My stomach gives a little swoop, and I turn my head away, under the pretense of putting on my coat.

I’d kind of managed to forget about the whole wedding issue.

“Yes,” I say at last. “Well, it’s all… um… fine!”

I’m not going to bother Suze with my problems. I’m not.

“Was Luke all right about you getting married in England?” She looks anxiously at me. “I mean, it didn’t cause a rift between you or anything?”

“No,” I say after a pause. “I can honestly say that it didn’t.”

I hold the door open for her and we walk out into Sloane Square. A column of schoolchildren in corduroy knickerbockers is crowding the pavement, and we stand aside, waiting for them to pass.

“You know, you made the right decision.” Suze squeezes my arm. “I was so worried you were going to choose New York. What made you finally decide?”

“Er… this and that. You know. So, erm… did you read about these new proposals to privatize the water system?”

But Suze ignores me. Honestly, isn’t she interested in current affairs?

“So what did Elinor say when you called off the Plaza?”

“She said… erm… well, she wasn’t pleased, of course. She said she was very cross, and… er…”

“Very cross?” Suze raises her eyebrows. “Is that all? I thought she’d be furious!”

“She was furious!” I amend hurriedly. “She was so furious, she… burst a blood vessel!”

“She burst a blood vessel?” Suze stares at me. “Where?”

“On her… chin.”

There’s silence. Suze is standing still in the street, her expression slowly changing. “Bex—”

“Let’s go and look at baby clothes!” I say hurriedly. “There’s that really sweet shop on the King’s Road…”

“Bex, what’s going on?”

“Nothing!”

“There is! I can tell. You’re hiding something.”

“No, I’m not!”

“You did call the American wedding off, didn’t you?”

“I…”

“Bex?” Her voice is as stern as I’ve ever heard it. “Tell me the truth.”

Oh God. I can’t lie any more.

“I… I’m going to,” I say weakly.

“You’re going to?” Suze’s voice rises in dismay. “You’re going to?”

“Suze—”

“I should have known! I should have guessed! But I just assumed you must have called it off, because your mother kept on organizing her wedding, and no one said anything about New York, and I thought, oh, Bex must have decided to get married at home after all…”

“Suze, please. Don’t worry about it,” I say quickly. “Just stay calm… breathe deeply…”

“How can I not worry about it!” cries Suze. “How can I not worry? Bex, you promised me you were going to sort this out weeks ago! You promised!”

“I know! And I’m going to. It’s just… it’s been so difficult. Deciding between them. They both seemed so perfect, in completely different ways—”

“Bex, a wedding isn’t a handbag!” says Suze incredulously. “You can’t decide you’ll treat yourself to two!”

“I know! I know! Look, I’m going to sort it out—”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“Because you’re all lovely and serene and happy!” I wail. “And I didn’t want to spoil it with my stupid problems.”

“Oh, Bex.” Suze gazes at me silently — then puts an arm round me. “So… what are you going to do?”

I take a deep breath.

“I’m going to tell Elinor the New York wedding is all off. And I’m going to get married here in England.”

“Really? You’re completely sure about that?”

“Yes. I’m sure. After seeing Mum and Dad… and Mum was so sweet… and she has no idea what I’ve been planning behind her back…” I swallow hard. “I mean, this wedding is everything to her. Oh God, Suze, I feel so stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t want to get married at the Plaza. I don’t want to get married anywhere else except at home.”

“You won’t change your mind again?”

“No. Not this time. Honestly, Suze, this is it.”

“What about Luke?”

“He doesn’t care. He’s said all along, it’s up to me.”

Suze is silent for a moment. Then she reaches in her bag for her mobile phone and thrusts it at me.

“OK. If you’re going to do it, do it now. Dial the number.”

“I can’t. Elinor’s in a Swiss clinic. I was planning to write her a letter—”

“No.” Suze shakes her head firmly. “Do it now. There must be someone you can call. Call that wedding planner, Robyn, and tell her it’s off. Bex, you can’t afford to leave it any longer.”

“OK,” I say, ignoring the leap of apprehension inside me. “OK, I’ll do it. I’ll… I’ll call her.”

I lift up the phone — then put it down again. Making the decision in my head was one thing. Actually making the call is another.

What’s Robyn going to say? What’s everybody going to say? I wouldn’t mind a little time, just to think through exactly what I’m going to tell them…

“Go on!” says Suze. “Do it!”

“All right!”

