Emma’s solitude was unique within the waiting room. Everyone else was half of an annoying, overtly affectionate couple. In turn, the women at various stages of development were called for their baby scans.
The most demonstrative pair sat opposite Emma.
He had a moustache evidently inspired by a gay icon, whilst she had a ponytail that
a thoroughbred racehorse would be proud of. Both were in their late twenties
and relentlessly tactile, exchanging an occasional kiss and hardly ever
breaking eye contact.
Emma didn’t care if they noticed her
eye-rolling, or could read her judgemental mind, naming them Freddie and Seabiscuit.
‘When are you due?’ asked Seabiscuit, leaning
in towards Emma, breaking her contemplation.
Given the situation, the question shouldn’t
have been a surprise, but Emma struggled to hide her shock at being spoken to.
‘Oh, ahhh, September 22nd. You?’
‘We’re due in early August.’
Emma was sure Seabiscuit emphasised the ‘we’
in ‘we’re’ a little too much.
‘You know what they call late September
babies don’t you?’ interjected Freddie.
‘No, what?’ asked Emma reluctantly.
‘Santa’s Secret - ya know, office Christmas
party babies. Get it?’
Emma’s forced smile wasn’t convincing.
‘So is Daddy here?’ asked Seabiscuit in an
attempt to distract from her partner’s humour.
‘No, he’s not.’
‘Oh, really? I’m sorry.’
Emma took a deep breath, ‘It’s because I
haven’t told him yet, but he’ll work it out when I ask him for maternity leave.’
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