There’s a sudden flurry of snow against the window, and we all jump in surprise.
‘Look at that!’ Gina exclaims. ‘It’s going to be a white Christmas.’
It hasn’t snowed like this for years. Real, proper snow. Dickensian snow, Dan called it this morning.
‘Speaking of Christmas…Georgia looks around, a little coy. ‘Has anyone thought of names yet?’
‘Holly?’ says Geraldine with a grin.
‘Ivy,’ I say with a laugh. ‘Or Noel. Dan suggested Bianca. I said, that’s the kind of name you would think of.’
‘Only I’ve thought of one that’s rather unusual…’ Georgia looks around, her mouth twisting with pleasure. ‘Melchior.’
‘Melchior?’ echoes Geraldine. ‘You can’t call a baby Melchior!’
‘I think it’s rather lovely,’ says Georgia, looking offended. ‘For a girl or a boy. Mel for short. What do you think, Grace?’
We all turn to look at Grace in the corner, and as usual, she stares dumbly back with that frightened-rabbit expression she always has.
Now. I’m sure Petal had her reasons for inviting Grace into the class. But frankly… she doesn’t fit. She’s barely out of her teens, for a start. I mean, fancy having a baby at the age of twenty-two! People just don’t do that any more. So of course she hasn’t got the confidence of the rest of us, bless her.
And to be honest, I think it’s a shame. The last thing the rest of us need is some drippy, insecure girl bringing us down. Especially when the classes are so oversubscribed. You’d think Petal could have found someone more…suitable.
‘I haven’t even thought about names,’ she says, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘I just,’ she swallows. ‘I just can’t get my head round it.’
‘I’ve got a book you can borrow…’ begins Georgia.
‘Not just that. All of it.’ Grace looks imploringly around at the rest of us. ‘Motherhood. Being responsible for another life. What if the baby gets ill and I don’t recognize the symptoms and it dies? What if I don’t bond with it?’
‘You’ll bond with it,’ says Gina in sure tones. ‘It’s nature.’
‘But what if I don’t? I listen to you all talking away and I think, how can you all be so confident?’ She sounds almost desperate. ‘Don’t you ever have any worries? Don’t you ever doubt yourselves?’
Oh, for goodness sake. This is what I mean. She’s all wrong for the class! Maybe some people go to antenatal classes to moan on about their insecurities. But we’re just not that kind of women. We know what we want. We know ourselves. Frankly, we don’t have any doubts. I think it’s an age thing.
I glance at Geraldine, who has a perplexed frown. Georgia looks rather blank. Gina is stroking her bump with a beatific smile.
Then Geraldine glances down at her watch. ‘I call this a con!’ she says. ‘We’ve paid for Petal Harmon’s time. Not some jumped up health visitor—’
The door opens and we all swing round, but it’s only Gabby, in her black Formes trousers and jacket, holding her Palm Pilot open and talking into her mobile phone headset.
‘Yup,’ she’s saying. ‘Yup. FedEx both of them off. And get me the Anderson figures. OK, I’ve gotta go now. I’ll call as soon as I’m out of this place.’ She snaps her PalmPilot closed and looks around. ‘What’d I miss?’
‘Nothing,’ says Geraldine. ‘We’ve all just been sitting here waiting for some “special speaker”. Special rip-off, more like.’
‘I assure you,’ Petal’s calm voice from the back of the room makes us all jump, ‘my last speaker is not a rip-off.’ She’s walking to the front now as Gabby takes her seat. ‘I might go so far as to say this last lesson will make the information I have given you in the preceding weeks seem irrelevant.’
There’s silence in the room. As Petal looks around there’s a faint smile at her lips and her eyes look even more witchy than usual.
‘Some of you may have wondered why you were offered places in my class. You will be aware that a lot of women apply, but not many are accepted.’
A glow of pleasure creeps over me. As I glance around I can see the same smug smiles on everyone else’s faces too. All except Grace, who’s looking as petrified as ever.
‘Let me just say that I felt you could all particularly benefit from this final lesson.’ She reaches for the switch and dims the light, then draws the door closed. We all exchange glances through the gloom.
‘Sounds quite mysterious!’ says Geraldine with a laugh. ‘I wonder what this is all about.’
‘I did once hear a rumour,’ begins Gina, lowering her voice. ‘I heard that Petal Harmon can foresee what kind of labour you’re going to have. And that she tells you on your final lesson.’
‘I heard she could tell the sex of your baby,’ says Gabby, busily texting. ‘But what’s the point, with ultrasound? Anyway, I know what kind of labour I’m going to have.’
Suddenly the room goes even darker, although no one’s been near the switch. The only light comes from the white of the snow outside the window and the glow of Gabby’s mobile.
‘Great,’ says Georgia, looking up from her notebook. ‘How am I going to take notes now? D’you think she’ll give out a sheet?’
She stops as the door opens, and we all turn to see a figure standing in the doorway. Tall and slim, wearing a long black dress with a kind of snood affair over her head. Without saying anything, she glides into the room and I see she’s holding a laptop.
She turns to face us, but still says nothing. The hood thing is masking her face. All in all, she’s hardly the most prepossessing of speakers.
‘Not very talkative, is she?’ Geraldine whispers in my ear.
The woman dips her hood, reaches for the laptop and switches it on. Visions are flitting across the screen but whatever CD-rom she’s using, it’s not up to much. It’s more like some old cine-film. The colours are washed out, and the actions jerky. We all peer silently, our eyes trying to adjust.
Then I see it. It’s a woman in labour. She’s sighing and puffing, her head in her hands.
‘Oh for God’s sake,’ murmurs Geraldine. ‘Excuse me?’ she says in a louder voice. ‘We’ve seen several videos of giving birth. I really think our last lesson would be better used in discussion, or recapping what we’ve already covered.’
But the woman doesn’t seem to hear her. The images flicker on and we all gaze at the screen in silence. It’s strangely compelling, even though you can hardly make out what’s going on.
‘Hang on,’ says Georgia suddenly. ‘Gina, that’s you.’
‘What?’
We all crane forward and peer at the woman’s face.
‘Oh my God,’ breathes Gina.
‘It is!’
‘How can it be Gina?’
‘I think I’ve heard about this,’ says Geraldine uncertainly. ‘Video-empathy. It’s to help you visualize your birth. They must have superimposed your head on the screen. It’s a bit of a cheap trick.’
‘But how have they got Ralph too?’ says Gina, sounding freaked out. ‘Look!’
Sure enough, on the screen, Ralph is approaching the bed that Gina’s lying on. ‘Love?’ he says. ‘I’ve brought the oils.’
‘Ralph.’ On-screen Gina lifts her head, her face is contorted with pain. ‘I want pain relief. Proper pain relief.’
‘But love, you told me, no pain relief. I’ll rub your back with lavender and jasmine…’
The sound of Gina’s moaning dies away and the screen goes momentarily blank. A moment later she reappears on screen, looking even worse than before.
‘Ralph, I need something,’ she’s panting. ‘Please. I’ve changed my mind.’
‘She doesn’t,’ Ralph is saying to a midwife. ‘Look. It’s in her birth plan. “Even if I beg, do not give me pain relief. My body will adjust.”’