by Fiona Gibson
‘Just wondered if you fancied a quick pint …’
‘Sorry, still a bit busy, mate,’ he says distractedly.
‘Oh.’ Rob checks his watch – 7.20 p.m. ‘Mind if I pop down for a quick coffee? That is,’ he chortles, ‘if you have coffee down there and not just Horlicks.’ Why did he say that? He didn’t mean to sound like a crashing snob. In fact, as he’s never ventured down to the bowels of the building where the hobby magazines reside – no one from Mr Jones does – it wouldn’t surprise him if they still used manual typewriters.
‘Things are a bit full-on at the moment,’ Simon explains, sounding echoey, as if in a cave. ‘We’re on deadline tonight and I’ve still got to pass the cover. But if you’re around later, we’re all off to Bill’s retirement party …’
A retirement party? Lord help us. It’s a short step from ordering trousers (‘slacks’) from the small ads in Sunday supplements.
‘Er, I don’t think I know Bill,’ Rob mumbles, ‘so I might leave it.’
‘Oh, you must know Bill. He’s our features editor, been working here for thirty-five years, virtually part of the furniture …’
‘Oh, um, yeah,’ Rob fibs. In fact, the Mr Jones team have always made a point of avoiding the likes of Bill. Rob once spotted Eddy flinching when forced to ride in the lift with one of the old blokes, as if close contact might somehow contaminate him or damage his suit.
‘… Heading down to The Lounge,’ Simon is saying. ‘See you down there, if you fancy it. Should be a laugh.’
Right – as long as no one chokes on their false teeth …
‘Uh …’ Rob pauses. ‘Okay then, if you’re sure it’s okay for me to tag along.’
‘’Course it is,’ Simon laughs. ‘They won’t mind associating with a ponce like you just for one night.’
Chapter Sixty-Two
Nadine checks her watch. It’s gone 9 p.m., and when Rob called again to say he was off for a quick drink with Simon, he promised he’d be home by eight. She didn’t mind him having a catch-up, even though it had meant having to bath Rafferty all by herself – but why isn’t he home now?
Since Rob went back to work, she has developed an aversion to being alone in her flat. It’s manageable during the day, when she accepts that Rob has to be at the office, but come the evening, she’s craving adult company so badly that she finds herself staring at the clock, willing the hands to whir round, and sometimes even takes Rafferty out to buy milk or bread, simply so she can talk to someone. The flat feels so small and cramped these days, and it terrifies her, being in sole charge of a baby who’s not even one month old. Besides, she should be having her customary long, sudsy bath by now – her reward after a gruelling day – with Rob taking care of Rafferty in the living room. She’ll still have it, she decides, popping the baby into his sling and carrying him through to the bathroom while she runs a bath. He can sit in his baby seat on the floor beside her. She needs to be clean and have ten minutes’ respite: ‘I am still a human being,’ she blurts out into the tense, milky-scented air.
Leaving the bath running, and with Rafferty still strapped to her chest, she gathers together her pyjamas, dressing gown and a magazine. But by the time she returns to the bathroom, the roll-top bath is full to the brim, having reached the overflow, and is stone cold too. Brilliant. She must have used up all the hot water. She plunges in a hand and pulls out the plug, checking the time again on the starfish clock on the shelf: 9.47 p.m. Where is he?
Rafferty is whimpering now, so she feeds him and puts him to sleep in the cradle at the side of the bed. His eyes ping open immediately. Waaaaah! Nadine lifts him out, accidentally elbowing the revolving sheep night light on her bedside table and sending it tumbling to the floor. ‘Oh,’ she gasps. Its paper cylinder shade, onto which the little sheep are projected, is crumpled and torn. ‘Daddy never liked it anyway,’ she tells Rafferty, her heart thumping as she crushes its balsawood frame with her bare foot.
Stomping through to the living room, she perches on the sofa with Rafferty on her lap. What should she do now while her boyfriend enjoys his impromptu night out in Soho? She won’t call Rob’s mobile. Her father has always kept her mum virtually under surveillance and she won’t lower herself to that. No, she’ll watch TV instead so she’ll be nice and calm for when he finally comes home. However drunk he is, Nadine is determined not to have a row, not in front of Rafferty. Her overriding memories of childhood are of her father’s loud, bullying voice, and her mother trying to hold her ground, inevitably giving in and tearfully agreeing that he was right. Jens always wins an argument.
