‘Please don’t talk like that.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘It’s not fine. You can’t joke about it like that.’
‘What else can I do? This is it, Nick. My life, our baby’s life – it all depends on the way the months ahead pan out. Living with this huge question mark over our heads like some nasty grey cloud is exhausting. And, honestly, we both need some good-quality sleep. Do you know how bad sleep deprivation is for your skin? People who do not have a baby yet should not be waking at all hours of the night like us.’ She gives me a knowing look.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I know you can’t turn the worrying off like a switch, and neither can I, but please, Nick – let’s try to enjoy things day by day? Please try not to worry about me or what lies ahead.’
Her fingers trace one of my eyebrows – the one missing a tiny patch of hair. She slowly opens one of the boxes to reveal a single white envelope.
‘No doughnuts? I don’t know how I’m going to walk back in there and tell my team that there are no doughnuts. You can’t mess with my team, Paige.’
She holds the envelope up, teasing me.
‘If this is a bill, I’m afraid I don’t want it.’
‘I’ve been holding onto this since I had my last ultrasound… I’ve been waiting for the right moment to open it. That’s if you want to know…’
I jerk my head up. ‘You know what we’re having?’
‘Not yet,’ she says. ‘It all depends on whether you open the envelope. For all I know there could be a rates notice in there.’
I tear the envelope open and she pulls the card out. In our doctor’s scrawly handwriting are the words:
Congratulations to the most wonderful couple I know! You’re having a GIRL!
I blink, staring at the most amazing words I’ve ever seen written on paper, while Paige laughs, the goofiest of smiles appearing on her face. ‘It’s a girl. We’re having a girl.’
‘Yes,’ I say, nodding as I turn my face towards hers. There they are: Paige’s eyes, sparkling with happiness. ‘We are having a baby. We’re having a girl.’ A surge of elation simmers away and I marvel at the way it feels. Paige is keeping the baby. Our baby. Here we are, Paige and me, in this magical moment that, no matter what happens, nobody can take from us.
Now that we know we are having a girl, I find myself imagining her life. In my mind’s eye, Paige is there, with us – pushing her on a swing, teaching her how to read, feeding her in her high chair, reading to her in the cubby house.
‘Earth to Nick,’ comes Paige’s voice as I finish shaving. She’s standing in the doorway of the bathroom in her robe with a piece of toast in her hand.
‘Hey, I meant to ask you. How’s Grandma doing?’
‘Not so great. Apparently, you told her you were bringing her a new pair of slippers.’
‘I might have. Wait till she sees them. They’re leopard print.’
She laughs. ‘Bet she’ll love them.’
‘If we leave soon, maybe we can pop past to see her on our way to the Yarra Valley.’ We’ve organised a day out at a winery, not that Paige can drink wine, but she loves the scenic drive anyway.
‘Yeah, sure.’ She finishes her toast and towel-dries her hair. ‘I’ve been thinking that, when you’re ready, we could talk about the nursery. I’d like to make a start on it even if it’s early, and maybe we should book some painters in this time?’
‘Course, yeah, I’ll get onto it straight away. Leave it with me.’
Paige starts tearing through her dresser, trying to find a pair of clean pants.
‘I think we should try to take this day by day but also treat it like any other pregnancy. I want things to feel normal, and I want our friends and family to feel happy for us. I want them to be involved and not feel awkward in any way.’
‘Got it,’ I say. ‘You don’t want anyone worrying about you.’
‘Right. That’s exactly what I don’t want,’ she says, pulling up her pants. ‘Ugh, they’re on backwards.’ She wriggles out of them, tries again and then heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth.
‘I’ve been making a list of baby names,’ I call out. ‘And Harper is definitely looking good but I found another name I think you might like.’
‘Mmm?’ she says, her mouth full of toothpaste.
‘Aveline,’ I say, stepping back into the bathroom. ‘French for Evelyn. Ava for short.’
Her eyes widen. ‘Yes,’ she whispers as she turns to face me. ‘I love it.’
Fifty-One
Paige
I reach my third trimester. My heart seems to be doing fine, and for the most part, life’s been passing by as normal. Sunday night dinner at Mum and Dad’s is back on. Ryan called three days ago to let us know Susannah is pregnant. It’s early, but they’re hopeful, as are we. Elsie passed away a few weeks ago, with Frank by her side. She’d finished not only the matinee jacket but a pair of matching booties and a beanie for Aveline. Windsor Lakes isn’t the same without her. Immediately following the news, for the first time ever, Viv did not bake any sort of comfort food. Instead she learnt to play bridge with Frank.
Caitlin gave birth to a baby. Another boy. They named him Jordan. Her contractions started at eight in the evening and she delivered him close to midnight. He’s perfect, from his soft peach skin to his mop of light brown hair and tiny button nose. We can’t decide whether he looks more like Mark or Caitlin, though Dad is convinced he can see something of himself in him. Nick’s face lit up when he laid eyes on Jordan for the first time, bundled up in a white blanket with a blue beanie on his head. Caitlin asked him to pass him to her as he was due for a feed. Effortlessly, his strong hands dipped into the crib, lifting up baby Jordan as he brought him to his chest.
‘Hey, little guy. Looking pretty perfect to me,’ he said softly before handing him over to Caitlin. He looked over at me then and winked reassuringly. I haven’t been able to get the picture of him doing that out of my mind since.
I finished the eighteenth amigurumi last week. I’m writing Aveline the last letter to slide into its pocket when Nick snuggles up beside me on the sofa.
‘What are you up to?’ He flips a banana in the air, catches it and starts peeling it.
I shake my head in amusement. Nick has a strange habit of playing with fruit before he eats it. Rolling it, tossing it, spinning it. ‘Child,’ I mutter.
Nick picks up a stuffed donkey. ‘Is this what she gets for her sixteenth? Pedro the donkey?’
‘Whatever happened with Annoying Emily? Did she ever end up finding her Pedro?’
‘I didn’t tell you? Oh my God, Paige. She found him. In Valencia.’ He frowns. ‘Or was it Madrid? Either way, it was in Spain. She actually found the guy.’
‘And he’s on board? Like, they’re sticking together now?’
‘She hasn’t come back yet.’ He shrugs. ‘So I guess so.’
‘Good for her,’ I say, smiling.