Harring and I sprint.
“But you’re not going to find her! She went out an hour ago or so. She was going to the hospital… it’s about time.”
“What hospital?”
“I think it’s St Mary’s…”
“Let’s go,” I beckon Haz to get in the car.
“I’ll drive, I’m a Formula One driver.”
“Forget it. The car is mine and I’ll drive.”
Harring reaches for the keys. “If I drive, we’ll get there faster.”
“If you drive, you’ll kill us all,” I object.
“Come on, it’s a Rolls Royce Phantom! Please, please, please. I’ve always wanted to drive it!”
“No.”
“You owe me,” Harring insists.
“Fuck you!” I throw him the keys.
“Where are we going?” Asks Cécile, already sitting in the passenger seat.
“She’s not coming with us,” I say to Harring.
“You try and convince her.”
“Go sit in the back, Loxley,” I growl.
“But I have a charity society meeting,” my mother protests.
“Right now, I couldn’t care less, mother. Jemma is about to have a baby. Our baby.”
“My smelling salts!” She whimpers. “I’m about to faint.”
“If you try to throw up on the seats, I swear I’ll leave you here!” I threaten her.
*
Regardless of road signs, we double park the car and rush into St Mary’s Hospital. As soon as I get to the front desk of the maternity ward, I announce anxiously: “I am the father.”
The nurse shakes her head for a moment, trying to figure me out: “Whose father?”
“Jemma Parker.”
“There are no patients named Jemma Parker,” she says.
She must have given her maiden name, damn her. “Pears! Jemma Pears.”
The nurse is more and more incredulous. “Frankly, I think you’re way too young to be Mrs Pears’ father!”
“No, not Jemma’s father, but of the baby she’s giving birth to! Is she inside? Has she had it yet? Can I go in?” I ask, trying to walk on, but she stands in my way.
“So you’re Mr Pears, right?”