With trembling hands I lift the phone and dial 001 for America — but the display remains blank.

“Oh… dear!” I exclaim, trying to sound upset. “I can’t get a signal! Oh well, I’ll just have to phone later—”

“No you won’t! We’ll keep walking till you get one. Come on!” Suze starts marching toward the King’s Road and I scuttle nervously along behind her.

“Try again,” she says as we reach the first pedestrian crossing.

“Nothing,” I quaver. God, Suze looks incredible, like the prow of a ship. Her blond hair is streaming out behind her, and her face is flushed with determination. How come she’s got so much energy, anyway? I thought pregnant women were supposed to take it easy.

“Try again!” she repeats after every three hundred feet. “Try again! I’m not stopping till you’ve made that call!”

“There’s nothing!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Frantically I punch at the buttons, trying to trigger a signal. “Look!”

“Well, keep trying! Come on!”

“I am! I am!”

“Oh my God!” Suze gives a sudden shriek and I jump in terror.

“I’m trying! Honestly, Suze, I’m trying as hard as I—”

“No! Look!”

I stop still, and turn round. She’s stopped still on the pavement, ten yards behind me, and there’s a puddle of water at her feet.

“Suze… don’t worry,” I say awkwardly. “I won’t tell anybody.”

“No! You don’t understand! It’s not…” She stares at me wildly. “I think my waters have broken!”

“Your what?” I feel a thud of pure fright. “Does that mean… Are you going to—”

This can’t be happening.

“I don’t know.” I can see panic rising on Suze’s face. “I mean, it’s possible… But it’s four weeks early! It’s too soon! Tarkie isn’t here, nothing’s ready… Oh God…”

I’ve never seen Suze look so scared before. A choking dismay creeps over me, and I fight the temptation to burst into tears. What have I done now? As well as everything else, I’ve sent my best friend into premature labor.

“Suze, I’m so sorry,” I gulp.

“It’s not your fault! Don’t be stupid!”

“It is! You were so happy and serene, and then you saw me. I should just stay away from pregnant people—”

“I’ll have to go to the hospital.” Suze’s face is pale. “They said to come in if this happened.”

“Well, let’s go! Come on!”

“But I haven’t got my bag, or anything. There’s loads of stuff I need to take…” She bites her lip worriedly. “Shall I go home first?”

“You haven’t got time for that!” I say in a panic. “What do you need?”

“Baby clothes… nappies… stuff like that…”

“Well, where do you…” I look around helplessly, then, with a sudden surge of relief, spot the sign for Peter Jones.

“OK,” I say, and grab her arm. “Come on.”

As soon as we get into Peter Jones, I look around for an assistant. And thank goodness, here comes one, a nice middle-aged lady with red lipstick and gold spectacles on a chain.

“My friend needs an ambulance,” I gasp.

“A taxi will be fine, honestly,” says Suze. “It’s just that my waters have broken. So I should probably get to the hospital.”

“Goodness!” says the lady. “Come and sit down, dear, and I’ll call a taxi for you…”

We sit Suze down on a chair by a checkout desk, and a junior assistant brings her a glass of water.

“Right,” I say. “Tell me what you need.”

“I can’t remember exactly.” Suze looks anxious. “We were given a list… Maybe they’ll know in the baby department.”

“Will you be OK if I leave you?”

“I’ll be fine! Contractions haven’t even started.”

“You’re sure?” I glance nervously at her stomach.

“Bex, just go!”


Honestly. Why on earth do they put baby departments so far away from the main entrances of shops? I mean, what’s the point of all these stupid floors of clothes and makeup and bags, which no one’s interested in? After sprinting up and down about six escalators, at last I find it, and come to a standstill, panting slightly.

For a moment I look around, dazed by all the names of things I’ve never heard of.

Reception blanket?

Anticolic teats?

Oh, sod it. I’ll just buy everything. I quickly head for the nearest display and start grabbing things indiscriminately. Sleeping suits, tiny socks, a hat… a teddy, a cot blanket… what else? A Moses basket… nappies… little glove puppets in case the baby gets bored… a really cute little Christian Dior jacket… gosh, I wonder if they do that in grown-up sizes too…

I shove the lot onto the checkout desk and whip out my Visa card.

“It’s for my friend,” I explain breathlessly. “She’s just gone into labor. Is this everything she needs?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m afraid, dear,” says the assistant, scanning a baby bath thermometer.