So it’s all wonderful for Brandon Communications. But as usual, Luke’s working himself into the ground. I’ve never seen him so at anyone’s beck and call before. If Iain Wheeler calls, he always, always calls him back within five minutes, whether he’s in another meeting, or he’s having supper, or even if it’s the middle of the night. He says it’s the service industry and Arcodas is his mega-client, and that’s what they’re paying for.

All I can say is, if Iain Wheeler calls while I’m in labor, then that phone is going straight out the window.

“Is there a landline I can use nearby?” Luke is asking the sonographer. “Becky, you don’t mind….”

“It’s fine.” I wave a hand.

“I’ll show you,” the sonographer says, getting up. “I’ll be back in a moment, Mrs. Brandon.”

The two of them disappear out the door, which closes with a heavy clunk.

I’m alone. The computer is still on. The ultrasound probe thing is resting next to the monitor.

I could just reach over and—

No. Don’t be silly. I don’t even know how to use an ultrasound. And besides, it would spoil the magical surprise. If Luke wants us to wait, then we’ll wait.

I shift on the couch and examine my nails. I can wait for things. Of course I can. I can easily—

Oh God. No I can’t. Not till December. And it’s all right there in front of me…and nobody’s about….

I’ll just have a teeny peek. Just really quickly. And I won’t tell Luke. We’ll still have the magical surprise at the birth — except it won’t be quite so much of a surprise for me. Exactly.

Leaning right over, I manage to grab the ultrasound stick. I apply it to the gel on my stomach — and at once the blurry image reappears on the screen.

I did it! Now I just have to shift it slightly to get the crucial bit…. Frowning with concentration, I move the probe around on my abdomen, tilting it this way and that, craning my neck to see the screen. This is a lot easier than I thought! Maybe I should become a sonographer. I’m obviously a bit of a natural—

There’s the head. Wow, it’s huge! And that bit must be—

My hand freezes and I catch my breath. I’ve just spotted it. I’ve seen the sex of our baby!

It’s a boy!

The image isn’t quite as good as the sonographer’s — but even so, it’s unmistakable. Luke and I are going to have a son!

“Hello,” I say aloud to the screen, my voice cracking slightly. “Hello, little boy!”

And now I can’t stop the tears rolling down my cheeks. We’re having a gorgeous baby boy! I can dress him up in cute overalls, and buy him a pedal car, and Luke can play cricket with him, and we can call him—

Oh my God. What are we going to call him?

I wonder if Luke would go for Birkin. Then I could get a Birkin to be his nappy bag.

Birkin Brandon. That’s quite cool.

“Hi, little baby,” I croon gently to the big round head on the screen. “Do you want to be called Birkin?”

“What are you doing?” The sonographer’s voice makes me jump. She’s standing at the door with Luke, looking appalled. “That’s hospital equipment! You shouldn’t be touching it!”

“I’m sorry,” I say, wiping my eyes. “But I just had to have another quick look. Luke, I’m talking to our baby. It’s just…amazing.”

“Let me see!” Luke’s eyes light up, and he hurries across the room, followed by the sonographer. “Where?”

I don’t care if Luke sees it’s a boy and the surprise is ruined. I have to share this precious moment with him.

“Look, there’s the head!” I point. “Hello, darling!”

“Where’s its face?” Luke sounds a bit perturbed.

“Dunno. Round the other side.” I give a little wave. “It’s Mummy and Daddy here! And we love you very—”

“Mrs. Brandon.” The sonographer cuts me off. “You’re talking to your bladder.”



Well, how was I supposed to know it was my bladder? It looked just like a baby.

As we walk into the consultant obstetrician’s room, I’m still feeling rather hot about the cheeks. The sonographer gave me this huge great lecture about how I could have done damage to myself or broken the machine, and we only managed to get away after Luke promised a big donation to the scanner appeal.

And, she said, since I hadn’t been anywhere near the baby, it was very unlikely I’d seen the sex. Hmph.

But as I sit down opposite Dr. Braine, our obstetrician, I feel myself start to cheer up. He’s such a reassuring man, Dr. Braine. He’s in his sixties, with graying, well-groomed hair and a pin-stripe suit and a faint aroma of old-fashioned aftershave. And he’s delivered thousands of babies, including Luke! To be honest, I can’t really imagine Luke’s mother Elinor giving birth, but I guess it must have happened somehow. And as soon as we discovered I was pregnant, Luke said we had to find out if Dr. Braine was still practicing, because he was the best in the country.

