Cold Feet: The Lost Years

by Carmel Harrington

‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ she sobbed.

  ‘I missed the birth of little Adam, I sure as hell wasn’t going to miss the birth of my second child,’ Pete said, his voice breaking at the end with swelled emotion.

  ‘Your second child?’ Jenny whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ he whispered back, kissing her forehead.

  ‘Does that mean?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘Yes it does.’ Pete replied, his eyes glistening with tears too.

  ‘Are you ready to meet your new baby?’ the doctor said, over the screen.

  ‘Yes!’ Jenny and Pete cried in unison.

  The sound of a baby’s first whimper filled the room and Pete held his Jenny, his love, as they both saw their daughter for the very first time.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Marilyn, Elvis and Audrey’s choice

  Pete and Jenny’s house, Didsbury, Manchester

  Pete had forgotten how much chaos came with a newborn. Bags of nappies were scattered in every room. Baby wipes, unused and, in some cases, used, were on the coffee table, the kitchen table, the floor. The whistle of a kettle about to reach boiling point, ready to make bottles, filled the room.

  Audrey was standing at the ironing board with a mountain of newborn babygros freshly laundered and ironed.

  ‘You don’t have to do that, Mum,’ he said, feeling both guilty and relieved all at once.

  ‘I like to be useful, son.’ Audrey’s smile on her face, warm and true, right up to her eyes, paid credence to that fact.

  Pete wandered into the living room where Jenny was cradling their little girl in her arms, their eyes fixed on each other, equally besotted.

  ‘What do you think about the name Davina?’ Pete suggested. Nearly two weeks in and they still hadn’t agreed a name for the baby. If they didn’t choose one soon, she would be answering to Little One for the rest of her life.

  Jenny turned to Pete, making a face. ‘No. We are not calling our daughter after your celebrity crush!’

  Pete had had a thing for Davina McCall for over a decade now. He’d never missed an episode of Streetmate in the nineties and only watched Big Brother because it meant he could ogle her on a Friday night.

  ‘I think it’s a pretty name,’ Pete said. ‘And it’s not like you have anything better to suggest!’

  ‘It has to be perfect,’ Jenny said.

  ‘I know, love. We’ll think of the right name. Promise.’

  ‘How about Bluebell?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Or Daisy?’ Jenny said hopefully.

  ‘No!’ Pete said.

  ‘Violet?’ Jenny threw in, not really serious but putting it out there as it was the only other flower she could think of.

  ‘No! And it’s a no to Daffodil and Hyacinth too!’ Pete said. ‘No flower names. You know how pollen plays havoc with my sinuses!’

  ‘What’s that got to do with choosing a baby’s name?’ Jenny asked, laughing.

  ‘I’m not taking any chances, jinxing things,’ Pete replied with a wink.

  Jenny called him over. ‘See this little one? She’s going to love you. You’ll be her first hero, you know.’

  Pete leaned in and kissed Jenny, breathing in her scent, that was all milk, Sudocrem and Jaffa Cakes. ‘And I’m going to love you both. For ever.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing that,’ Jenny replied. ‘Can you hear that little one, Mama and Dada love you.’

  They leaned in close to the baby, smiling at her adorable cherub nose and lips, her cornflower-blue eyes and her milky white skin. She was perfect.

  Pete picked her up in his arms and cradled her close. He’d never understand how he ever doubted if he could love her. She was the most precious gift he could have received. He didn’t need to work on balancing out his love between little Adam and her. His heart just exploded in size when she came along. And if Grant came back, so be it. He’d deal with that. He wasn’t going to waste any more time worrying about a possible issue, that might never rear its head.

  ‘She needs a change,’ Jenny said, half-heartedly moving to get up.

  Pete put a hand out to stop her. ‘You stay there, love. Put your feet up. I’ve got this.’

  He walked out, humming ‘What a Wonderful World’ to his little one and Jenny lay back on the couch, feeling content. She’d not been this happy in months.

  ‘Cup of tea?’ Audrey asked, holding the pot up.

  ‘Only if you sit and have one with me.’

  Audrey poured two cups and sat down beside Jenny.

  ‘She’s a little dote,’ Audrey said.

  ‘I know. And so quiet. Compared to little Adam, who cried constantly those first few weeks!’

  ‘I’d forgotten that,’ Audrey said.

  Jenny looked at her mother-in-law. She looked tired. The lines etched deep into her face seemed more pronounced today. ‘Are you okay?’

  Audrey didn’t speak for a moment. ‘Did Pete tell you? I don’t mind if he did.’

  Jenny nodded. She’d been afraid to mention it to Audrey in case she caused offence.

  ‘Sometimes, when I’m with newborns like your little one, memories, long subdued, come back demanding attention. Today, my mind is filled with my first born. I only had him for a few days. I’ve had to make do with those memories for a long time. Days like today, they feel meagre and mean.’

