takeaway? Oh, I better tell your dad to change out of his overalls to eat. What time are you coming? Is it tea, dinner or supper where she comes from? Shall we sit in the kitchen, lounge or dining room?’ My answer to all of these was, ‘You decide, Mum. She’s nice; don’t worry.’
I texted Alison and told her, then got asked a similar amount of questions. ‘What shall I wear? Are we eating in or out? Do I need to bring anything? They’re not doing sprouts, are they? Did you tell them I’m pregnant?’
The last question stopped me repeating, ‘Don’t worry.’ I didn’t, but I’m going to have to tell them tomorrow – it’s why we’re going round.
I spent the rest of the evening playing out different scenarios in my head. There was: they take it well, jumping for joy and telling me they’re proud of me; they reject Alison and the unborn; one of them is happy and the other one goes quiet. Then reverse that one: we are asked to leave; we are asked to move in to save money; they suggest a meeting between the two families to talk out the crisis; they suggest a meeting between the two families to ‘get to know each other better’. All this played out in great detail well into the early hours, when I decided to get up and write this.
Sunday February 12th 2012
We arrived at my parents’ house early this afternoon. This caused Mother to flap, as Dad hadn’t found his way in from the shed yet and she still had her apron on. Honestly, I think she’d done nothing but obsess about making the perfect dinner since I put the phone down yesterday.
I had to stand in the way of Mum so she wouldn’t keep hugging Alison; she kept looking around me, though, and trying to get close for the hug. In the end, Dad distracted me by almost falling through the back door. Bless him, he’d been trying to play it cool but as soon as he heard my mother’s excitement he caught the bug and must have sprinted in from the shed.
‘Oh, you’re here!’ He announced feigning surprise and clambering over Mum, offering his hand to Alison.
Once the excitement had died down and everyone was wearing what my mother thought they should be, we sat down to eat. The roast lamb Mum had done smelled lovely. Unfortunately it didn’t smell that lovely to Alison and she had to excuse herself. Quickly.
A knowing look went from Dad to Mum and back again, once she’d cottoned on to what he was trying to say. I just nodded. I think it was a bit of a jokey look that my father gave my mother, but all too quickly they realised that they’d got something right. Then silence. We’ve never spoken about them being grandparents before, it’s never seemed likely as I’ve never been with anyone long enough for it to be a consideration.
When Alison returned we all started to make small talk, like we didn’t want to let Alison in on it. She must have sensed something had happened by the way both my parents were now looking at the top of the curtain rail. She just looked at me and smiled then shrugged.
‘Are you happy?’ Mum asked her, not being able to avoid the situation any longer.
‘I think we are,’ Alison said, reaching out for my hand and holding it on top of the table. She looked into my eyes and regardless of the fact she’d just chucked up I felt something. Just an emotional stirring. Maybe it’s the flutter of love, I don’t know. I do know the moment was broken by Mum going ‘Aww,’ for a little longer than was necessary. I actually think she just wanted us to get on and eat the lamb she’d spent all morning cooking.
Later on, when we’d finished off the homemade pavlova, we sat and talked. The bottom line of the conversation was, ‘We haven’t got loads of money, but we’ll help where we can;’ ‘We’re pleased for you;’ and, ‘When can we meet your parents, Alison?’
Then, as Dad was showing me the new electricity cable he’d rigged up in the shed, he whispered to me that I should probably ask Alison to marry me. He didn’t say it in a way that I could argue with or even comment on as he started handing me stuff that needed loading into the back of the shed.
I asked my mum about Down’s when Alison was distracted by my dad’s new huge drill. ‘You remember David, don’t you?’ she said. I told her I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. We went to school together and he was pretty clever, he learnt with the rest of us and even did better in his exams than some of the other students. Fair enough, those others normally spent most of their time standing outside lessons waiting to be allowed back in. David, was always on time for school and was happy nearly all the time, the only time I ever saw him angry was when his bag was thrown into the road on the way to swimming and got run over. His reaction to the kid who did it ensured no one ever took the Mickey out of him again though, he went WILD and good on him for doing so.
