‘I know what you mean,’ says Magda, about to launch into her own stories of the incredulous wonder of being in control of her own body, but she doesn’t, because she has noticed that Cibi has gone very red in the face.
‘Are you OK?’ she asks Cibi. ‘You’ve gone all .?.?.’
‘I’m having a baby!’ Cibi blurts.
The sisters slam down their coffee cups and burst into howls of excitement.
‘If Grandmother were here she’d deliver the baby,’ says Livi finally, turning back to her pastry.
‘She’d put ruby earrings into her ears,’ says Magda, gulping down her now cold coffee.
‘Would she still do that if it was a boy?’ Livi asks.
The girls dissolve into laughter.
*
Every day and for the next seven months, Magda and Livi visit Cibi; they feel the baby kick and they marvel at the expansion of Cibi’s belly. They quiz her midwife, letting it be known they will be present at the birth. Mischka, however, won’t, and it’s not expected of him.
Magda and Livi turn up unexpectedly at Cibi’s apartment one day, demanding she accompanies them on a secret mission.
‘I don’t want to go anywhere! Look at me, I’m an elephant,’ she wails.
‘Even elephants go shopping.’ Livi giggles. ‘Come on, Jumbo. Get up.’
‘Where are we going? You wouldn’t do this to me if you knew what it was like to have a giant football in your tummy.’
‘We don’t know, you’re right. And that’s because you, as the eldest, have taken it upon yourself to do everything first,’ Magda says.
‘But I look so bloated and puffy.’
‘You’ve looked worse, trust me,’ Livi says, grinning.
‘That’s not fair! You looked just as bad as me,’ Cibi throws back at her.
‘I never looked as bad as you two did, did I?’ Magda says, suddenly serious.
‘But you would have, if you’d been there as long as we had,’ Livi says, and immediately wants to bite back the words. ‘I’m sorry, Magda, that came out wrong. I’m an idiot.’ Livi hangs her head.
‘I know it did. It’s OK. Just help me get the elephant up off the sofa, into her shoes and out of the door.’
Cibi lets herself be dragged out of the apartment and onto the busy high street. Livi lingers by every clothes shop they pass and each time Magda urges her on.
‘This trip is for Cibi,’ she says, impatiently, ‘not you. Come on, we’re nearly there.’
Magda and Livi stop in front of a large shop, its windows full of prams and cots and tiny mannequins sporting colourful children’s clothes.
‘We’re here!’ Magda announces, finally.
‘I can’t afford anything in there,’ Cibi says, deflated.
‘But we can, Cibi.’ Livi takes her arm to lead her into the shop, but Cibi resists.
‘It’s OK,’ Livi soothes. ‘We’ve saved a little money from our wages these past few months and now we have enough to buy a pram for that soccer ball.’
‘All you have to do is choose the one you want,’ Magda says.
‘We weren’t going to have a pram; we can’t afford one.’
‘You are going to have a pram, Cibi Meller!’ Livi insists. ‘Mumma would have wanted you to have one, and we want you have one.’
‘Will you please come inside and choose one?’ Magda takes Cibi’s arm and, finally, Cibi allows herself to be dragged inside the shop.
An hour later, Cibi is pushing a brand-new pram all the way home. The sisters are quiet, aware of the those who can’t be here as they prepare to welcome a new generation of Mellers, but it’s Cibi who looks the saddest.
‘Are you OK?’ Livi asks, taking her hand. ‘Is it the pram?’
Cibi seems to come back from far away. ‘No, Livi. Of course not, I love the pram. It’s everything I could have wished for.’
‘Is it Mumma, then? Are you thinking about her?’
‘I’m always thinking about her. But that’s not it, either.’ Cibi pushes the pram to the side of the pavement and the sisters follow.
‘What is it then?’ asks Magda, puzzled.
‘It’s Mischka,’ says Cibi. She meets her sisters’ eyes and looks away. ‘This isn’t his first child,’ she says.
Livi and Magda stare at Cibi, waiting for more.
‘I don’t understand,’ says Magda, finally. ‘He has another child?’
Cibi nods. ‘Mischka has been married before and he has also been a father before.’