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  SHE WAS PLEASED with how the talk had gone. Despite her nerves, she had been clear, articulate and had even managed to make the group laugh by likening breast pumps to farm milking machines.

  “At least breast-feeding helps you lose weight,” Plum-with-the-fitness-trainer said at one point. The woman was so thin that if she’d turned sideways only her bump would have remained visible.

  This was the cue for everybody to join in and start moaning about how much weight they’d put on during their pregnancies.

  “If I don’t leave the hospital in my Chloe hipsters,” somebody said, “I shall die.” Ruby waited for the derisive laughter, but it didn’t come. Instead there were nods of agreement from the rest of the group.

  “I’m living on fruit and cottage cheese at the moment,” Plum said. “I’m allowing myself a ten-pound weight gain and no more.”

  “But all the books say you can put on 30 pounds during pregnancy,” Ruby said, appalled at what she was hearing. Her comment was met with cries of horror.

  “Look,” a woman with a red Kabbalah bracelet said to Ruby, “you’ve seen the pictures of stars like China Katz leaving St. Luke’s after giving birth. Have you any idea of the pressure on women to stay thin during pregnancy?”

  “But these women are film stars,” Ruby protested. “Their faces and bodies are their careers. Surely the rest of us can afford to ease up on ourselves during pregnancy?”

  “You’d think. Look at this.” The Kabbalah woman took a copy of For Her magazine and handed it to Ruby. She read the cover:

  Inside: How Claudia Planchette stays so sickeningly svelte during pregnancy…plus our special diet plan helps you to be just like her and stop piling on those ugly baby pounds.

  Ruby turned to the Claudia Planchette interview. When asked how she stayed so slim during pregnancy and left the hospital after giving birth without the remotest sign of a postpregnancy bump, she declared:

  It’s all down to genes. I eat like a pig during pregnancy and don’t put on weight. After the birth, my skin and muscles instantly spring back into shape. I’m just very lucky, I guess.

  “You see, that’s what we’re up against,” Plum said. “And after the birth I fully intend to breast-feed and diet at the same time. Everybody says it’s the only way to ensure the pounds fall away.”

  Yet again there was a chorus of approval.

  Ruby shook her head in despair. These women worried obsessively about the environment and how chemicals could poison their children and yet they were prepared to deny themselves and their unborn babies the nourishment they so desperately needed.

  Plum looked at her watch. “Oops, I’m late for my spinning class. I really must get going.” She said how much she had enjoyed Ruby’s talk and turned to go. The rest of the women stayed on for tea and decaf, then they, too, began melting away.

  Despite having sold several thousand pounds’ worth of clothes and nursery furniture in just over an hour, Ruby was left feeling sad and disturbed. She knew that this group of women couldn’t be unique. There had to be thousands of pregnant women out there starving themselves in order to get back into their jeans immediately after giving birth. What sickened her even more was that women’s magazines were clearly encouraging them.

  RUBY WAS WALKING through reception, heading toward the main doors, when she saw Ronnie coming toward her. What on earth was her mother doing here? She saw Ruby’s look of surprise.

  “I know, don’t say it,” Ronnie laughed, drawing her daughter’s attention to the cheesecloth smock she was wearing over jeans. “The seventies rang and want their smock back. I found it in a vintage dress shop. Isn’t it fab? It manages to hide my bump and make me feel sixteen at the same time.”

  “It’s lovely, but that’s not what I was going to say. Actually, I was wondering what brings you here.”

  “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I phoned and booked a tour of the delivery room. A lovely girl just showed me round and I have to say I’m very impressed. Your dad hasn’t stopped badgering me about changing hospitals. He doesn’t trust the local one. He thinks that because of my age, something might go wrong.”

  “I wish I’d known you were going to be here. You could have come to my talk.”

  “Of course, it was today. How did it go?”

  “Really good, if I do say so myself.”

  “See, I said you’d be brilliant. I’m sorry I missed it, but I couldn’t have come. The girl showing me round had organized a meeting for me with a lovely lady obstetrician. She’s about my age and specializes in caring for older women.”

  Ruby thought it might be Dr. Jane, but it was somebody else, a Dr. Beech.

