Head Over Heels

by Sara Downing

  Tom holds tightly onto my hand as the technician waves the scanner around a bit more and we are both riveted to the screen. Then she stops moving it and makes a bit of a ‘Hmmmppp’ noise.

  ‘What’s wrong? Is there something wrong?’ I ask, panic rising in me and my heart starting to race inside my chest. Tom’s palm goes clammy in mine and I know he is feeling it too.

  ‘No, far from it,’ the technician replies, cryptically. ‘Do you have a history of twins in your family?’ she asks.

  ‘Twins?’ I gulp. ‘Er, no, not that I know of. Why? I’m not having twins, am I?’

  ‘I’m delighted to tell you that you are!’ she announces with a flourish, and a broad smile that encompasses us both. ‘There are two very strong heartbeats, look, you can see both here.’ This time when we look at the screen we can quite clearly distinguish the outlines of two baby shapes, two round heads and rather a lot of limbs. Funny how we hadn’t noticed that just now, but then we hadn’t been looking for two, I suppose. There are definitely two small things in there, a bit baby-shaped but still a bit blob-shaped too, and definitely two little flashing bits, which she points out as their hearts.

  ‘Bloody hell, we’re having twins!’ I yell. I look round at Tom and he is open-mouthed, staring in shock at the screen.

  ‘Fuck!’ he says quietly, sitting back in his seat. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him swear before. But I don’t need to panic, he’s not about to make a run for it. Instead he looks at me in awe and holds my hand in both of his and says, ‘It’s a miracle! Two babies! Aren’t we clever! Two for the price of one! Buy-one-get-one-free!’ He is talking in clichés and exclamation marks again, which I’ve come to realise, is his way of dealing with shock or surprise.

  I start to giggle, and it’s contagious. He starts too, and the technician gives us a knowing glance as if to say, ‘Yeah, parents of twins, seen it all before, the shock, the horror, the swearing, then the hysterical, uncontrollable laughter. You just have to laugh, being given news like that.’

  ‘We’ll have to move, buy a bigger car,’ Tom is off on a roll, Mr Practicality kicking into action. ‘Then there’ll be the double buggy, two cots……’ he goes on.

  ‘Slow down, Tom, slow down,’ I say, laughing at him again. ‘Don’t worry, about all that, it’s just a shopping list. I can do shopping, you know that!’

  ‘We’ll be an instant family, Grace, just imagine it! It’s going to be brilliant. Four of us. Wow.’

  ‘It is,’ I say, and I know it will be. At this point in time I can’t think of anything more wonderful. It IS a miracle.

  In all the excitement however, both of us have completely bypassed asking the technician if the babies are OK. All my earlier worrying had been dissolved in the fizz of excitement. Whilst we were exclaiming and imagining and giggling though, our technician has been busy ferreting around on my stomach and with a pang of guilt at my own premature excitement, I dare to ask her. She reassures us that both babies are absolutely fine, as far as she can see, and for a moment I am convinced. But then she goes into all the scary stuff again about the twenty week scan being the big one, and that the babies will have a really thorough check then, when they’re a bit bigger. Oh no, more worrying times ahead for me then. She sees the cloud of doubt pass over my face and does her best to reassure me.

  ‘Of course, now that we know you’re carrying twins, you’ll have lots of scans, so you’ll get constant reassurance that everything’s fine,’ she says. I’m relieved at that. I can cope with all the KY jelly and prodding about as long as I know my babies (MY BABIES!!!) are healthy. I’M HAVING BABIES. Not just A BABY!! WOOOO HOOOOO!! I whoop silently to myself.

  ‘Let’s phone your parents,’ Tom says when we are back in the car, still reeling from the shock and excitement, still a bit awestruck and spaced out. ‘Your Mum’s going to be so excited!’

  Mum answers the phone and with a trembling voice asks me if the baby is OK.

  ‘Both babies are absolutely fine, Mum,’ I say, very matter-of-factly, then there is a squeal and a thud as she drops the phone. It sounds like she’s fainted, but when Dad comes on, I can hear her shrieking with excitement in the background, so I know she’s OK.

