Page 24 of Christmas at the Movies

Sarah looked at her selection of herbal teas. She plucked out a cherry-and-cinnamon tea bag and boiled the kettle – maybe that would work.

‘And Cherokee women didn’t eat raccoon meat after the birth,’ continued Geraldine. ‘They believed it would make the baby ill.’

‘The thought of eating raccoon makes me feel ill,’ said Sarah.

‘Have you chosen names yet?’

‘We’re waiting to meet the baby,’ Sarah told her mother.

‘If it’s a boy, you should name him Barack, and if it’s a girl you can call her Michelle.’ Geraldine was a big fan of the handsome young Democrat, who was poised to become the US’s first Black president, and his lawyer wife.

Neither of those names were on Sarah’s shortlist.

‘I’m scared, Mum.’

‘Oh, childbirth is not as bad as everyone makes it out to be,’ said Geraldine breezily. ‘If it was, people wouldn’t have more than one, would they?’

‘Not just about the birth … about being a good mum.’

There was a long pause, broken only by the crackle of static. For a moment, Sarah wondered if they had been disconnected.

‘Well, I’m hardly an authority on the subject,’ came Geraldine’s voice down the line. ‘But I do know that the main thing a child needs is love – and you and James already love that baby with all your hearts.’

Sarah looked down at her bump. It was true.

She would gladly sacrifice her own life for this baby that she’d never even met, whose diurnal rhythms she already knew as intimately as her own heartbeat, whose nocturnal gymnastics kept her company late at night, when she lay awake worrying.

That connection would never be severed, not even once the umbilical cord had been cut.

Geraldine cleared her throat. ‘I know I wasn’t a perfect mother,’ she admitted. ‘But I hope I’ll make it up to you by being an excellent grandmother.’

For all her mother’s faults, Sarah had never doubted that Geraldine loved her and Meg. Even now, in her mid-thirties, Sarah turned to her mum for reassurance. It was true what the midwife had said – a mother’s job was never over.

‘Thanks, Mum.’ Geraldine was happier sharing arcane facts about remote tribes than sharing her feelings, so Sarah appreciated that she’d made the effort.

‘Now, if you want to get that baby out,’ Geraldine said briskly. ‘I’ll tell you what worked for me – having sex. Your father and I made love the day you were born, and my waters broke right after I climaxed. I found being pregnant deeply erotic …’

Oh, God. That made Sarah feel more ill than the thought of eating raccoon.

Fortunately, just then James came home brandishing a takeaway bag triumphantly.

‘Um, I’ve got to go, Mum. James just brought dinner home.’ With a quick goodbye, she ended the call.

‘I got chicken tikka masala, sag aloo and pilau rice,’ announced James, unpacking foil containers.

‘Yum,’ said Sarah, setting the table. Curry was another thing that supposedly induced labour. They’d had curry for dinner every night this week. So far all it had induced was wind.

‘Who were you on the phone with?’ James asked.

‘My mum. She was extolling the joys of pregnancy sex …’

‘Well, she’s right.’ James came up behind her, wrapping his arms under her bump and kissing her neck. ‘It has been pretty great.’

They’d made love throughout Sarah’s pregnancy. After their difficulties getting pregnant, it had been a welcome return to sex for recreation, rather than procreation.

When they finished eating the curry, Sarah started to clear the table.

‘I’ll do that – you put your feet up,’ said James, taking her plate.

‘I’ve been putting my feet up for weeks now. It’s getting a bit boring.’ She had been on maternity leave for almost a month. She’d tried to use the time off to do some writing before the baby came, but after just a few lines she usually needed a nap. Growing another human being was exhausting!

‘If you feel up to it, why don’t you come to the cinema with me tonight,’ suggested James. ‘Roger is going to see the school play with Omar, so I said I’d operate the projector.’

‘What’s on?’ The thought of going to see a movie was very tempting, although there was a very good chance that she’d fall asleep in the middle of it.

‘We’re kicking off the festive season with Home Alone.’

That sealed the deal. ‘Oooh,’ said Sarah. ‘I love that film.’

‘Sarah!’ cried Roger, when they arrived at the cinema. He gave her a hug. ‘You are positively glowing.’

It was lovely to be back at the Picture Palace, where the lobby had been decorated for Christmas. She’d missed the place, and her colleagues, more than she’d expected. ‘What’s new, Roger?’

‘Well, my friend over at the Bristol Odeon told me that they are going digital, just like the Regal in Cheltenham.’ He shook his head dolefully.

‘I suppose they want to be ready for Avatar when it finally comes out,’ said James.

