Monday 23 January

8am. Momentous day: first scan of baby at hospital. Awoke, however to feelings of loss and sadness re: whale. When whale first appeared in Thames, felt (along with national pride at England being famous for whale rather than Big Brother and paedophile scandals) whale was symbol of own bloated form - a visitor from the Spirit World to pilot me through turbulent times. But when heard they'd found mother whale crying for her baby in North Sea was devastated and then... Cannot bear to think of what the mummy whale must be feeling now, and... Gaah! Telephone.

Was Daniel. "So, Jones, this scan today, what time is it?"

I gasped. "I thought you weren't coming?" (Daniel and I have had a bit of a rapprochement - or more accurately on-going row - since I saw him in the Electric last week, but at least we're back in contact.)

"I might be able to squeeze it in. Where is it?"

"St. Mary's, Paddington, at 9.30."

"Oh God. It'll be like being in a third world brothel. Can't we go somewhere nice?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know: the sort of place footballers' wives go. Overpaid obsequious doctors and nice one-bedroom suites."

"Daniel," I hissed, wishing I had got pregnant by a worthy Marine Vet instead of this crazed media popinjay. "We're not going on holiday. We're going for a medical scan."

"OK, Jones. No need to go off like a burst boiler. I'll come and pick you up at 9."

Is weird, Daniel coming, after all the time I spent fantasising about going to first scan with him when we were on/off shagging. Maybe whale was an omen? Maybe it's all going to be wonderful just like in the fantasies and gaah! Doorbell. Better get dressed.

Noon. Scan was not how I had dreamed or imagined. After flirting with the attractive Chinese ultrasound lady, Liu, Daniel saw my pregnant stomach and yelled "Aargh! Jones! You look like a boa constrictor who's eaten a goat."

"Shut up," I said through clenched teeth. How could I maintain the fiction that we were normal expectant co-parents if he behaved like this?

"...or actually, more like that whale in the Thames."

"Well that's not very tactful is it?" said a crisp, familiar voice. "It died."

It was Dr Warthead, (aka Rawlings) my disapproving GP, breezing in and flinging open the window to the sub-glacial Russian air.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed, appalled.

"Oh, I often sit in on my patients' scans. Part of my obstetrics course. And who might this be?"

"Daniel Cleaver," he said, smoothly staring at the mole/wart on her head. "And may I say how thrilling it is to meet someone so highly skilled and clever, Dr......?"

"Rawlings," she said, turning all fluttery. "Haven't we met somewhere before?"

"Not unless you used to run a VD clinic," I muttered.

"I'm sorry?" said Dr Warthead coldly, while Daniel snorted.

"Light, shall we get on?" said Liu.

"Wait, wait. You're on the television, aren't you?" said Warthead with a creepy knowing smile.

"Oh, it's just some silly little part-time job. Complete nonsense," said Daniel.

"It's that travel show, isn't it! I LOVED it when you went to that spa in Vietnam and wriggled about in the mud with those girls. We absolutely HOOTED. So what are you doing here?"

What did she think he was doing here? Did stray television presenters often wander into random pregnant women's ultrasound scans?

"Oh, just giving Bridget here a bit of moral support," he said, as if he was Jimmy Savile popping into Leeds Infirmary to cheer up the patients en route to the Big Brother House.

"He's the baby's father," I hissed.

"Oh, finally worked that one out, did we?" she said under her breath.

"Light. Shall we get on?" said Liu.

"Dirty bitch," muttered Daniel under his breath as Liu started massaging KY jelly into my stomach. "Now you really do remind me of that whale, Jones."

She turned the screen towards us and suddenly I thought my heart was going to burst. There was my little girl. She already had a tiny head and arms and legs.

"There's a hand there, you see it?"

She was real. She was a real baby.

"And there's the penis."

"Penis?" I said, sitting bolt upright, so that the picture went off.

Just then there was a crash behind me. Daniel was on the floor.

"Crikey, he's fainted!" said Warthead, diving down like a labrador trying to revive its owner. Had it been me, she'd have been bitch-slapping me and throwing buckets of water at my head, but she was practically licking Daniel's face.

"Better not let the press get hold of this!!" she said, rearing up, grinning excitedly, then bobbing back down.

"Sorry. Must have blacked out," murmured Daniel. "Christ, bit of a shock, seeing the real thing."

"Did you say penis?" I said to Liu, who was waiting impassively, holding her KY-smeared ultrasound scanner aloft.

"Yes, penis. You lie back down? See it now? Velly big."

Very big? I didn't want a very big penis inside me. It was supposed to be a girl.

"Like father, like son," Daniel pulled himself up and smirked at the screen. "Everything all right, Jones?"

I was nearly in tears. All the outfits I'd bought, the little dresses, the pink Ugg boots. And I'd been looking forward to this scan for so long, it was my big day and Daniel had completely taken over then fainted on the floor and now there was an enormous penis inside me and he was gloating about it.

Then I looked back at the screen and saw the baby turning his little face towards us. He was opening and shutting his tiny mouth and trying to move his fingers like a little mole, as if he was trying to tell us something. Felt Daniel's hand fumbling for mine. "Jones."

I blinked at him, as my mascara started to dribble. I'd never seen Daniel cry before.