‘Pah! And I’ve got the body of Kim Kardashian.’
Within a few moments, Nadia’s hot chocolate was finished, and as he was about to hand it to her, he placed his mug underneath the nozzle and pressed the button for his own drink. As he turned back to Nadia, he found her looking at him, bewildered, eyes as wide as the rim of her mug. And then he looked down at the floor. She had dropped the drink to the floor, spilling the contents onto the tiles, smashing the mug.
But that wasn’t the only liquid he saw. Her trousers, her thighs, were darkened.
‘Nads…?’
‘I think my waters have just broken.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tomek had been less than useless, flapping about like a pigeon on cocaine, shoving team members aside and causing accidents as they bashed into the cabinets and banged their wrists on drawer handles. But the worst of it had been when he’d started screaming. His orders – at least, that’s what they were to him – were nothing other than incoherent wails, the sort you might hear from a beached seal trying to call for help. He was a nightmare, and at one point Nadia had stopped in the middle of the office, grabbed him by the shoulders, slapped him across the cheek, then told him calmly and coherently to “sit down, shut the fuck up, and breathe.”. She was the one who should have been freaking out, losing her mind, not Tomek. It was a terrifying ordeal for him. Give him a serial killer or a high-speed pursuit – either in a car or on foot – any day of the week and he’d be as cool as you like, but this… this had felt like meeting a girl for the first time; he couldn’t speak properly, he couldn’t stop sweating, and he was sure there was a little bit of pee as well.
It had come as a massive surprise then, when Nadia had granted him permission to drive her to the hospital. In a situation like this, she’d said, where she needed to get there as fast as possible, it was the only time she trusted him to do anything regarding her pregnancy (even though it would technically be the last thing he could do, bar delivering the baby; he decided not to mention it). Instead, Tomek had nodded absent-mindedly, uncertain, a dozen thoughts and images and scenarios racing through his head as he’d sat there in the office, listening to her voice and following her breathing exercises. But all that anxiety and doubt disappeared as soon as he’d felt the rigid leather seats of the pool car hug his body.
After he’d switched on the engine, he turned to face her and said, ‘Nadia, it is my honour to drive you in your hour of need.’
Panting, her face scrunched against the pain, she had turned to him, bared her teeth, and screamed in his face, ‘Drive! Or I’m fucking doing it myself!’
For Tomek that wasn’t an option, and so he’d hurtled through the traffic, jumped a couple of red lights (he’d bill her husband for any of fines later) and skidded to a stop outside A&E at Southend Hospital. There, he’d commandeered a wheelchair from a corridor and, feeling like Jack Reacher tearing his way through a city, leaving no prisoners behind, Tomek charged through the corridors and got her seen to as fast as possible.
Nadia’s husband, Sharif, arrived half an hour later. By that point, the baby was well on its way, and Nadia had been sent to one of the rooms along one of the many corridors. The man had been panicked and exasperated, and Tomek had tried his best to allay his fears and calm him down, but when he hadn’t exactly been the hallmark of relaxation himself, there had been no conviction in what he’d told Sharif to do. The last he’d seen of the man, before he’d gone running into the birthing room, was a look of shock and fear on his face, as though the realisation of what was about to happen in the next thirty minutes – and the next thirty years of his life – had suddenly dawned on him.
Tomek had decided to stay. Not because he wanted to see the baby, but because he’d been so overwhelmed with it all that the sudden rush of emotions he’d felt in the office had come back, rooting him to the spot. For some inexplicable reason, he felt impacted by the baby’s birth, and as he waited, he decided that was an avenue of thought he didn’t want to venture down just yet. Or maybe ever.
One was enough, thanks.
A little over an hour later, Sharif returned to the waiting room, charging through the doors. As soon as he saw Tomek, he paused.
‘What are you still doing here?’ Sharif asked before addressing his own family, who had trickled into the waiting room during the birth.
Tomek climbed out of his seat and clasped his hands together. ‘How is she? How’s the baby?’
‘Fine. They’re both fine. Both mum and son are healthy and happy.’
The news was met with a chorus of cheers from Nadia’s and Sharif’s families. Hands were shaken, bodies embraced. It was a pleasant, wonderful experience and a sight to behold that brought a smile to Tomek’s face. Then he realised that he was the odd one out and had no reason to be there.
‘I’ll pass the news on to the team,’ he told Sharif softly as he made to leave.
Just as he was about to open the door, Sharif called him back and asked if he’d like to see the baby before he had to go. Yes, Tomek had replied without thinking. But as he wandered along the corridor, moving closer and closer to the newborn baby, Tomek began to understand the way Sharif had felt. A knot had formed in his stomach, a lump in his throat. The lights in the corridors seemed to dim, and the walls seemed to close in on him, as though he were in a horror movie. But as soon as Sharif opened the door for him, that all disappeared, and the room was filled with a brilliant glow that accentuated even the bleakest of colours.
Tomek hadn’t been present for Kasia’s birth. Namely, because he hadn’t known anything about it. He hadn’t seen her be born. He hadn’t held her in his arms for the first time. He hadn’t experienced any of it. The same applied for the first thirteen years of her life. But here, now, now he was experiencing it by proxy.
Nadia, dressed in a hospital gown, was sitting high in the bed, cradling the baby.
‘Tomek,’ she said, glancing between Sharif and himself, ‘you’re still here?’
‘I… I’m sorry. I couldn’t bring myself to go back. Not until I knew how everything was. How is he?’
‘Good as gold. Adorable. No issues at all.’
Tomek approached her cautiously, lest any sudden movements disturb the peaceful, resting baby. When he reached Nadia’s bedside, he leant closer to inspect the baby. The little thing was nestled in a blanket, save for his face that was topped in a thin head of hair and some bodily fluids that were still drying on his forehead. His eyes were scrunched and his little lips were moving rapidly.
‘He’s gonna be a talker, that one,’ Tomek said. ‘Guarantee it. Do you have a name?’
‘Not yet.’
‘What about “Tomek”?’
‘Why would we do that?’
‘Because without me you wouldn’t have given birth to him – not here, anyway.’
Sharif and Nadia shared a glance.
‘You’re joking?’
Tomek was unable to pull his gaze away from the baby. ‘I feel like I’ve been a part of his birth. I feel like I had something to do with it.’
They shared another glance.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You’re right. It was fifty per cent me. Forty-nine per cent Sharif. And one per cent you for getting me through the doors. We really couldn’t have done this without you. Between the three of us, we’ve had a baby. Congratulations.’
Tomek was so overwhelmed with delight that he paid Nadia’s jibe no heed.
‘But I don’t think we’re going to call our baby Tomek,’ she said, sterner this time.
‘Why not?’
