It was all a bit embarrassing. Especially when I asked for the epidural and they laughed. They didn’t have to laugh. Or phone up their friends and tell them. I heard that midwife, even though she was whispering.

It’s also made me rethink this whole giving-birth thing. I mean, if that wasn’t the real thing…what on earth is the real thing like? So after we got back from the hospital I had a long, frank talk with Luke. I said I’d given it some careful thought and come to the conclusion that I couldn’t do labor, and we were going to have to find some other solution.

He was really sweet about it, and didn’t just say “Love, you’ll be fine” (like that stupid midwife phone advisory service). He said I should line up every form of pain relief I could, never mind about the cost. So I’ve hired a reflexologist, a hot-stone-massage person, an aromatherapist, an acupuncturist, a homeopath, and a doula. Plus I’ve taken to phoning the hospital every day, just to make sure their anesthetists haven’t all gone ill or been trapped in a cupboard or anything.

And I chucked out that stupid birthing stone. I always thought it was rubbish.

It’s now a week later, and nothing’s happened since, except I’m bigger and more lumbery than ever. We went to see Dr. Braine yesterday, and he said everything seemed just fine and the baby had turned into the right position, which was good news. Hmph. Good news for the baby, maybe. Not for me. I can hardly walk anymore, let alone sleep. Last night I woke up at three A.M. and felt so uncomfortable I couldn’t even lie in bed, so I went and watched this program on cable called True-Life Births — When Trauma Goes Bad.

Which was maybe a mistake, in hindsight. But luckily Luke was awake too, and he made me a cup of hot chocolate to calm me down and said it was really unlikely we’d ever be stuck in a snowdrift with twins about to be born and no doctors for two hundred miles. And at least now we knew what to do if we were.

Luke isn’t sleeping well either at the moment, and it’s all because of the Arcodas situation. He’s been talking to his lawyers every day, and having consultations with his staff, and has endlessly tried to set up a meeting with the Arcodas senior team to have it all out. But Iain has canceled twice with no notice — and then he disappeared off on some trip. So nothing’s resolved yet, and the longer it all goes on, the tenser Luke gets. It’s like we’re both on some ticking fuse, just…waiting.

I’ve never been good at waiting. For babies, or phone calls, or sample sales…or anything.

The only positive thing right now is that Luke and I are about a million times closer than we have been for months. We’ve talked about everything over the past week. His company, plans for the future…one night we even got out all the honeymoon photos and looked through them again.

We’ve talked about everything…except Venetia.

I tried. I tried to tell him what she was really like, over supper, after we got back from the hospital that day. But Luke was just incredulous. He said he still couldn’t believe that Venetia said she and he were having an affair. He said they were genuinely just old friends — and maybe I’d made a mistake or misinterpreted what she meant.

Which made me want to hurl my plate at the wall and shout, “How stupid do you think I am?” But I didn’t. It would have turned into a big row, and I really didn’t want to ruin the evening.

And I haven’t pushed the subject since then. Luke’s so hassled, I can’t bring myself to. As he says, we never have to see Venetia again if we don’t want to. He’s given her notice as a PR client, Dr. Braine will deliver the baby, and Luke’s promised he won’t make any plans to meet up with her. As far as he’s concerned, it’s a brief chapter of our life which has closed.

Only…I can’t close it. Deep down, I’m still obsessed. I didn’t make a mistake. She did say that she and Luke were having an affair. She nearly ruined our marriage — and now she’s just getting away with it.

If I could just see her…if I could tell her what I think of her….

“Bex, you’re grinding your teeth again,” says Suze patiently. “Stop it.” She arrived half an hour ago, laden with homemade Christmas presents from Ernie’s school fair. Now she brings over a cup of raspberry leaf tea and an iced Santa Claus cookie and puts them down on the counter. “You have to stop stressing about Venetia. It’s not good for the baby.”

“It’s all right for you! You don’t know what it’s like. No one made you wear hideous stockings and said you don’t have a marriage anymore and your husband was leaving you….”

“Look, Bex.” Suze sighs. “Whatever Venetia said…Whether she did say that or not…”

“She did!” I look up, indignant. “That’s what she said, word for word! Don’t you believe me either?”

“Of course I do!” says Suze, backtracking. “Of course. But you know, when you’re pregnant, things can seem worse than they really are…. You can overreact….”

