“The thing is,” Bridge went on, as relentless as a clock counting down the last few seconds of an unwanted puppy’s life, “you don’tnot wanta puppy. Youwanta puppy. You both want a puppy. You want a puppy so badly you didn’t get one over the pandemic so you could be sure you were getting it for the right reasons.”
“That was mostly Oliver,” I admitted. “I’d probably have just grabbed one from the supermarket in the hope it came with a roll of Andrex.”
Bridge made a triumphant gesture. Well, her poking took on a triumphant air. Then she looked pained again. “Sorry, that wasanother one. Still fine.”
“Pretty sure it’s not fine, Bridge.”
“Itisfine. You’re trying to change the subject.”
“I’m not trying to change the subject. You’re having an actual baby.”
“Luc.” She heaved a sigh, something I’d given her ample practice at over the years. “This is so typical of you. You’ll sayanythingto avoid talking about your feelings. You called me up because you were having puppy fears. This is going to remain a puppy fears conversation.”
“But,” I tried.
“I might,” she went on, determined, “maybe, be willing to concede that you and Oliver knew what you were doing about the wedding. This is different.”
“How?” I asked, plaintively. “I could be making a horrible mistake. I could be making a horrible mistake with the life of another person…creature…dog.”
“Exactly.”
I lifted my head from my hands to give her my bestWhat the fuck?expression. “What do you meanexactly? This isn’t anexactlysituation.”
“It’sexactlyanexactlysituation. When you were freaking out about getting married, it was because you didn’t want to get married. You’re freaking about getting a puppy because you think you’ll be a bad puppy-haver.”
“Iwillbe a bad puppy-haver,” I pointed out. “I’m lazy, I’m selfish, I’m easily distracted, I’m feckless. I don’t even know whatfeckis, but I know I lack it.”
“You don’t lack feck.” Bridge paused. “Probably. I’m not sure what it is either.”
“Well, clearly it’s something people need.” I might have been spiralling. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have a word for not having it.A bad word for not having it. A word that means if you don’t have it, you shouldn’t have a dog.”
Retracting her poking finger, Bridge gave me a consoling pat instead. “Oliver’s got plenty of feck. He’s extremely feckful.”
That was true. Oliver was feck as fuck.
“And you have other qualities. You’re kind, you’re loving, you’re fun. Puppies need fun. And most importantly, you’re prepared to learn. People who go into things expecting to be great at them are usually the…the worst people to be in those things. I mean, do you think I’m expecting to be a great mother?”
“Youwillbe a great mother.”
“I know, but I’m going to let it happen naturally. I’m not expecting it. That’s the point.”
I could no longer tell if I felt better or worse for having this conversation. Which, to give Bridge her due, had stopped me worrying about the fact Oliver and I were supposed to pick up a puppy tomorrow. A puppy for whose arrival Oliver had prepared in depth and I had barely prepared in shallows. To be honest, I was probably still in the changing room. For example, of the nine dog books Oliver had purchased, I had read the first three pages of one. And if that was the sort of dog owner I was going to be, what did it say about my readiness for… I mean, what hope did I have of being a good—
“Luc,” said Bridge, in a slightly strange voice.
“What?” I asked, still dwelling on my canine inadequacies and the beyond-canine-ownership inadequacies they might or might not imply.
“You know how I said I definitely wasn’t going to go into labour?”
I didn’t like where this was headed. I didn’t like it for myself because this was a horrible situation to have put your best friend in. But, mostly, I didn’t like it for Bridge because this was a horrible situation to have been put inbyyour best friend. “You’re mentioningthat to reassure me it’s still the case, right?”
“Well,” said Bridge. “Here’s the thing.”
Oh fuck.
“I think I might be going into labour.”
Chapter 3
