GRANNY STATE DIARY OF A FIRSTTIME GRANDMOTHER (IT’ S COMPLICATED)

This week: it’s time for Rose’s christening, where three competing grannies are eager to hold the baby

‘Is my panic over the christening dress really an extension of my panic over the family do?’

‘W hat do you mean?” asks my daughter with an edge of panic in her voice. “You said you knew where the christening dress was.”

Well, I do. At least I thought I did. But one of the inconveniences of divorce is that things are often muddled up between the two parental houses. All our children were christened in the same cream Victorian robe and I’m pretty sure that I saw it the other year in one of our spare bedrooms. Yet now it’s vanished. And the christening is looming.

But this is nothing compared with the apprehensive beating in my chest because the “other granny” and my first husband will be there – along with my newish husband and relatives.

Meanwhile, Rose is laughing – yes, really! – and cooing as if all this is hilarious. I cannot get over this miracle developing in front of our eyes. Every day she does something different. Now when she sees me, she reaches out with her chubby little hand which makes my heart flip over. Never have I been so much in love.

If only I could find this flipping christening dress. Or is my panic over the dress really an extension of my panic over the family do?

“It will be all right,” says J, a spiritual friend whom I’ve met since moving to the sea. She places her hand on Rose’s arm, just as she had done when Rose had been ill in hospital as a baby. “Your granddaughter is an old soul. She will bring everyone together.”

Still no dress. My daughter borrows one from a friend. “It’s not the same,” we say to each other sadly. And then, with days to go, I find it! I hold the robe next to my cheek and breathe in its mustiness. Instantly I am transported back to when our first child was christened and my mother was still alive.

My parents, too, were divorced and my father didn’t come to the christening. I understand why – but I am suddenly determined to break the cycle and create harmony.

The day has arrived. Rose looks beautiful in the dress (hastily dry-cleaned). “Grandparents in the front,” suggests our vicar. Six of us take our place.

“You should sit next to each other,” says my first husband’s wife. Then she pats the place next to her, indicating that my newish husband should join her instead.

It all feels very surreal. I concentrate on Rose, my daughter and son-in-law, who only have eyes for each other. That was us, all those years ago. Never in a million years would I have guessed that we would be here now, in a very different wing formation. Rose doesn’t bat an eyelash as the vicar pours water over her head. It’s as though she’s been practising for this role all her life. Afterwards, at the christening tea, she is passed from one grandparent to the other. I swallow hard when it’s my first husband’s wife turn.

“Let me help you tidy up,” she says when everyone has gone. I wash. She dries. We talk. Something strange happens. I realise I like this woman. She’s warm. And surprisingly funny.

“Can someone hold Rose for a minute?” asks my daughter. Three pairs of grandmotherly arms shoot out. Mine gets there first. But in the rush, I knock a glass of champagne all over the christening dress. Next time: How to juggle granny duties without guilt?