  “That’s great news. They’ll really look after you here.”

  “I think you’re right. Dr. Beech seems very caring and confidence inspiring, so I’ve decided to go with her.” She added that she had just phoned to give Phil the news. “He’s really pleased I’m changing hospitals, but I feel so guilty. It means he’s got to cash in one of his pension plans to pay for the treatment.”

  Ruby laughed and said there couldn’t be too many men in their fifties cashing in their pension plans to pay for private childbirth.

  Ronnie laughed. “I know. The irony’s not lost on him. Anyway, after I left the doctor I went to sit in on a prenatal class…. God, the women are thin. Things have changed so much since I was pregnant with you. Nobody eats these days. It’s appalling. I came in eating a doughnut I’d just bought and people looked at me as if I had leprosy. Heaven only knows what harm they’re doing to their babies.”

  Ruby agreed and told Ronnie about the article in For Her. Ronnie grimaced. “What kind of world decrees that the only way for women to be acceptable is for them to practically disappear? Even when they’re pregnant?”

  “God knows,” Ruby said, shaking her head. “So how was the class?”

  “Fantastic. I had a chat with the teacher afterward and she says that despite my age she can see no reason why having this baby shouldn’t be a really special experience.”

  Ruby didn’t mean to come across as pathetic and needy, but before she could stop them, the corners of her mouth had dipped southward.

  “Oh, sweetie, not that having you wasn’t special. It was. I won’t ever forget it. I just knew my having this baby was going to bring up rejection issues for you. Maybe you should see somebody to talk it through.”

  “Mum, stop worrying. I’m fine,” Ruby soothed. “I don’t need to see anybody. Honest. I admit the idea of having a baby brother or sister still feels strange, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”

  “I know, darling, but it may not be easy and I want you to remember that you were my first baby. The first one is always special, but back then they shaved you, gave you an enema, pumped you with drugs. Now I’m being told I can give birth in water with the lights dimmed and soft music playing.”

  Her eyes were wide with excitement. “Rubes, I can’t tell you how wonderful this prenatal teacher is. First she had everybody practicing their womb breathing. That was followed by sun salutations to energize the body. And next week she’s going to get us started on our birthing mantras, which are based on Tibetan overtoning chanting. But that’s not all…” She looked round to check that they couldn’t be overheard. “You will never guess who’s in this class.”

  “Who?”

  “Claudia Planchette. You know, the film star. She is so beautiful. I mean exquisite isn’t the word.”

  “I know. She came into the shop the other day. I knew she was booked in at St. Luke’s. What did you make of her?”

  Ronnie wrinkled her nose. “Not a lot. To be honest I found her a bit aloof and condescending. I kept wondering what she was doing there. She really seemed to set herself apart from the rest of the women. On the other hand, maybe I’m the one with the problem and subconsciously I feel threatened by beautiful, highly successful women. Oh, and there was something else.”

  “What?”

  “Well, at one point she l
eft the class to take a call on her mobile. Judging from the conversation it must have been from whoever it is that looks after her little girl. Claudia was really brusque with the poor soul. I’d hate to work for her. I didn’t catch all the conversation because she disappeared into the corridor, but I got the impression Claudia isn’t particularly interested in her daughter.”

  Ruby told her mother about the conversations Claudia had with her nanny the day she came into Les Sprogs. “I was left with the feeling that she isn’t the best mother in the world.”

  “But you’d never think it,” Ronnie said, “not from the interviews she gives in the newspapers.”

  By now the two women had left the hospital building and were heading toward the parking lot. They were approaching Ronnie’s car when they noticed a gleaming chauffeur-driven Jaguar pull up in front of the hospital steps. The next moment Claudia Planchette emerged from the hospital and started walking down the steps toward the car. Before she got there, one of the rear car doors opened and a little girl about three—Avocado presumably—jumped down from the car, ran toward Claudia and launched herself at her. Claudia grimaced, promptly grabbed the child by the wrists and turned to the nanny, who had followed her out of the car.

