Three In a Bed

by Carmen Reid

  There was an awkward pause, then thankfully Rod said, ‘I’m going to shoot off then. Nice to meet you, Bella, see you tomorrow, Don,’ and he was gone.

  They were left facing each other.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Don asked again.

  ‘I’m your fucking wife, what the fuck do you think I’m doing here? I didn’t just happen to be passing.’ So, the speech she’d had in mind was undergoing some hasty revisions, as she turned into Reservoir Wife.

  ‘OK,’ he said steadily.

  ‘Just how long were you planning to sulk?’ she demanded. ‘Were you going to come home today? Or were you going to carry on pretending that I don’t exist?’

  ‘I hadn’t really got a plan,’ he said, still very calm. ‘Some of us don’t plan every little thing to the nth degree.’

  She looked him straight in the eye and felt all her anger dissolve. She loved him and just wanted this to be over, just wanted him back.

  ‘I’m really sorry, Don. I should have told you. It was a really shitty thing to do.’ Quietly, she added: ‘I’m sorry . . . I really wanted us to have a baby and I was sure you’d say no if I asked.’

  ‘But maybe I’d changed my mind, Bella,’ he answered. ‘I should have at least had the chance to consider it. Don’t you think it would have made a difference, if I’d known how much you wanted this?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘I feel you don’t trust me.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said again and tears began to slide down her face.

  He put his arm on her shoulder. ‘What do you want to do, Bella?’ he asked.

  ‘I want us to go home,’ she sounded tired and sad, ‘I want everything to be OK.’

  He looked down at the ground: ‘I’m sorry I’ve upset you.’

  ‘Don, I’m eight and a half months pregnant, the theme tune to Emmerdale upsets me,’ she managed a smile.

  He smiled back and they both relaxed a little.

  ‘Please come here,’ he said and they hugged as best they could over her huge bulge.

  ‘Shall we go and get a coffee?’ he asked into her hair.

  ‘Yeah, OK.’ Bladder be damned.

  When they were sitting down, he confessed to all the anxieties Bella had suspected.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ It was his turn to apologize now. He took a swig of his coffee and she saw how tired he looked: ‘It still seems so soon,’ he said. ‘We’ve only known each other for a year and a half, now we’re buying the house, having a baby. You’re charging into all this and I’m wondering if I can handle it.’

  ‘I didn’t expect the pregnancy to work out so easily,’ she said, ‘I thought we’d have to have a few goes. You know what my mother went through.’

  He nodded.

  ‘I’m not going to be able to do this without you, Don.’ She couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, so just stared at the layer of foam dimpling in her untouched cup.

  ‘I know. And I promise I’m going to be here for you, I’ve been thinking about you non-stop, I’ve missed you so much,’ he squeezed her hand.

  ‘But you didn’t even call!’

  ‘I know, I know. I’m so sorry. Once I’m on my high horse, I can never see a way of getting down again.’

  ‘Don! How long would you have left it?’ she looked up at him now and tried to smile a little.

  ‘I don’t know, Bella. It’s terrible. There are some women out there who are still waiting to hear,’ he gave a half smile but she looked serious.

  ‘We’re about to become parents, Don, we need to tackle all this difficult stuff head on. Even though it’s really hard.’

  ‘OK, we will. I promise.’ He moved his chair over so he could put his arm round her. ‘Come here,’ he pressed his mouth against hers, tasting her for what felt like the first time in months. She flooded with relief.

  ‘I love your coat,’ he said when they finally broke off.

  ‘Thanks. Can we go home now?’

  ‘D’you think I’ll get all my stuff in your car?’ he asked as they followed the signs to the car park.

  ‘Oh, I brought the Jeep,’ she tried to sound casual.

  ‘You brought the Jeep! You must really love me.’

  ‘Yeah, I do,’ she answered.

  When they got home, they closed the curtains and went to bed for a very tender fuck, lying side by side.

  He moved carefully inside her moving his hands over her heavy breasts, enormous taut stomach and down between her legs. She was tensing and trembling against him and just as he came, she cried out ‘Oh my God!’ and moved his hand onto her stomach where he could feel waves pulsating across it.