  Jenny clasped Audrey’s hand. ‘I’m so sorry you had to go through that. It was barbaric.’

  Tears crammed their way into Jenny’s eyes and her mouth tightened with emotion. She could not bring herself to imagine what it would be like to give up either of her children. How on earth had Audrey survived the pain all these years?

  ‘Hearing you and Pete talk about baby names. It brought back a memory I’d forgotten about,’ Audrey said.

  ‘Can you tell me about it?’ Jenny asked.

  Audrey shrugged. ‘In St Patrick’s, the mother and baby home I was in, the other girls and I used to talk about baby names all the time. I had a friend there. Fiona was her name. She was from Limerick and a farmer’s daughter like me. We were the same age. We had a lot in common. She made me laugh.’

  If Audrey closed her eyes she could hear the faint echo of their laughter in that cold, dreary dormitory room now.

  ‘Do you know, Fiona wanted to call her baby Elvis if it was a boy and Marilyn if it was a girl?’ Audrey said.

  ‘Go away,’ Jenny laughed. ‘And did she?’

  ‘She did. She had a little girl and for a few days, that baby was Marilyn and we’d go visit her, and dream about a future, which only had pretty pink dresses and love for her,’ Audrey whispered.

  ‘Did you stay in touch with Fiona?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘I did, for a while. Until she died. But I’d rather not talk about that.’ Audrey’s voice turned cold and Jenny nodded quickly, not wanting to cause her any further upset.

  ‘And what name did you choose for your baby?’ Jenny asked, gently.

  ‘John,’ Audrey replied. ‘It was my father’s name and my grandfather’s, and his father’s too before that. I wanted to continue the family tradition.’

  ‘That’s a lovely idea.’

  ‘It suited him. Or at least I thought it did. Of course, his new parents changed his name when they adopted him, but they did keep John as his second name, which was kind of them.’

  Upstairs they heard the dull murmur of Pete chattering to the little one. Audrey nodded towards the sound. ‘I know I smother Pete sometimes.’

  ‘No you don’t,’ Jenny protested, blinking away tears as she envisioned the scene that must have taken place when Audrey said goodbye to her son.

  Audrey patted her hand. ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to lie, but I appreciate the gesture. I know I’m over-protective. And I know I interfere when I shouldn’t. I try to do too much for him. It’s just . . . I suppose I have all this love inside me for two children, but I only get to share it with one. Sometimes I go a little overboard.’

  Jenn
y couldn’t stop a sob escaping.

  ‘I’m sorry. Don’t be upsetting yourself. I’m an old fool.’ Audrey leaned in and wiped tears from Jenny’s face.

  ‘You have nothing to apologise for,’ Jenny declared. ‘You are a lovely woman and Pete is very lucky to have you in his corner. You’ve been an amazing mother and if I can be half as good with my two, then I’ll be very proud.’

  Audrey put her two hands to her face and cried at the words, so Jenny leaned in and took her in her arms. They rocked back and forth for a long time. ‘You’re a good mother already, you have nothing to worry about,’ Audrey said.

  Pete walked back in, stunned to see his mother and wife in each other’s arms, both in tears. ‘I was only gone ten minutes.’

  Which made both Jenny and Audrey giggle.

  ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Just fine, son,’ Audrey said.

  Jenny pulled out a tissue and blew her nose noisily, handing one to Audrey, who followed suit.

  ‘I think she’s ready for a nap, love,’ Pete said.

  ‘Give her to your mum,’ Jenny said. ‘She’s brilliant at getting her to sleep.’

  Audrey beamed as Pete placed her into her arms.

  An idea began to nibble at Jenny’s brain. She turned to Audrey and said, ‘When you spoke about baby names with your friend Fiona in the mother and baby home . . .’

  ‘Yes?’ Audrey replied.

  ‘You chose John for a boy. What girl’s name did you choose?’ Jenny asked.

  Audrey’s eyes glistened as she looked down at the now sleeping baby that she was rocking in her arms. ‘I always wanted a little girl as it happens. We tried for a long time to give Pete a little sister or brother, but it wasn’t to be. But if I had been blessed with a little girl, I would have called her Chloe.’

  Jenny looked at Pete, her eyes wide with an unspoken question. He walked over to her side and kneeled down on the floor in front of the three women that he loved more than life itself. He nodded his answer.

  ‘Chloe,’ Jenny whispered.

  Pete whispered back, ‘Chloe.’

  Jenny clasped Audrey’s hand as she spoke, ‘I knew we’d get the right name, if we just waited. Hello, Chloe. Welcome to the Gifford family.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Suds and a damn good massage

  Karen’s house, Didsbury, Manchester

  The washing machine started to shake so violently that Karen imagined the house was under attack from gunfire. As it rattled against the tile floor, an avalanche of white foam escaped, leaving a watery trail down the kitchen floor. Trust the washing machine to go to pieces when Ramona had a night off.

