In the Pink

The Bad-News-Baby is completely dominating every second of every day. Quite an achievement for someone who hasn’t even been born yet. Mum has started racing home from work to check on Alex and Alex told me that she even phones during her lunch hour, just to make sure everything’s OK. There are still four whole weeks to go until it arrives, but there’s more preparation going on here than there would be if we were preparing for battle.

Even Charlie is starting to realize that something is about to happen. I heard him and Alex having a long talk in her room two weeks ago. Alex cried quite a lot and said that he wasn’t being fair, that this baby deserved to have two parents who loved it, and that she didn’t get pregnant all on her own so why should he expect her to bring it up all on her own? I don’t know what Charlie said to that because I suddenly decided that it was time to stop eavesdropping and sneaking around. That actually, maybe, I don’t need to know absolutely everything that’s going on around here. From now on I’m going to trust Mum to tell me stuff on a need-to-know basis. And I really don’t need to know what’s going on between Alex and Charlie.

Anyway, Charlie moved out of our house and back to live with his parents. Alex cried for a day and Mum took the day off work and, by the time I got home from school, Alex was tired-looking and red-faced, but sort of calm. And actually it seems like it’s working out OK. Charlie stayed away the first few days, but then he popped over one evening and since then he’s been about quite a bit. This week he’s behaving really weirdly though: he keeps turning up at random times of the day to see if the baby’s decided to be born. Alex has told him about a hundred times that she’ll ring him the second she feels the slightest twinge, but I don’t think he believes her.

Mum goes on and on at Alex every night about making sure her phone is charged and has got lots of credit. I tried telling her that we live in a civilized part of the world and it’s highly unlikely that Alex will end up giving birth curled up under a hedge in a blizzard, but Mum told me off for being sarcastic so I’ve kept my opinions to myself since then.

I’ve got the day off today because my school has a teacher-training day. I’m bored and I’m feeling really sorry for myself, which is a good job because nobody else is feeling sorry for me. Mum’s at work and Alex is lounging around in the living room. She’s told me to stop moping about and find something to do, so I’m playing my violin. I’ve got an exam in a few months and I’ve decided that I might as well carry on with it; it’s one of the only things that I can do that Alex can’t, so it’d be a shame to waste all my hard work and give up now.

‘Izzy!’ I can barely hear Alex calling me over the sound of the scales that I’m playing. She’s probably going to moan at me AGAIN – she hates the sound of my violin. I ignore her. I’m totally within my rights to practise my violin in the kitchen if I feel like it. I finish my scales and move on to my music book.

‘IZZY!’ She’s yelling at me now and her voice sounds a bit strange. If this is some pathetic attempt at making me go in and change the TV channel because she can’t be bothered to reach out for the remote, I’m actually going to go berserk at her.

I finish the piece that I’m playing and then I grudgingly trudge into the living room, but then stop dead in the doorway. Alex is leaning over the back of the sofa, her face totally white apart from two bright red spots on each cheek. She’s panting loudly and looks like she’s about to fall over.

‘Alex?’ I ask her, hoping that she’s eaten one too many packets of stinky crisps and just has a stomach ache.

‘Izzy!’ she gasps again and I rush to her side, not sure what I should do. I put my hand on her arm, but she flicks it away and I back off a bit, starting to feel very scared.

‘Are you ill?’ I ask her. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I think the baby’s coming,’ pants Alex and a giggle escapes my lips: the baby isn’t due for another four weeks yet. Then I look at Alex again and I stop laughing. She isn’t joking. The Bad-News-Baby is on its way and there’s nobody here to help us.

My mind races desperately and I look at the hideous brown clock on the mantelpiece, hoping that it might give me some help. Mum has been grilling us every night about what we need to do if this happens when she’s at work. I know I’ve got the answer somewhere in my brain, but I just can’t join up all the dots. Alex starts whining, a high-pitched noise that makes my spine tingle. She’s stopping me from thinking straight and I want to tell her to shush, but somehow I don’t think she’d appreciate that.

‘Hold on,’ I tell her, backing out of the room. ‘Just stay there.’

‘Where else would I go?’ I hear her muttering, but I ignore her and race to the phone in the hallway. The list of important numbers is still on the noticeboard next to the phone and I quickly dial Mum’s mobile. I take a few deep breaths while the line connects and then I can hear Mum’s phone ringing. In the kitchen.

In total disbelief I slam down the phone and run into the kitchen. Mum’s phone is lying on top of the fridge – she must have left it there this morning. I want to snigger again: after all her military-style planning it’s Mum who’s messed up the system. But it isn’t actually funny and I can hear Alex’s groans getting louder so I run back to the phone and call Mum’s school.

‘Good afternoon. Darnfield Primary School. How can I help you?’ says Definitely-Called-Margaret.

‘It’s Izzy Stone and I need you to pass an urgent message to my mum,’ I gabble, desperate to get back to Alex in the living room.