  ‘Shit! Are you in labour?!’

  ‘No, I’ve just had the most incredible orgasm ever. I’m still having it. Whoa . . .’ the rippling was slowing down now. Don kept his hand on her stomach for a long time, until it finally stopped.

  ‘I love you,’ he said, settling his head back on the pillow but still curled up close behind her with his arm resting on her side.

  ‘I love you too,’ she answered.

  ‘I’m going to love the baby,’ he added.

  ‘Me too.’ She felt tears prick at the back of her eyes. Not again! She blinked them away and closed her eyes.

  Moments later they fell asleep and for the first time in days, both of them slept soundly without any troubling dreams.

  Chapter Twenty

  AS SOON AS they clapped eyes on the genuine Land Rover three-wheeler, complete with real tyres, sheepskin lining and handbrake, they both knew that this was the pram for them.

  ‘I cannot believe how much money we have spent on a small, unborn baby.’ Don was looking fazed in the lift. He had taken a few days off, so they could spend a long weekend finally moving into the house and shopping for furniture and baby things.

  One tiny baby seemed to require a mountain of stuff – cradle with all the trimmings, a bath, changing table, towels, vests, rompers, cardigans, assorted clothes Bella could not resist, a car seat and finally – the only thing Don could get excited about – the baby’s set of wheels.

  ‘Yeah, well hold on tight, we’re going to the kitchen department now,’ Bella told him. Poor Don, he had no idea about all that was on her list. They’d rented for years, now they had to furnish a whole house.

  The kitchen was granted an enormous stainless steel fridge, a washing machine, a dishwasher, crockery, pots, pans, cutlery, glasses and wine glasses, which all went through on Bella’s card as Don began to pale at the running total.

  A taxi ride later and they were buying maple wardrobes for the bedroom, an incredibly Parisian-cool leather armchair and a distressed beech kitchen table with six chairs.

  ‘Not half as distressed as I’m going to be when my bill comes in,’ Bella joked to Don, as she signed the card slip, and instantly regretted the gag when he didn’t smile back.

  ‘Right,’ he said as they headed out of the shop. ‘That’s it, you’re not spending any more money. What else do we need?’

  ‘Well, some lamps, some rugs, a coat stand. A new sofa?’ She knew she was going out on a limb here.

  ‘OK.’ He sounded reasonable. ‘Well, I’m getting them.’ Before she could object, he added ‘No, no, no . . . I don’t want to hear it. Bella it’s my home too. I’m not your kept man.’

  ‘Can I come with you?’ she asked. If he was going to go off and rack up a whole load on his credit card, she felt she should at least guide his choices a little bit.

  ‘No, you have to bundle yourself off into a taxi and get home for your check-up with Annie.’

  ‘OK . . . OK, Don. But you don’t have to get everything today,’ she told him, kissing him goodbye. ‘You know, if you don’t see anything you like . . .’

  ‘You mean if I don’t see anything you’d like,’ he grinned at her.

  ‘No, no, it’s your home too.’ She tried to really mean this.

  It was a sunny May afternoon and she was heading back to her new home. She felt happy in the
back of the cab, but very tired. Buying the baby clothes had made her feel weird. What was this going to be like? She had spread one of the tiny babygros over her bump and it just didn’t seem possible that a real, live baby, this size, was going to come out of there in a matter of weeks. . . Weeks!!!

  Mostly she felt strangely relaxed about labour, but occasionally she woke up at night covered in sweat having had a dreadful nightmare about blood and agony.

  She had pitchforked the home birth issue around and around her mind until she had just had to leave it alone as a decision made which should not be unmade. She repeated the statistics to herself like a mantra and took some solace from the intelligent, reasonable women at the yoga class who were nearly all doing the same. The yoga class was fun. It was nice to be surrounded by other pregnant women and moan about varicose veins, stretch marks and, bugbear of her life, piles.

  The front door was open, as usual, because there were always decorators in. Almost every room had now been replastered and painted dazzling white. The floors had been sanded and varnished and the house looked huge, empty and new.

