"Why hasn't she phoned? I should call her, shouldn't I? Maybe I'll Skype her instead. We should check that she's ok and not lying dead in a ditch somewhere on some stupid island in the middle of the Med. I'm going to phone her."

Lottie and I were having dinner at her parent's house in Surrey and we were both watching, enthralled, as Jimmy Delaney word vomited his thoughts on why my teenaged- yet adult- daughter hadn't been in contact with him since she flew out to Ibiza on the weekend. Earlier, he was convinced that Martha had been kidnapped and that's why we hadn't heard from her. Neither Lottie nor I had the balls to tell him that she texts us on the hour, every hour just to let us know that she is indeed alive and not dead in a ditch. 

From the sounds of her texts, Martha and her friends were enjoying every single second of their time in Ibiza. For a group of young ones, she, Flo and Kizzy hadn't been out much, instead, they had spent most of their days lounging by the pool and catching up on gossip. Martha was constantly updating me with the news that so-and-so that she used to go to school with was now in rehab, or someone-or-another was pregnant.

You should be glad that I didn't turn out to be as much of a fuck up as some of the other people. 

I wasn't sure whether I should be proud about that or not. While I'm happy she's not in rehab and that she isn't pregnant, it still doesn't detract from the fact that Martha can still be considered to be a fuck up. Then again, if it's any consolation, aren't we all fuck ups really? 

"James," Camille Clément sighs out her husband's name in that long drawl that she was famous for. It was a mixture of exasperation and amusement, tinged with love. I've heard it countless times between Jimmy and Camille but it's the only thing that can reign in Lottie's hot-headed father. When Jimmy rolls his eyes and crosses his arms while pouting, Camille gives a victorious smile and nods with satisfaction. "Alors, Charlotte, we need to discuss the names that you have chosen for the baby."

I should have seen this coming. I'm not sure how Camille found out about the name choices we'd settled on but as soon as we turned up earlier, it was the first thing she wanted to discuss. Thankfully, at the time, Lottie was starved and was more fixated on going into the dining room so she could devour the delicious smelling dinner than talking about what names we decided on. However, now that all the food had disappeared, there was nothing stopping Camille from demanding that we change the names. 

"Harlow thinks-"

"Never in the history of the English language has a good sentence ever started with, 'Harlow thinks,'" I can't help but say as I interrupt Camille. I'd spoken without meaning to but once the words were out, I didn't regret them and I wasn't going to apologise for saying them, no matter how hard Lottie glared at the side of my head. "This is why I didn't want to tell anyone what we'd picked. Everyone is going to think they have a say in what we name our child when really, the only ones that should be making the decision is us. And by 'us', I obviously mean you, Lottie, because I lied and passed the naming rights to you."

Lottie smirked when I finally managed to spare her a glance. "Glad you understand that. Now, Mum, what were you saying about Gran?"

As it turns out, Harlow was fond of the name Shea. It was her great grandfather's name or something, and she was delighted that we were honouring a family member in such a way. When the news was delivered, I could sense Lottie having a huge change of heart as we previously had said that we wouldn't name the baby after anyone in our family tree. Secretly, I was glad that she was having second thoughts because I'd never been a fan of the name but it was the best of a bad bunch that she'd provided me. All I had to do was wait for an announcement that we couldn't have Eloise and that would make my day. Honestly, I'd be happier than a toddler on Christmas morning if that was the case. 

It's not that I hated Eloise but I just didn't think it fitted. It sounded too French which likely wouldn't blend in with Martha, making it a little too different to the aesthetics of the names that needed to compliment each other. Martha and Shea wasn't a great combination, either. Shea reminded me of shea butter and no one wants to be reminded of the fat from a tree when they're looking at their kid. 

"Ok, and what about the name Eloise?" Lottie asked as she played with the stem of her glass, looking entirely bored. "Don't tell me, we have a third cousin, twice removed that has that name."

"Non," Camille answered, shaking her head in the negative. "Everyone liked it. They all approve."

For some reason, that was worse than Lottie's French side of the family hating the name. Already, I can see the cogs of Lottie's mind turning as she starts to think up a new set of names. So long as she didn't blurt any of them out while we were still at her parent's house, I was ok with having to listen to the new slew of names during the drive back to the city. With only a few weeks left before Nugget arrived, we didn't have long to decide on a name so hopefully, Lottie could make up her mind, stat. 

"Maybe she drank herself into a coma," Jimmy suddenly spoke, alerting us all to the fact that he hadn't been listening for the past ten minutes. The noise of the chair scraping against the floor made me wince and I could only watch as Jimmy headed for the door that led to the kitchen, phone pressed to his ear as he asked, "Martha Rhiannon Fletcher, are you alive?"

