Baby Steps Doctors

What's your name, love? Love, can you tell me your name?

Save the baby. Please. You've got to try and save the baby.

Molly Alexander has three grandchildren now, all ginger.

-Is she the Tory candidate next year?

-Oh, no. Not after that fracas.

And, last time, her share price plummeted.

Nothing to do with a global recession, then?

She's thinking of becoming a magistrate.

Her daughter-in-law had placenta praevia.

-Hers wasn't complete like yours.

-Yeah, top of the shop, me(!)

But they got her into Letherbridge Grange.

More money than sense.

For bed rest.

Oh, don't start.

-Might she be ginger?

-Who knows?

Letherbridge Grange costs 350 squid a night.

-Bunny Alexander was in for weeks.

-Like I said.

Well, whatever. You know...

You only have to say, if you wanted to.

Now, where would you like me to put this?

I think it's amazing. Look at it. Hands are free.

It's fantastic, isn't it? I'd forgotten about these.

Oh, I thought you had a day off.

I am. But I'm just seeing Daniel for a minute.

Oh, he said you didn't have one of these, so I thought...

-Daniel just left.

-What? He knew I was coming!

Sorry! He flounced off with a drugs rep.

-Bernard?

-The guy with the stinky breath?

Bernard. When my kids were small I had one of these,

but it weighed a ton. I wouldn't have been without it, though.

His mobile's switched off! When's he coming back?

Erm, I'll go and phone Bernie Bad Breath.

You sit down.

All right...

what's up?

Isn't that bad luck?

I didn't get where I am today by imagining

that buying my granddaughter outfits was bad luck!

Isn't your mother daft?

You know that your granny could never say no to a label, don't you?

-Yes, you do.

-Yes, if the label fits, mother,

let's hang it round your neck and write "shallow capitalist" on it.

I know you love me, really.

Now, what time is our relaxation class?

It's not "our" relaxation class, Mother!

So?

I had another scan.

-Why?

-Because I wanted to find out the sex of the baby.

Well, what is it? I thought you two didn't want to know.

He didn't, but I wanted to know.

I am so rubbish at being half a couple.

So, is it a boy?

And he found out. Of course he did, what was I thinking?

So I'm selfish, he's not really talking to me.

He says we're virtually toxic as a couple.

-He'll get over it.

-And that means we're going to be awful parents.

That's rubbish.

I wish my mum was still around.

Oh, sweetie, I know you do.

If your daughter was pregnant, you'd want her to find out

that it was a boy, wouldn't you?

Oh!

Well, I...

If your daughter was pregnant and she was messing things up

with the father, you'd go and sort it out, wouldn't you?

Because that's what mums do.

Well, mums try and help, of course we do,

cos we're hardwired to do that.

But friends want to help too, Zara.

Yeah? Yes.

So, if I'm a spare part and it's just too untrendy

to have your mother be part of the birthing experience...

Birthing experience? Would you stop!

This is my pregnancy, not yours. Can you just let me get on with it?

I could drive you and carry your stuff and...

Anyway, I've made plans.

If you don't want me around, that's fine.

I'm doing the relaxation class then having lunch with Zara.

She's coming here. It's all arranged.

Of course it is. Just promise me you won't overdo it.

I won't overdo it. God forbid I step out of line.

I just want to help.

No, you want to be in control. You always do.

Oh, that's right. The evil bitch of a mother

who wants her daughter and granddaughter to be well.

What a cow! Right, I'll see you later.

Bye.

And just don't take it too fast over that humpback bridge.

I worry about you taking off over that bridge.

And it wouldn't kill you to have a siesta.

And no strenuous sexual activities.

Mother!

I'm joking!

Daniel's hissy-fit notwithstanding,

I know you're both going to be fantastic parents.

-Are we?

-Yeah, you are.

Before you know it, the next one'll come along,

then you'll have two of them in bed with chicken pox

and two of them peeing on every clean sheet in the house.

That is not going to happen.

You'll want more.

No. This is the only baby I'm going to have.

Ah, you say that now...

No it is, because this...

..this was my last egg.

Well, then.

I am here to tell you, as I know your mum would tell you,

that this baby,

this little chap here, is one hell of a lucky egg.