  She walked through the hall and upstairs to the bedroom to dump her bags. The mattress they were sleeping on was still unmade from this morning and boxes full of clothes lined the walls. A bulb hung from the ceiling and there was only a sheet pinned over the window, so they kept waking up early with the light.

  The new shower, toilet and sink were in the bathroom, plumbed in and working but the walls were still bare plaster and the lino had been ripped up, leaving stained plyboard underneath.

  Two of the decorators were replastering in the baby’s room. She put her head round the door to say hello.

  ‘Hello, Bella,’ said the younger one. ‘Bill’s down in the kitchen if you want to talk to him.’

  Not really. She wanted to lie down flat out on her bed, but she thought she’d better go have a chat. She braced herself for the three flights of stairs down to the kitchen and began waddling.

  Bill and two other men were drinking cups of tea when she came in.

  ‘Hello, Bella,’ Bill greeted her. ‘Don’t go giving birth early, this is going to take another week or so. Hopefully we’ll get the bathroom finished off at the same time.’

  ‘Well, I think you’re safe,’ she answered. ‘The baby’s head hasn’t come down yet.’

  There was a collective gulping of tea. This was obviously too much information.

  She hoped the Aga would look OK in the new stainless steel kitchen. She hadn’t had the heart to rip it out and replace it with a steel range. That was the thing about Agas: built-in nostalgia for kitchens you didn’t grow up in but kind of wished you had.

  Finally lying down on her bed, she called Don. ‘Hi, how’s it going?’ she asked.

  ‘Fine,’ he answered. ‘Leave me alone, I can handle this!!’

  ‘All right! I’m just checking! Will you bring dinner home? All our kitchen stuff isn’t being delivered until tomorrow and anyway, I’m too tired.’

  ‘OK, is Annie there yet?’

  ‘No, she won’t be long though.’

  ‘Take care.’

  ‘Bye.’

  When Annie arrived and began doing the routine checks, she was concerned at Bella’s blood pressure. ‘It’s slightly up,’ she said, looking at Bella lying in an exhausted heap on her bed. ‘It’s been rising gently, but this is a little bit of a blip. You’ve got to take it really easy.’

  No wonder her blood pressure was up, Bella thought, she’d done more damage to her collateral today than Black Monday . . . ha, ha.

  She could feel slight palpitations just at the thought of it.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Annie asked.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine. I’ve definitely overdone it today. I don’t think I’ll leave the house again.’

  ‘Well, a little walking is fine and your yoga poses, but really nothing more now. It’s getting very close.’

  ‘Not in the next two weeks, though?’ Bella asked anxiously. ‘The kitchen won’t be finished.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope not. There is running hot and cold in the bathroom if things do start early, isn’t there?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Bella looking panic-stricken. ‘God, Annie, is this really about to happen? I’m not ready.’

  Annie smiled at her. ‘No-one is ever ready, Bella. You can only be prepared. Prepare to be knocked over, amazed and filled with awe. This is going to bowl you over like nothing ever has done before.’

  ‘Oh no, you’re giving me the hippie stuff again, aren’t you?’ Bella smiled. This had become a standing joke between them. Any time Annie started spouting her natural birth philosophies, Bella dealt with it by teasing her.

  Annie wasn’t sure what to make of Bella’s attitude. She was having a home birth, so on some level she must believe it was a good idea, but she hadn’t bought into the whole active birth idea at all. There was no birthing pool, no raspberry leaf tea, no aromatherapy oils burning in the house, no partner learning breathing or massage techniques. Annie hadn’t even met Don yet.

  ‘Why did you choose a home birth, Bella?’ she asked, venting her curiosity.

  ‘Because it’s statistically safe and I wanted a midwife I knew, who could come to my office and home. And . . .’ little pause, ‘I kind of fell out with the private hospital.’

  ‘Ah.’ That explained a bit.

