‘The black one,’ I say. It’s night-time for me and morning for her so, Natasha’s got plenty of time to decide after we’ve spoken. While I’m asleep tonight she’ll be partying with lots of her nearest and dearest. I hate missing out, but at least I get to celebrate the wedding when I’m over in a few months.
‘I’m not sure about the black one,’ Natasha ponders. ‘It doesn’t do much for my boobs. Whereas the yellow one,’ she holds it up, ‘makes them look enormous. But,’ she reasons, ‘the yellow one isn’t thebestfor my waist.’
‘It’s a conundrum, isn’t it?’ I laugh.
The data connection is a bit hazy, so I can’t make out the detail on the yellow dress. ‘I wish I was there in person,’ I say.
‘So do I. But soon you will be.’
‘I know.’ And then, because I’m pregnant, hormonal, lonely and because Sean and I have just had another huge row about London versus Singapore, which I always lose, I burst into tears.
‘Oh, Abbie, no,’ Natasha soothes from so far away. ‘No, don’t cry. What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m being really silly.’
She’s quiet, waiting for me to finish sniffling and wiping my nose with a tissue. My nose always runs when I cry. I’m a really ugly crier.
‘What’s happened?’ she asks. ‘I know the waistline on the yellow dress isn’t ideal, but you don’t need tocry.’ She succeeds in doing what she intended to and raises a smile from me.
I take a deep breath. If I tell her how horrid it’s been here recently, will that be disloyal to Sean? Natasha’s my best friend. I really don’t want to withhold things from her, and if I can’t talk to anyone, where will that land me?
So I tell her. I tell her how miserable I’ve been and how I’d put it down to hormones, but how I’m worried Sean’s not in the same headspace as me. ‘And I don’t know how to win him back round,’ I say at the end. Even I can hear how pathetic I sound. But I can’t give up. ‘We love each other and we’re having a baby together. We’re just having a blip.’
‘Is this about living in Asia or is this about having a baby?’ she asks.
‘I’m not sure. Both, maybe? I think the two go hand-in-hand. Sean won’t move home. He won’t even entertain the idea of moving home. And he won’t take his full paternity leave. He says he’ll be too busy.’
‘So how long is he going to spend in London, when you actually have the baby?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘I’m sort of too scared to ask, because I’m not sure I’m going to like the answer.’
‘Oh, Abbie, this isn’t good.’
‘I know.’
