'Her?' Julie asked.

'I'm having a girl.'

'You lucky thing,' Julie said.

'Julie!' Harry gave out to her.

'I can give you lots of gorgeous girl clothes. Jessica only wore half of what I bought her,' Sophie said.

'Thanks.'

'Do you want me and Forest to go to New York and sort this guy out for dumping you?' Gavin asked.

I looked at Gavin's baby face and his stick-thin, dreadlocked friend, and smiled. 'No thanks, Tony Soprano, but I appreciate the offer.'

'How long were you seeing this individual?' Mum asked. She was staring at me with her MI5 eyes. Thank God I'd prepared all my answers.

'Only a few months. It was nothing serious, just a fling, really.'

'How could an intelligent woman like you get yourself into a situation like this?' Mum wondered.

'Too much alcohol,' I told her truthfully.

'Jesus, Louise, at your age.' Dad shook his head.

'I'm not proud of it, Dad, but it happened and I'm dealing with the consequences.'

'If you're due in April you must be five months now,' Julie said. 'Where's your bump?'

'Here.' I flattened my wrap dress against my tummy to show it.

'Very neat.' Sophie was impressed. 'You're so fit, you'll hardly put on any weight. I bet you lose it really quickly after too.'

I saw Julie look down at her stomach and wince. Harry reached for her hand.

'What's the father's name?' Mum asked.

'It doesn't matter because he's never going to be involved. You need to forget about him.'

Mum banged the table with her hand. 'Do you think your daughter will forget about her own father?' She was getting worked up. 'Do you honestly think she won't be damaged by this? It's dysfunctional, Louise. He has to be involved, whether he likes it or not.'

'My dad wasn't around and it didn't affect me,' Forest volunteered. 'You don't miss what you don't know.'

'Well, that makes me feel much better,' Dad said. 'All going well, in a few years' time my granddaughter will be babysitting trees in the New Forest.'

'There's a lot worse she could be doing,' Gavin said.

'Like what?' Dad wanted to know.

'Drugs, robbery, murder.'

'We live in suburban Dublin, not Baghdad.'

'What are you going to do about work?' Mum asked me.

'What do you mean?'

'You can't work ten hours a day and do all that travelling with a baby.'

'Why not?'

'Because it's unrealistic, Louise.'

'I've booked her into a creche that's open from seven a.m. to seven p.m. Monday to Friday. It only closes on Christmas Day and Easter Monday. My cleaning lady's going to pick the baby up if I need to work late. She'll stay over when I have to travel and cover me on weekends when I need to go into the office. So everything is under control.'

'When are you planning on seeing the baby?' Mum barked.

'Most evenings and weekends.'

'Louise!' Mum was exasperated. 'Babies don't slot into your life, they turn it upside-down.'

'Amen to that,' Julie agreed.

'Jess didn't change Sophie's life,' I countered.

Sophie shook her head. 'Well, that's not entirely '

Jack interrupted his wife: 'It's true. Your life doesn't have to change. You just need to hire good staff and pay them well,' he assured me.

'How much maternity leave are you going to take?' Julie asked.

'Three weeks.'

'WHAT?' Julie, Sophie and Mum exclaimed.

'Meredith Baker, the only other female partner at the firm, took three weeks. I can't be seen to take any more. Besides, she seemed to cope just fine. She never comes in late, never leaves early and just gets on with it, which is exactly what I plan to do.'

'But you can't leave a three-week-old in a creche,' Julie said, emotional at the thought.

'Of course you can. It's not like I'm leaving her in a dump. It's a very exclusive creche with properly trained maternity nurses looking after the small babies. It's a one-nurse-to-two-babies ratio until they're a year old and then it's one-to-three.'

'I think Julie's right,' Sophie said. 'Three weeks is very early to leave a baby. You won't want to be away from her. You'll want to spend more time getting to know her.'

'Don't be ridiculous. You cannot leave a three-week-old baby in a creche!' Mum wagged a finger in my face.

