The Heartbreak Factor - Part One

Chapter Sixty.

"Insy winsy spider climbed up the water spout," I sang as I laid on the floor next to Jack, shaking his teddy spider above him as he starred up at it - his face still showing no emotions.

"What are you doing?" mum laughed as she walked into the front room.

"I'm trying to get him to smile," I smiled. "Google said that it's between four and six weeks that a baby usually smiles for the first time."

"Sammy.." mum said. "He's only five weeks old."

"But still," I grinned at Jack, ignoring mum. "Who's gonna smile for Sammy?"

I watched down at him in anticipation, waiting for the corners of his mouth to curl up. There wasn't even a flicker of evidence of a smile. "Sammy," mum laughed.

"What?"

"He'll smile when he's ready," she smiled, handing me my phone. "I find that playing Carly Rae Jepsen's Call Me Maybe usually works for a bit of a smile though."

"I can do one better," I grinned as she walked out of the room.

"Turn into Carly Rae Jepsen?" mum called back to me sarcastically as she stood in the hallway sorting the post out.

"Nope," I said, pressing play on my phone and placing the phone next to Jack. "Get Georgey, JJ, Jaymi and Joshy to sing it to you!"

As the song played there was still no sign of a smile; in fact, Jack didn't show any signs of emotion throughout the whole duration of the song. "You're just a Mister Grumpy Gills, aren't you?" I laughed, picking him up and resting him on my chest.

"Haven't you got to go pack for the final?" mum asked to me as she carried my suitcase back into the lounge and placing it in the middle of the rug, next to where I was sat holding Jack.

"I'll do it later," I smiled.

"Later never comes with you."

"Later as in tomorrow morning before my train," I grinned, rocking Jack from side to side.

"Are you sure that you have everything for the final?" mum asked me.

"Yes," I groaned as mum slipped back into her typical mum character.

"Have you spoken to George, Josh, Jaymi or JJ today?" mum asked as if I was a criminal and she was the interrogator.

"Of course," I said. "Mum, please stop fussing over me."

"I just know how disorganised you are and I don't want to be driving across to Manchester when you ring me up at 3am Saturday morning to tell me you've forgotten your tooth brush or something trivial like that."

"Sit," I ordered firmly, pointing to the sofa that had my clothes for the weekend sprawled all over it.

"You're so messy," mum laughed, trying to put some order to my clothes. "I dread to think what you'll be like when you move out and have to tidy up for yourself.”

"I'll never move out," I joked. "I'm gonna live with you and Michael forever."

"Oh, God help me!"