  ‘It’s twins, it’s twins!’ She sounds like she’s dancing round the room, doing the conga all by herself.

  Dad, as ever, is much calmer. ‘It’s wonderful news Grace,’ he says sincerely, and I can feel his hug coming at me down the phone line. ‘Mum can speak to you now, she’s got her wits back.’

  Mum comes back on the phone with a whoop of sheer joy, and literally gushes at me. Tom can hear her from the driver’s seat, so no need to pass her on to him for a word.

  ‘I think they were pleased,’ he says afterwards, pulling me to him in the car and brushing the hair away from my face as he looks at me. ‘And how about you, are you pleased?’ he asks.

  ‘I couldn’t be happier,’ I reply, kissing him and nuzzling into his embrace. And really, I couldn’t. I could never have imagined, during that horrendous week I spent at my parents’ house after ‘The Blonde’ incident, that things would ever turn out as wonderful and perfect as this for us both. I’d been dredged up from the depths of despair to the height of absolute bliss by this wonderful man, who, it turns out, I need never have doubted.

  We’d left Mum and Dad’s straight away that day; we’d caught the train back together, rescued my stuff from Evie’s house, and moved me into his flat, all in the space of an afternoon. ‘The Blonde’ was still there, and she IS his sister, and IS gorgeous, but also a very lovely person and overjoyed that Tom had fixed the relationship that she’d inadvertently wrecked. And now she’s utterly over the moon about becoming an auntie twice over.

  I wake as I do every morning to find a cup of tea steaming by the side of the bed and Tom lying across me, his head on my thighs, stroking the ever-growing bump which used to be my nice flat stomach and chatting away softly to the babies. He tells them what we’re up to today, how much they are going to love it here, and what a great mum I’m going to be. And I am starting to believe it myself; I am going to be a great mother. All those months with Mark of resisting it, and not wanting it, and now it just seems so right. I can’t wait.

  Twenty-Six

  ‘God we had to put up a fight to get in here.’ James’ huge personality bursts into my room, closely followed by the rest of him, then Evie, who is barely discernable behind the huge bunch of flowers she is practically wearing, complete with a couple of helium balloons, pronouncing ‘It’s a boy! It’s a girl!’

  ‘Well, they didn’t have any that said ‘It’s twins!’’ she tells me later.

  ‘Practically had to offer to build them a new maternity wing, before they’d let us in, the buggers,’ James goes on, exaggerating, no doubt.

  According to the medical staff, I’m not really supposed to have visitors other than family – infection control and all that health and safety stuff going crazy again. How do they know if my family are carrying fewer or more germs than my friends, for goodness sake? Do they do some sort of germ scan as they come into the ward – ‘Only family germs will be allowed visiting rights, all other germs must wait outside’?

  In any case, I’m glad my friends have managed to blag their way in, and I am grateful to James for whatever it was he had to promise. It probably helps that I’m in a side room on my own too; they won’t be seen to be spreading their non-family germs to other mothers and babies on the ward, I suppose.

  Evie comes over to me and gives me a huge hug, her eyes wandering instinctively to the two little cribs beside me, and she can’t resist letting out a big coo when she sees little Pink and little Blue sleeping soundly, looking totally and utterly angelic.

  ‘Oh, aren’t they beautiful!’ she exclaims. ‘You’re so clever, Grace,’ she goes on, ‘Oh and you of course, Tom,’ she adds with a giggle, ‘you did have some part to play in it after all!’

  ‘No, it’s all Grace’s hard work and labour. My fiancée is th
e one who has put in all the effort, not me. I was just there to hold her hand and get shouted at!’ He’d slipped in the reference to his ‘fiancée’ in the hope that someone would pick up on it. And they did.