Swimming was the only sport he was allowed to do; as he had a hole in the heart the school didn’t want to be responsible for him having a heart attack during a game of football. It didn’t stop him playing it every lunchtime though, he used to run himself ragged and wasn’t interested in the danger the grown ups told him he was putting himself in. He was just a normal kid, really, if anything he was more energetic than the rest of us.
It’s worrying me that Alison might want to get rid of a child that had this syndrome. I mean, I can’t believe as a society we do that, I know in the deep Amazon they drown children that have disabilities when they’re born, which I can kind of understand as they are primitive tribes, but we are a civilised society. I mean, if we’re prepared to do that to someone, where does it stop? Killing off left-handed babies because we don’t like the way they hold a pen? It’s not something I wish to be a part of. Really, I should start a campaign or something. Although there’s probably not much point, as I’m sure there are far more important people in the world than me who I’m sure have discussed this issue.
I know in China there is a big market for drugs that are supposed to make it more likely a woman will have a baby boy. There, you’re only allowed a couple of kids so if you want your name to live on there aren’t that many chances to get it right. I don’t mean ‘right’ in everyone’s eyes, I’m not going to mind what we have as long as it’s happy, I mean ‘right’ in the eyes of the Chinese parents. I’m not sure what all the fuss is about in keeping the name going, there are loads of Petersons, and loads of every other name in the world, so it’s just a big fuss about nothing, I suppose. Unless it’s about bloodlines, but that doesn’t make sense as girls carry them on too.
I’m not sure how Alison feels about all this so I’m not going to say anything to her, I hope she’s not got a ‘get rid of them’ attitude, if she has I’m not sure how I’ll deal with it.
Overall the day went well. Alison wasn’t scared of my parents and we got out without agreeing to move closer or anything like that.
I’m not going to think too much about what Dad said about marriage. It’s old fashioned these days, I think.
Monday February 13th 2012
Alison hasn’t been to work for ages. She says her back hurts after a day on the wards. I thought a nurse would be more committed and at least have some contacts in the maternity section that would help her deal with pregnancy better, but she says she doesn’t really know anyone as they all keep themselves to themselves and have cliques which nurses that have recently transferred from other hospitals have to work to get into. It sounds rubbish. She says I shouldn’t worry about her not being there, as she can’t be sacked for being pregnant, it’s one of the few perks there is of working for a government run organisation.
I had to go in, though. It was a typical Monday. Boris told me he’d had a barbecue at the weekend. It smelled like he’d eaten alcoholic barbecue sauce. I didn’t think to ask him at the time where or why he was having a barbecue in February. I suppose he was either lying or is really weird.
Jane was in a strop today; Boris kept dropping things. In the end she sent him off to steady his nerves with the cooking wine. It didn’t cheer her up when he came back with two empty bottles, though; I think she’d intended to have a glass as well. You’ve got to admire his gall, mind.
This evening we just watch
ed TV and ate food that didn’t taste of anything. Alison has given me an extensive list of things that she can’t eat. I did mushrooms on toast tonight. It was crying out for an egg on top, but Alison can’t eat them so I’ll have to continue stuffing my face at work and eating her food in the evening.
Tuesday February 14th 2012
It was Valentine’s day today and I forgot to get Alison a card. Even worse, she remembered and gave one to me before I went to work. I lied and said I’d left hers at work so that I could give her it, along with some flowers, tonight. I made out she’d ruined her own surprise, but I actually forgot the biggest day of the year for lovers. I’ve only ever had a girlfriend once before on Valentine’s day and that was when I was nine. She bought me a huge card that I ended up having to carry around school for the rest of the day.
I’m sure if I hadn’t had the recent news I’d have been thinking about little other than how to make sure Alison knew how much I appreciated her being in my life.
I took her out this evening, once I’d given her the flowers and the card – which she loved. The film we went to watch was OK; it was called Valentine’s Day and was a bit weepy. I could hear Alison sobbing through the sad bits. I didn’t look at
The Diary Of An Expectant Father (The Diary Of A Father Book 1) Page 5