It’s nearly 10 p.m. now and it’ll be eleven in Geneva, but Nadine finds herself calling her parents’ number, desperately hoping it’s her mother who picks up.
‘Mummy?’ She almost weeps with relief.
‘Sweetheart, is everything okay? Is Rafferty all right?’
‘Yes … we’re both fine. I’m sorry to phone so late. You weren’t asleep, were you?’
Candida emits a small laugh. ‘No, darling. Just pottering about – your father’s out for the evening. So, tell me how things have been …’
Nadine wonders where to start. ‘It was easier when you were here.’
‘I know, darling, but I had to get back and didn’t want Rob to think I was getting in the way …’
‘He didn’t, not at all. Anyway, we are doing okay, I suppose, but … it’s hard work, isn’t it? It never stops.’
‘Oh yes,’ Candida laughs sympathetically. ‘I do remember all that, sweetheart.’
‘And Rob’s out at some undisclosed location tonight,’ Nadine adds before she can stop herself.
‘That’s very rare, though, isn’t it?’
‘Well, yes,’ Nadine says grudgingly.
‘And he is very good with Rafferty. That was lovely to see.’
‘Uh-huh.’ It’s true, he really is, so perhaps it’s for the best that he’s been through this parenting thing before. Every time she sees him tenderly cradling Rafferty in his arms, or managing to rock him to sleep when she’s failed dismally, she reminds herself that it wasn’t such a bad thing, to sleep with Rob to make Eddy jealous. In fact she hardly thinks about Eddy at all these days. He’s made no contact since she’s been on leave – hasn’t even sent her a quick text, even though he must have heard how gruelling the birth was. She suspects that the enormous hand-tied bouquet he sent had more to do with Ava than him. Even so, she quickly tore off the accompanying card – which merely said ‘Love from Eddy’ – and threw it away before Rob could see it. ‘They’re just from work,’ she explained when Rob had asked who’d sent the flowers.
As her mother chats on, reassuring her that she’s doing fine, Nadine’s thoughts drift until she’s barely listening. Right now, she isn’t even sure she wants to go back to work, even when her maternity leave is up. When Ava dropped by last night, she told Nadine that sales have plummeted, and that some of the major advertisers are threatening to pull out because they don’t like the new topless element that’s snuck into such a ‘respectable’ magazine.
‘Nadine?’ Her mother’s voice snaps her back to the present.
‘Yes, Mummy? Sorry, I was miles away there …’
‘You sound ever so tired, darling,’ Candida remarks. ‘Why don’t you try and put Rafferty down now and get some sleep yourself?’
‘Yes, maybe I’d better, or I might have a bath once the water’s heated up. He’s actually asleep now.’ Oh no. Does this mean he’ll be awake in two hours and screaming his little lungs out all night long?
‘What did you say?’ Candida asks. ‘I didn’t hear what you—’
‘I said … I can’t do it,’ Nadine chokes out.
‘Oh, darling, what can’t you do?’
‘This!’ she exclaims. ‘This … this looking after a baby thing. It’s so scary, Mummy. I mean, it’s forever, isn’t it? It’s irreversible. No one ever said …’ Tears start to roll down her cheeks.
‘Well, it is,’ her mother
says gently, ‘but it’s not always like this. It gets easier and more fun, too. It’s just these early months that are the toughest …’
‘Months?’ It sounds like a life sentence. ‘I look awful as well,’ Nadine declares.
‘No you don’t. You’re lovely. Just … just try to take things one day at a time, sweetheart. Ignore this ridiculous pressure that’s heaped upon young mums to be perfect, to be rake-thin and not have stretch marks …’
‘I’ve got those,’ Nadine mutters, drying her eyes on her sleeve. ‘The oils didn’t work.’
‘So what? You’ve had a baby and that’s a beautiful thing.’
Nadine sniffs, no longer concerned about Rob being out. In fact she’s glad, as she can’t talk to her mother like this when he’s at home.
‘I’ve stopped breastfeeding, Mummy,’ she says in a small voice.
‘That’s fine too. There’s no law against bottle-feeding. I bottle-fed you, you know. Did you find it painful, or is it so you and Rob can share night feeds?’