Yes.

PHONE RINGS

-Hello.

-You'd better be wearing loose-fitting joggers, Carmichael

or I'm having you drummed out of The Four Oaks Brood Mare Society.

Please, no! I want to pant like a Labrador and focus on my areolas.

Good girl. See you at half ten.

-Lunch after?

-Oh, that'd be nice.

Tastic. That's one less lie I've told my mother.

My place? Soft cheese, undercooked eggs, two types of pate...

-Sound delish?

-You do know I'm a GP right?!

Issue me with a health warning, I'm dropping you as a friend.

-Ciao bella!

-Oh, Rachel!

-Yeah?

-Can I bring anything?

Gin and fags.

-Hi.

-Hello.

-Miss Maitland, please.

MOBILE PHONE RINGS

-Oh, excuse me. This could be important.

-I'll save you a spot.

Rachel Lawson?

Oh, Elizabeth.

What can I do for you?

What are you doing here?

Shh! Birthing partners have an open invite.

You've been ages. Was it something important?

-Could've been, if I had a time machine.

-What?

Shh!

Sorry. Doesn't matter.

You were at least 15 minutes.

There was no bog roll in the ladies. Again.

-Oh, you're kidding.

-Shh!

I bet there's a bog roll in there now.

If I couldn't turn a massive profit with this place

and have two ply in the restrooms, I'd shoot myself. In the face.

You complained?

Does Dolly Parton sleep on her back?

Good. I'm bursting.

ALL: Shhhh!

Ooh, quick. She might think we've gone.

-Where'd she go?

-Well, she has to check her lippy

before she orders her kumquat and mango smoothie.

-"Never know who you might meet."

-You don't know how lucky you are.

Rachel! Zara! Kumquat and...

Just OJ.

Two OJs and a kumquat and mango.

-She only orders kumquat cos she thinks it sounds funny.

-It does.

Now then, ladies. What about lunch?

We could stay here or go to one of those nice places in the park?

-My treat.

-I've already told you. Zara's coming to my house.

Honestly, mother. This is me cutting the apron strings.

Wait, no sorry. You never actually wore an apron, did you?

-I don't mind.

-I do. And I've already told her.

I've made plans, and, you might want to mark this in your diary,

-you are not going to muscle in.

-Whatever you want.

-Capiche?

Don't mind her. She's been in a bad mood since she was seven.

OK, OK, I get the message. I've got some shopping to do anyway.

-Course you have.

-I've read about an amazing anti-stretch mark cream.

I'll go into town and do a recce or two.

Don't worry, if it smells remotely of coconut I won't buy it.

Oh, for me it's chlorine, bleach, all those sort of things.

Oh, well I could never...

You're not pregnant.

When I was, though, there was no cream for stretch marks.

And my mother had been dead for a decade.

I lost my mother when I was young too.

Thank you.

So what are we really having?

We are having sausages, real chips and gravy.

-How very northern.

-Followed by hot chocolate pudding

-and homemade clotted cream ice cream.

-No salad?

Eat that if you must.

I think I'd rather have chips.

Oh, good. I was beginning to think my nagging mother had nobbled you too.

"Real Pain," though. Have you ever heard such a load of old cobblers?

Well, there's something to be said for total immersion in the birth.

-I mean, if you can?

-Rubbish. Pain is pain.

What about forging a true connection between mother and child?

My mother was in labour for two days before they had to

cut me out of her and look at us, yeah?

What is the word for the exact opposite of connected?

I had coffee in town the other day and a child tutted at me.

I am so sick of being judged.

I had a secret scan to find out the sex of the baby

and Daniel is furious.

No, you didn't!

He is so mad I almost wish I didn't know that it's a boy.

A boy? Aww! Oh, he could hook up with this one.

Oh, Daniel'll come round.

I keep being horrible to him.

-Why?

-I am just so furious about "House Horrible,"

even though he did it with the best of intentions.

So cut him some slack.

Oh, that's rich coming from you!

Mrs "Jump down my mother's throat as soon as look at her."

She drives me mad. I can't help it.

I'd swap my mother for a half decent partner any day.

No, you wouldn't.

