For the best part of a minute my brain froze. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice as Brayden sat down beside his partner and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as if this were the most natural, normal thing in the world.
It was only when Claudia, the single mother, asked where the bathroom was that I snapped back into action. Just in time to hear Brayden telling Chris about how he was also a veteran dad, having been through this ‘malarkey’ twice before.
Once before,a bitter voice inside my head countered. Brayden had missed Isla’s birth due to being at what he’d claimed to be a conference. That had been my fault, of course, for having the audacity to go into labour nine days early. As an expert, I should have foreseen this and warned him not to book himself into a hotel with another woman and a pot of edible body paint, his phone switched to silent.
‘Would you both like a drink before we get started?’ I asked Brayden, leading him over to the refreshments table while doing a sterling job of keeping my smouldering shock in check.
‘What on earth are you doing here?’ I snapped, smile intact, as I faced the table.
He shrugged, choosing a coffee pod and sticking it into the machine. ‘We wanted the best classes for our baby. You should be flattered that, after detailed research, we chose this one.’
‘Why didn’t you warn me?’
He waited until his mug was full before offering a puzzled glance. ‘You must have seen the enrolment forms.’
I quickly ran through my mental list of the class members, all of whom had enrolled via my website. Brayden and Sarah had definitely not been on there.
‘Liz, please tell me this isn’t going to be a problem. We’re both professionals here.’
Before I could query the professional link between him getting lucky with a niche cycling app and my antenatal classes,Sarah suddenly appeared by the table, arms snaking around Brayden’s neck as she rested her head on his shoulder. The scowl was now replaced by a smirk, but there was a definite hint of fear behind her eyes. After all, who knew what the deranged ex might do when confronted by her upgrade?
‘I don’t mean to be rude, but you might want to sort that stain on your breast,’ she whispered, pulling an ‘oopsie’ face as if we were pals.
‘Green tea.’ I handed her the drink she’d requested, did my best to stuff my stunned outrage behind a smile and got on with providing the group with a brief introduction to the course.
‘Right, in a moment you’ll have a chance to have a think about what you hope to get from these sessions – after all, it is abespokecourse.’ I nodded at Sarah, still mentally trying to remember the names she must have used on the form. ‘But before then, I’d love it if you could introduce yourselves.’
Jemima and Chris went first, Chris again using it as an opportunity to showcase his expertise in gruesome childbirth ordeals that not one of my hundreds of previous clients had had the misfortune to experience. Claudia happily filled us in on how she’d deliberately got pregnant via a one-night stand with a neurosurgeon. ‘I mean, I’d already tried a maths professor and a lawyer. If you’re choosing your baby-daddy on a dating app, might as well pick someone smart as well as hot, am I right?’
The other couple seemed remarkably unfazed by all this, but then revealed themselves to be who Nicky and I referred privately to as the ‘naturals’ of the group. There was usually one couple. While I would fully endorse a birth free from medical intervention where safe to do so, and in fact had Isla in a birthing pool in my living room, this couple informed us that, alongside refusing any involvement from a qualified health professional, they were also rejecting registering the birth, structured education or food that they hadn’t grown or foraged themselves.
‘Are you also rejecting Child Benefit and paid maternity leave?’ Chris asked.
‘We won’t be accepting a financial sedative designed to lull us into overlooking institutional corruption, no,’ Gordon, the dad, declared.
‘Well.’ His partner, Astrid, shifted position on the beanbag they were sharing. ‘We’ll maybe see how much the benefits are, first. We’re self-sustaining so maternity leave isn’t an issue.’
Brayden and Sarah went last.
Or, should I say, Brayve and Silva, as Silva kindly spelled out when inviting us to follow her on social media?
‘They’re unusual names.’ Claudia looked impressed. ‘Were your parents free spirits like Gordon and Astrid?’
I looked at Brayden, daring him to go along with this farce.
‘We actually took the initiative during a personal rebrand,’ Silva said, while Brayden inspected the plain white ceiling. ‘Sometimes the only way forward is to dissociate from the past and embrace our true selves.’
‘Wow, that’s awesome.’ Gordon offered Brayden –Brayve– a high-five, which, after a moment’s hesitation, he reciprocated.
‘And how did your children react to your new identity?’ I asked with a brittle smile, before I could stop myself. Brayden’s true self currently saw his children one day a fortnight for fast food and a play at the park.
‘Ooh, do your kids have really cool names, too?’ Claudia said.
‘Unfortunately not,’ Brayden said, as if he hadn’t chosen the name Finn himself. ‘They were conceived prior to the rebrand.’
Okay, I thought, while trying not to gag at the reminder that this man and I had ever slept together.He’s not going to share that we were married. That’s useful to know.
‘Anyway,’ Silva snapped, as if equally revolted by her partner’s choice of words, ‘I’m thirty-two weeks and four days pregnant with our darling daughter, and we’ll be keeping ourfollowers up to date, so please let Brayve know if you aren’t happy with images or quotes being shared on Insta.’
