My Bundle Of Joy: Part Seven



This is the seventh part of a fiction serial, in 816 words.

If Olly hated his commute to work, he didn’t complain. The work was done quickly on the house, and despite some considerable disruption with the installation of the wiring and new heating system, the worst was soon over. He had given up on the idea of the folding doors, as that involved major reconstruction, but new double-glazed doors and windows had been ordered, and everything was slowly starting to feel like home.

The glazing company claimed that they would replace all the windows and the back door in one working day. I thought that was a boast, but when six blokes turned up at seven one morning, I was amazed to discover that they had fitted the lot before I got home from work. Olly had taken the day off to be around, and he had nothing but praise for their efficiency. Just as well, as it had cost a mint.

And as I got bigger, I felt better. I started to embrace my bump, which we both now called Leah, and to even feel sexy again. That certainly pleased Olly. Mum and dad had been over twice, and I managed not to argue with her about her unwanted suggestions regarding decoration and furniture, The early insecurities were wearing off, and I really felt like a mum-to-be.

Even though I had started to walk like a duck.

The far too big sofa went up on Gumtree, and Olly warned the prospective buyers that they would need a big van and some strong hands to get it around the side entrance. Two dropped out when they realised we were not about to deliver it, but the third couple actually turned up, and bought it for fifty quid less than the asking price. That left us sitting on big cushions until the two smaller sofas arrived four days later. With the dining room empty, my dad came over to help Olly set up the dining table, which had been dismantled for the move. Once we had that back in play, I felt we were finally in a home, and not a warehouse.

I did feel gulty when Olly finally put his Citroen up for sale. But it was over thirty years old, and it had got to the stage that if it started first time, Olly would do a fist-pump with joy. The funny thing was that it attracted a lot of attention, and became involved in something of a bidding war. Olly was very pleased to tell me that confirmed its classic status. He had owned it for almost twelve years, and it sold for twice that he had paid for it.

We got a taxi to the Ford dealership next to the supermarkets. There was a bus, but it was a long walk to the trading estate from the bus stop. I liked a Focus that was an ex-demonstrator, top of the range model. Olly had to admit that the otherwise dull-looking grey car was indeed packed with features that his Citroen could only dream of. Heated windscreen, electric mirrors, reversing beeper, and air conditioning. And that was only the start. Built-in Satnav, amazing fuel economy, and a very quiet engine. I stood back and let him haggle with the salesman, and he was happy once the deal was done.

It would be sorted out for us to collect in a couple of days. On the way home, I asked Olly to add my name to the insurance. Although I had passed my test when I was eighteen, I hadn’t owned a car, and had no desire to ever drive Olly’s Citroen. But I was quite looking forward to running Leah around in the new Ford. When I told my parents, mum insisted on ordering a swish baby car seat that lifted out to become a carry-cot. Olly laughed at the news. “Bloody Ford Focus, and a baby seat in it too. Now I know it’s all over, Ang!”

We had both kissed goodbye to the last vestiges of youth, that was certain.

The decorators that Olly found online were surprising efficient. In the first three days, they stripped off all the old wallpaper using some fierce-looking steam machines, and filled in all the holes caused by the rewiring. When they came back the following week, they started to paint the rooms using the colours we had chosen, and did the lot in ten days. Two coats.

I was even getting used to having to stand on the train journey to work. People don’t give up seats to pregnant women, even those with big bumps. They look at their phones or newspapers, and pretend they can’t see you. One night I got home with a bad backache. Olly sometimes got back later than me, so I decided to go and have a hot bath. As I got undressed, I noticed something in my knickers.

Tiny spots of blood.

23 thoughts on “My Bundle Of Joy: Part Seven

    1. If you travelled on trains around London, you would see many people being able to ignore pregnant women (and very old people) standing. I have to say that doesn’t happen where I live now, and I am regularly offered a seat, even though I am a spritely 68. 🙂
      Best wishes, Pete.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. (1) Replacing the windows cost a mint. A box of Junior Mints, with 72 pieces, costs $13.99. Even with tax, that’s less than 20¢ per mint. That glazing company works for cheap!
    (2) Angela began walking like a duck. But at least she felt like a sexy duck.
    (3a) “The far too big sofa went up on Gumtree.” Is there an American branch?
    (3b) Wasn’t there a film called “Elmer Gumtree” about a con man and a female evangelist who tried to sell religious junk in small-town America?
    (4) Every time Olly did a fist-pump with Joy, he pissed off his jealous wife, who protested: “She gets a fist-pump? I want a kissed bump!”
    (5) Citroëns do not dream of a heated windscreen, electric mirrors, reversing beeper, air conditioning, built-in Satnav, amazing fuel economy, or a quiet engine. They focus their dreams on sexy French drivers who wear short red skirts.
    (6) I went for shopping for a new stove, and settled on a top-of-the range model.
    (7) “Bloody Ford Focus…” Proof this was an ex-demonstrator model, as there’s still some blood to be found in it. I wonder if the driver who crashed it survived?
    (8) Angela thought those were “tiny spots of blood” in her knickers. Actually, she’d forgotten that she’d put on red polka dot panties that morning. #Whew!

    Liked by 1 person

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