‘Er …’ Nadine wants to say something – to tell her the real reason – but she knows it’ll set her off again, and she doesn’t want Rob to walk in and find her in floods of tears. ‘I just didn’t seem to have enough milk,’ she murmurs eventually.
‘Well, Rafferty is fine and thriving,’ Candida says soothingly. ‘I loved the pictures you sent me – you’re obviously doing a great job. All that really matters is that you love him.’
‘I do,’ Nadine says, hurriedly finishing the call. It’s true – she cannot believe how much she adores this little person who’s now waking with stuttery sounds. She loves him more than life itself. Yet, when there’s finally enough hot water, she is able to sink into a deep bubble bath while his shrill cries ring through the flat. Rafferty screams and screams, making himself hoarse as he lies on the sheepskin rug on the living room floor. Nadine focuses on the bathroom ceiling light and, instead of rushing through to look after her son, she tops up the tub with more hot water and closes her tired eyes.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Before he sees her, Kerry spots Rob amidst the crowds milling around outside the main entrance to London Zoo. He’s with her, Nadine – it has to be her. Small, dark-haired and pretty, the baby strapped to her chest in a sling. There’s a complicated handover of sling and baby, and Kerry’s eyes flood with tears as Nadine kisses the child’s head, then Rob’s cheek, before hurrying away.
‘What’s wrong, Mummy?’ Mia asks, looking up at her with concern.
‘Nothing, sweetheart. I’m fine. Look – there’s Daddy …’
‘Daddy!’ come Mia and Freddie’s explosive cries as they charge towards him, giving Kerry a moment to arrange her expression into some semblance of normality.
It’s the first time the children have met their new baby brother. Nadine has barely allowed him out of her sight, and according to Rob, she felt it would have been ‘too much’ to have Mia and Freddie in the flat, despite the fact that it sounded as if the place had been buzzing with her friends for the first couple of weeks. Anyway, who would have brought them to Daddy’s new home? Perhaps Kerry could have gritted her teeth and done it, ushering them in through the door before rushing off to hide in a cafe somewhere. But, as it was, Rob had suggested they ‘wait until things are a bit more settled’, and Kerry agreed that it might be easier for Freddie and Mia to meet the baby on neutral territory.
‘Mummy, come and see!’ Mia yells, craning up for a better view of the baby. Kerry manages to propel herself forward. She is buffeted by an enormous cluster of foil helium balloons as she peers around the sling to get a look at the baby’s face.
‘He’s beautiful,’ she whispers truthfully. ‘God, he looks like you, Rob.’ She swallows hard, her vision blurring again as he clasps his hand around hers and squeezes it.
‘Hey,’ he says softly. ‘This is really weird, isn’t it …’
‘It’s fine,’ she says quickly, blinking away her tears. ‘Oh, he is lovely, though, Rob. He looks like your dad.’
‘But Nonno’s old!’ Freddie retorts. ‘Rafferty’s a baby. Can I have a balloon please, Daddy?’
‘Uh … not right now,’ Rob says quickly. ‘Let’s get into the zoo and maybe you can have one later, okay?’
Kerry isn’t sure whether it’s because Rafferty doesn’t do much yet, but after the initial flurry of interest, the monkeys are clearly more fascinating to Mia and Freddie than a four-week-old baby.
‘So, how’s it going so far?’ she asks as the children point and laugh at a primate clawing at its rear.
‘Okay … I think. Nadine’s finding it tough. I don’t think she had the faintest idea what it would be like.’
‘Well, none of us do,’ Kerry says coolly.
‘Yes, but … you seemed more realistic. It didn’t seem to shock you to the core like it has with—’
‘Please don’t compare us, Rob. I really don’t need to hear that.’
‘Uh … okay. Sorry.’ She sees him flush and softens a little.
‘Anyway, I promise you I was pretty shocked, the first time at least. Maybe I was better at hiding it. So was Nadine okay about you coming out with us today?’
‘Yes – delighted actually. She needs some time to herself.’ He glances at Kerry. ‘And I’ve been desperate to see you all too,’ he adds. ‘I’ve hated not being with the kids this past month, and them having to wait so long to see the baby …’
She nods. ‘Well, you’re both here now. They’ve missed you too, you know. But I do remember how all-consuming it is at first, so don’t give yourself a hard time …’
A flicker of amusement crosses his lips.
