She repeated the question they’d been asked and which he hadn’t heard: ‘Do we want to know the sex?’ The romantic in Jack didn’t want to know, but the practical decorator in Maggie definitely did. So, for the sake of painting the nursery in the appropriate colour, they both said yes.
‘It’s a girl!’
The tears welled up in Jack’s eyes. He had no idea why and he could do nothing to stop them. He and Maggie looked at each other through the blur of tears, and they laughed with joy, hysteria, fear, anxiety, anticipation. ‘She’s amazing’ Maggie blubbed, as she looked at the grey snow on the screen with a black bubble, inside which was their baby. But all Jack could see was James Daniels’ bare arse bobbing up and down...
When they got home, Penny had made spaghetti bolognese and opened a bottle of non-alcoholic wine. With only two places set at the table, they knew that this meal was for them and that she’d retire to her granny flat to watch reruns of Lovejoy. In the centre of the table was a large white box tied with a bow. ‘You don’t have to use it,’ Penny said before heading upstairs and leaving them to serve themselves.
Inside the box was the most stunning christening gown either of them had ever seen. On the hem, in faint, worn lace, were the letters P and C. ‘Oh my God.’ Jack’s words fell from his lips in a long, exhaled breath. ‘This is her wedding dress. Her mum made it — look, she sewed P and C just above the hem. Penny and Charlie. No one knew the letters were even there apart from the three of them. It was for this moment, Mags, it was so that when Penny made her wedding dress into her own baby’s christening gown, the initials would sit on the hem of that too. And I didn’t even know Mum could sew!’
‘She couldn’t.’ Maggie smiled. ‘I guess she wasn’t learning how to pole dance at her evening class, after all.’
The toilet flushed, Maggie came out of the bathroom and waddled past Jack towards the bedroom. In bed, Jack snuggled in behind her and kissed her neck. She stirred in his arms, her hand reached back and settled on his naked thigh. Within minutes, they were both asleep.
Ridley hadn’t accounted for Jack returning from Wimbledon quite so soon. He’d received a phone call late the previous night from Richard Stanford, thanking him for sending such a diligent and astute DS to help catch the Prowler. As Jack walked into the squad room, Ridley was still deciding how much of Stanford’s praise to pass on.
Ridley nodded Jack into his office. ‘You OK?’ Ridley had never asked Jack if he was OK, not even at Charlie’s funeral, when Ridley stepped in to carry the coffin on account of most of Charlie’s friends being too old to do it. ‘DS Stanford said you were hurt during the arrest.’ Jack assured Ridley that he was fully recovered and fit for work, regardless of the fact that, this morning, his back was as stiff as a board and he felt like he’d played forty minutes against the All Blacks. ‘You’ve got two weeks Maternity Support Leave to take, half on full pay, half on statutory pay. You have to take it soon, or you’ll lose it.’ As Jack stood silent, Ridley could see the fear in his eyes. ‘The baby’s coming, Jack, whether you’re ready or not.’
Chapter 3
Within three days, Jack’s decision about when to take his Maternity Support Leave was made for him, when Maggie went into labour. She waddled up and down the kitchen, stopping every ten minutes or so with her palms on the cool fake-marble worktop and her forehead on the back of her hands. Whenever this pause occurred, Penny rubbed circles into the small of Maggie’s back and both women breathed noisily as they waited in horrible anticipation for the building pain to peak and then left Maggie alone for another ten minutes. The women were like a finely tuned partnership — both knowing exactly what to do, when, and for how long.
Jack stood in the kitchen doorway with a birthing bag in one hand and the car keys in the other, waiting for the signal. After two hours, Maggie said she was ready to go to hospital.
In the delivery room, Jack knew the nurse’s chant of ‘breathe, breathe’ wasn’t for his benefit, but it was working, so he went with it. He was completely out of his comfort zone and, worse than that, had no idea what his purpose was in this room — he wanted, needed, to be in control, but he was a million miles away from that. He was annoyed with himself for being this useless. This is why expectant dads are told to stand at the head of the bed and hold the mum’s hand: it’s to keep them out of the way! he thought to himself.
Maggie, on the other hand, was being wonderful and strong. She didn’t seem to be frightened, and calmly did exactly what she was told, when she was told. As Jack watched her prepare to push out the baby’s head, his mind raced. He’d witnessed many a police officer run towards danger in the name of the Job, but he’d never seen anyone face this degree of pain, with such unfaltering bravery. Maggie had no choice, of course, he knew that, but still — the pride he felt at this moment for his amazing wife swelled in his chest and ended as tears.
Maggie caught sight of Jack’s face. ‘What the fuck are you crying for?!’ she screamed. Her scream turned into a grunt of pain, then back into a scream. Then a higher-pitched, gurgling scream joined hers and it took Jack a few seconds to realise that his baby had arrived.
The baby’s head was covered in a thin layer of white, paste-like vernix and her face was screwed up so tight that it was nothing more than a lumpy red ball. But once on Maggie’s chest, the baby stopped crying and her little face took shape. She was beautiful, Jack thought, beaming at her through his tears. Maggie was beautiful, too. The baby seemed to look around the room, her eyes rolling in their sockets as though she had no control over them, then they settled on Maggie’s face. Seconds later, Maggie’s smile and warm body making her feel safe, she fell asleep.
In the corridor of the maternity wing, Penny flicked through pictures on her mobile. After Charlie’s death, Jack had scanned every grainy old photo she owned, going right back to when Jack was little, onto her mobile so she could reminisce whenever she needed to: Charlie teaching his boy to ride a bike; Jack, aged ten, blowing out the candles on his birthday cake; Penny crying at his graduation; Jack, Maggie and Charlie, complete with paper hats and eggnog, celebrating a long-ago Christmas. Penny could feel the love in her heart as it yearned for Charlie at this moment — it was physical, like a lump. Penny was so engrossed in her reminiscing that she didn’t immediately see Jack walking towards her. Then she saw the bundle of handknitted blankets in his arms, gasped, leapt to her feet and rushed to his side. From beneath the patchwork blankets, two big puffy eyes were closed tight shut. The vernix had gone, and the baby’s skin was now a mix of perfect pink with the tiniest tinge of yellow. ‘She’s got hair!’ Penny screeched, making the baby jump and her eyes flicker. Penny toned her excitement down to a whisper. ‘Sorry, my darling. I’m just so thrilled to meet you. Oh, Jack, she’s... Oh, Jack.’
‘I’ve got to take her back in, Mum, to get properly cleaned up,’ Jack said gently. ‘Go up to the ward. We’ll be with you in a bit, then you can have a hold.’ Penny watched Jack walk back towards the delivery suite, moving so slowly and carefully, as though he was holding the most precious cargo in the world.