‘Of course, dear,’ says Margaret. ‘What’s the message?’

‘Tell her that Alex is having the baby NOW and she needs to come home because I don’t know what to do,’ I say and then I hang up the phone. Should I ring Granny and Grandpa? Granny can drive, but it takes ages to get Grandpa ready to leave the house and by the time they get here it could be too late. I run back into the living room.

‘I’ve left a message for Mum,’ I tell Alex. ‘Just hang in there.’

‘It’s too early,’ moans Alex. ‘The baby’s too early. We need to get to hospital, Izzy. I can’t wait.’

‘Hang on,’ I tell her and, sprinting down the hallway, I fling open the front door in the hopes that Mum might be pulling into the driveway, even though I know she’ll only just be getting the message. My eyes dart frantically up and down the street and when I see him I think for a moment that he’s an illusion, that he’s just a figment of my imagination, because seeing him right now would be just about perfect.

But then he waves at me as he steps into his van and starts to drive and I realize that he’s not an illusion, he’s actually here, but if I don’t do something fast then he won’t be here much longer. Flinging myself down the path, I charge out of the garden gate and stand in the middle of the road in my socks. Finn screeches to a halt just in front of me and leaps out of the van.

‘What on –’ he starts to shout at me, but I interrupt him.

‘The baby!’ I shout back at him. ‘It’s coming and Alex is scared and she’s not OK and it’s too early and I don’t know what to do. Should I ring 999 because you get told off if you do that and it isn’t an emergency, and I don’t know if this is an emergency, but it feels like one?’

I stop to take a breath and Finn dashes past me and up the path, leaving his van in the middle of the road with the engine still running. I chase after him and together we run into the house. Alex has made it as far as the hallway and when she sees Finn her face collapses at the same time that she does. Finn grabs her just before she hits the floor and holds on to her as if she’s a delicate little princess and not a great, hefty, eight-months-pregnant girl. All that trench-digging has come in handy, I think, and I remind myself to tell him later.

The sight of Finn makes Alex start crying, but he whispers into her ear and she nods and stops, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve. Suddenly I’m not sure if I’m looking at a grown woman who is about to have a baby or a scared little girl who doesn’t know what’s going on – it’s all very confusing.

‘Should I phone for an ambulance?’ I ask Finn again, remembering the list of instructions that Mum had given me.

‘I don’t know,’ he says, looking at Alex, and I see concern etched on his face. ‘Maybe I should drive her. By the time they get here, we could be almost at the hospital. Or maybe that’s stupid – what if she gives birth in the van? I don’t know what to do!’

‘What about your mum?’ I ask him. ‘We need a grown-up!’

‘She’s at work!’ Finn’s voice is getting squeaky and I can feel the panic starting to wash over me. Someone has to make their mind up and Alex can hardly speak and I’m only thirteen so it needs to be Finn.

I look at him desperately and he seems to have been having the same thoughts as me because he gives his shoulders a little shake and then stands up straighter.

‘I’ll drive her in,’ he tells me, his voice lower now, but still sounding wobbly.

He half carries Alex down the path and I run ahead, opening the passenger door.

‘She’ll be OK,’ he tells me, guiding Alex towards the door. ‘I’ll drive really carefully, don’t worry.’

Finn eases Alex on to the seat and then leans in next to her. ‘How often are the contractions coming?’ he asks her. I can’t hear her answer, but Finn looks worried. ‘Wait here for your mum,’ he says to me, ‘and then follow us to the hospital. Make sure you pick up Alex’s overnight bag and everything she’s packed for the baby – nappies and sleepsuits and cotton wool and that kind of thing.’

He ruffles my hair quickly and then runs round the front, diving into the driving seat. I bend down next to Alex.

‘It’ll be OK,’ I tell her, hoping that the terror I’m feeling isn’t obvious in my voice. She looks at me and I think she might be trying to smile reassuringly to make me feel better, but it isn’t working because her face is screwed up and all scrunchy. Looking at her doesn’t make me feel any less scared.

‘Phone Charlie,’ she whispers, and then she doubles over, clutching her stomach and moaning. I slam the door closed and step back as Finn pulls away. I expect him to race off down our road at one hundred miles an hour, but he creeps away so slowly that a snail could overtake him, as if he’s carrying the most precious cargo ever in his beaten-up, filthy old van.

I watch the van until it turns the corner and then go back to the house. I find Charlie’s number on the list of important numbers on the wall and phone him. I barely manage to get past ‘Alex is on her way to hospital’ before he’s hung up on me. I have no idea how long it takes to have a baby, but I hope Charlie gets to the hospital in time. Then I go and find Alex’s bag, wondering how Finn knows so much about giving birth and babies all of a sudden. And it dawns on me that Mum isn’t the only one who’s been preparing for this day.