Singled Out by Simon Brett Page A

bloody babies.’
    â€˜All right, I’ll forgive you.’ But Rob didn’t sound fully appeased.
    â€˜How is the old bastard, anyway?’
    â€˜As grotesque and charmless as ever. Still, he did actually sign your card from the production team, so aren’t you the lucky one?’
    â€˜Hm.’
    â€˜Editorial meetings the last two mornings have been dire – but
dire
. Really crappy ideas coming up. Dennis’s been effing and blinding and stamping his little foot, because – say what you like about him – he can always recognize shit when he sees it. Takes one to know one, you could say. No, you’ve only been away for two programmes and already he’s missing your inestimable contribution.’
    â€˜Good,’ said Laura.
    In his perspex cot at the side of her bed, Tom stirred under his much-washed blue cotton blanket. Laura, as recommended by the hospital for first-time mothers, would be staying in for nearly a week. Her initial reaction on hearing the suggestion had been to disagree and contemplate discharging herself after forty-eight hours. But reason had prevailed. There would be no one to help her when she got back to the flat and, besides, she needed to build up her strength before she took over the full responsibility of looking after Tom.
    He was making the little hacking noise which Laura now recognized preceded crying, and she heaved herself up on the pillows. ‘Pass him to me, would you, Rob?’
    â€˜Really?’
    â€˜Well, don’t look so surprised. I’m sure you can manage to pick a baby up. He’s not very heavy.’
    â€˜No. It’s just … some people wouldn’t like the idea of my handling their baby.’
    It took Laura a second or two to realize what he meant. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Rob! Surely you’ve known me long enough to know I wouldn’t think that. What, so I’m meant to be afraid homosexuality’s so infectious that Tom’ll catch it just being touched by you …?’
    Rob looked embarrassed. ‘There are people who think like that.’
    â€˜There are people who want to bring back hanging, but I’m not one of them. Go on, pick him up.’
    â€˜Yes.’ He moved awkwardly towards the cot. ‘Not something I’ve done before.’
    â€˜There’s no problem about it. Just make sure you support his head.’
    With infinite care, and rather touching anxiety, Rob picked the tiny bundle out of its cot and passed it to Laura. The movement quieted Tom’s crying. Rob looked down at the little face. ‘Rotten, really, never to have one of these. Never to have the prospect even. Sometimes regret my sex life is entirely recreational. Procreational bit must be very exciting.’
    Realizing that he was transgressing the rules of flippancy that governed their relationship, he added, ‘Not of course that I’m saying the recreational bit isn’t
good
. Dear oh dear,
so
good, so
very
good. Maybe you should try it with another woman, Laura …? Maybe that’s what’s been wrong with your sex life all these years.’
    As Tom leeched on to the teat of the bottle she offered him, Laura asked mildly, ‘What makes you think there has been anything wrong with my sex life?’
    â€˜Simply that it doesn’t seem to be terribly
active
.’
    She too took refuge in flippancy. ‘Pretty unusual to be very active in the week after you’ve given birth.’
    â€˜Yes, but I mean generally … Considering how attractive you are, it’s amazing how few boyfriends you’ve had.’
    â€˜I am still technically married.’
    â€˜Yes, but …’
    â€˜Maybe I’m just too picky,’ she said lightly. ‘Maybe now I’ve tried living on my own for a while, I realize how little I need a man around cluttering up my space.’
    â€˜Hm, maybe that’s it. And probably it’s an