Baby on Board

L'Amour Éternel

The studio was easy to find. And by easy, I mean, the sat nav redirected me at least six times because I kept missing the turn and was driving the same one-way system for ten minutes. Eventually, behind an unassuming building, I found myself driving through an archway and down a narrowed, cobbled road towards my destination. A small sign on the wall showed the word Doré, the familiar name of Camille's fashion label. There were three parking bays, two of which were taken. I noted that they were designated parking spaces for Camille Clément and Emma D'Souza, and the third was for clients. I pressed the handbrake button of the car and put it in park. 

Thanks to all the practice we'd had, I managed to get Sera's pram out and assembled in three minutes flat. She settled inside quickly and kept her eyes focused on the sky, something that she did often, until we entered the building. After that, Sera's gaze fell on everything, taking it all in and familiarising herself with the unknown. 

To be fair, I was also trying to take everything in. Camille's studio was a total contradiction of the owner. Camille always came across as being sophisticated and chic, not a hair out of place and a serenity that screamed poise and grace. This studio, on the other hand, was pandemonium. Utter choas, there was staff running around shouting at each other, bits of fabric carpeting the hardwood floor and metalware that looked like they'd been purchased from some S&M bondage shop left lying on the countertops. I didn't dare ask what they were for. 

"Isaac," someone yelled my name above the noise. From the pronunciation- Ee-zac rather than Eye-zac- I knew that it was Camille who was trying to get my attention. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to spot her in amongst this confusion and had to wait for her to make her way to me. Plus, I don't think I would be able to manoeuver Sera's pram through the mess. Suddenly, a slender platinum blonde broke free from the crowd and launched herself at me, long arms pulling me in for an awkward hug. "So glad you could make it. There is my petite-fille!"

I know I'm not fluent in French but even I know that she's referencing Sera. Camille was adamant that Sera would grow up bilingually and she was more than delighted when I let slip that we had already put Sera's name down for a local French-language primary school. Maybe that's why I was more popular with Camille than Dan. But then again, when he and Sophie have kids, he may trump me on that front. Unlike Dan, I haven't heartfully attempted to learn French. I knew the basics and a few random words like en levrette, but that's about it. 

"She grows more and more every day," Camille speaks to me, her blue eyes lighting up at seeing her granddaughter. I think the only person more obsessed by Sera than Jimmy is Camille. They both adore her and it shows whenever they're within arm's length of Sera. Leaving me standing next to the pram, Camille starts to walk away, mingling in the crowd as she starts to show off the bundle in her arms. "This is Seraphina, ma petite-fille. Isn't she perfect?"

Waiting for the cooing to stop aged me by years. While Camille proudly introduced Sera to her staff, Emma came from nowhere and motioned for me to follow her. She laughed and said that she felt bad for not warning me about Camille's plan to play the doting grandmother in front of everyone but then said that once her mother comes back, she plans on stealing Sera so she can have some Aunty Emma time with her niece. 

"Carry on," I say, giving Emma a big smile. With all of Lottie's family clambering to shower her with affection, I have no doubt at all that Sera was going to end up one very spoiled little girl. As long as she didn't become too spoilt, I was ok with that. "Any idea why your mum did invite me here?"

Emma shakes her head. "Nope, sorry. I had thought it was just so she could see Sera but then she started muttering about needing to get everything ready for your arrival and then I got confused. Your guess would be as good as mine, buddy. Oh, by the way, Adam is inviting you to Boys Night. Apparently, we're hosting. And by 'we', I obviously mean him."

I opened my mouth to make a comment about why Emma wouldn't be able to join us but then Camille entered, interrupting us with her French baby-talk. After a few minutes, I realised that it wasn't baby-talk at all, but the sound of a familiar lullaby that Lottie likes to sing to Sera. Lottie's voice is nicer than Camille's. 

"Emma," Camille called for her daughter. Instantly, Emma was at her side, more than happy to take Sera, and then skedaddling out the door. Camille rounded her cluttered table and sat in a tatted chair that looked older than me, her eyes a little less bright now that her petite-fille had left the room. Actually, she suddenly looked very serious. "So, two things I want to talk to you about." 

I raised an eyebrow at her comment. "Well, I may have-"

"Yes, good for you," Camille cut me off, her voice instantly sounding bored. She spun in her seat and opened the top drawer of her wooden desk. She rifled inside and then made a triumphant sound when she found whatever it was she was looking for. She took it in her hand and palmed it, keeping it from view. "James said that you and he had had a conversation about the possibility of you and Charlotte getting married."

She stared at me, expecting a reply. Since she never asked a question, I didn't know that I should provide her with an answer. Camille sighed in exasperation. I think I was losing my spot as the number one son-in-law. Not that I am a son-in-law.

"Then," Camille draws out the vowel sound in the word. Her facial expression changes from one of confusion, to something akin to hope. "Charlotte tells me that you referred to her as Charlotte Fletcher. Perhaps I'm reading too much into all this but I doubt it. I only read classic French novels and my husband's face when he lies to me. Tell me, is there something I should know about?"

"Look, Camille," I begin, not sure whether I should be direct or tactful. "While I would love to marry your daughter, she doesn't feel the same and that it something that I shall respect. A far as Lottie is concerned, us having Sera is commitment enough."

Camille pursed her lips and gave nothing away. Slowly, she began to shake her head and laugh mockingly. "Oh, Isaac you really are just a pretty face," she mutters. Reaching across the table with her closed fist, she opens her hand and lets whatever it is she's been holding fall onto the table with a small tinkle. Instinctively, I look to see what she's dropped before then snapping my eyes to hers. "It was the one James gave me when he proposed. Charlotte has always admired it and I have always kept a hold of it for when she becomes engaged. Emma wanted it for herself but I couldn't bear to part with it then. If that seems selfish, so be it, but the only other hand this ring will adorn is Charlotte's."

"But-"

Camille raises a hand to shush me. "What Charlotte said about Sera being enough of a commitment, I believe that she meant it. Then." Camille emphasised the last word. "The beauty of women- apart from their smile- is that they are allowed to change their minds. Despite what she says, Charlotte is a... un romantique. Elle croit en l'amour éternel. You know?"

"A romantic who believes in everlasting love," I echo in English, much to Camille's surprise. "I know more than just branlette, Camille."

Her eyebrow arches at my words. "Do I even want to know why you've learnt the word 'wank' in French?"

"That's what it means?" I roar. Suddenly, my blood is boiling and someone is going to have to ay the price. I know exactly who, too. "I am going to kill Dan for teaching me that shit!"

So maybe I'm changing my mind about marrying Charlotte and Isaac...

Sarah xx