  “Marta, these maternity pants are a one-off from Donna. What have I told you about letting Avocado near me when she’s got chocolaty hands?” Suddenly, not one but three paparazzi appeared out of nowhere. Without missing a beat, Claudia’s face broke into a dazzling Oscar-night smile. She scooped up the child, who proceeded to smear more chocolate over her mother’s top. This time Claudia either didn’t notice or pretended not to. “Smile, baby,” she cooed to Avocado, “smile.” When the little mite became shy and, instead of smiling, buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, Claudia’s face turned to stone. She immediately handed the child over to her nanny. While Avocado was being bundled back into the car, Claudia’s smile returned and she stood flicking her hair and posing for the photographers.

  Ruby and her mother exchanged anxious, troubled glances. They were both close to tears.

  “What a sad, loveless life that child must lead,” Ronnie said. “But why would she want another child, if the one she’s already got is such a nuisance to her?”

  “Two reasons. First, babies are hip in Hollywood. A baby in a sling is the ultimate fashion accessory. Haven’t you seen those vile articles in Vogue about babies being the new black? And second, being seen as the perfect mother is brilliant PR. As well as being a film star, she’s a role model for her female fans.”

  “If only they knew,” Ronnie said, shaking her head. “You just wish you could help the poor little mite.”

  “Don’t you just.”

  “The woman clearly needs help. If you ask me, she wasn’t loved by her own parents and now that she’s a parent, she can’t show love because she never learned how to do it.” She took a deep breath. “Still, there’s nothing we can do…. You still on for dinner next week? Your Aunty Sylvia’s bringing her new man.”

  Ruby said she was. “Oh, by the way, I forgot to say thank you for the affirmation CD. It’s…it’s very interesting.” She thought interesting was the most diplomatic word to use. She wasn’t about to upset her mother by saying that even though she’d found herself reciting them, she thought the affirmations were nonsense.

  “Really? That’s great. I was worried because you usually snigger at New Age stuff.”

  Ronnie suggested they go for a cup of coffee, but Ruby said she really needed to get back to the shop. “Chanel’s been on her own all morning and on top of that I have to leave early to go to Connor’s circumcision…By the way, what’s the etiquette? Do you take a gift? The last time I went to a circumcision I was about eighteen and I went with you and Dad. What did we take?”

  Ruby had this image of leaning over Connor’s crib and saying: “Congratulations on losing your foreskin. Here’s a fountain pen.”

  Ronnie said she couldn’t remember what she had taken, but it had probably been a cake rather than something for the baby.

  SHE WENT BACK to the shop and worked until half past three. Then she headed home to get changed for the circumcision, which was due to start at five.

  As she drove home, Ruby found herself getting more and more upset about poor little Avocado. Eventually she forced herself to think about something else. Her mind turned to Sam Epstien—as it had several times over the last few days. Despite his promise to phone her back, he hadn’t. She was in no doubt that he’d interpreted her offhand phone manner as rudeness and a sign that she didn’t want to go out with him. She so wanted to apologize and set the record straight by explaining about Chanel and Craig. On each of her visits to St. Luke’s to take care of her ID card, she’d hoped their paths might cross again, but they hadn’t.

  On the other hand, part of her was relieved not to have heard from him. It meant she didn’t have to suffer the humiliation of explaining to him that she had lied about her vaginal stamp.

  Of course, the last time they’d met, the time he asked her to lunch, she’d mustered up some courage and decided to tell him the truth. If he did phone to ask her out—not that it seemed very likely now—she would have to force herself back into that mind-set. He was a doctor, after all. He’d probably think the whole thing was hysterical. Surely she wasn’t so emotionally fragile that she couldn’t bear a laugh at her own expense.

  Back home, she stood in front of her wardrobe wondering what the appropriate ensemble was for a circumcision. It was a religious event, so that ruled out anything revealing. Red was definitely out. Black was far too melancholy. It suggested one was either in mourning for the lost bit of penis or, even worse, anticipating the rabbi having some catastrophic accident with the knife. Besides, Fi’s mother was bound to be in black to show how much she disapproved of Connor being circumcised.

  In the end, Ruby decided to play it safe with a pale pink tweedy suit with narrow fringes around the epaulets and cuffs. Her hair, which had a tendency to be wavy, could have done with a going-over with the straighteners, but there wasn’t time. Instead she tied it back.

