Which currently was more than she herself seemed capable of. Since she’d had her pregnancy officially confirmed by her GP and had her first appointment with a midwife – she was now ten weeks – she appeared rather alarmingly to have lost touch with her ability to apply logic and reason. During the last year when her longing for a child had dominated most of her waking thoughts, her emotions had been disagreeably up and down. But there had at least been a manageable order to them; now, they were all over the place. Trying to keep track of her emotions was like herding cats.
For the most part her brain felt as though it was turning to mush and, completely out of character, she cried at the slightest thing. Last night an advert on the telly for a brand of washing detergent had reduced her to tears. Her undoing had been the sight of a small child upset because she’d spilled blackcurrant juice down her new dress shortly before her birthday party began. The girl’s father had come to the rescue by using the newly improved washing detergent tablets and the closing scene showed the doe-eyed girl blowing out the candles on her cake and looking adoringly at her father.The stupid thing was, working in the industry she did, Martha knew perfectly well how the ad had been put together with one cynical aim in mind, to manipulate and exploit the target audience’s emotions.
Her other problem, aside from crying at the slightest thing, was her absent-mindedness and inability to concentrate. Which put her at a distinct disadvantage in the office. She had actually left for work one morning still clutching her electric toothbrush, thinking it was her mobile.
Baby brain; that’s what they called it. The official definition referred to a state of impaired memory and concentration, combined with a general lack of mental agility. It could be experienced not only during pregnancy, but after giving birth also.
On top of all that was the extreme tiredness that consumed her at times. Just the thought was enough to bring on a yawn. Not just any old yawn, but the jaw-breaking kind. Followed by another, and then another.
‘Ready for bed?’ asked Tom, turning to look at her with one of his gentle smiles.
‘It’s crazy,’ she said, ‘but it doesn’t matter how much sleep I have, it’s not enough.’
‘Poor you,’ he said. ‘But just think, the next time we come down for the fête, we’ll have the Beanie with us.’
She smiled back at him. How easily they had slipped into using the nickname Tom had come up with for their baby.
‘And the Beanie will have a cousin too,’ he said. ‘What’s the betting there’ll be a new generation of Miller Girls; a mini Martha and a mini Willow?’
‘Dad would have loved that,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ agreed Tom, ‘he would have. He used to say to me how glad he was to have an ally,another man around to help even out the score, but I think deep down he was much happier having daughters.’
‘I don’t recall Dad ever once saying that he would have liked a son,’ said Martha, before lapsing into silence once more and imagining mini versions of herself and her sister.
Having lost what she saw as her true self to the baby brain, Martha wondered if Willow was experiencing the same thing. Was she now even more forgetful? Or maybe for Willow, a baby brain was an improvement.
Martha immediately reminded herself that she had vowed not to harbour any negative thoughts this weekend –negativity was not good for the baby.Naturally she was reading up on how to do all she could to improve her child’s chances of being born happy and healthy. There would be no harmful or destructive behaviour on her watch. To that end she was doing all the right things.
Listening to Mozart – check.
Eating the right food – check.
Singing to her baby – check.
Reading to her baby – check.
Having an optimistic and positive outlook – check. Well … sort of.
In truth she had yet to master being wholly positive. She had never really been what you might call a cockeyed optimist, that was much more her sister’s speciality. Instead she had tended to look for problems before they happened, on the basis that she was then better equipped to deal with them when they did occur. Knowing how to deal with all eventualities was what enabled her to sleep at night; it was what kept her positive. She needed to be proactive,rather than simply go with the flow as Willow did.
So whatever jealousy or resentment Martha had harboured following Rick’s admission that Willow was pregnant, she was now doing her utmost to put that behind her. All that mattered was that she and Willow were having babies at roughly the same time, and that was a sisterly joy to be shared.
Except what still rankled with Martha was Rick’s voice on the phone that day. He had openly criticised her, and in a way that nobody ever had before. She hadn’t told Tom the extent of what Rick had said, and maybe that was because it would mean having to admit to the possibility that Rick was right.
Another admission she was determined to keep to herself was that she wasn’t looking forward to seeing Rick again today. She had gone from thinking that he was an ideal boyfriend for her sister to thinking the opposite. She didn’t want a brother-in-law who was prepared to be so confrontational with her. Would he have another go at her during this weekend?
The rational answer to that was to ensure she gave him no reason to criticise her; to be, at all times, on her absolute best behaviour. She would not think the worst of anyone or anything. Which included Mum and Ellis. She was going to appear to be perfectly magnanimous about their relationship. To put up any resistance would probably only throw them closer together, whereas to accept it would allow the thing to run its course. Much like that time when Mum allowed Willow to dye her hair shocking pink during the summer holidays when she was a teenager. Dad had gone mad, but Mum had said it was better to let Willow get it out of her system.
They were only a few miles from Tilsham, passing along lanes with verdant hedgerows and towering cow parsley,when Tom asked the question she knew he would. ‘Have you decided when exactly this weekend we’ll tell your mother and Willow our news?’
‘This evening is still my preferred option,’ she replied, ‘when the fête is over and we’re having supper. But who knows,’ she added with a wry smile, ‘I might just blurt it out.’
‘I don’t have a problem with that,’ he said, ‘and the sooner we do share our good news, the sooner Willow can admit that she’s also pregnant, and then we can all relax. Do you think it’s possible she might have already told your mother?’
‘More than possible. Or maybe Rick has let the cat out of the bag again. He did seem excessively pleased with himself when he told me.’
‘You can’t blame him for that,’ said Tom, ‘I expect I shall sound just as smug when I tell people.’
