Majella stares down between her feet where a slow trickle of clear liquid is starting to pool. She looks like a deer caught in headlights, her eyes darting from it to Don and the baby and then back to me.
‘Shite, Maj, that’s … I think your waters are after breaking,’ I hiss, grabbing her by the hand and dragging her back towards the toilets before someone slips on it and knocks themselves out. Luckily, Don’s dramatic declaration and photoshoot has completely distracted everyone else. Even characteristically cool Niamh from Across the Road is looking flushed and fanning herself with a photograph of a lithe dancer with the head of baby Pablo in a bonnet.
We scuttle towards the bathrooms, and at the last minute, I steer Majella away from the ladies’ and into the disabled toilet for a bit of privacy. When I lock the door, I wheel around, expecting her to be in a state of panic, but instead she’s calmly topping up her nose contour with a tiny compact she’s just pulled out of her bra. The liquid is still running down her leg.
‘What are you doing, Maj? You’re going into labour. For real this time!’
She catches my eye in the mirror. ‘Bird, relax! I’m only thirty-six weeks. I have to get to forty. Loadsa time yet.’ Then she starts carefully combing her eyebrows. ‘I need to get a selfie with Don before he whisks Sadhbh away for a ride in the car park.’
The liquid is now gathering in her shoes and trickling down onto the floor. I walk over and take her gently by the shoulders and turn her around so we’re facing each other. She’s shaking slightly.
‘Majella,’ I say, as evenly as I possibly can, ‘I don’t think you understand. Forget Don Shields! Either you are very slowly pissing yourself here or you’re going into labour.’
‘No,’ she says defiantly. ‘I’m at my Magic Mike-slash-Jurassic Park baby shower, Aisling. We’ve been planning this for months. Well, you have anyway. I’m absolutely fine. I haven’t even done my birthing class yet. I don’t even have a bag packed.’
I glance down at the puddle between us. ‘Well, I don’t think the baby cares about that.’
I only got to read the first couple of chapters of What to Expect, but I’m pretty sure that once the waters break, there should be no hanging around. I need to get Majella to the hospital fast, and I need to get Pablo back home from Dublin to hold up her legs and listen to her telling him what a prick he is for knocking her up in the first place.
Majella is putting the compact back into her bra when she suddenly stops dead and sort of winces.
‘What was that?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Was it a contraction?’
‘Hard to say. It’s passed now.’ She fluffs her hair. ‘I think we should go back out. I haven’t opened any presents yet.’
For a second, I consider slapping her across the face, but instead I carefully guide her by the shoulders backwards to the toilet. Then I flip down the lid and sit her onto it firmly. She’s starting to look a bit dazed.
‘Majella, I think you’re in denial. You’re in labour! I have to go out and get my phone. I’ll be back in a sec.’
I don’t think she’s taking in a word I’m saying, though, because she’s starting to babble.
I kneel down in front of her so we’re eye to eye. ‘Are you okay there?’ Then I plaster on a smile. ‘This is exciting, Maj. It’s happening!’
She meets my eye then, looking stricken and clutching her bump. ‘I can’t really be in labour, Aisling,’ she whispers. ‘That means the baby will be premature. It’s only a cucumber yet. It’s supposed to be a watermelon.’
‘Don’t worry about that. Everything is where it’s supposed to be at this stage, isn’t it? The baby just fattens up the last few weeks anyway. Remember Tara Cowman?’
‘Midfield for the Gaels?’
I nod. ‘Her little lad was born at thirty-two weeks, and he was grand. Only four pounds and she called him Boris, but grand. The baby is fine, but we really should make our way to the hospital. I’m going out to get my phone, okay? Don’t let anyone else in. We’re very close to the girls wanting to piss in pairs.’
A look of panic crosses her face. ‘Don’t tell anyone, will you not, Ais?’
‘Why?’
‘My mother’s three sheets to the wind, and so are my aunties. They never get together any more except for funerals. Let them enjoy the evening. I don’t want everyone going all weird and sitting around thinking about me and waiting for news.’
‘Absolutely. Whatever you want, Maj.’
Her face screws up.
‘What? What’s wrong?’
‘I didn’t even get to see the DJ. I always wanted a baby shower with a DJ.’
I leg it out of the toilet and back into the ballroom, where Dee and Maeve are shimmying around the dance-floor to ‘Mamma Mia’ with Constance Swinford, Liz Moran, Mammy and Hannah. A few of the cousins and at least two aunts are at the bar handing out baby Guinnesses. It’s all turning out exactly how Maj planned – it’s just a shame she’s missing it now.
Aubrey catches my eye as I nip around her to grab my phone off the table. She is deep in conversation with Sharon about wedding venues that don’t frown upon a dove release. I’ve seen a dove drop dead in upstate New York after flying straight into the trailer of an articulated lorry, but I say nothing. Hopefully Tom Hanks’s son and his fiancée managed to enjoy their engagement pictures in the end despite the bloody carnage.
‘All good?’ Aubrey mouths at me, and I give her the thumbs-up. Hopefully Hannah didn’t notice or I’ll never hear the end of it. She accuses my thumb emojis of being cringe.
When I slip back in to the toilet, Majella is still sitting there looking disorientated. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah. I think so.’
‘Any more pains when I was gone?’
‘A small one. Are they having loads of craic without me? Is Doctor Grant gone? Is there cake left?’
I hit dial on John’s name. ‘I’ll get Aubrey to save you some.’
It’s ringing.
‘Ais? How’s the baby shower?’
I can hear a racket in the background. It doesn’t sound like Arnotts or anywhere you might buy chinos or an anorak. ‘John! Thank God.’
