'What do you mean sure? They're not an optional extra. Look, this is silly.'

'I'm just trying it out for size, exploring all the options.'

'Well, don't. Don't tell me maybes, tell me what's happening. I'm too pregnant for maybes.'

'Sorry, darling.'

'It's OK.'

'The thing is, I never know what's happening next week, never mind next month.'

'I know.'

'What about if I was like an uncle, who turns up once in a blue moon?'

'Once in a blue moon doesn't really do it for babies, Daniel. And I don't want anything clandestine; it wouldn't work, and it wouldn't be fair on the baby.'

'No, I suppose not. Look, I'm sure we can work something out. I'm due in New York but then I'm back for a few days. Leave it with me and I'll call you, yes? When I've talked to Liv.'

'OK.'

He looks at me.

'It suits you, being pregnant. I'd love to take some pictures. Maybe we can go for a walk the light's great down here. Is there a beach near by?'

'Yes. But if you think I'm prancing about posing for photographs in this weather you can think again.'

He grins.

'Fair enough. Let's order pudding. I'm assuming pregnant girls are into puddings, yes?'

'Now you're talking my language.'

After he's dropped me off at home and I've told Gran that nothing's been decided, much to her annoyance, I call Ellen.

'I'm with your Gran. What a wanker.'

'No, I think it was good; at least he's thinking about it.'

'Like how he tells his bloody girlfriend is your problem.'

'I know, but he reminded me of how I used to be with Nick; you don't know what you think about anything until it's been filtered through them. I mean obviously I wish he'd stop being so hopeless, but in a way I feel sorry for him.'

'For God's sake get a grip, darling.'

'He doesn't know how to handle this, and I think deep down he really minds.'

'Well, he'd better get over it then, and start being useful. Did you talk about money?'

'He said he wanted to sort something out, but we didn't talk about anything specific'

'Christ, you really haven't got the first idea.'

'Ellen, you know how I feel about the money thing: it's not the point.'

'Yes, it bloody is. Why should you be worrying about the bills while he swans round being creative? Bastard. Next time you talk to him remind him I'm keeping a close eye on him, okay?'

'Okay.'

'Poor old Dovetail. He just disappeared?'

'Yes. And we were meant to be cooking roast chicken, so the poor thing hadn't had any lunch either. Do you think I should ring him?'

'And say what?'

'I don't know.'

'Probably not then.'

'It's all so complicated. I think I need to wait until the baby's born; that'll uncomplicate things, won't it?'

'I'm sure it will.'

'Christ, I've just thought. What if Daniel tells Liv and they decide they want the baby? Joint custody or something like that. Maybe Liv might want to adopt that's very fashionable now, isn't it especially if you're a film star with a tiny waistline to protect.'

'Stop it, darling.'

'Yes, but they might, and then I'd have to get a lawyer and have press camped outside the door like Grace, only I won't have Bruno and electric gates to protect us.'

'Sweetheart, there's no way that's going to happen.'

'It might. You never know. I should have thought of that before I told him.'

'So what else is worrying you? What was it with Jack again?'

'That he'd be stolen from his cot in the middle of the night while I was asleep.'

'And you rigged up some mad early-warning system with chairs tied to rope, and Nick nearly broke his neck falling down the stairs.'

'He did not. It was only the two steps down to the bathroom. He made such a fuss you'd think he'd fallen down six flights. And anyway, it was wool, not rope.'

'He rang me, you know. He was so worried about you going round the twist.'

'I was fine after the first few weeks, and anyway he was loopy as I was. He kept going into panics about cot death and waking him up just to make sure he was still breathing. We both did a fair bit of that, actually.'

'I know, darling, and this is the same. Nobody's going to try to take your baby away from you.'

'Well they'd better bloody not.'

'What was the panic-button moment with Archie, the mad-dingo thing?'

'It wasn't dingos, it was any dog. Bit bloody ironic really when you think about it, since he's spent the last few years desperate for one.'

'But he's stopped sleeping in the dog basket now, right?'

'Yes, mainly because it's in the garage.'

'Okay, so you're fine. No mad-dog nightmares, and you can rig up the woolly early-warning thing across the banisters again.'

