Ed turns the engine off and opens his door. ‘Grab that bag, will you? I’ll get the balloon.’
We’ve just driven from Ed’s mum’s house to my mum’s with a giant, helium-filled teddy balloon, bouncing in the seat behind us, and I’m starting to think it was a massive mistake.
‘He’s going to hate it,’ I say. ‘I mean, look at it. It’s grinning. Who the hell wants this floating in the corner of their room at night like some Build-A-Bear sleep-paralysis demon?’
Ed chuckles. ‘Build-A-Scare.’
‘Exactly,’ I reply. ‘I say we go back to yours and just Skype them or something. Or at least get a better gift and send it by courier. Maybe by then they’ll actually have named the rugrat and we can skywrite his name or something.’
‘You need to relax,’ Ed insists. ‘It’s just a baby, Kate. Whether it’s a balloon or a Ferrari, he won’t give a shit. He won’t even be able to see properly yet.’
We’ve been back in Castleton for a couple of months now, living in Ed’s basement because my mum decided to get knocked up again at thirty-eight and has turned my room into a nursery. Eventually, they’ll convert the loft into a bedroom but for nowI’m left with Ed’s house or the couch.
‘How do you know about a baby’s eyesight?’ I ask. ‘Have you been on Mumsnet again?’
He laughs. ‘No. . . but how do you not know this?’
I don’t know anything about babies which is my entire problem right now. I’m twenty-one and I’ve never even held one.
As I open the front door, I’m hit by the smell of soup. Gary must have been cooking; either that or my new brother smells like coriander. Do babies smell like coriander? Before I can ask Ed if that’s a thing, Gary’s head appears around the living-room door.
‘Right on time,’ Gary says, grinning. ‘Come and meet Tom.’
Tom. That was my grandad’s name. He died before I was born but I’ve heard he was a lovely man.
We walk into the living room where Mum is lying on the couch. Her hair is part bun, part firework explosion, and she looks like she hasn’t slept in. . . well, ever. Beside her there’s a small white Moses basket, which appears to be gently swaying on its own.
‘How are you feeling, Mum?’
‘Like I’ve been hit by a truck,’ she replies, sitting up. ‘But I’m all right. Don’t stand on ceremony, you two. Come and see the boy wonder.’
I creep over to the crib and peer in. There, dressed all in blue, is Tom. Teeny, wrinkly, squishy-faced Tom. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as perfect in my life.
Ed peeks in and grins. ‘He’s so cute! Lots of hair, like his dad, eh?’
Mum smiles. No, she beams. Even through the exhaustion, she looks happy. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen her as happy in a long time. ‘Yeah, I was surprised. When Kate came out, she was bald. In fact, she was pretty much bald until she was about eight months old.’
‘Think I’d rather have stayed bald,’ I mumble, still staring at Tom. His mouth is open, making little croaky sounds while hebats his fists around. Mum sits forwards and lifts him up.
‘Here,’ she says, offering me Tom. ‘Have a hold.’
I step back. ‘Hold? I can’t. How do I—’
‘Like this,’ Mum replies. ‘Just be careful with his head.’
‘He’s too little!’ I exclaim. ‘He’s wriggling. I’ll drop him. Oh god, what if I drop him?’
‘You won’t.’ Mum laughs and tries to hand Tom over again. ‘Come on, Kate, it’ll be good practice for when you have kids.’
‘Uh-uh.’
‘He’s your brother,’ she insists. ‘Don’t be so silly!’
Utterly terrified, I hold Tom and stand like a statue. Tom looks up at me and for a moment we stare at each other. Then he starts to cry. Not just cry– he wails like a damn banshee.
‘Why is he crying?’ I ask, my eyes now as big as saucers. ‘What did I do?’
‘Nothing,’ Mum replies. ‘He’s a baby, Kate. That’s what they do.’
