The Yorkshire Pudding Club (33 page)

‘NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNrrrrrhhhhhhhhh!!!!’

‘That’s it, that’s it, she’s here, oh bloody hell, she’s out, Helen!’

Elizabeth watched as a baby slithered out into the midwife’s hands, yowling a thin, angry protest. Still with the cord attached, Sandra handed her straight to Helen’s outstretched arms and the new mum broke out into a huge joyful sob and said, ‘It’s my baby–look at my daughter. Hello there, little one. I’m your mummy and this is your Auntie Janey and your Auntie Elizabeth…’ Helen lifted her head towards heaven and mouthed to her father there, ‘
Look at her, Dad, look at your beautiful granddaughter.

‘You okay?’ asked Elizabeth, thinking she certainly looked okay, laughing like a maniac, with a smile that was splitting her exhausted, perspiring face in two.

‘Oh, it’s true what Teddy said–it’s worth it, it’s worth everything. Look at her, look at my baby…’

Janey looked and so did Elizabeth, who saw the bloody, ugly, snotty, scrunched-up, gorgeous, wonderful little thing and she thought, If I feel this strongly about my friend’s baby, what will I feel about my own?
Helen was crying, Janey was crying and then Elizabeth’s own tears started to spill down her cheeks as if they were coming from a never-ending well within. It felt as if a Berlin Wall had crashed down somewhere in the last closed bastion of her heart and she knew–
knew
–that even this beautiful, perfect moment would drop into shadow when they put her own baby in her arms.

She rubbed her tummy and said quietly to the child within,
‘I love you.’

Epilogue

Alexandra Penelope Elizabeth Jane Luxmore was born on 23 August, weighing five pounds two ounces. Her mother did not pooh during delivery. She has no contact with her father although a Mr Edward Sanderson visits with increasing regularity, always with flowers and toys. He and her mother talk a lot by the old swing in the garden.

Alexandra lives at a lovely old Rectory with her mother and granny, who has gone quite loopy over her; in fact, she even knitted her a cardigan–in cashmere.

Her mother has started reading lots of books on the Law and takes them into her late grandfather’s study to work on. Her interest in photography has been well and truly resurrected. And she has finally thrown all her Wonderbras away.

Rumour has it that Teddy Sanderson has instructed decorators to paint one of his seven bedrooms ballet-slipper pink with white bunnies.

 

Robert George Cyril Hobson was born on 30 September, weighing (according to his father’s tearful ecstatic phone calls to their friends and relatives) nine stone fourteen pounds. It was a one-hour, forty-five-minute delivery, and gas and air sufficed.

Young Robert has his mum’s red hair and his dad’s laughing, sparkling eyes. His mum returned to work and his dad is a fulltime house joiner and childminder–when he can get near his son for the grandparents. It is an arrangement that suits everyone perfectly.

His mum stayed at a 38DD.

His parents are buying a chandelier.

 

Ellis John Silkstone was a breech baby born on 2 October by planned Caesarean section, which went without a hitch. He was seven pounds fourteen ounces with a head full of dark wild hair, just like his dad’s, and long, long eyelashes like his mum’s, and when he was first put into their arms, their hearts nearly burst with joy.

His mum is a part-time PA for the infamous DIY and supermarket giant Terry Lennox, who is also his godfather. His dad is famous for building lovely big houses for families to be happy in. The little lad can hear Oxworth stream from his nursery window, and sometimes he is sure there is a big dog in the room, flumping down at the side of his cot in the middle of the night. He likes the feeling of having him around. He also has a cat called Cleef who occasionally moves.

His mam and dad love him, the cat and each other to bits.

They are getting married next May.

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