Mother's Story

by Amanda Prowse

  ‘That’s a relief, we haven’t got room for a yurt and my gas barbecue.’ He smiled. ‘Oh Christ, I’m going to be a dad!’ Matthew punched the air. ‘Back of the net!’

  ‘You are not to tell a soul. No one! Seriously.’ Her expression was suddenly solemn.

  ‘Why, isn’t it mine? Damn it! Don’t tell me old Juan got there first.’ He stole a kiss from her.

  ‘I’m serious, Matthew. It’s best not to tell people until more time has passed. I think a few months or something, just to make sure.’

  ‘Make sure what?’ He scratched his stubble.

  ‘Oh I don’t know! It’s just not the done thing.’

  She watched as Matthew drew a cross with his finger over his heart. ‘Okay, scout’s honour.’

  ‘Oh my God, Matt, this is huge! Can you believe it?’ Jessica bit her bottom lip and felt her tears pool. ‘This is one of those moments that when we are old and grey we will talk about and remember, the day we made a baby! Our actual baby! Not that we made it today, but you know what I mean.’

  ‘When did we make it? I thought you had that cap thing.’ He squirmed, still not good at discussing anything to do with the female body.

  Jessica patted her tummy. ‘This baby is two parts you and me and one part Pimm’s. It was our kitchen party night, on Halloween. I was too sloshed to care.’

  ‘Oh God! Does it matter that we were sloshed? Do sperm get drunk?’

  Jessica laughed. ‘I have no idea! I think I’m nearly three months.’

  ‘Wow, so when will it be born?’

  ‘July sometime, not sure exactly.’ She smiled.

  ‘That’s perfect. Right before the football season. I won’t have to miss any games.’

  ‘You can take the baby with you!’

  ‘Can I?’ Matthew looked a little nervous. ‘Are you allowed to take little babies into football stadiums?’

  ‘How should I know?’ She shrugged. ‘This is going to be one steep learning curve for both of us.’ She felt a warm rush of excitement flow through her body as she jumped up and down. ‘You’re going to be a dad!’ Her tears finally found their way to the surface and fell down her cheeks.

  ‘And you are going to be a mum, a fantastic mum.’

  ‘Fucking hell,’ she said, ‘I’m going to be a mummy!’

  ‘Yep.’ Matthew wrapped his arms around her. ‘We’ll stop having sex and you’ll start baking and knitting and tutting at all the bad language on TV. You’ll carry sucking sweets in your handbag.’

  ‘Is that what happens?’ She laughed through her tears.

  ‘Yes, next time you go to the doctor’s, you’ll get fitted with a mummy microchip and all the knowledge in the universe will whoosh into your brain. You will then know how to kiss a knee better, how to remove stains from clothes and the recipe for Yorkshire puddings off by heart. You’ll keep spare buttons in a jar and you will always have a fresh packet of tissues and something to read just in case.’

  ‘Wow! I’m looking forward to all of that. And if you don’t mind me saying, you seem to know an awful lot about it.’

  ‘Well, I should. I’ve had a mum ever since I was born.’

  ‘Come on, we need to celebrate!’ Jessica grabbed her husband’s hand and led him into their bedroom.

  Abandoning his now cool mug of tea, Matthew kicked off his shoes as they fell onto the bed. Jessica grabbed the remote control and switched off the television before drawing the curtains and clicking on her lamp. She slipped out of her jeans to get comfy and turned to see Matthew place his phone on the bedside table and open his arms to receive her.

  Lying with her head on her husband’s chest, she wrapped her arms around him. ‘I’m so excited, Matt. Scared but really excited. I love you.’

  ‘I love you too, my clever girl. Don’t be scared. We can do this.’

  Jessica looked at the spatula that she had propped by her bedside lamp with its two little lines that seemed to be getting darker as time passed. ‘Do you know, I do feel very clever!’

  ‘That’s because you are. This is by far the cleverest thing that you have ever done.’

  ‘No, it’s the cleverest thing we have ever done!’ she corrected him, before kissing him passionately on the mouth as his hands stroked her back.

  Matthew’s phone beeped. He pulled his arm free and swiped the screen, then laid it flat on their duvet.