“Dear boy.” He shakes Luke’s hand warmly. “How are you?”

“Very well indeed.” Luke sits down beside me. “And how’s David?”

Luke went to school with Dr. Braine’s son and always asks after him when we meet.

There’s silence as Dr. Braine considers the question. This is the only thing I find a tad annoying about him. He mulls over everything you say as though it’s of the greatest importance, whereas you were actually just making some random remark to keep the conversation going. At our last appointment I asked where he had bought his tie, and he thought about it for five minutes, then phoned his wife to check, and it was all a total saga. And I didn’t even like the stupid tie.

“David’s very well,” he says at last, nodding. “He sends his regards.” There’s another pause as he peruses the sheet from the sonographer. “Very good,” he says eventually. “Everything’s in order. How are you feeling, Rebecca?”

“Oh, I’m fine!” I say. “Happy that the baby’s all right.”

“You’re still working full-time, I see.” Dr. Braine glances at my form. “And that’s not too demanding for you?”

Beside me, Luke gives a muffled snort. He’s so rude.

“It’s…” I try to think how to put it. “My job’s not that demanding.”

“Becky works for The Look,” explains Luke. “You know, the new department store on Oxford Street?”

“Aah.” Dr. Braine’s face drops. “I see.”

Every time I tell people what I do, they look away in embarrassment or change the subject or pretend they’ve never heard of The Look. Which is impossible, because all the newspapers have been talking about it for weeks. Yesterday the Daily World called it the “biggest retail disaster in British history.”

The only plus about working for a failure of a shop is that it means I can take as much time off as I like for doctors’ appointments and prenatal classes. And if I don’t hurry back, no one even notices.

“I’m sure things will turn around soon,” he says encouragingly. “Now, did you have any other questions?”

I take a deep breath. “Actually, I did have one question, Dr. Braine.” I hesitate. “Now that the scan results are OK, would you say it’s safe to…you know…”

“Absolutely.” Dr. Braine nods understandingly. “A lot of couples abstain from intercourse in early pregnancy.”

“I didn’t mean sex!” I say in surprise. “I meant shopping.”

“Shopping?” Dr. Braine seems taken aback.

“I haven’t bought anything for the baby yet,” I explain. “I didn’t want to jinx it. But if everything looks OK, then I can start this afternoon!”

I can’t help sounding excited. I’ve been waiting and waiting to start shopping for the baby. And I’ve just read about this fabulous new baby shop on the King’s Road, called Bambino. I actually took a bona fide afternoon off, especially to go!

I feel Luke’s gaze on me and turn to see him regarding me with incredulity.

“Sweetheart, what do you mean, ‘start’?” he says.

“I haven’t bought anything for the baby yet!” I say, defensive. “You know I haven’t.”

“So…you haven’t bought a miniature Ralph Lauren dressing gown?” Luke counts off on his fingers. “Or a rocking horse? Or a pink fairy outfit with wings?”

“Those are for it to have when it’s a toddler,” I retort with dignity. “I haven’t bought anything for the baby.”

Honestly. Luke’s not going to be a very good dad if he doesn’t know the difference.

Dr. Braine is following our conversation, looking perplexed.

“I take it you don’t wish to know the sex of the baby?” he puts in.

“No, thanks,” says Luke, sounding determined. “We want to keep it a surprise, don’t we, Becky?”

“Um…yes.” I clear my throat. “Unless maybe you think, Dr. Braine, that we should know for very good, unavoidable medical reasons?”

I look hard at Dr. Braine, but he doesn’t get the message.

“Not at all.” He beams.

Drat.



It’s another twenty minutes before we leave the room, about three of which are spent in Dr. Braine examining me, and the rest in he and Luke reminiscing about some school cricket match. I’m trying to be polite and listen, but I can’t help fidgeting with impatience. I want to get to Bambino!

At last the appointment’s over and we’re walking out onto the busy London street. A woman walks past with an old-fashioned Silver Cross pram, and I discreetly eye it up. I definitely want a pram like that, with gorgeous bouncy wheels. Except I’ll have it customized hot pink. It’ll be so fab. People will call me the Girl with the Hot Pink Pram. Except if it’s a boy, I’ll have it sprayed baby blue. No…aquamarine. And everyone will say—

“I spoke to Giles from the estate agents this morning.” Luke breaks into my thoughts.

“Really?” I look up in excitement. “Did he have anything…”