Page 34 of How We Loved

Shame I cried trying to work out how to put it on.

December 24th

Our first Christmas as a family. Not even just as a family, but the first for Ben and me. This is officially the first Christmas since we met that we are together without having some sort of epic proportion row that split us up.

Nope. We are spending a lot... a lot of time together this year.

This morning I got up and did the early feed with Hope. Well, of course, I’m the one with the milk jugs, then I snuggled her up in this cutest little fluffy onesie and popped her in the pram. Then I walked us out for some fresh air, leaving Ben to sleep. We’ve started expressing a bottle of milk for the 11 pm feed now, which makes me feel rather like a cow in the milk shed, but I know Ben likes to do that feed, and frankly, I like to sleep, so I’m asleep by ten, leaving them two up, and then he’s asleep when I wake up.

I walked us into Putney to try and soak up a bit of the festive atmosphere. Which I did, in the form of a gingerbread latte from Costa. A quick whizz around the shopping centre, without Ben, and I was looking for things to get him for Christmas. I mean, there’s the obvious isn’t there. Pants and socks from Marks and Sparks. A pair of jeans from Gap. But what are you supposed to get your boyfriend/fiancée thingy when he’s a mega-rich rockstar? It makes it a challenge. Luckily, Beth was around and came to help, although she was moaning about the early hour.

“Why aren’t you at home for Christmas?” I asked as we meandered around, taking it in turns to push the buggy. She wanted to experience what it felt like. Then she spent ten minutes pretending Hope was hers. Which I got a bit weirdly territorial about.

“Parents are arguing and it’s a bit awkward.” Beth made a sad face and I made a sympathetic one back. “Plus I’ve got my dissertation to think about.”

“And are you thinking about it?” I shot her a sneaky side-eye as she fussed over putting Hope’s dummy back in her mouth. Hope was scratching her face, which has made it apparent to me what scratch mittens are for. I didn’t realize they actually served a purpose before.

“No. Well yes, but no.”

“Yes but no?” I laughed. “Sounds like it’s going as well as Meredith’s. She’s got that wild look about her again.”

Beth turned to me straight-faced. “Lilah. You’re the only one who was wild-eyed at essay time.”

“And yet, look at you all now.”

“And look at you not even writing one, using a baby as an excuse.” She was grinning though. “So what are you going to get Ben for Christmas?”

“God, I don’t know. His career back.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s done nothing, Beth. Nothing. He hasn’t picked up his guitar in weeks.”

“He’s just enjoying time with you and Hope...”

“Or he’s hiding.”

Beth’s lips twisted into a line. “I don’t know, I mean, he always said he’d rather have you than anything else in the world.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have to take it that literally. And at some point, one of us is going to have to work. We can’t coast off his royalty money forever.”

Beth nodded. “Maybe talk to Baz?”

“Yeah. I might. Whatever happens, I’ve got to make sure I don’t buy Ben an expensive guitar just because I’ve run out of present ideas.”

I didn’t end up getting a guitar. Financially, we are more than comfortable at the moment, but there is another thing playing on my mind which I didn’t mention to Beth. I don’t have any money of my own. All my savings I put into the flat with Tristan, which when Ben and I moved upstairs, I left as an investment. It’s fine; I’ve got some financial security there. But actual ready cash. Hard money to spend on, I don’t know, shampoo, teabags, breast pads (thankfully have a lifetime supply of these) yeah, not so much.

As usual, I ended up at the shop with Baz who was giving me all his parental support while also bouncing Hope around as she fussed and grizzled. I watched him for a moment, wishing that Dad could be more like that. He’s come up to see Hope, but he just kind of peered at her sleeping form and then clapped me on the back and said, “Well done, Lilah. Good job.”

Thanks, Dad. Verbose as always.

Back to Baz who seemed quite happy holding the baby and letting me take over running his music shop/musical drop-in centre for half an hour or so. “You all set for Christmas?” I asked, once I’d finished taking payment for an electric guitar, the mum purchasing it looking frankly a little scared at the prospect of it being unwrapped tomorrow.

“Yeah, I’m closing up at one. I don’t want to be stuck here all afternoon when it’s time to start on the sherry and mince pies.”

Mmmm, sherry.

Damn breastfeeding.