'Stop making fun of me. I've got serious hormones winging about here. I can't help it.'

Archie comes in, in a state of high dudgeon because Jack won't let him watch his Lord of the Rings DVD.

'I've got to go they're fighting again.'

'No problem. Give Daniel a few days and then I'll send him a lawyer's letter of my own. Hand-delivered. And Dovetail will be fine, I'm sure he will.'

'Thanks, Ellen.'

Actually, I'm not sure he will. Maybe I should ring him, only I don't want any more tense conversations today. But I could just call and fix up a new time for us to do the roast-chicken thing. Keep it neutral but friendly; that might work.

He doesn't answer his phone so I leave a message on his voicemail, before Mum rings to moan about Dad, and Jack remembers we haven't done his reading book and stands hopping up and down while I try to get her off the phone.

'I've got to do five pages.'

'Okay.'

'But I might do more.'

'Come and sit down then, love, and Archie, turn the telly off, and go and get your book too. Let's have a reading half-hour.'

'And then a snacker?'

'Maybe.'

It's Wednesday morning and I'm unloading the washing machine before I go to see Grace. They're back at home for a week's break in filming, so I'm going round today at eleven to deliver the wool she's ordered. I've just got time to hang the washing out before I leave. And then just as I'm getting into the car it starts to rain.

Maxine is waiting as I'm parking the car.

'Sorry I'm late.'

'You're fine. How's it going with the shop?'

'Okay, I think. We're open again, only downstairs, but fine so far.'

'Great, and don't forget to let me know when you want Grace to do the grand reopening thing.'

'Probably in the new year, when we've got all the work done on the cafe?'

'Sure, as long as I get a free ice cream.'

'It's a deal.'

'I should probably warn you: she's in a pretty foul mood.'

'Why?'

'Jean-Luc's ex-wife has turned out to be not quite so ex after all. They've been separated for ages and the divorce is still going through, but that hasn't stopped her doing a deal with the papers for a four-page exclusive.'

'God, how awful.'

'Ed's sorting it; he's down doing damage limitation now. He's loving the car sticker, by the way.' She nods towards a navy-blue soft-top Porsche, with a rather incongruous Baby I'm Bored sticker stuck in the back window.

'He says the girls love it.'

'How annoying.'

'Tell me about it; he was even trying to get one of Lily's old car seats in the back of his car last week, said it would improve his chances no end. He says the Divorced Dad thing works every time. Although how the prospect of hooking up with someone who'd already dumped their kids would be attractive is beyond me.'

'Me too, although I'm guessing the Porsche would probably help.'

'The way he fusses over the stupid thing it might as well be a baby. We stuck one of those scratches on once. Sam did it, and it looked so realistic, a great big scratch right down the side; it was fabulous. He got into such a state we thought he was going to pass out.'

We're both laughing as we walk upstairs, but she goes straight back into professional PA mode as we approach the door to the upstairs sitting room.

'Great, you've arrived. Max, get me a juice and some tea, would you, and can it be hot this time?'

'Yes, of course. Jo, what would you like?'

'Tea, please.'

She winks at me as she goes out.

Lily's getting bored and starts throwing pieces of plastic fruit around the room until Grace takes her downstairs for a swim with Meg. I'm looking at all the toys and pondering the advantages of motherhood on a major budget: I wonder how it feels when one of your options with a narky baby is taking them down with the nanny for a swim in your heated pool. Bloody brilliant is my guess.

Maxine comes back in with a tray with a glass of some kind of revolting-looking green juice on it, and cups of tea. She hands a carrier bag to Grace and then stands by the door.

'This is from me and Lily. You made such lovely things for her when she was born, so I wanted to do the same.'

There's a beautifully wrapped parcel inside, swathed in tissue paper and ribbon; she's knitted a cream cashmere blanket and a rabbit with floppy ears. And there's a cheque, for 1,000.

'Oh Grace, thank you, thank you so much, that's amazing. I don't know what to say.'

'It's nothing really; it's for your maternity leave.'

'I didn't realise I got maternity leave.'

'You don't.' She smiles.