‘Come on,’ she said. ‘You really have to push now. This baby wants out, Mum. You have to get on it. Come on.’
Sofia was still wobbling, tearful and wretched. Their mother was standing in a corner, not sure what to do, keeping out of the way. It wasn’t like Sofia to lose it, not at all.
‘But this isn’t how … ’ Sofia was wailing. ‘Federico isn’t here! And it’s too early! And I didn’t get an epidural! And it hurts and I’msotired … ’
‘You have to,’ said the midwife. She turned to Carmen. ‘Can you get her a bit more motivated?’ she said in a low voice. ‘The heart rate is dropping a little on the monitor. I’d really like this baby out of here before we have to go full blues on everyone.’
Carmen didn’t know what this meant but it sounded bad. She had a plan.
‘Sofia,’ she said.
Sofia was writhing around.
‘Just … I’m too tired,’ she said, her voice fading away.
‘Well, here’s a thing,’ said Carmen. ‘I’ve just soothed Phoebe to sleep but she really needs you back, and pretty quickly. Because Skylar called her …fat.’
Sofia frowned.
‘Shewhat?’
‘Way back in October. The little thing has been worrying herself sick about it all this time.’
‘She what?!’
‘I knew she was awful all along.’
‘GET ME OFF THIS BED!’ said Sofia furiously.
Filled with the energy of molten fury, Sofia channelled her rage, grabbed the bars of the bed, squatted down with her yoga-honed limbs and New Boy Baby D’Angelo was born at 2.15 a.m., surrounded by his loving grandmother and aunt, straight down onto the floor, accompanied by his mother screaming colourful epithets at the ceiling.
The hospital weren’t kidding about being home for breakfast. As soon as they’d cleaned Sofia up a bit and waited for the placenta, they basically wanted the bed back.
‘I’m not driving the baby home,’ said Carmen immediately. ‘No way. I only just didn’t kill you lot.’
Fortunately Federico had charged in at about 7 a.m., his immaculate suit creased, and while Carmen was initially about to give him a sniffy look, surrounded as she was by his slumbering children, she couldn’t help but melt a little at his face as he went in to Sofia.
What passed between them Carmen was never a party to, but by the time she brought some fresh tea and the amazing nurse had somehow conjured up some toast for Sofia – the best food, Sofia insisted, she’d ever tasted – and gently knocked on the door of the recovery room, they were both sitting on the bed, buried in one another and staring, hypnotised, at the rather plump, red, screwed-up features of their new baby.
There was a commotion behind her as, roused from their sleep and pursued by their grandmother, Phoebe, Jack and Pippa were standing outside the door, not sure whether or not they could enter.
‘Come on in then, you lot!’ said Sofia, and Carmen stood back as the door opened widely and the children flooded in. Sofia made a special gesture to Phoebe, beckoning her towards her and, when she got the child within hugging distance, pulled her close and whispered in her ear. Phoebe immediately perked up in surprised happiness and Carmen saw her whisper ‘Really?’ to her mother, who nodded emphatically. Phoebe beamed in a way Carmen hadn’t seen before. Sofia nodded towards Carmen. ‘She told me,’ she said quite loudly, and Phoebe came over and flung her arms round her aunt.
‘You,’ said Carmen, bending down, ‘are going to be the greatest big sister ever. Do you want to meet him?’
‘John!’ Jack was shouting. ‘James! Jacob! Joseph!’
‘Well, I haven’t decided,’ said Sofia. ‘I’m not sure it should be a J name. We’re always getting the Ps mixed up.’
‘But I thought you liked things nice and symmetrical,’ said Carmen, smiling.
Sofia smiled down at the newborn.
‘Well, sometimes you can mix things up a bit too,’ she said, and Sofia and Carmen smiled at one another.
‘Wow,’ said Phoebe. ‘He looks like a tomato.’
‘Phoebe, that is Very Rude,’ started Pippa.
