LIZZIE'S WORLD: Time for baby to come

Louise shows signs of going into labour at a very critical time. ILLUSTRATION| JOSEPH NGARI

What you need to know:

  • “Thank you for your support,” I say. “However, I was saying, Jason may try to pull a dangerous stunt when it comes to getting this business this year. We should watch our backs.”
  • Chris nods crisply. “Noted,” he says. “Is there anything else?” I shake my head. “Well then, let’s get on with the rest of the week, shall we?” I nod, stand up and exit his office.
  • On my way back to my office, I pass by Louise’s desk just to check that she is alright. I find her rubbing her back and looking really exhausted. This is puzzling; it’s barely 9am. She’s usually a lot more peppy than this.

“So what’s this you want to tell me?” Chris asks as we settle down in his office. He’s crisp, professional… quite the change of tone from our conversation yesterday.

“I just found out a bunch of things about Jason and his company,” I say. And then I brief him on everything that Fatma told me last night.

“I don’t understand how this is any of our business. As far as I am aware, we are not doing business with him or his company,” Chris points out.

“Yes, except that it’s time for us to invite pitches for our business,” I counter. “He seemed quite, um, desperate to get our business,” I say.

“Is that what he wanted to discuss with you last night?” I nod. Chris narrows his eyes and leans closer to me. “Liz, did he say or do anything that felt inappropriate to you? Did he harass you? Try to coerce you? Tell me and I will deal with that scumbag myself!”

 “No, nothing I can’t take care of myself,” I say. “Besides, if he does try anything I shall be sure to let you know.” Chris stares me in the eye for a few seconds just to make sure I am telling the truth and I do my best to subliminally communicate to him that I really am capable of handling unscrupulous businessmen.

“It’s been a rough few weeks for you, what with everything that’s happened with the former MD,” Chris says. I wince when the thought of Bertha and all her shenanigans crosses my mind. “I don’t want anything else getting in the way of you doing a good job.”

DANGEROUS STUNT

“Thank you for your support,” I say. “However, I was saying, Jason may try to pull a dangerous stunt when it comes to getting this business this year. We should watch our backs.”

Chris nods crisply. “Noted,” he says. “Is there anything else?” I shake my head. “Well then, let’s get on with the rest of the week, shall we?” I nod, stand up and exit his office.

On my way back to my office, I pass by Louise’s desk just to check that she is alright. I find her rubbing her back and looking really exhausted. This is puzzling; it’s barely 9am. She’s usually a lot more peppy than this.

“Are you alright?” I ask as she frowns, shifts in her chair and rubs her belly.

“I don’t know, I feel really weird today,” she says.

“Oh gosh, are you going into labour!?” I yelp.

“I don’t think so,” she frowns, “my due date is a week away.”

“So what!?” I wave my arms about. “The baby is ready to come any time now!” I know, from all my experience being around my girlfriends as they go into labour, that Louise is probably closer than she knows.

“You think it’s time?” she stares at me wide-eyed.

“At least let me take you to hospital so they can check you out,” I say, running round to her side of her desk and helping her stand up.

“But I have all this work-,”

“Forget about it!” I yell. And then I remember to do one thing: Pick up Louise’s extension and call Chris. “Listen, I think Louise is going into labour and I am rushing her to the hospital. I’ll ask Ciru to stand in for her,” I say. Then I grip Louise by her armpits and walk slowly by her side as we waddle our way to the elevator.

It’s a light-traffic morning, thankfully, and when we get to the maternity wing of the hospital that Louise has booked, the nurse on duty takes one look at her and directs that she should be wheeled directly to the labour ward. “Is everything alright?” I ask when the nurse emerges from settling her in.

“She’s about six centimetres dilated now, the baby should be here in about three hours. Are you her labour partner?”

“What?” I blink.

“Her labour partner. The person who will hold her hand and help her breathe and all that.”

“Oh, gosh no,” I say. “I think that would be her partner-partner,” I point out. “Should I call him?”

“I’m sure he’d like to know that his baby is about to come!” the nurse laughs. And at that point it hits me that I don’t have Louise’s partner’s number, and neither have I ever met him. Oh well, there’s no time like the present to make that happen!