‘What is it?’
‘Nothing. It’s just, I had a bit of a late one last night …’
‘You mean you were out at night? You rebel …’
‘Yeah. Didn’t make me very popular but it was one of those spontaneous things, the tram enthusiasts’ party …’
‘What?’ she splutters.
‘I know.’ He’s laughing too. ‘I nearly didn’t go. Just fancied a quick drink with Simon, but there was this thing going on – a retirement do for one of his team. And I thought, okay, just drop in for half an hour, it’ll be a load of old guys sipping real ale and they’ll all be ready to throw in the towel by nine thirty …’
‘So what goes on at a tram enthusiasts’ party?’
‘Oh, you wouldn’t believe. We went on a crawl of the diviest bars you’ve ever seen – places I didn’t even know existed, that I’d have assumed would have been shut down decades ago. We ended up in some sleazy jazz place where someone happened to have a sax for Bill to play …’
Kerry raises a brow. ‘So what time did you roll in?’
‘About midnight, so pretty restrained, though I heard some of them were still at it at six a.m.’
‘Rob,’ Kerry says cautiously, ‘you sound almost … jealous. Like you’d quite enjoy being one of the basement boys too.’
He grunts. ‘Yeah, well, at least they have a laugh and aren’t stuffed with self-importance. And at least … Freddie, get down off that fence!’ He hurries towards him, stirring Rafferty from his nap as he grabs Freddie’s hand, coaxing him back down from his vantage point by the monkey enclosure. Things escalate further when Freddie starts running away at any opportunity, hiding behind ice cream kiosks and leaping out, laughing uproariously.
‘God,’ Kerry mutters to Rob. ‘He’s being such a handful today. I think meeting Rafferty has really freaked him out.’
‘But he had to sometime …’
‘Yes, of course.’ Thank God for Mia, Kerry reflects, who’s clutching her ice cream cone and admiring the pelicans, seemingly unfazed.
They stop for lunch, occupying a picnic table while Rob bottle-feeds Rafferty. The sun has come out – it’s a beautiful fresh May afternoon – and the day is panning out better than Kerry could have hoped.
‘It’s funny,’ she says as the children wander over to inspect the owls. ‘I’d s
ort of dreaded today. The thought of it was actually making me feel physically ill.’ She smiles ruefully.
‘Yeah, me too,’ Rob murmurs.
‘But …’ Kerry starts, ‘it’s almost like old times, isn’t it? Apart from this little addition.’ She indicates Rafferty who is fully alert now, checking out the world with intense brown eyes.
‘Yes, I’m relieved actually, that we can do this. Maybe, when he’s a bit older, I’ll be able to bring all the kids to places by myself. But for the moment it’s good that you’re here.’
Kerry studies him, still able to appreciate his striking face which, irritatingly, retains its handsomeness even after the tram enthusiasts’ excesses.
‘What would Nadine think,’ she asks hesitantly, ‘if we had the occasional day out together?’
He looks at her, then quickly pulls his yes-I-am-paying-attention face as Mia points out the snowy owl. ‘Daddy look, look! He’s so cute …’
‘Yes, darling, I see him.’ Then he turns back to Kerry and smiles. ‘I don’t see how she can object, can you? You are my family after all.’
Chapter Sixty-Four
When Rob arrives home after saying goodbye to Kerry and the children, the flat feels even smaller than when he’d left that morning. Nadine’s fairy lights and objets look tacky and cheap now the place is strewn with baby blankets and bottles containing the dregs of formula. Rob sets about gathering them up, stuffing grubby babygros into the washing machine and giving the bottles a thorough scrubbing at the sink with the wire brush.
For such a small person, Rafferty seems to occupy an enormous amount of space, and not just due to his vast collection of equipment. It also feels as if they – he and Nadine, that is – are somehow contributing to the general stale airlessness of the flat, due to all the fretful pacing that goes on. In fact, Rob is building up to suggesting a move. The fact that this is Jens’s flat makes him extremely uncomfortable, as if Nadine’s father might show up unannounced at any moment and barge his way in, demanding to know why Rob isn’t MD of the company yet. Plus, once Rafferty is up on his feet and toddling around, he’ll really need a garden. It’s all very well living in W1 but even in Bethnal Green Mia and Freddie had a backyard.