With her father gone, Lottie took that as an opportunity to leave the table, wandering off into the hallway and not coming back anytime soon, leaving me to sit across the table from my girlfriend's mother. 

I remember when Daniel started dating Sophie; he would come to our boy's night and tell us all about how scary his mother-in-law-to-be was. He called her Crazy Cam behind her back, a nickname that hasn't really lost its edge. Dan would share stories about how Camille would text him in the middle of the day with some absurd request and an unachievable deadline in which to complete the request. Once, she ordered him to find a black rose for her by the time they met for lunch, giving him only a few hours to get his hands on a flower that didn't exist. When it came down to the last few minutes, Dan ran into a florist, found a type of rose that was so deep in its shade of red that it was almost classed as black. From then on, Camille softened towards him but not by much. 

I wondered what my challenge would be. I always thought that Harlow Delaney was bad, wanting to kill me, bury me in the garden while her dogs pee all over me, but when Camille Clément bestows upon you her infamous blue stare, Harlow looks tame in comparison. 

"I like you, Isaac," Camille tells me, although there seems to be an underlying 'but' in her words. She likes me but... I shifted nervously in my chair, wondering if the woman was trying to lure me into a sense of false security only to pounce on me when my defences were low. I needed to be on the top of my game with her. I prompted her to continue by slightly bowing my head. "We never had to worry about Charlotte. She was always strong and willful, she wouldn't let anyone bring her down, and she didn't need a man to, uh, validate her as a woman. On the other hand, she always looked sad. More so after what happened last year. Then this year! Mon Dieu, she changed. She's still the same girl I raised but now she's happier. You did that for her. You, the baby, Martha... you make her happy. That's why I like you."

I smile at hearing her words, wanting to savour them forever. "What you're basically saying is that I'm your favourite son-in-law, right?"

"Non," Camille shakes her head as she laughs. "Adam is still my favourite. You come a close second, however. Daniel is a lost cause."

The door that led to the kitchen opened and Jimmy returned, a big fat grin on his face as he announced that he was ready for dessert. It was tempting to ask why he was in a good mood, only I didn't; I knew it would have something to do with having spoken to Martha but I didn't care to know what they discussed on the phone. She'll text me in the morning and that would be enough for me. At least, it would be until the girls came back on Saturday. Then I'll want the full story. 

"Where's Charlotte?" Jimmy asked when it became apparent our party of four was now a party of three. "Isaac, you fetch Charlotte, I'll fetch dessert. Camille, you sit there and look as fetching as ever, my dear."

Now being more than familiar with the Clément Delaney house, I navigated the hallways as I searched each room for Lottie, peering around doors as my search proved fruitless. It wasn't until I went up to the first floor that it started to look more promising. Avoiding the bedrooms I knew wasn't Charlotte's, I went to the door that had a decorative C on it and turned the handle, opening it to find Lottie lying on her old bed, staring at the ceiling. 

"Sorry, I just needed to lie down for a bit," she explained without looking in my direction. I think she knew that it was me because she patted the space on the bed next to her, inviting me to lie down with her. I duly did as she asked, taking my place at her side, and quickly wrapped my hand around hers. She had something on her mind. "I don't want to name the baby. It's too hard coming up with a name. I'm relinquishing my right to naming the baby. You can do it."

My face morphed into a mask of shock. "Are you serious?" There was no way on earth that Lottie would allow me to name our child, not after the way that I deceived her. "Charlotte, I'm not naming Nugget."

"Well, neither am I," she protests. Her eyes flit to mine, her upper eyelashes brushing against her cheek when she blinks. She looks utterly beautiful. "Maybe we can get Martha to choose one. As long as it's not a stupid name. I still want a veto vote. She knows the sex of the baby so that's half the battle. I don't want the pressure of naming a human."

I shake my head at the idea that Martha is sensible enough to pick a name. The girl shouldn't be allowed to pick her own clothes most days and we're giving her the huge responsibility of naming her sibling? Suddenly, Shea and Eloise don't seem so bad in comparison to what my eldest could choose for my youngest. 

"Lottie, what name do you want?" I ask her, my voice sincere as I seek out an honest answer. "Don't think about what everyone else wants, think about what name you want. There must be one in that pretty little head of yours. Now, let's play a game. I say baby girl, you say-"

Immediately, Lottie answers. Then she smiles. 

"See, it wasn't that bad," I smile at her. "Let's try this one. I say baby boy, you say-"

And that's how Nugget was named. All we had to do was wait. And neither Lotttie nor I are particularly patient. Nugget better be here sooner rather than later. 

So as I said last Sunday, there's a double update on the weekend. A short update on Saturday and a normal length one on Sunday!

I am far too excited. 

See you then!

Sarah xx