I glared at her. 'Yes, you can. I love my job and I have no intention of giving it up or slowing down or taking a back seat or any of those things women always do when they have kids. I'm going to continue as normal, just like Meredith.'

'Does this Meredith you think so highly of have a husband?' Mum asked.

'Yes, she does.'

'I thought so.' Mum looked triumphant.

'I need to use the bathroom,' I said, hurrying out of the room before we ended up having a blazing row.

Mum had a habit of rubbing me up the wrong way. She was always trying to fix me and tell me how to live my life, how to make it better, how I needed a man to make me happy, how a career was not enough ... She just couldn't let go. She couldn't accept the fact that I was different from her. I didn't need mothering. I didn't need a husband to make me happy. I was perfectly capable of looking after myself. I always had been.

I went upstairs and lay down in the old bedroom I'd shared with Julie. Our beds were still there, side by side.

'I knew I'd find you here,' Julie said, a few minutes later, coming in and sitting down on her bed. 'Come on, Lou, what the hell is going on? I know when you're lying. How did you really get pregnant?'

I looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath. 'Remember when I went to Venice with work to celebrate the company's fiftieth anniversary and they announced that I was being promoted to senior partner?'

'Yes I was so jealous because I've always wanted to go to Venice.'

'Well, I hadn't expected to be made senior partner so soon. I thought I'd have to wait at least one if not two more years so I was taken by surprise and you know how I hate surprises. Anyway, I was thrilled obviously and I ended up drinking too much champagne, way too much.'

'Oh, my God, did you have sex with your married boss?' Julie gasped.

I shook my head. 'Worse. I slept with one of the other guests at the hotel. I don't even remember his name and, to be honest, even the sex is a bit hazy. I was the drunkest I've ever been.'

'Lou! That's so unlike you.'

'I can't believe it either. I do one stupid thing in my life and, bam, I get pregnant.'

'Boris Becker in the broom cupboard at Nobu has nothing on you. What about the next morning? Where was the guy?'

'Gone. He left a note that said, "Ho avuto una grande notte. Grazie."'

'What does that mean? "Great shag, thanks"?'

'More or less. I think the literal translation is "I had a great night. Thanks."'

'So even if you wanted to find him you couldn't?'

'Nope.'

'Louise Devlin, you're a slut.' Julie started laughing and I joined in. It was such a relief to laugh, a relief to have told them all, for my secret to be out, for my pregnancy to be announced. By the time Sophie came to find us we were almost hysterical.

She sat down beside Julie. 'What's so funny? Come on, fill me in. You're always leaving me out.'

'Louise is a dirty slapper.' Julie giggled. 'The baby's father is some random bloke she met in a hotel in Italy and she can't even remember his name.' She and I roared laughing again.

'No way!' Sophie looked shocked.

'Unfortunately it's true,' I admitted. 'But Mum can never find out. Ever.'

'I won't tell her, I swear. Are you OK about it?' Sophie asked.

'Yes it was a really reckless thing to do, but I'm fine about it.'

'Are you excited?' Julie asked.

Was I excited? Not in the way other women seemed to be. Not in the way both Julie and Sophie had been when they were pregnant. Not glowy and bloomy and running around buying baby clothes at six weeks pregnant. In fact, I hadn't actually realized I was pregnant until fourteen and a half weeks. My periods were sometimes irregular, so I wasn't worried when I skipped a few. But after three months of no periods and feeling sick and tired all the time, I went to my doctor expecting him to tell me that it was the onset of menopause. When he told me I was pregnant, I nearly fell off my chair.

I could not believe it. How the hell could I be pregnant after a stupid one-night stand? I knew it was that night because I'd been feeling too sick since then to have sex. There was a man, Daniel, whom I dated and had sex with whenever he was in town. He was an old client of mine who lived in Monaco but came to London every six weeks on business. Whenever he was in town we'd get together. I liked it. No strings attached, no expectations, no drama.

I'd been on the pill for twenty years, partly to regulate my periods and also as contraception. But when I arrived in Venice I realized I'd forgotten to bring it with me. I wasn't expecting to have sex, so I didn't worry about not taking it for a few days. Big mistake. Huge.