  When Annie had gone, Bella took her tiny pack of ten Ultra Super Mega light cigarettes out of her handbag. She propped herself up on pillows and prepared for her three minutes of what used to be happiness but now was a necessary indulgence hugely spoiled by guilt. She clicked on the lighter and inhaled, firing up her cigarette. The yoga breathing had at least been a help here, she could now fill her lungs right up to the brim and get the maximum benefit out of the paltry amount she allowed herself to smoke.

  Despite all the compulsively interesting birth books she’d read, squatting in front of the Aga in the small hours of the morning, labour was still a mystery. She felt incredibly well informed, but strangely clueless.

  She knew exactly what and why an episiotomy was – OUCH – but no book seemed to offer any description of what labour would actually be like. And she still didn’t know the first thing about babies apart from you ‘put them to the breast’ whenever they cried.

  She liked the idea of breastfeeding. She imagined lying in bed beside Don with their little baby between them nuzzling at her breasts. And what the hell was sex going to be like after birth? There was no useful information about that either, just warnings to exercise that pelvic floor.

  Don wasn’t revealing any details about his shopping trip when he got home that evening and would only say she had to stay in and wait for a delivery the next day.

  The van arrived soon after 11 a.m. and three men were needed to haul the most enormous pale tan L-shaped sofa into their sitting room. Jesus! It must have cost a fortune. This was made from a whole herd of Italy’s finest designer cows, my God. She was stunned. She hadn’t really known what to expect from Don, but certainly something a lot cheaper.

  Three very chic lamps and a vast cream sheepskin rug were also delivered. She was really impressed now.

  She phoned Don at work.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello, darling, guess what I’m lying on?’

  ‘Bill, the decorator?’

  ‘NO!!! A hugely expensive, wonderfully luxurious sofa.’

  ‘Ah-ha. It arrived then. What do you think?’

  ‘Amazing, fantastic . . . bankrupting!’ she told him. And not exactly baby-friendly, but she left that out.

  It did not take long for Bella to set up home on the sofa. Just days from her due date, she had decided it was finally time to stop working, exercising, trying to look nice, even shopping and nesting. She was too tired, too heavy, too huge. She had put on almost three stone in seven months and her home outfit was shapeless black maternity trousers and one of Don’s washed-out tartan shirts. Her feet would only fit into a pair of old sheepskin s
lippers she’d found behind a wardrobe when they moved.

  Prone on the sofa, glued to crap TV or reading decorating magazines, surrounded by grape stalks, digestive biscuit wrappers and empty water bottles, was where Don now expected to find her when he came home from work.

  So he was surprised to find the house strangely dark one evening. In a total panic, he realized he could hear something in the bedroom. He ran up the stairs two at a time, heart pounding, convinced he was going to find his wife about to give birth in their brand new bed.

  He opened the door and saw Bella lying with the duvet over her, sobbing into the pillow.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ He rushed over to her side.

  ‘Oh, Don.’ She looked up at him with streaming red eyes and nose.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked urgently.

  ‘I’ve ruined this house,’ she sobbed.

  ‘What do you mean?!’

  ‘It was so lovely. It was full of character and the two lovely boys and two lovely parents and I’ve ruined it.’

  ‘Oh hon, what’s made you think that?’ He put his arm around her comfortingly.

  ‘I’ve stripped it and gutted it and now it feels white and soulless. And our baby’s going to grow up in this white soulless place and we’ll probably break up because it’s so white and empty and it’s all my fault,’ she sobbed almost hysterically against the pillow again.

  ‘Bella –’ he lay down beside her and stroked her hair – ‘Bella, you’ve gone completely bonkers.’ He said this as gently and as soothingly as he could. ‘The house looks great. It looks airy and light and at the moment any kid would love it because they can charge around without knocking anything over.’

  He was hoping to make her laugh a little, but she was still crying hard, so he added: ‘If you think it’s too white, we’ll get the painters back to change the walls. It’s not a problem, hon, it’s not a problem.’

  She looked up at him and he saw how swollen her eyes were with crying.

  ‘I love you,’ Don said.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she wobbled. ‘Are you really going to stay here with me and the baby?’

  ‘Of course I am.’ He folded her up into his arms. ‘Of course, please don’t worry about that. I’m so sorry if I’ve made you worry about that.’