Published: 23 March 2006 

Tuesday 21 March 

"If we'd got here on time we could have had a white baby."

"Shut up," I hissed. Honestly, Daniel seems to think making ironic joke of pretending to be racist can be relied on to make everyone roar with laughter - even if you are sitting in an
ethnically diverse west London prenatal/infant care class, trying to put a nappy on a black plastic baby.

"What's the matter, Jones?" he said, still too loudly. " I'm not saying one colour plastic baby's better than another. I'm just saying if you hadn't taken so long getting ready we could have made an informed choice as to what colour baby we wanted. You know," he said encouragingly, as if I was a celebrity-obsessed halfwit, "...like Brad and Angelina?"

"Finished at the back there, have we?" said Becca, our prenatal class-leader, sarcastically. She was pretty, but with a dour left-wing-councillor-type manner which didn't quite fit.
"Are we going to show the class what we've done?"

"Fuck, Jones, come on!" stage-whispered Daniel, flapping around with the baby and nappy as if in a speed origami championship. "There!" he said, holding up the baby with its
nappy, back to front, hanging off one little leg. The other couples stared coldly, as if he were an irritating American movie star, attempting to do slapstick in a crappy Christmas
movie.

Sank down, miserably. Had been so excited when Daniel agreed to come to the class, feeling surging hope that, once he got sense of tininess and vulnerability of baby - maybe
even seeing adorable babies in video or holding imitation baby! - he would begin to develop sense of self as father. This would then totally alter his character, removing sex-crazed, commitment-phobic-bastard elements and leaving merely amusingness, intelligence and charm.

Unfortunately, whole thing got off to bad start owing to lateness (was definitely not my fault - how is one supposed to decide what to wear for a date at a prenatal/infant care
class?) and then, ghastly Becca woman started showing video "not of lovely pink fluffy babies, but of all revolting things that happen to them" cradle cap, crepuscules oozing yellow pus, tummy buttons turning black and stinking and entire baby turning yellow, blue or purple and screaming head off.

Could feel Daniel going into meltdown at very thought. On top of everything else, realised all other couples had plastic baby except us, owing to lateness, so had to ask for baby
and discovered there was only one left, which led to Daniel making tasteless joke.

Becca was now holding said baby up disparagingly by one arm. "Yes. I don't think we're taking this very seriously, are we?" She dropped the baby back on the table in front of
Daniel with a brutal clatter. "It's a pity because you're wasting a lot of people's time."

Had never seen anyone attempt to humiliate Daniel in public before - apart from me and Mark Darcy, that is.

"But on the contrary, Dr... Dr...?" Daniel said, smoothly.

"Becca," she snapped.

"I had no idea the whole nappy business would be so fascinating, or so challenging. I have the utmost respect for anyone who is able to... to." He looked at the nappy with an
_expression of boyish bewilderment. "Is this not correct?"

A couple of the pregnant women started to giggle. This only seemed to enrage Becca more.

"I think," she said, with a nasty smile, "that when you have a real newborn infant you might find all this isn't so funny. You might find you actually have to start taking your
responsibilities seriously, for once."

"But my dear Becca, you misunderstand me entirely. Taking my responsibilities seriously is precisely why I'm here today. I am hear to grow and learn - to learn how to deal with
my blue, crepuscular, blackened-penised..."

"Get out," As Becca spat the words a seed of suspicion suddenly sprouted in my mind into a huge tree or other suspicious plant-life form.

"By all means. Should I take the plastic baby with me or leave him here?"

"Just put it down," she said poisonously, holding open the door. Hurried out after Daniel, confronting him as soon as the door shut behind us. "Daniel, have you slept with that
woman?"

'Unfortunately Jones, yes," he said, steering me along the corridor. "Though if I'm remembering the occasion correctly - and have the right person - it was actually a bit worse than that. Let's go get a drink."

As waited for him to bring the car (unusually gallant offer from Daniel - which he explained by saying he didn't want his son to be born a frozen chicken) realised shoelace had
come undone. Bent down to fasten it but couldn't reach because of strange lump, then remembered was own stomach with baby in. Suddenly felt all alone and tired. Is strain trying to cheerleader Daniel into enthusiasm for impending baby, when have own anxieties, problems, etc.

"Come on Jones, let's go find a bar," said Daniel, bursting through the swing doors looking all glowing and vigorous from the cold. "What's the matter?"

"Can we just go home?" I said. "I'm a bit tired."

"Tired? It's only 8.30."

"Er, I'm pregnant, remember?"

"Oh yes. OK, I'll drop you off first." Seeing my face, he added: "Or come in for a drink?"

Was just sinking gratefully into the sofa while Daniel looked around for whisky when the answerphone clicked on.

"Bridget, it's Mark. You know what I said the other night - about adopting the baby? I did mean it you know. It's only the wretched Cleaver element which gets in the way. Maybe
we should talk."

I saw Daniel freeze, his back to me, his hand on the whisky bottle. Then he turned, looking all anguished, knelt in front of me, and put his hand gently on the bump.

"He's my baby," he said. "He's my little boy. Even if he does come out all flaky and purple."

Oh God. It's exactly how he used to be with me. He didn't want to commit, but he didn't want anyone else to have me either.