When I'd found out I was pregnant, I'd planned to have an abortion. I was forty-one, single and married to my career. A baby was not something I craved. I had never felt broody when I saw other people's babies. I hated it when I went to visit someone with a newborn and they thrust it into my arms for a 'cuddle'. I didn't want to hold their baby, which smelt of vomit, pee and quite often poo. I used to count the seconds until I could hand it back. I didn't find going to baby shops and looking at tiny clothes fun. I always sent my secretary, Jasmine, to buy the presents.

I'd seen so many women give up their jobs and their lives for their children, and for what? The kids didn't thank you. They didn't appreciate it frankly, they didn't give a shit. When I looked at Julie's life I shuddered. She had gone from being an attractive, fun, bubbly, outgoing person to a shadow. She was always exhausted, she never had any time to herself, she looked awful, she was cranky a lot of the time, and for what? The triplets didn't care. They'd never be grateful. They just took it for granted that their mother was there to feed them, clothe them, bathe them, read to them, play with them, drive them around, love them, protect them and mind them.

I kept hearing women say, 'I'm so glad I gave up work and devoted myself to my children.' Why? Why are you so glad? How do you know it made any difference whatsoever? If you had worked part-time or even full-time, would they have turned into socio-paths? Probably not and you wouldn't have lost your identity, your personality and your sanity in the process. Sophie had probably the best life of any mother I knew and she was boring. It's a harsh thing to say about your sister, but she was. All of her spare time was spent focusing on looking good. And she looked great, but she had very little to talk about. She had no outside interests, no hobbies working-out with a personal trainer is not a hobby.

There was no way in hell I was going to give up my life so I decided to have an abortion. I went to the clinic fully intending to go through with it until the ultrasound. The doctor explained that they had to do one to confirm the pregnancy, check the size of the foetus, get a picture of the ovaries and uterus and rule out any problems like an ectopic pregnancy. When I looked at the screen I expected to see a blob. I didn't. I saw a baby with legs and arms, a face and a little nose. I stared at the screen in shock. I hadn't expected that. It was a real miniature person.

I was shaking when I left the room and told them I'd changed my mind. I went straight into the nearest bar and drank a large gin and tonic. I know you're not supposed to drink alcohol, but the child was conceived in a vat of champagne so I figured one more wouldn't do it too much harm. I'd taken a half-day off work to have the procedure, so I walked through Hyde Park and tried to come to terms with my decision. A baby ... me, Louise, having a baby ... the least maternal person in the world ... lawyer ... career woman ... mother?

6.

Sophie.

I don't think I've ever been more shocked in my life. Louise pregnant! It was the least likely thing to happen. She didn't have a maternal bone in her body. And to think it had happened when she was blind drunk. It was so out of character. Louise didn't drink much because she didn't like losing control and she hated the way hangovers made her lethargic.

Yet here she was, five months pregnant at forty-one after a drunken shag, and planning to go back to work when the baby was three weeks old.

'Lou, I think you need to be more realistic about your maternity leave,' I suggested. 'Having a baby is tough. It's really hard going. You'll be physically and mentally exhausted.'

'She's right. The first four months are a bloody nightmare. You're leaking from everywhere, your brain is fried, and if someone says boo to you, you fall apart,' Julie agreed. 'As capable as you are, even you can't just give birth during a coffee break and carry on with your meetings.'

'My job is very stressful. I'm used to intense situations. I'm used to pressure. I'm used to being up all night working. I'm used to multitasking. How hard can it be?'

I looked at Julie. We shook our heads.

'It's the hardest job you'll ever have,' Julie explained.

'I'll be fine. Everything's organized. I've got a night nurse booked for the first six weeks to get me over the hump and to train the baby to sleep through the night. All the books say that if you get the baby into a good routine by six weeks, they'll be good sleepers for life.'

'Routine!' Julie screeched. 'Good luck with that.'

'I'm not having triplets, Julie. Look at Sophie. She had an easy time with Jessica.'