  Before she left she went into the bathroom to look for some headache pills. She’d spent the afternoon stocktaking. The stockroom was tiny and stuffy, and being there too long always gave her a headache. Usually it would have eased off on the drive home, but today it hadn’t.

  She rummaged through the bathroom cabinet and realized she was out of Advil and Tylenol. All she could find were some prescription painkillers left over from when she’d pulled a shoulder muscle moving a display unit at the shop. She poured a glass of water and swallowed a couple. She reasoned that since the use-by date on the box had expired six months ago, the pills couldn’t possibly be as strong as when her doctor prescribed them.

  The rush-hour traffic was solid all the way to Fulham. On top of that there was a ten-minute queue at Patisserie Valerie. Thanks to the painkillers, though, her headache had gone, which was a relief.

  Despite the holdups, she made it to Fi’s just after five. Even though she was only a few minutes late, she was worried that the ceremony might already have started. By now, without Ruby there to keep an eye on her, Bridget could be causing all kinds of havoc. On top of that, making a late entrance was such bad manners, since it meant Ruby would be interrupting the proceedings and drawing attention to herself.

  Once she’d parked, she sprinted down the street—inasmuch as she could sprint in pink suede heels. She stopped at the front gate and searched through her bag for her mobile. She needed to turn it onto silent so that there was no chance of it ringing during the ceremony. Having found the phone, she realized there was no need to turn it onto silent as the battery symbol was registering empty yet again.

  Fi’s front door was open. The loud chatter coming from inside told Ruby that things hadn’t yet got under way. Letting out a small sigh of relief, she stepped inside the little house, whereupon her nose was instantly assailed by the aroma of fresh deli. Despite the thicket of people c
ongregated in the living room, she could just about glimpse the buffet table. It was loaded with Himalayas of bagels, not to mention platters of cold cuts, smoked salmon, coleslaw and pickled herring.

  Ruby’s first impression was that the guests were made up entirely of Saul’s elderly Jewish relatives. Tiny old ladies with dowager’s hump, cotton-candy hair and wonky eye shadow greeted elderly gents in fedoras and fawn car coats. She caught a few snippets of conversation, all of which seemed to concern the bountifulness of the buffet table and how much longer they might have to wait before somebody offered them a cup of tea.

  Saul’s mum and dad were at the far end of the living room, trying and only partially succeeding to keep Ben occupied with a jack-in-the-box. They noticed her and waved hello. Ruby decided it was going to be almost impossible to fight her way through the crowd to reach them, so she waved back and mouthed “mazel tov.”

  Eventually Ruby picked out a few of Fi’s relatives. They were the ones looking awkward and uneasy. It was pretty evident that none of them had been to a circumcision before and that they weren’t sure what to expect.

  Fi, Saul and the baby were nowhere to be seen. Ruby suspected they were upstairs and that Fi was having second thoughts about going through with the circumcision.

  Although Fi always maintained that in principle she had no problems with circumcision, the procedure itself still upset her. Ruby remembered being told that minutes before Ben’s circumcision was due to start, Fi had burst into tears because she felt so guilty about “mutilating my tiny baby.” Bridget had made it worse by putting in her two cents. No doubt she had done the same today and Saul was probably trying to comfort Fi and calm her down.

  Ruby decided to look for Bridget and make sure she wasn’t attacking the rabbi with her rosary and accusing him of being a heathen. She decided to start with the kitchen. As she went to open the door, an old lady with a knobbly Jackie Stallone face-lift, heavy black eyeliner and a fuchsia trout pout that looked ready to burst, touched her on the arm. “I wouldn’t go in there, if I were you,” she said in a throaty American accent. “The grandmother’s shooed everybody out because she wants to get the baby to sleep. Lord knows why. He’s going to get a mighty rude wakeup call in a minute.” The woman laughed and then made a series of exaggerated chewing motions, which made her look like a strange tropical fish. “Those pickles on the buffet table look to die for, don’t you think? Actually, I’m something of a kosher pickle expert. You see my husband, Buddy, and I—”