I Owe You One(80)

For the rest of the day I try not to obsess. It’s no big deal. It’s nothing. We’ve made an arrangement to meet; he’ll give me a box of chocolates or whatever and we’ll say goodbye. End of.

But I can’t help it: My heart is jumpy. And I keep glancing in the mirror. And I keep thinking of witty things to say. All in all, I’m hugely relieved when at around four o’clock Hannah appears through the doors. Thank God: distraction.

“What are you doing here?” I ask in surprise, whereupon Hannah goes a bit pink around the ears and says, “We took the afternoon off. We’re doing what you said. Here they are.”

She turns to the doors and I follow her gaze to see Tim entering, followed by a girl with a baby in a sling. I recognize her as one of Nicole’s friends, although I can’t remember her name. She has long, greasy curly hair and is wearing a hoody spattered with orange stains.

“So, like, it’s really easy with one of these,” the girl says, gesturing at the sling. “You can, like, take the baby anywhere, feed anywhere.… Hi, Fixie. I need, like, a wipe-clean tablecloth.”

“Absolutely!” I say. “We’ve got a whole range.”

I point them out and the girl heads over in that direction. At once I turn to Hannah.

“So … ?” I say in an undertone. “And, quick, remind me of her name?”

“Iona,” says Hannah discreetly.

“Iona.” I nod. “Yes, of course.”

“Nicole put us in touch. We’ve spent the whole afternoon with her. Shadowing her. Seeing what having a baby is like.”

“Wow!” I say. “And how’s it going?”

“Really informative,” says Tim.

“Really informative,” agrees Hannah.

There’s a weird undertone to their voices, but I can’t quite tell what it is. I’m about to ask more, but just then Iona comes back holding a tablecloth, and puts it on the counter. Her baby is adorable, and we all take turns to coo over him and hold his little chubby hand.

“Like I say,” says Iona to Hannah, “parenting is a breeze, as long as you go with the flow, you know? Don’t stress. And you don’t need to buy a crib or any of that crap. I sleep with Blade and his two older brothers, all in the same bed. It’s the natural way.”

“What about your … partner?” says Tim, taken aback.

“Yeah, he has to put up with it,” says Iona with a laugh.

“I see,” says Hannah, equally taken aback. “So in terms of sleeping …”

“Sleeping?” Iona laughs again. “That doesn’t happen! My God, sleeping! We don’t remember what that is, do we, monster? Nighttime is playtime! I mean, he still feeds, like, ten times a night? But he’s only seven months, so.” She shrugs. “Early days.”

“Wow,” says Hannah, looking unnerved. “OK. The thing is, I was talking to my doctor once, and he was saying that sleep is really important for—”

“Your doctor,” Iona interrupts. “Like an NHS doctor? A mainstream doctor?”

“Well … yes,” says Hannah, sounding puzzled. “Of course.”

“I’m not even registered with a mainstream doctor.” Iona gives her a pitying look. “My biggest piece of advice: Don’t trust mainstream doctors. They have an agenda, you know? They want to get you on their system. The minute you get pregnant, if you do,” she adds to Hannah, “go to my nutritionist. I’ll give you the number. She specializes in baby health. She’s like, ‘What are people doing, putting drugs into babies?’ ”

I can’t help glancing at Hannah and Tim. They both seem frozen.

“But what if the baby’s ill?” says Tim at last. “What if the baby needs medication?”

“ ‘Ill,’ ” says Iona, making quote marks in the air. “You know how many babies are addicted to drugs because the doctors want them to be?”

I have to bite my lip. Tim looks like he wants to erupt, and I’ve never seen Hannah’s eyes so goggly.

“Right!” says Tim. “Well. It was great to spend the afternoon with you, Iona. Thank you so much for sparing the time.”

“No worries,” says Iona easily. She fist-bumps him, then kisses Hannah. “And remember—there are no rules.”

“Except the rules of science,” says Tim under his breath, and I stifle a giggle.

We all watch in silence as Iona saunters out, whereupon Tim and Hannah explode simultaneously.

“Oh my God.”

“Jesus, what a nutter.”

“We are never doing it like that. Never. Never.”

“I couldn’t live like that.”

“Did you see that kitchen? The mess!”

They’re speaking with a common passion, a fervor, a united spirit. It’s actually really touching.

“Hannah, your to-do lists are a work of art,” says Tim suddenly. He takes her by the shoulders and gazes at her as though he’s fallen in love with her all over again. “They’re stupendous. I’ll do everything on them. Just please don’t make me sleep in a bed with six children and ignore medical research.”

“Never!” says Hannah, laughing. “Although I could lighten up a little. I guess I am a bit of a … What did Iona call me? Controllagirl. All I did was wash up a couple of mugs for her,” she adds to me. “There was literally not one clean mug in her kitchen.”