the handle of the door, pulling it open and sticking her head in before I even have a chance to get out.
‘Oh look at him,’ she gleams. ‘He’s so beautiful… so tiny.’ Her arm crosses over the baby’s car seat and unlocks the belt.
‘Come to Nana, little Shay.’ Without asking, she lifts the car seat out and pushes her face into the tiny bundle, snuggling and kissing him.
What is she doing? I want to carry him into the house. I want to be the one to take him home. But no. Leaving me and Conor in her shadow, Maggie walks up the two granite steps and in through the front door.
‘Welcome to your home, baby Shay.’
Conor looks over at me, shrugs and pulls an amused frown.
‘Sorry,’ he says.
He should be. I specifically asked him to tell his mother I wasn’t coming home until tomorrow. Just one night of peace is all I wanted. One night to get myself and Shay settled before all hell broke loose. I want to challenge him, ask him why he couldn’t do what I asked. But there’s no point. This is not the moment to create a negative atmosphere. And I doubt Maggie would have listened anyway. She thinks I’m lucky to be here at all. She’s made that quite clear, dropping subtle and not so subtle hints whenever she gets the opportunity, letting me know how so many women would love to be in my shoes. To have nabbed Conor, her son. The most eligible bachelor in the world, according to Maggie, with his good looks, his money, his future.
But I never saw him that way, which was one of the things Conor said he liked about me when we first met. I didn’t know about his money or his company. He was just a guy I liked, who liked me. Then he became a guy I loved, who loved me. It was quite a shock when I discovered he came with his very own world.
Conor takes the suitcase and baby bag out from the boot of the car and follows me into the house. When he closes the door behind us, I notice some cards have been dropped through the letterbox. I slowly reach down to pick them up.
‘How are you?’ Maggie remembers to ask.
‘I’m fine, just a bit…’ but before I get a chance to moan about how tired I’m feeling, she’s already telling Conor the list of people who called to congratulate her. Congratulate her? What did she do?
In the kitchen the festive décor continues: more balloons, more banners. Jesus, how much did that woman spend? It’s not like the baby will even know.
‘I’m going to take a selfie,’ she says, placing the baby seat onto the sofa by the wall and sitting down beside it. Maggie pulls the phone from her bag and swipes the screen with her red fake nails. Her tentative finger doddles backwards and forwards before deciding on which button she should press. She’s new to it all. Instagram, Facebook, a phone without a lead.
When she’s happy with her snap, she holds the phone up to Conor.
‘What do I do now?’
‘What do you want to do?’ he says, taking the latest, shiniest, smartest Samsung phone from her hand.
‘I want to post it.’
Placing the cards on a nearby shelf, I leave the two of them to decide which social media site my newborn baby’s face will be splattered all over and walk to the fridge to get some water. My mouth has dried up all of a sudden. I really should tell her: No. I don’t want Shay’s picture going all over the town. But again, not the right moment. And to be honest, I’m so tired I don’t have the energy to show I care.
Conor looks over to where I’m standing and winks. Then, like the man I hope I married, he thanks his mam for being here when we arrived home and asks her if she needs a lift. Maggie looks from right to left, then at her bag, then at the baby.
‘Oh sure… of course, I’ll leave you to get settled.’ Then she turns to me and says, ‘Laura, get plenty of sleep and don’t be afraid to call me if you need any advice.’
What does she mean by that? ‘Thanks Maggie, but I think we have it covered.’
‘We’ll see,’ she whispers, bending over to kiss Shay goodbye. ‘Bye bye little Shay. I have to go. Daddy is throwing me out.’