  ‘Who’s that?’ she asked, craning her neck to look up at him.

  ‘No one.’ He stared at her, unblinking, which she knew meant he was up to no good. It was the expression he pulled whenever he’d been caught out.

  ‘Oh my God! What have you done?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He stared at her.

  ‘Who have you told?’ She reached up as Matthew grabbed the phone and held it out of her reach.

  ‘No one! Get off!’ He giggled as she climbed up him as though he were a fallen tree, placing her bare foot on the back of his calf to gain leverage. He placed his free hand over his groin, wary of her flailing limbs. Jessica pushed upwards on the bed with her hand on the top of her husband’s head until she was able to grab the phone. Then she collapsed back down onto the mattress. Matthew, rendered weak through giggling, grabbed her legs and pulled her onto him, where she stayed, still clinging to the phone. She ran her finger over his phone screen and read the text that had just arrived.

  Jessica twisted her mouth sideways and with one arm across her chest held the phone in the outstretched hand of the other, this time reading aloud from a distance. ‘Oh, Matt, how lovely. It’s from Jake. He says, “Fucking hell, mate! Good to know you aren’t firing blanks – this requires MAJOR celebrations. What exactly will my role as godfather entail?” You told Jake! Jake? Of all people? I told you not to tell a soul and you chose him! I’d rather you’d taken an advert out in the local paper,’ Jessica wailed. She dropped the phone onto the bed as she covered her eyes.

  Matthew lay on his side and propped his head up on his raised arm. ‘I know what you said, but I couldn’t help it! I’m too excited. But don’t worry, I told him not to tell anyone.’

  ‘You told him not to tell anyone? Oh, well, that’s okay!’ She winced. ‘You do know we are talking about Jake?’

  Matthew nodded.

  ‘Do I need to remind you that he hung a sheet with his tally score of shags out of his window at university?’

  Matthew giggled at the memory. Jessica wasn’t done.

  ‘Jake who posted the positive result of his STI test on his own Facebook page as though it was a badge of honour?’

  Matthew laughed even harder, clutching his chest and wheezing slightly. ‘Stop!’ he begged.

  ‘Jake who told my mother at our wedding that we had sex on our first date in the back of your car!’

  ‘He wasn’t lying – we did!’

  ‘That’s not the point. He told my parents! On my wedding day!’ she squealed.

  ‘Don’t be mad at me. I had to tell someone. I’m excited. I’m going to be a dad!’ Matthew looked at her sheepishly.

  ‘Urgh, I get it, but of all the people you could have told, you told him…’ Jessica placed her face in her hands.

  Matthew pulled them away and held them inside his own. ‘I love you, Mrs Deane. I love you so much.’ He kissed her cheek.

  ‘I love you too, but I just wanted a little time. The pregnancy test is still wet with pee and already you and Jake are planning the bloody christening!’

  ‘I can’t help it – I’m excited!’

  ‘So you said.’ She smiled, finding it hard to stay mad at her husband, whose life was about to change as much as hers.

  Jessica wriggled down the bed and lay against her husband. ‘I’m excited too. We are officially the cleverest people in the whole universe!’ She kissed him passionately and felt the swell of his body against hers. ‘And now we don’t need to worry about contraception!’ Jessica shrugged off her cardigan, peeled her T-shirt from her body and unhooked her bra.

  ‘My day just keeps gett
ing better and better!’ Matthew rubbed his hands together as he whipped off his suit trousers and dropped them in a heap on the floor.

  ‘And perhaps you’re right, maybe Jake won’t say a word. I mean, this is not like regular gossip. He’ll understand it’s important, right?’

  Matthew nodded. ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Maybe I’ve got to trust that he is actually growing up.’ Jessica smiled as her phone pinged on the bedside table. She reached across her husband and swiped the screen, sitting upright. ‘I take it all back, it’s from Polly.’ Her phone pinged again. ‘I don’t believe it! She is basically screaming at me in text form and congratulating me, asking how come Jake knew before her? Oh and she’s sent me a link for pregnancy incontinence pads and cracked nipple cream. Nice. Your friend is a big-mouthed dickhead!’ Jessica shuffled from the bed and reached for her bra.