The whole industry was eagerly awaiting James Cameron’s new film. The Titanic director had used cutting-edge digital animation and the studio was pressuring cinemas to convert to digital ahead of its release.

‘The big cinema chains just want to save money,’ grumbled Roger. ‘If they go digital, they don’t need to employ projectionists any more. They can just press a button.’

James chuckled. ‘Don’t worry, Rog. Have you seen how much digital systems cost? We won’t be installing one any time soon. Not with a baby on the way.’

‘Well, I’d best be going,’ said Roger. He looked even more than dapper than usual, in a silk paisley waistcoat and a tweed jacket.

‘The curtain on Severn Valley secondary school’s production of Little Shop of Horrors goes up at eight p.m.’ He gave Sarah a hug.

‘Let us know when the bambino – or bambina – arrives.’

Sarah went over to the concession stand.

‘Hi, Harry.’ Sarah greeted the ginger-haired teenaged boy working behind it.

He was studying creative writing at university and was back for the Christmas holidays.

‘Can I have a box of popcorn, please?’ Sarah looked at the array of cinema snacks. ‘And some Maltesers too.’

‘I guess you’re eating for two?’ joked Harry, scooping up the popcorn.

‘Right,’ said Sarah, rubbing her aching back.

All the pregnancy books said eating for two was a myth. But she was always hungry. Hopefully her snacking wouldn’t turn her baby into a junk-food addict.

‘We have no idea what we’re doing. We won’t mean to, but we’ll probably mess you up,’ Sarah murmured, caressing her belly.

Oops. That wasn’t what her mum had meant about scaring the baby out. Her little one was more likely to want to stay in her cosy womb for ever!

‘Are you OK, Mrs O’Hara?’ Harry held out the box of popcorn with a concerned look on his face.

‘Oh, I’m fine,’ said Sarah. ‘Just talking to the baby … all the books say to do that. She walked towards the auditorium. ‘Don’t be scared, baby,’ she whispered. ‘We love you. And we can’t wait to meet you.’

‘Don’t be scared, baby,’ she whispered. ‘We love you. And we can’t wait to meet you.’

Sarah went into the auditorium, waved up at James in the projection booth and settled into a seat.

She opened the bag of Maltesers and poured them into the box of popcorn.

She munched her sweet-and-savoury snack as the trailers played.

She wondered if she’d get to see any of the coming attractions.

She hoped to breastfeed, so it might be a while before she could go out.

The books all warned about ‘bottle confusion’.

It was weird to think that she might not be able to watch a movie here, until she could leave the baby with James or a sitter.

Of course she could always watch DVDs, but it just wasn’t the same as seeing a film on the big screen.

Maybe we could start doing special screenings for parents and babies, thought Sarah. They could do a matinee once a week, when it was usually pretty quiet anyway. She made a mental note to share her idea with James later that evening.

Watching the movie, Sarah chuckled as little Kevin McCallister – accidentally left behind when his family went away for Christmas – rigged up the house with booby traps to stop two burglars from invading. She suddenly felt something wet on her seat. Had she peed her pants from laughing too hard?

No – her waters had just broken.

Grabbing the seat in front of her, she stood up awkwardly, knocking her popcorn and Maltesers all over the floor.

‘It’s happening!’ she shouted over the sound of the film. ‘James! The baby is coming.’

Someone in the next row leapt up and helped her out of the auditorium.

James met her in the lobby. ‘Let’s get you to the hospital,’ he said, helping her into her coat. He fumbled in his pocket, searching for his car keys.

‘Good luck,’ said Harry, holding the back door open for them. ‘I’ll lock everything up tonight.’

Once they were in the car, James began driving slowly to the hospital.

‘If you drive any slower, I’ll have the baby in the car,’ muttered Sarah, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Water was still leaking out of her.

‘I’m just nervous,’ said James.

‘You’re not the one about to push a baby out of your vagina,’ replied Sarah. That made her realise something – she didn’t have her birth plan. ‘Oh, no. I don’t have my hospital bag!’

‘Should we swing home and get it?’ asked James.

Sarah’s stomach went taut and a terrible cramp clenched her middle. Groaning, she gripped the dashboard and tried to take deep breaths, as the books said to do. Unfortunately, the stupid books had neglected to describe quite how painful a contraction felt. It was like a period pain times a hundred.

No, make that times a million. After what felt like an hour of agony – but was only a minute – she slumped back in her seat.

‘No – just drive!’ She moaned.

By the time they reached the hospital, Sarah’s contractions were coming every five minutes.

‘Am I ready to push?’ she asked the midwife, a no-nonsense woman named Angelica.

‘You’re only four centimetres dilated,’ said Angelica, after examining her.