  Evie squeals ‘No…… you’re not!’ to which I shriek excitedly, ‘Yes….. we are!’ And now they know, I remove my left hand from under the hospital sheet to show off my ring. Tom had come into the hospital this morning, bearing not just another tonne or two of clean baby clothes, but also a small box containing the most beautiful antique diamond ring. He’d sat on the side of my bed (there wouldn’t have been much point kneeling, I wouldn’t see him down there, plus I am too sore at the moment to lean over and reach out to him) taken my hand, and asked me if I would do him the honour of becoming his wife. I hadn’t hesitated even for a second. Tom had primed the midwives at the nurses’ station outside, and as soon as they heard my resounding ‘Yes,’ they were in the room with us, clapping and cheering and carrying the flowers that Tom had brought with him in anticipation of his offer being accepted. How could I possibly refuse?

  And Tom had been very industrious that morning. On the assumption that I would say yes (there was never any doubt, was there?) he had been ringing round and booking up the church, the reception venue, and had even got as far as sorting out cars. Not bad for a man who’d been screamed at all night by a mad woman in labour and had had practically no sleep.

  ‘Thought I’d leave flowers and the dress to you,’ he giggles, as he explains all the plans he has made. ‘Can’t have you sitting around doing nothing, twiddling your thumbs with just the twins to look after, can we? I just wanted you to know how much I really want to do this,’ he goes on, more seriously. ‘I wanted to present it to you as a done deal, date set, church booked, and all that. I won’t keep you hanging on, Grace,’ and here his one reference to my previous very long and unfruitful engagement doesn’t go unnoticed. ‘I want to marry you NOW. But NOW isn’t available, so we’ll give you a few months to get back on your feet, and then we are doing this! We’ll have a fabulous summer wedding with all the trimmings. It’s going to be perfect.’ He sounds as excited as I am. This time I AM getting married, there is no doubt about it. I am completely bowled over, not just by his proposal, but by the trouble he has gone to, to show me just how committed he really is. My wonderful Tom.

  It would appear that James and Evie aren’t the only ones to have secured special visiting rights. The first bout of excitement has barely subsided when there is another face round the door.

  ‘Alex, hi, how are you!’ I exclaim as she comes in and makes a beeline for me, arms outstretched, pink and blue gift bags dangling from one arm.

  ‘I should be asking you that, you silly thing!’ she exclaims. ‘Although it looks like it was a piece of cake for you, popping out these two. You clever old thing. Ahhh, they’re so beautiful, just look at them.’

  ‘Hardly a walk in the park, but you forget very quickly, don’t you?’ I say. Amazingly, I have already joined that exclusive club of ‘women who forget how much giving birth hurts.’ Filing in the deep recesses of my brain all that pain and anguish and screaming (and swearing, I remember, embarrassed.)

  ‘Mark’s just parking the car,’ she adds, ‘he’ll be in in a mo.’

  Mark. Yes that’s my Mark, or I should say, my ex-Mark. Alex and he got together properly towards the end of last year. It was inevitable really, I should have seen it coming when I look back on it. They’d had something of a special friendship right through the time when he and I were having problems; she’d been the one he seemed to want to turn to for help and advice. For a while it had rocked the balance of my friendship with her, but she was always nice about it, insisting that she wasn’t taking sides, that she was friends with both of us, and trying to remain impartial about it all.

  It had meant though that I hadn’t turned to her for support as much as I would have liked to, knowing that she was doing the same for Mark. It felt a bit traitorous, otherwise. I did think for a while that our friendship was floundering as a result of it, which broke my heart when I thought back to all Alex and I had been through together over the years. But at the same time I was glad for Mark that he had someone to turn to – he’d never bothered me again after that incident at my parents’– and aside from all the hassle of sorting out the house sale and dividing up our worldly goods (and rescuing the rest of my wardrobe) I’d had very little to do with him since.

  Actually the house sale and division of assets had all passed by surprisingly amicably. And Mark and I do get along pretty well when we see each other now; in a way I feel I have very little choice but to get along with him, as he’s now Alex’s partner, and if I value my friendship with her then I have to accept him as her chosen one. I no longer have any say in what he does, he’s his own man now, and actually it’s a bit of a relief for me that he is romantically linked with someone else, even if she is one of my best friends. It kind of eases the burden all round.