  ‘What are you doing? Come back. No, no, no!’ He held up his hand as though this might prevent her from getting dressed.

  ‘Sorry, Matt, but it’ll just have to wait.’ She smiled as she fastened her bra strap under her boobs and twisted it until it was the right way round.

  Matthew sat up. ‘So hang on, are you telling me that just because I told Jake and he told Polly, I don’t get to have sex?’ He ruffled his hair.

  ‘Yep. That’s about the size of it.’

  ‘Oh, Jess! Come back, please. Just for ten minutes, five even!’ He wiggled his eyebrows.

  ‘Ah, I’d love to, Matt, but sadly, because of your friend Jake and his unfeasibly large gob, I have to jump in Edith’ – their Audi was blessed with the number plate ED13 and so ‘Edith’ it was – ‘and take our unborn child to sodding Romford to inform my parents of the impending arrival. Because, in case you had forgotten, Polly and I have been friends since nursery and our mums are friends and neighbours. And if they hear via the grapevine, my arse will be grass!’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’ He sat upright.

  ‘No.’ She took a deep breath. ‘No, I’m fine. I am half joking, but seriously they would be so hurt to hear it second- or thirdhand. I’ll literally just nip there and straight back. If you come, it’ll turn into a proper celebration and I can’t face that, not on a week night. Not that any celebrations from now on can include alcohol for me. I’ve stopped drinking.’

  ‘Since when?’ Matthew laughed.

  ‘Since I weed on that stick about twenty minutes ago. I haven’t had a drink since.’

  ‘And how are you feeling?’ He laughed. ‘Missing it?’

  Jessica exhaled. ‘I’m managing.’

  ‘Couldn’t you just phone your parents?’ he suggested.

  ‘I don’t think so. Phoning is for “we are going on holiday” or “I’ve chosen the paint colour for the front door,” not for “your child is pregnant and you are going to be a nan!”’ She tutted. ‘Anyway, you know how they are. I have to tell them everything.’

  ‘Not everything,’ he corrected. ‘I mean, they still don’t know that you and your hussy of a mate have matching tattoos, do they?’

  ‘True, only because we agreed not to tell. It’s not worth the grief.’ She shook her head.

  ‘That’s so funny. You are an adult, married woman, with your own Nectar card and everything and you’re still scared of the grown-ups disapproving!’ he teased.

  ‘It’s not that I’m scared of them…’ Jessica couldn’t phrase her thoughts. ‘It’s just that… Shut up, Matthew!’ She decided that shouting at him was easier.

  ‘I see. Charming. I’m being punished, aren’t I?’ Matthew grinned.

  Jessica stretched, reaching for her jersey and allowing her black lacy balcony bra to hover in front of him. ‘Don’t think of it as punishment, my love, think of it as good practice for all that sex we are not going to have when I’m a mummy! I’ll be back later for good loving and maybe a curry.’

  ‘Is that because you have a craving?’ He winked.

  ‘No, it’s because any plans I did have for supper have been hijacked by Jake and his loose talk! You can order one for delivery when I’m en route. I’ll text you when I leave.’ She blew him a kiss and went in search of the car keys.

  Jessica sat in the car and turned up the heat to clear the windows. She watched as the ghostly mist cleared from the windscreen, then she lowered her head onto the steering wheel. ‘Oh my God. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe it. A mum – me?’ The truth was, despite being a wife and living in her very own house, she still felt like a child herself in so many ways. Matthew was right. She was still scared of the grown-ups disapproving, especially her in-laws. She raised her head and looked at the long, dark road ahead, praying that she would be the kind of mother that his parents expected and hoping beyond hope that she could be the kind of mother that this baby would need, that she’d be able to give it a safe, happy environment in which it would thrive.

  8th July, 2013

  I remember going to Matthew’s home for the first time soon after we met. It was one of the scariest things ever. Not only because I was desperate for them to like me, but he had grown up in the kind of house that my mum had always admired. She used to point them out if we went on a trip or they popped up on the television, usually in Midsomer Murders. She’d nudge me in the ribs and say, ‘Ooh, look, Jess, a criss-crossed-window house. Lovely!’ And it was lovely. I used to feel that people who lived in houses like that, houses far grander than ours, must know things about life that I didn’t. I thought they would be smarter, classier and more aware. Funny that, isn’t it, that I would assume all this simply because they had more bedrooms than us and a utility room.

