‘Ooh!’ Suze looks up with interest. ‘A make-up room! Did Luke agree to that?’
‘I’m going to call it the library,’ I explain.
‘But that still leaves three bedrooms.’ Suze lifts her eyebrows significantly at me. ‘Any plans to … fill them up?’
You see? This is why I should have married Suze. She understands me.
‘I wish.’ I heave a sigh. ‘But guess what? Luke doesn’t want another baby.’
‘Really?’ Suze looks taken aback. ‘How come?’
‘He says Minnie’s too wild and we can’t cope with two and we should just enjoy what we’ve got. He won’t budge.’ I hunch my shoulders gloomily and flick through an article on antique baths.
‘Could you just … jump him?’ Suze says after a while. ‘And forget to take your Pill accidentally-on-purpose and pretend it was a mistake? He’ll love the baby when it arrives.’
I can’t pretend this idea hasn’t crossed my mind. Secretly. But I just couldn’t do it.
‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘I don’t want to trap him. I want him to want another baby.’
‘Maybe he’ll change his mind at the christening.’ Suze’s eyes brighten. ‘You know, it was at Ernie’s christening that we decided to have another one. Ernie looked so adorable, and we thought how lovely it would be to give him a brother or sister, so we decided to go for it. Of course we ended up with two more,’ she adds as an afterthought. ‘But that won’t happen to you.’
‘Maybe.’ I’m silent a moment, gearing myself up for the big question. I don’t want to ask it. But I have to be brave. ‘Suze … can you be honest with me about something? Really, truly honest?’
‘OK,’ she says a bit apprehensively. ‘But not if it’s about how many times a week we have sex.’
What? Where did that come from? OK, now I instantly want to know how many times she has sex. It must be never. Or maybe all the time. God, I bet it’s all the time. I bet she and Tarkie—
Anyway.
‘It’s not sex.’ I force myself to return to the topic. ‘It’s … do you think Minnie’s spoiled?’
I can already feel myself wincing with trepidation. What if she says yes? What if my best friend thinks Minnie’s a monster? I’ll be totally mortified.
‘No!’ says Suze at once. ‘Of course Minnie’s not spoiled! She’s lovely. She’s just a bit … feisty. But that’s good! No children are perfect.’
‘Yours are,’ I say morosely. ‘Nothing ever goes wrong with them.’
‘Oh my God! Are you kidding?’ Suze sits upright and discards the house details altogether. ‘We’re having such problems with Ernie. His teacher keeps calling us in. He’s hopeless at everything except German, and they don’t even teach German.’
‘Oh, Suze,’ I say sympathetically.
I don’t need to ask why Ernie speaks German so well. Tarquin thinks Wagner is the only music worth listening to and he plays it to all his children, every night. Don’t get me wrong, Ernie is my godson and I love him to bits. But last time I visited he told me the whole story of something called the Something-singers and it went on for hours and I nearly seized up with boredom.
‘I’ve got to go and see the headmistress,’ Suze continues, looking upset. ‘What am I going to do if she asks him to leave?’
Forgetting all about my own problems, I put an arm round her shoulders and squeeze, feeling incensed. How dare anyone upset Suze? And who are these morons, anyway? I’ve seen Ernie’s school when I’ve gone with Suze to pick him up. It’s very snooty with lilac blazers and costs a million pounds a term or something, and they don’t even include lunches. They’re probably too busy counting the fees to appreciate real talent.
‘I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ I say robustly. ‘And if they don’t want Ernie, then it’s obviously a rubbish school.’
If I ever see that headmistress, I’ll give her my opinion, very pointedly. I’m Ernie’s godmother, after all. In fact, maybe I should come along to the meeting at the school and express my views. I’m about to suggest this to Suze when she slaps her hand on the bed.
‘I know, Bex! I’ve got it. You should get a nanny.’
‘A nanny?’ I stare at her.
‘Who looks after Minnie when you’re at work? Still your mum?’
I nod. Since my maternity leave ended I’ve worked two and a half days a week at The Look, where I’m a personal shopper. While I’m there Mum looks after Minnie, which is brilliant because I can just leave her in the kitchen, having her breakfast, and she hardly even notices when I go.
‘Does your mum take her to playgroup?’
I make a face. ‘Not really.’
Mum’s not into playgroups. She went to Tick Tock once and had a disagreement with a fellow grandmother about who’s the best Miss Marple on TV, and never went back.
‘So what do they do?’
‘Well, it varies …’ I say vaguely. ‘They do lots of educational stuff …’
This is a slight fib. As far as I can tell the programme never varies. They go shopping and have tea at the Debenhams café and then come home and watch Disney videos.
God, maybe Suze is right. Maybe Minnie needs more routine. Maybe that’s what’s wrong.
‘A nanny will knock her into shape,’ says Suze confidently. ‘Plus she’ll organize her meals and washing and everything, and Luke will see how smooth everything can be. And he’ll change his mind instantly. Trust me.’