SOOTHING MUSIC PLAYS

OK, I have to go for a walk.

I don't think I could move.

PHONE BEEPS

Oh, read that for me, would you?

It's from Elizabeth Owen. It says...

"Decision, question mark."

As if it's up to me.

Right. D'you really want to go for that walk?

It'll do us good.

If I lived here I'd have horses, and ponies,

and maybe even a donkey or two.

Yeah right. What about being tied down?

-Haven't we rather left ourselves no way out?

-What?

Everyone's allowed to ask themselves that.

YOU'RE having second thoughts? You?

With your hard-won baby and everything you want?

If you think you might have got it wrong, where does that leave me?

Stuck here! A slave to this and its grandmother!

Didn't you listen to anything I said about my mother?

Tell you what, you want Eleanor? Have her.

I hated my childhood.

I just wanted this glamorous, successful woman to be my mother

and that's the one thing she didn't have time for.

Well, maybe that's what she's trying to make up for now?

Sometimes I feel like I'm having this baby so she can have another go.

Eleanor would hate it if she knew you thought that.

Why have I let it get this far?

Cos I went with the flow, that's why, and I've ended up drowning.

Have you just thought of that? Because it's very good.

I'm serious.

-I want to change things.

-Well, it's too late for that.

We just have to hitch up our pants and dang well get on with it now.

Have we? What about third time lucky?

I don't get it.

If I'd suspected six months ago that I could get up the duff

I would've taken the morning after pill.

Really?

-I would. Strike one.

-Are you serious?

And if I hadn't thought it was some pre-menopausal dry up

I'd have had a test and a termination. Strike two.

Well, now you're in your third trimester

and you're having this baby.

So what are you going to do? Are you going to put her up for adoption?

My body tricked me, my mother got all clucky, then I thought,

"Well, I suppose it's now or never." Perfect storm.

And now it's game over.

Rubbish. Your career isn't over.

Come on. You're just feeling all mopey and "Ah me, poor me."

I know how that feels, cos I feel it too and I have to fight it.

So what do we do? We walk.

Come on. Endorphins baby!

The call at the spa, it was a job offer.

In New York. Chance of a lifetime.

I can't even go and see them because of this.

Of course you can. You can fly at six months

and the last I heard America's pretty hot on anti-discrimination.

Oh, get real. Who's going to take this on

when there's real money on the table?

You're pregnant, not terminally ill!

Even a few months ago, I could have drunk vodka and jumped up and down

and that would have been that.

But no! I'm never allowed to think about me.

You're not a wilting pushover. I don't buy it.

My mother, my doctor. They made me do the coddling.

Stick your feet up, Rachel. Have a rest, Rachel.

Think of the baby, Rachel.

And, in 12 weeks...

you'll see.

You're right. We will see.

Ray?

Rachel! It's your mother.

Rachel!

It should have been a statistic.

It would be if I hadn't atrophied myself

being what everyone else expected me to be.

-Well, enough. Let's see.

-What?

Let's see what happens if I put myself first.

You said we should walk. Let's walk.

What are you talking about?

Lap of the gods, Zara. Lap of the gods.

Rachel, wait!

Rachel!

OK. Look, you might want to run around the forest

like some crazed Sally Gunnell,

but I would like to go back to the house and eat cake.

I want to live in Greenwich Village.

I want to be the only person for the job.

That's what I want! So...

so let's see how much this baby wants me not to.

-What are you doing?

-If it's so determined to stay in there

there's nothing I can do to get it out, right? Look, nothing.

You're not make going to miscarry by jumping up and down on the spot.

It's a baby, not a tray of china. She's safe in there.

I'm leaving it for the gods!

My placenta praevia...

-What placenta praevia?

-..is complete.

-What?!

Oh, yeah, top of the class. Full marks to me.

And my prize? Bed rest and tedium.

No career, and staying at home with my mother.

OK, stop this right now!

What? It's a test.

A test of what? Your desire to stay alive?

What's the worst that can happen?

Loads of women miscarry.

You're not going to miscarry, you're going to induce labour!

And with the baby at the gestation it's at, the baby could easily die.

-And if you, if your placenta rips...

-What?

-You could bleed to death.

