Read Online Bridget Jones's Baby by Helen Fielding - Free Book Online
Authors: Helen Fielding
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like a boa constrictor who’s eaten a goat.”
“Wait!” said Dr. Rawlings, poised with the ultrasound thingy in the air and starting to smile at Daniel incredulously. “I recognize that voice. You’re on the television, aren’t you? Didn’t you do that travel show?”
“Yeeees,
The Smooth Guide,
” murmured Daniel, at which Dr. Rawlings went all giggly and fluttery.
“Daniel Cleaver!
The Smooth Guide
! Oh, we used to
love
it. We used to watch it every single week. We absolutely hooted when you were rolling around in the mud with those girls in Thailand.”
“Can we look at the baby, please?” I said, thinking, “Is there no area of life impervious to celebrity culture?”
“Oh my goodness, wait till I tell everyone,” Dr. Rawlings carried on. “I say, you couldn’t do me an autograph, could you?” She put down the probe and started looking around for a piece of paper. “Here! Prescription pad! Perfect! Put something funny.”
Saw a glint come into Daniel’s eye. Oh God. Was he going to draw a penis or something?
“What are you up to now, Daniel? Any new shows coming up?”
“I’m bringing out a novel,” he said, writing something on the prescription pad.
“Oh, super! Is it funny?” she asked flirtatiously.
“No, no, not at all, actually. It’s a literary thing. It’s called
The Poetics of Time.
It’s an existential study of—”
“Right! Better get on,” said Dr. Rawlings, clearly even more quickly bored by
The Poetics of Time
than I was. She glanced at the note Daniel had written for her and collapsed in giggles.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” she said, wiping her eyes and starting to rub lubricant on my stomach as if she was wiping something off the floor.
“Ding dong!” said Daniel. “Dr. Rawlings, could you possibly do that to me afterwards? My waistband has become increasingly tight of late. I seriously fear there may be something growing in there.”
“That’s your penis, Daniel,” I said, drily, as Dr. Rawlings collapsed in giggles again.
“OK, settle down, now, Bridget. Settle down,” she said.
“
Me
settle down?”
“Shh! Let’s listen to the heartbeat.”
She turned up the machine and a giant thumping boomed out. Daniel looked genuinely freaked out.
“Is everything all right in there?” he said. “It sounds like a French high-speed train.”
“Tip-top shape. Right! Let’s look at the screen. Oh, there’s the little hand! Look! And, oh! There’s the penis!”
I sat bolt upright.
“Penis? She’s got a penis? My little girl has got a penis?”
Somehow I’d been absolutely convinced that the baby was a girl. You know how a mother just
knows
?
“Yes, you see it there? Pretty big.”
“Like father like son,” purred Daniel.
“I don’t want a great big penis inside me!”
“First time I’ve ever heard that from you, Jones. Oh, look, look he’s rubbing his nose with his little hands.”
“Oh he’s trying to wave,” I said. “Hello, sweetheart. It’s Mummy, it’s your mummy, hello!” I was completely overcome. It was the best thing I’d ever seen in my life ever, apart from the last scan, which was also the best thing I’d ever seen in my life ever.
I looked at Daniel to see that he too was choked with emotion. He looked as if he was about to cry.
“Jones,” he said, fumbling for my hand. “It’s our little boy.”
—
We departed from the scan in Daniel’s newly valeted Mercedes, the pale grey interior still smelling faintly of sick. Daniel was driving incredibly slowly, so much so that cars were honking and swerving past us.
“I think you could go a tiny bit faster,” I ventured, immediately feeling like I had catapulted from a person from
The Jerry Springer Show
to the sort of Smug Married who passive-aggressively backseat drives with her husband.
Daniel put his foot on the accelerator, hit a speed bump, and braked.
“Oh Christ! Oh Christ! Has he fallen out? Is he all right? Jesus, Jones! Move the seat belt. Move the
“Wait!” said Dr. Rawlings, poised with the ultrasound thingy in the air and starting to smile at Daniel incredulously. “I recognize that voice. You’re on the television, aren’t you? Didn’t you do that travel show?”
“Yeeees,
The Smooth Guide,
” murmured Daniel, at which Dr. Rawlings went all giggly and fluttery.
“Daniel Cleaver!
The Smooth Guide
! Oh, we used to
love
it. We used to watch it every single week. We absolutely hooted when you were rolling around in the mud with those girls in Thailand.”
“Can we look at the baby, please?” I said, thinking, “Is there no area of life impervious to celebrity culture?”
“Oh my goodness, wait till I tell everyone,” Dr. Rawlings carried on. “I say, you couldn’t do me an autograph, could you?” She put down the probe and started looking around for a piece of paper. “Here! Prescription pad! Perfect! Put something funny.”
Saw a glint come into Daniel’s eye. Oh God. Was he going to draw a penis or something?
“What are you up to now, Daniel? Any new shows coming up?”
“I’m bringing out a novel,” he said, writing something on the prescription pad.
“Oh, super! Is it funny?” she asked flirtatiously.
“No, no, not at all, actually. It’s a literary thing. It’s called
The Poetics of Time.
It’s an existential study of—”
“Right! Better get on,” said Dr. Rawlings, clearly even more quickly bored by
The Poetics of Time
than I was. She glanced at the note Daniel had written for her and collapsed in giggles.
“Oh dear, oh dear,” she said, wiping her eyes and starting to rub lubricant on my stomach as if she was wiping something off the floor.
“Ding dong!” said Daniel. “Dr. Rawlings, could you possibly do that to me afterwards? My waistband has become increasingly tight of late. I seriously fear there may be something growing in there.”
“That’s your penis, Daniel,” I said, drily, as Dr. Rawlings collapsed in giggles again.
“OK, settle down, now, Bridget. Settle down,” she said.
“
Me
settle down?”
“Shh! Let’s listen to the heartbeat.”
She turned up the machine and a giant thumping boomed out. Daniel looked genuinely freaked out.
“Is everything all right in there?” he said. “It sounds like a French high-speed train.”
“Tip-top shape. Right! Let’s look at the screen. Oh, there’s the little hand! Look! And, oh! There’s the penis!”
I sat bolt upright.
“Penis? She’s got a penis? My little girl has got a penis?”
Somehow I’d been absolutely convinced that the baby was a girl. You know how a mother just
knows
?
“Yes, you see it there? Pretty big.”
“Like father like son,” purred Daniel.
“I don’t want a great big penis inside me!”
“First time I’ve ever heard that from you, Jones. Oh, look, look he’s rubbing his nose with his little hands.”
“Oh he’s trying to wave,” I said. “Hello, sweetheart. It’s Mummy, it’s your mummy, hello!” I was completely overcome. It was the best thing I’d ever seen in my life ever, apart from the last scan, which was also the best thing I’d ever seen in my life ever.
I looked at Daniel to see that he too was choked with emotion. He looked as if he was about to cry.
“Jones,” he said, fumbling for my hand. “It’s our little boy.”
—
We departed from the scan in Daniel’s newly valeted Mercedes, the pale grey interior still smelling faintly of sick. Daniel was driving incredibly slowly, so much so that cars were honking and swerving past us.
“I think you could go a tiny bit faster,” I ventured, immediately feeling like I had catapulted from a person from
The Jerry Springer Show
to the sort of Smug Married who passive-aggressively backseat drives with her husband.
Daniel put his foot on the accelerator, hit a speed bump, and braked.
“Oh Christ! Oh Christ! Has he fallen out? Is he all right? Jesus, Jones! Move the seat belt. Move the
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