Page 8 of Not the Man I Thought We Was

Chapter 5

Toby and I spend a very pleasant afternoon getting him kitted out for the slopes and, by the time I drop him back at his car, any lingering reservations I have about working closely with him have evaporated. He’s still courteous and very reserved, but I learn that he has quite a wicked sense of humour on the rare occasions he lets his guard down. As we part, I remind him about the dress code for the Michelin-starred restaurant and we agree to meet at the airport.

Once I get home, I ring my best friend Charley. She and her husband, Ed, are expecting their first baby imminently, and I haven’t spoken to her since nearly getting dropped by Voyages Luxes, so a chat is long overdue.

“Fat and fed up,” she tells me when I ask how she’s feeling. “Honestly, Mads, I just want the bloody thing out now. I’m eating the spiciest food I can bear, and Ed thinks Christmas has come because I keep demanding sex in the hope that it will encourage things along. I know the whole concept of growing another person inside you is incredible, but what with the vomiting in the first trimester, the kicking at all hours of the day and night, and now being uncomfortable all the time, I just want my body back. Does that make me a bad person?”

Charley and Ed’s first indication that their attempts to conceive had been successful was when she woke up one morning and promptly had to dash into the bathroom to throw up. Their euphoria at the positive pregnancy test had been short-lived, as she struggled to keep anything down for weeks, and started to feel quite low about it. Things weren’t helped by the fact that Ed, a divorce lawyer, had been in the thick of a hugely complex case and was working all hours. Thankfully, her parents live quite close by, so her mother had stepped up, popping round regularly with small meals for her and keeping her company in between vomiting episodes. Things did improve after a few months, but it was a grim time for her.

“You’re pretty much due though, aren’t you?” I ask her.

“Another week to go. They say they’ll let me go up to two weeks overdue before inducing me, but I hope it doesn’t come to that. I’ll be climbing the walls if I have to endure another three weeks of this. Anyway, enough of me. What about you?”

I fill her in on the Voyages Luxes debacle, and she’s suitably outraged by Peter Smallbone’s attitude. When I tell her about Toby, she giggles in delight.

“Is he hot?” Her first question catches me off-guard.

“Charley, you’re about to have a baby, for goodness’ sake! Turn the libido down a notch.”

“I didn’t mean for me, dummy. I wondered if you fancied him. It’s been ages since you’ve had a boyfriend.”

“Two years isn’t ages,” I retort. “I told you, I’m bored of wasting my time on immature boys who can’t cope with a real woman. Anyway, he’s shorter than me, and gay, so I think that kind of rules him out, don’t you? He’s also very shy, which I think is partly why he’s single. It’s not my job to sort out his sex life though, this is a professional arrangement.”

“Of course. You’d never meddle in anyone else’s relationships, would you?” she laughs. She’s referring to the fact that I stalked Ed, accosted him in his office lobby, and brought him back into her life after a series of mishaps meant they lost contact with each other. Given how things turned out for them, I reckon I can be justifiably proud of that particular intervention.

“Do you think he’ll end up being your GBF?” she continues.

“My what?”

“Your Gay Best Friend,” she explains. “Obviously he can’t be your BFF, because that’s me, but every girl should have a GBF, and he sounds like he could be perfect. Shy where you’re extrovert – a yin to your yang, you know?”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” I tell her, frankly. “Who’s yours then?” I’m trying to work out which of her male friends it could be, but I’m drawing a blank.

“Sam Carter, obviously!” she replies, laughing.

“Sam?” I ask, incredulously. “Sam’s nothing like Toby. Toby is a painfully shy gay man, whereas Sam is a full-on, in your face, frankly terrifying lesbian!”

“Aww, she’s a pussy-cat when you get to know her,” Charley laughs. “You just have to see past the piercings and angry tattoos.”

“Whatever,” I reply. “I’ll keep you posted on whether Toby makes GBF status. In the meantime, try not to have the baby while I’m away. I want to cuddle it the moment they’ve wiped all the yuck off it.”

“What yuck?”

“I don’t know. I was watching One born every minute a few months ago and all the babies were covered in this white stuff when they were born.”

“That’s the vernix. It helps protect their skin in the womb,” she tells me. “Anyway, much as I love you, I’m not going to promise anything. I want this thing out as soon as possible. But I will get Ed to text you the moment anything happens, OK?”

“Well, if you’re going to be all selfish about it, and just pop it out whenever it suits you,” I say, jokingly, “I guess that’ll just have to do.”

A few days later, I’m sheltering from the January rain in one of the bus shelters in the long-term car park at Gatwick when my phone pings with a WhatsApp message. It’s very early in the morning, and still dark, so I’m fairly certain I know what it is. Sure enough, it’s Ed telling me that Charley has gone into labour.

I keep checking my phone every few minutes while I’m queueing to check in, and then in the departure lounge, but there are no further messages. Just before I board the plane, I send a message to Ed, asking for an update. He replies that the contractions are regular, but not close enough together yet to make it worthwhile leaving for the hospital. I reply, wishing them luck and sending love, and then turn my phone off in preparation for the flight.

As soon as the plane lands, I grab my phone and turn it back on, cursing the age it takes to connect to the Turkish network. There’s a message from Ed, and I open it eagerly, but all it says is that they’re about to leave for the hospital. I don’t reply, as I know he’ll ping me as soon as there are any more developments.

Istanbul is one of my favourite cities. I’ve been here many times over the years, and I love the chaotic vibrance of it. On the taxi ride from the airport to the Hilton, where I’m staying this time, the traffic is horrendous and vehicles of all shapes and sizes just seem to pile in from every direction, with no recognisable priority system. I make a note to advise against car hire in my write-up. Thankfully, taxis are cheap and plentiful, and I know the public transport system generally works well.

The Hilton is a haven of peace after the mayhem on the roads. It’s not a hotel I’ve stayed in before, but it seems well-situated and my room is a decent size, with a view out towards the Bosphorus Straits. Crucially, there’s a desk that I can work at, so I quickly set up my laptop. The airline has provided a list of ‘must see’ attractions that have to be included in my review, but they have also left some leeway for me to use my own experience, so I set about creating an itinerary. I’m only here for two full days, so I can’t afford to waste time. By the time I’ve made my plan night has fallen, so I freshen up and head out in search of something to eat. I get a taxi to Taksim square, where I enjoy a selection of excellent Meze and a glass of Efes beerin a small restaurant. As I’m eating, my phone pings with another update from Ed. Apparently the labour is still progressing slowly, and Charley has been given an epidural to help with the pain. Back at the hotel I write up my notes so far. Once I feel my eyelids starting to droop, I get ready for bed and am soon fast asleep.

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