It's lucky my mate's a doctor then, isn't it?

You are an idiot. What do you expect me to be able to do out here?

It hasn't worked anyway. That's it then.

The gods have spoken and they're not on my side.

Sit down. What you and I need is some rest.

It's meant to be.

I said sit down. Who knows what damage you've done.

Oh, it didn't work!

Are you stupid as well as selfish? I said sit down!

We are going to rest.

We are going to stay here for a while,

and then, we are going to walk back to the house slowly.

Every movement you make from now on is going to save this baby

and your life. Do you understand?

PHONE RINGS

Hello?

Can I stop you there?

This is, er, this is Eleanor Lawson, Rachel's mother.

Are you aware that Rachel's six months

into an extremely difficult pregnancy?

I thought not. New York will just have to wait.

But if you really want the best woman for the job,

call back in June. She's worth waiting for.

But you know that already. Yes.

I'll, erm...I'll let her know you called. Thank you. Bye.

Why didn't you tell me?

About what? My low slung placenta or the job offer?

The best job offer I'm ever likely to get in my life.

Judge me if you want.

Why? Would it make you feel better?

I need to get you home and then into a hospital.

We need to check you haven't done yourself some real damage.

I think I'm good to go.

This isn't a joke!

If you start to bleed out here, there's nothing I could do.

Remember, slowly.

Zara? I'm bleeding.

Oh, no. OK. Come on, let's sit you down.

Sit you down here really gently.

Gently. Gently.

All right. All right. All right.

-Hello? Yes, I need an amb... Oh, no!

-Zara?

OK. OK, you need to stay here and you need to stay still.

I am just going to go up the hill a bit.

I'm just going up the hill a bit.

Yes, hello, it's an emergency. I need an ambulance, please.

An ambulance!

-Dr Carmichael?

-No, Zara's with my daughter.

They must have gone for a walk.

-Do you know which way?

-Is it Zara? She's pregnant.

They can't have gone long, because my daughter...

-Which way?

-She always goes the same way but further.

-Up into the woods. I don't know.

-We'll find her.

OK, OK. Stay as still as you can.

I am going to try and find them.

I don't want to die.

OK. OK. OK, everything's going to be all right.

-It is!

-What have I done? Oh...

I am going to try and find them.

Nobody is going to die.

OK.

OK, I am going to try and find them. Stay awake, Rachel.

Stay awake! I'm going to find them.

Oh, over here!

Oh, why didn't you stop her?

-I didn't know.

-Where is she?

Rachel! Rachel!

What's your name, love? Love, can you tell me your name?

Save the baby. Please, you've got to try and save the baby.

-Please don't touch me.

-Sorry.

I know what you think of me. I want to go home.

Please...

I don't want to be in here!

Come on, come on.

She isn't alive, is she?

She should see her. That's best isn't it, Doctor Carmichael?

Erm, stages of grief and all that?

-Mummy...

-I've seen her.

She looked just like you.

I, I don't want to see her.

I thought not. So I've...er, asked them to take a photograph.

But it's up to you.

It was an accident, mummy! It wasn't my fault.

What? Whose fault was it then? Rachel?!

Oh, it's never your fault, is it?

Poor misunderstood, downtrodden Rachel.

Eleanor...

You know what I thought?

I thought if I was the best grandmother in the world,

I'd get another chance...with you!

But it, it doesn't matter what I do, does it?

Oh, blame me, keep blaming me. What do I care now?

You should see her.

What am I going to do?

They'll discharge you in the morning.

Ring New York.

You might as well.

-Daniel.

-Hey, you! Hey! Erm, I need to do that Stevie Wonder thing.

What's that?

# I just called to say I love you. #

And to say sorry for being a pillock,

and that our son is going to be

the luckiest little boy in the whole world to have you as a mum.

Hey, what's wrong?

Nothing.

Nothing now.

Have you got any other relatives? Friends? Neighbours?

Yeah, you mean like old peeping Tom?

I can't get through to her. Both lines are dead.

If it were serious, Patrick would have let you know.

All I can get from him is some stupid voicemail.

-What happened?

-I just can't discuss it yet, OK?

-Come on a problem shared...

-Look I need some space, OK?

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