Majella winces again, screwing her eyes shut and holding her bump. ‘Is … Pab … enjoying … himself?’ she gasps.
‘Majella’s gone into labour! Do you have Pablo?’
‘Good one, Ais.’
‘John, I’m deadly serious. You need to get Pablo home – fast. Everyone’s pissed, so I’m going to have to bring her into the General myself. How long till you can get there, do you think?’
‘Oh shit, um …’ He sounds cagey now. ‘Matt and Denis wanted to catch the New Zealand match …’ The din in the background is picking up. Then there’s an unmistakable roar. ‘And, oh, Ireland just scored, I think!’
‘John, you have to get Pablo to the General!’
Another roar. ‘Yep, the TMO’s confirmed it.’
Is he really going to give me the ins and outs of the game at a time like this? ‘You’re not in Maguire’s!’ They wouldn’t be showing rugby. Felipe would sooner wear a poppy.
‘We’re still in town, Ais.’
‘I thought you were getting the five o’clock bus?’
‘Oh, fuuuck.’ Majella gasps, rocking slightly on the toilet seat. ‘Did … he … buy … a … polo … shirt?’
I haven’t been timing the contractions properly, but I’m guessing they’re around five minutes apart now.
‘We were going to get the next one at quarter past eight.’
‘That’s two hours away!’ I lower my voice. ‘Her contractions are getting closer. You have to get him home, John!’
I shove my phone in my pocket and sink back down on my knees in front of Majella, trying not to think about why the floor directly in front of the toilet might be so sticky. ‘Stay calm, Pablo’s on his way. How are you doing?’
‘Ais, I think I change my mind.’ Her chest is heaving and I can see the whites of her eyes.
‘Change your mind about what?’
‘About the baby.’
I’m tempted to tell her it’s a bit late for that, but instead I reach out and take her by both hands. ‘Majella, there’s no need to be scared of childbirth.’ I sound calmer than I feel. ‘You’ll be fine. Anything Denise Kelly can do, twice, you can do better. You’re always saying it. And once we get to the hospital, they’ll give you the gas and air so you can get mad out of it. You’re excited about the lovely drugs, aren’t you?’
She shakes her head. ‘It’s not the birth I’m worried about, Ais. It’s … everything else after it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t think I’m ready to be a mam,’ she wails.
‘Of course you are! You’ve been dying to be a mam since we watched Mermaids and wanted to get dresses like Cher and Winona Ryder. Shoop shoop?’
‘Yeah, but I don’t know if I thought it through properly. I’m not Cher. Like, what if I forget I have a baby and accidentally leave it in a car on a sunny day?’
‘You won’t, Maj.’
‘It happens all the time!’
‘Not in BGB. You couldn’t leave your purse in the car here without getting a text from the Community Alert crowd giving out to you.’
‘What if I don’t know how to stop it crying?’
‘You will know. Mams just do.’
‘Well, what if Pablo loves the baby more than me? I’m scared I’ll be playing second fiddle for the rest of my life.’
‘You’ll be happy for the baby! And we all know Pablo has plenty of love to go around. You’re not going to be second fiddle to anyone.’ Then I add, ‘I’m sure everyone feels this way when they’re getting ready to give birth.’
‘But what if I’m not responsible enough? You know the way I’m a bit of a, well, a hames –’
‘Excuse me,’ I interject, ‘you used to be a hames. Not any more. When was the last time you lost a phone?’
She thinks for a second. Then her face lights up. ‘Not since my work Christmas party!’
‘There you go! That’s more than nine months ago. You’ve a new personal best.’
‘And I didn’t lose it – it was actually robbed after I left it behind me in the toilet cubicle in McGowan’s.’
I bite my tongue. ‘See? I told you. You’re all grown up. You’re going to be a brilliant mam.’
Her face suddenly crumples.
‘Oh God, another contraction?’
‘No,’ she sobs, ‘I’m just afraid, Ais. I’m afraid everything is going to change and things will never go back to the way they were.’
‘Ah, Maj, don’t be worrying. Change is good. You tell me that every time you dye your hair. Things will be better than they ever were. You’re ready for this, I promise you.’
She’s still sobbing. ‘I thought I’d feel grown up by now, but I don’t. I still feel like I’m twenty-two. Am I a weirdo?’
I contemplate it for a minute. ‘You’re not a weirdo, you’re normal. I feel like that myself. I even have the same boyfriend as I did when I was twenty-two! Although we’re in a much better place now than we were back then.’
‘If you love John so much then why don’t you put him out of his misery and say you’ll marry him?’ She practically screams it. ‘You’re driving us all mad, bird!’
‘Majella, would you keep your voice down?!’
‘I can say what I want – I’m the one in labour,’ she sniffs.
‘I told you, we’ll get engaged when the time is right. Now can we start making a move?’
She squeezes my fingers so hard a little whimper falls out of me. ‘What kind of a mam hoovers up coppers, Ais? And I hate cleaning, and I leave my clothes in the washing machine for ages until they start to smell and then I have to turn it on again before I can hang them out.’
I stroke her hair. ‘You’ll be grand, Maj, you’ll be grand.’
‘You don’t do that stuff, though, do you?’ she gulps.
‘I never did, to be fair. And, look, don’t forget you’re not doing this by yourself. You have Pablo. You’re a good team, the pair of you. You’ll be brilliant parents together.’
She gives me a watery smile and sniffs. ‘And you and John will be too.’ She squeezes my fingers again, more gently this time. ‘Some day.’ Then her face contorts and she starts to pant. ‘Oh … bollix.’
‘I think we better get you into the Micra.’