Chapter Eleven - Pippa's Story

It’s so sweet. Jon and Jilly have just renewed their vows. She looks just gorgeous in her off the shoulder cream fitted dress that clings to her gorgeous curves until it fishtails out at the bottom. I don’t know who it’s by but it looks muy expensivo. Oh crap, I’ve been spending way too much time around Richie. I’m even starting to sound like him. I look around trying to spot my erstwhile partner but fail.

Oh god my back hurts. It’s not easy being this pregnant and I still have five weeks to go. I have so much empathy for Jilly now when she was carrying Libby, who, by the way, was just so adorable as a flower girl in her pale pink dress and little crown of red roses that she made me well up with tears at how gorgeous she looked. Of course it didn’t help that she saw me and waved which, of course, set me off crying again. Damn bloody hormones. Richie bloody Sambora didn’t help either, telling me how proud he was that I was carrying our child.

Next time he can bloody well do it, cause I’m not going through this crap again for no-one. Not even Mr Sexy-pants Sambora.

I feel so fat, like a bloated whale and everything hurts. My ankles are swollen, my fingers look like sausages and my hair’s a mess. I’m just so damned tired all the time I can’t even be bothered to straighten my hair so it’s gone back to curly and where I had it cut so short it just gets in my eyes. I’ve not had a fringe before and now I know why. It’s a pain in the arse. Talking of which don’t even get me started about piles….

“Hey babe.” Richie says as he plonks himself down next to me, all breezy and slim and smiling and suddenly I hate him.

“What’s up?” he asks, catching sight of the deep frown on my face.

“It’s not fair. You’re so slim and smiley and I’m just a fat whale, compared to every woman here. Why would you wanna be seen with me?” I know I’m moaning but I can’t help it.

“Oh Pip,” he says in that deep smoky molasses tone of his, “Y’ain’t fat darlin’, you’re carrying our child which makes you the most important person here, in my eyes. In fact you’re the most important person in my life.”

I look deep into his dark chocolate eyes, waiting for the rebuttal when he takes it all back and says I’m second only to Ava, as he usually does but it doesn’t happen. I must look as confused as I feel as he smiles at me and takes my hand in his.

“Come dance with me.” he whispers as he helps me to my feet and we shuffle, quite awkwardly onto the dance floor. I thought, early on in this pregnancy, that I was going to be one of the lucky ones and get away without putting too much weight on but in the last month I have just ballooned to the size of India. I’m even bigger than Jilly was in her last few days.

Still it’s nice to be held by my man, even if he is at the side of me and not in front. I close my eyes and shuffle along to the music, breathing in his unique scent. I am just the luckiest woman on the planet. I have the man I’ve always loved, who helped me through all my personal demons and didn’t flee when things got rough, and I’m going to have his son. Talking of which, he’s woken up and is moving around.

Ooh, you little bugger, stop kicking and don’t even think of doing a hand stand on mummy’s bladder. Oh too late.

I make my excuses and hurry, well hobble, off to the loo. I see Jilly in passing and wave. She looks at me with sympathy for my plight and follows me to the loo.

I pull up the skirt of the satin wrap dress I’ve managed to shoe horn myself into and sit down with a sigh of pleasure. Never thought peeing would bring me so much pleasure but don’t knock it. When you’re this pregnant it’s the greatest thing in the world next to Cookies and Cream Hershey bars.

“Pip? You ok?” I hear Jilly call.

“I am now. Junior decided to do Olympic gymnastics on my bladder.” I say as I stand up slowly, my centre of gravity isn’t where it used to be and I have to be careful how I stand if I don’t want to pitch head first to the floor.

I join Jilly at the washbasins and after washing, I redo my lippy and try to make sense of my hair. I have started to resemble Hermione Granger in bushiness and generally frizziness. It’s such a pity I don’t have a wand and a tub of Sleakeezies hair potion.

“I don’t remember your hair doing this when you were carrying Lib.” I moan as my hair does its own thing.

“That’s cause I don’t have the amount of hair you have, mine’s baby fine remember?” Jilly smiles, looking every inch the radiant renewer.

“How are you?” I ask her, my meaning a bit deeper than the question suggests.

“We’re fine, now.” she replies, knowing exactly what I meant.

She told me all about the marriage counselling and had me in fits of hysterics as she described Jon’s behaviour that day. Having spent time with the man when he was in one of his pissy moods I had some sympathy for the counsellor. Not much, as by all accounts he was a bit of a git, but some…

We make our way back to the dance floor, arm in arm, laughing and wondering how in the hell did we end up here.

Two regular girls from South East London, both with the men they’ve loved since they were able to know what the word meant.

I’m still pondering over that fact when my back twinges again.

I stand still and reach behind to rub the aching muscle, smiling as Richie walks over to me, when I feel something warm trickling down my legs.

The look on my face says it all. The look on his face is priceless.