  The Deanes’ house had a large, square kitchen with fancy blinds all pulled to the same height on the three windows, a big bulky stove from which Margaret would feed friends and family with her fabulous bakes, and a big noticeboard on which were pinned seed packets, interesting snippets from newspapers, the odd photo and notes written in block capitals as if to give the message added importance. At the rear was an acre of perfect rectangle with a magazine-quality striped lawn. His dad fed it with a special mix he pumped from a plastic bottle strapped to his back, a chore he evidently enjoyed because he always grinned as he harnessed up and made for the back door. There was also a front garden with a circular driveway and a couple of nudey women statues.

  The ‘best’ room they used only on special occasions. A rather neglected space, in my opinion, it always smelt slightly fusty, like it needed a good airing. The pale walls were packed with pictures of Matthew at various stages of his life, from his naked baby shot, which I loved, to him standing proudly in his graduation gown. There was a large fireplace, where a stack of logs sat next to a wicker basket full of kindling. Folded tartan rugs were thrown over the arms of the neutral-coloured chairs and copies of Homes and Gardens were neatly stacked on the low coffee table.

  I know Margaret thought she had impeccable taste, but I found everything a bit dated, a bit old-fashioned. All the rooms had ivory five-arm chandeliers with candle bulbs that reminded me of the lights you might find in a pub, although I never said that to her. His dad had a grand workshop at the end of the garden where he framed pictures and did ‘bits and bobs’ – I think that was code for ‘hide from Margaret’. Matthew said he had a chair out there and a radio, which was permanently tuned to the cricket during the season. I always thought it strange that in that big old house, Anthony needed his fancy shed to escape to, whereas my mum and dad, who don’t have enough space in their little house, are happy to be side by side like a couple of bobbins in a box, as my nan used to say.

  I remember arriving with Matthew for a dinner party at his parents’ one time and hearing Margaret shout at Matt’s dad, ‘Right, Anthony, chop, chop!’, pointing at the bottles of wine like he was the waiter. I couldn’t believe the tone she used. Anthony stood to attention and saluted her. ‘Yes, sir! Understood! Right away, sir!’ Then they argued, as if Matt and I weren’t there. I didn’t know where to look. ‘Oh, don’t start!’ she screamed. M
att just smiled, used to it, but I found it unsettling. I felt like I was watching a play and couldn’t help wondering what my mum would have made of it all. She and my dad rarely exchange so much as a harsh word and there were these people bawling and swearing in front of me. Half of me wanted to phone my mum and tell her that just because you lived in a detached house with criss-crossed windows, it didn’t mean you knew how to treat each other; and the other half of me wanted to say nothing and preserve the dream for her. I gripped Matt’s hand as the row took its course. And I knew I wanted different for us, better. I made a vow that we would never argue or fall out like that. At least that’s what I thought.

  Seven

  It was dark by the time she pulled up in front of her mum and dad’s house in Hillcrest Road. Jessica noticed that the longer she stayed away, the smaller and shabbier her childhood home seemed when she did return. There was however something comforting about the gnome in Mr Fraser’s front garden and the neatly trimmed shrubs of Mrs Parrish’s opposite, familiar sights from her childhood that welcomed her back.

  Her mum answered the front door and placed her hand on her chest, worry etched on her forehead. Her immediate response to any unplanned visit was to assume it meant bad news.

  ‘Hey, Mum!’ Jessica smiled broadly and gathered her mum to her, trying to reassure her that all was well. She inhaled the familiar scent of soap, fried food and worry.

  ‘Oh, Jess, I wasn’t expecting you! Is everything okay? Have you eaten?’ Coral burbled without taking breath. She pushed some stray locks of grey-flecked hair behind her ears and wiped her hands down the cook’s pinny that Jess and Matthew had bought for her last birthday. Matthew had joked that there was no point buying Jessica one as domestic goddessery wasn’t exactly her thing. He didn’t know how hard she tried.