I turn the page — and there’s another picture of me, beaming as I stand in the fairy-princess nursery, my hands resting on my bump. A big pull-out quote reads: “I have five prams. I don’t think that’s too many.”


Becky is planning a natural water birth with lotus flowers, and is under the care of It-obstetrician Venetia Carter. “Venetia and I are good friends,” enthuses Becky. “We have such a great bond. I might ask her to be a godmother.”


It all feels like an age away. Like a different world.

As I gaze down at the beautiful designer nursery, I can’t help feeling a pang. Minnie would have loved it. I know she would.

Anyway, she’ll have a lovely nursery one day. Even better than that one.

I take the Vogue to the counter and put it down, and the assistant looks up from her magazine.

“Hi!” I say. “I’d like to get this, please.”

There’s a new display in the corner with a sign reading GIFTS — and while the assistant is unlocking the till, I wander over to have a look. It’s mostly photo frames and small vases and a rack of thirties-style brooches.

“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” says the assistant as she scans my magazine. “Over Christmas you were in all the time.”

All the time. Honestly. People do exaggerate.

“I’ve just moved back into the area.” I give her a friendly smile. “My name’s Becky.”

“We noticed you.” She puts the Vogue into a plastic bag. “We call you the Girl—” She breaks off and I stiffen. What was she going to say?

“Shh!” says the other assistant, going pink and nudging the first one.

“Don’t worry, I don’t mind!” Nonchalantly I flick my hair back. “Do you call me…the Girl in the Denny and George Scarf?”

“No.” The assistant looks blank. “We call you the Girl with the Crappy Pram.”

Oh.

Huh. It’s not that crappy. And just wait till it’s sprayed pink. It’ll be totally fab.

“That’ll be three pounds, please,” she says, and holds out her hand. And I’m just about to get out my purse, when I spot a display of rose quartz necklaces nestled among the other gifts.

Ooh. I love rose quartz.

“They’re on sale,” says the assistant, following my gaze. “Really nice.”

“Right. Yes.” I nod thoughtfully.

The thing is, we’re supposed to be tightening our belts at the moment. We had a big talk when I came home from hospital, all about cash flow and bank debt and stuff. And we agreed that just until Luke’s business is more stable, we wouldn’t buy anything unnecessary.

But I’ve been wanting a rose quartz necklace for ages. And this one’s only fifteen quid, which is a real bargain. And I deserve a little reward for winning the investment competition, don’t I?

Plus I can use my new online Indonesian overdraft, which Luke doesn’t know about.

“I’ll have one,” I say on impulse, and reach for a string of the iridescent pink beads.

If Luke finds it, I’ll tell him it’s an educational toy. Which the mother has to wear round her neck.

I hand over my Visa card, tap in my pin number, and slide the bag containing Vogue onto the pram tray. Then I tuck my lovely necklace right under Minnie’s blankets where no one can see it.

“Don’t tell Daddy,” I murmur in her ear.

She won’t say a word.

I mean, obviously she can’t speak. But even if she could, I know she’d keep quiet. We’ve got a special bond already, Minnie and me.

I wheel the pram out of the shop and look at my watch. There’s no hurry to get back, especially if they’re still tidying. Anyway, Minnie will want feeding soon. I’ll go to that Italian café where they don’t mind.

“Shall we go and have a nice cup of coffee?” I turn my steps toward the café. “Just you and me, Min.”

As we walk past the antique shop I catch a glimpse of my reflection and can’t help feeling a tiny jolt at the sight. I’m a mother pushing a pram. Me, Becky Brandon (née Bloomwood), an actual mother.

I turn into the café, sit down at the table, and order a decaf cappuccino. Then, gently, I lift Minnie out of the pram, cradling her soft downy head. I unwrap her pink-and-white blanket and feel a swell of pride as two elderly ladies look over from the next table and start saying to each other, “What a dear little thing!” and “What a smart outfit!” and “Is that a real cashmere cardigan, do you think?”

Minnie starts making her snuffling “Where’s the food?” noises and I give her tiny cheek a kiss. I’m the Mother with the Fabbest Baby in the World. And we’re going to have a blast. I know it.


Bambino 975 Kings Road

London SW3


…for children of all ages…


Miss Minnie Brandon 5 January 2004

The Pines 43 Elton Road Oxshott

Surrey


Dear Miss Brandon,

Congratulations on being born!

We at Bambino are delighted to celebrate your arrival into the world — and would like to mark it with a very special offer. We hereby invite you to become an Infant Gold Card Member of the Bambino Club!


As an Infant Gold Card Member you will be entitled to:

• exclusive preview afternoons to try out new toys (with a carer!)

• a complimentary juice at every visit

• 25 percent off your first shopping spree with your Gold Card

• annual Christmas party for all Gold Card holders

• …and much more!


Joining could not be simpler. All Mummy or Daddy has to do is fill in the enclosed form — and their little princess Minnie will have her first-ever Gold Card!


We look forward to hearing from you soon.


Yours sincerely,


Ally Edwards

Marketing Manager


Acknowledgments


My heartfelt thanks to the endlessly wise and supportive Susan Kamil. Huge thanks also to Irwyn Applebaum, Nita Taublib, Barb Burg, Sharon Propson, Carolyn Schwartz, Betsy Hulsebosch, Cynthia Lasky, Cathy Paine, and Noah Eaker. To my fabulous agents, Araminta Whitley and Kim Witherspoon; to David Forrer and Lizzie Jones. As ever, a big wave to the Board and to my expanding family: Henry, Freddy, Hugo, and Oscar.

And finally thanks to the real “must-have” obstetrician, Nick Wales, who aided the delivery of latest baby and book — and the “must-have” maternity nurse, Michelle Vaughan.