  It is still a bit weird for me seeing Mark with someone else though. I always have to rationalise it in my head before I know I’m going to see him, so I’m glad he didn’t come in directly with Alex, and I have a few moments to get my head round it yet again. I’m just not used to seeing ex’s once relationships are all over. I’ve never been one to keep in touch with men from my past, like some women do. The past is the past for me, but now I have to readjust that parameter slightly to be able to accommodate my dear friend, Alex.

  I am happy for Alex that she has found love again, she so deserves it after all she went through with Peter. And Mark for his part acquired an instant family. The children adopted him as their ‘new Dad’ almost instantaneously; Archie finding it a little harder, of course, as he is the one with the most intact memories of his real father. But little Millie and Rosie are like his surrogate children, permanently attached to him and trailing him round everywhere he goes. Which he loves, of course. He wanted to be a Dad, and now he has that, three times over.

  ‘Grace, Tom, congratulations.’ Mark comes into the room, the large bouquet he is carrying threatening to be the final straw when it comes to turning my little room into a florist’s shop. There are so many flowers in here now, I just hope my babies don’t develop hay fever before they let us go home.

  Mark comes over to the bed and kisses me, and shakes hands with Tom, patting him amicably on the back and exchanging blokey congratulatory grunts. It must be a bit weird for him too, this whole scenario, just as it’s weird for me to think of him as Alex’s partner. There I am, his ex-fiancée, the one who didn’t want to bear him children, with another man, who she left him for, and with whom she then went on to have twins. Life’s twists and turns are so unpredictable. It’s a crazy old mixed up situation but thankfully all the players in it now seem to have found their rightful places and have settled down happily.

  ‘They’re so beautiful, Grace. What are you going to call them?’ Mark asks, smiling at me whilst cooing over the twins.

  ‘We haven’t decided yet, so for the moment, they are just Pink and Blue,’ I reply. Pink opens one eye and looks at me with that newborn baby cute grimace which probably means she is hungry again, but for me it’s her way of saying, ‘Come on Mummy, think of a nice name for us, for goodness sake.’

  ‘I’m hoping their names will just come to us,’ I go on. ‘That they will somehow let us know what they want to be called.’ As I glance round the room at all the assembled bouquets, one flower in particular stands out, and I shiver with delight as the realisation hits me.

  ‘Lily,’ I say quickly. I grab Tom’s hand. ‘This is Lily,’ I say to him, pointing to our daughter.

  ‘And Jack,’ Tom says. ‘I’ve always loved that name. It’s a good, strong name for my big strapping son,’ he says, gazing at the tiny little boy snuffling in his crib.

  ‘Thank you, Mark,’ I say. ‘Thanks for prompting us. There you are, we’ve named our children, just like that.’

  ‘Talking of children, and babies, and
all that,’ Alex starts up nervously, and she reaches for Mark and pulls him to her side. ‘Mark and I have some news of our own.’ She gulps. ‘We’re having a baby.’

  ‘You’re not…..!’ Evie gasps, not for the first time today.

  ‘We are!’ Alex replies, as Evie throws herself across the room to wrap her arms around her.

  ‘That’s fantastic news, I’m so pleased for you both,’ I say, beaming at her and Mark. And I genuinely mean it. I really am thrilled for them.

  Visiting hours over, the dust has settled, or rather pollen, given all these flowers, and Tom and I are left alone with our little family.

  ‘I’m so glad I found you,’ he says, gazing at me intently and stroking my hand. ‘Look at what we’ve got together. I can’t wait to marry you.’ And then he jokes: ‘I can’t promise to keep you in Manolos and Choos to the same standard, though, you know.’

  ‘I know, and you know it doesn’t matter to me. I have you, and we have Lily and Jack, what more could I need? Do you remember that day you called my meeting Mark story ‘Head Over Heels?’ Well now it’s you in the starring role. You’re the Head, and I chose you over the heels? OK?’

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  Also by Sara Downing

  Urban Venus

  ‘Contemporary and historical fiction meet in this love story set in present-day and Renaissance Italy’

  (Available to download from Amazon)