“I am not overreacting! She tried to steal my husband! What, you think I’m deluded? You think I made it all up?”

“No!” says Suze hastily. “Look, I’m sorry. Maybe she did go after him. But…she didn’t get him, did she?”

“Well…no.”

“So. Just let it go. You’re having a baby, Bex. That’s the important thing, isn’t it?”

She looks so anxious, I can’t tell her my secret fantasy of bursting into the Holistic Birth Center unannounced and telling everyone exactly what a deceitful home-wrecker Venetia Carter really is.

Then how holistic would she look?

“All right,” I say at last. “I’m letting it go.”

“Good.” Suze pats my arm. “So, what time do we have to leave?”

I’m going back to The Look today, even though I’m officially now on maternity leave, because they’re opening the waiting list for the new Danny Kovitz line. Danny is going to be there from twelve noon, signing Tshirts for people who register, and the store has already had hundreds of inquiries!

The whole thing has suddenly become huge news — helped by Danny being photographed the other night in a clinch with the new guy in Coronation Street. All the papers have suddenly taken up the story and we’ve had loads of publicity. Danny was even on Morning Coffee this morning, assessing spring fashions on the sofa (he said all the outfits were hideous, which they loved) and telling everyone to come to The Look.

Ha! And it was all my idea to get him involved.

“Let’s go in a few minutes,” I say, glancing at my watch. “There’s no rush. They can’t exactly fire me for being late, can they?”

“I guess not….” Suze edges back to the sink, past our brand-new Warrior pushchair, which is in the corner, still in its packaging. There wasn’t room for it in the nursery, and the hall is cluttered with a Bugaboo (they were on special offer) and this cool three-wheeler which has an integrated car seat. “Bex, how many prams did you order?”

“A few,” I say vaguely.

“But where are you going to keep them all?”

“It’s OK,” I assure her. “I’m having a special room for them in the new house. I’ll call it the Pram Room.”

“A Pram Room?” Suze stares at me. “You’re having a Shoe Room and a Pram Room?”

“Why not? People don’t have enough different rooms. I might have a Handbag Room too. Just a small one…” I take a sip of raspberry leaf tea, which according to Suze helps speed up labor, and wince at the revolting taste.

“Ooh, what was that?” says Suze, alert. “Did you feel a twinge?”

Honestly. This is the third time she’s asked about twinges since she arrived this morning.

“Suze, it’s not due for another two weeks,” I remind her.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” says Suze. “Those dates are all a conspiracy by doctors.” She studies me closely. “Do you feel like sweeping the floor or cleaning out the fridge?”

“The fridge is clean!” I say, a bit offended.

“No, you dope!” says Suze. “It’s the nesting instinct. When the twins were due I suddenly got this mania for ironing Tarkie’s shirts. And Lulu always starts vacuuming the whole house.”

“Vacuuming?” I look at her dubiously. I can’t imagine having an urge to vacuum.

“Totally! Loads of women scrub the floor—” She breaks off as the buzzer sounds, and picks up the entry phone. “Hello, the Brandon residence!” She listens for a moment, then presses the entry button. “It’s a delivery. Are you expecting something?”

“Ooh, yes!” I put my cup down. “It’ll be my Christmas things!”

“Presents?” Suze brightens. “Is there one for me?”

“Not presents,” I explain. “Gorgeous decorations. It was so weird — I had this sudden urge yesterday, like I had to get Christmas all sorted before I had the baby. So I’ve ordered new angels for the tree, and an Advent candle, and this gorgeous nativity scene….” I take a bite of cookie and munch it. “I’ve got it all planned for the new house. We’ll have a huge Christmas tree in the hall, and garlands everywhere, and gingerbread men which we can put on red ribbons….”

The doorbell sounds and I head to the door. I open it to see two men holding massive cardboard boxes, plus a huge bulky parcel which must be the life-size models of Mary and Joseph.

“Blimey!” says Suze, staring at them. “You’ll need a Christmas Decoration Room too.”

Hey. That’s not a bad idea!

“Hi!” I beam at the men. “Just put them anywhere, thank you so much….” I scribble a signature and turn to Suze as the guys head out again. “I must show you the baby’s Christmas stocking—” I stop. Suze is looking from me to the boxes and back again with a strange, animated expression. “What?”

“Bex, this is it,” she says. “You’re nesting.”

I stare at her. “But…I haven’t cleaned anything.”