  Josh squealed with delight at the excitement of possible body slides in their own kitchen. Ellie and Olivia started to crawl towards the white bubbles.

  Karen picked up her phone and rang David to ask for help. The phone went to message, so she hung up. She texted him instead, with one hand, trying to hold back the kids with the other.

  Washing machine flooding floor. Help!

  Several minutes passed, then a message pinged back.

  Plumber’s number in phone book on table. Can’t come over. Sorry.

  Karen pictured him telling Robyn that she’d been in touch and she flushed red. She could guess the conversation that must have ensued. David apologetic; Robyn unimpressed. If she was Robyn, she’d be pissed off with her too. She shouldn’t have called him. She’d have to stop doing that.

  She looked down and saw Ellie laughing, as she placed bubbles on Olivia’s head, which she then made into a shape like a Smurf hat. Josh made a beard on his face and said in a put on deep voice, ‘I’m Papa Smurf.’

  Oh, sod it, Karen thought. She kneeled down beside them, and picked up a large handful of suds, making them into a beard for herself too.

  Soon all four of them had beards on and were talking in Smurf language at each other, laughing their socks off.

  Then the doorbell rang.

  Trying to wipe the suds away, Karen ran to open the door.

  ‘Bill!’ she said in surprise. Adam’s father stood in front of her.

  ‘A bad time?’ he asked, his face, breaking into a grin when he spied the three children behind Karen, all wet and sudsy too.

  ‘Any good with temperamental washing machines?’ Karen asked.

  ‘Haven’t had one beat me yet,’ he boasted.

  ‘Then your timing is impeccable. Please come in.’

  She left Bill to the mess in the kitchen, taking the kids upstairs for a bath. Once she’d got them all warm and dry and in their PJs, she took a quick shower, throwing on some yoga pants and a T-shirt.

  By the time they came back downstairs, Bill had mopped the floor and the machine was reloaded, with the washing spinning happily again.

  Karen felt herself flush, remembering that her knickers had been in that wash. Oh well, too late to worry now.

  ‘I decided to surprise Adam. He won’t give me a straight answer as to when or if he’s coming back to Belfast, so I thought . . .’ Bill said.

  ‘If the mountain will not come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain,’ Karen said.

  ‘Exactly.’

  Karen didn’t want to get involved. Adam was her friend, and while she liked Bill, she had to remain neutral.

  ‘Did you go to Jenny and Pete’s? You know, that’s where Adam is staying at the minute?’ Karen said.

  Bill nodded. ‘No answer over there. They must all be out. I figured I’d come here. I hope that was all right?’

  She nodded towards the washing machine. ‘I’d say your arrival was most serendipitous for me.’

  ‘You look tired,’ he said suddenly. ‘Sorry, I hope that wasn’t rude.’

  She shrugged. ‘I’ve not been sleeping terribly well.’

  He didn’t make a trite comment, and Karen appreciated that. He just accepted her statement. So she found herself continuing. ‘I’ve been struggling a bit since Rachel died, if I’m honest.’

  Again he didn’t say anything, but looked at her with such intensity that she found herself continuing her confession. ‘Not sure you know this, but I’m an alcoholic.’

  She looked away, embarrassed to say any more. Perhaps she’d said too much.

  Bill touched her hand. ‘You told me the last time I stayed with you.’

  Karen shook her head. ‘My memory . . . Sorry, I’d forgotten that.’

  Bill said, ‘I’ve always thought that an addict alone is in bad company.’

  And, to Karen’s horror, she felt tears well up into her eyes once more.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said as she brushed away the tears. ‘It’s just . . . exactly that. I am in very bad company.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry.’ He looked at her then into the living room where the children were playing Lego together. ‘Have you all eaten yet?’

  Karen shook her head. ‘It was probably going to be a chicken nugget and oven chips kind of night.’ She’d been having too many of those lately. She’d worry about that another day.

  ‘How about you go in and watch a movie with your gorgeous children. Soak up some of their magic in a big snuggle on that couch. And I’ll cook dinner. Afterwards I can head to the Giffords to find Adam,’ Bill said.

  ‘That sounds like the best offer I’ve had in a long time,’ Karen said, wiping the tears away. ‘Have you booked a hotel yet?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Well then, you’re welcome to stay here again, you know. It will be tight over at the Giffords’ with the new baby. Pete’s mother Audrey is visiting too.’

  ‘I remember her. She was the stereotypical Irish mammy. Doted on her son!’ Bill said.

  ‘I don’t think that’s changed,’ Karen said, remembering the various things Jenny had complained about over the years.

  ‘If I stay here, it wouldn’t be putting you out?’

  ‘Not in the slightest. As you said, an addict alone . . .’ Karen shrugged.

  ‘I’ll text Adam a
nd tell him this is where I’ll be.’

  Bill was right, Karen thought. Snuggling on the couch with the children as they watched Finding Nemo on DVD was magic. Josh’s head rested on her shoulder and the two girls shared her lap. She wasn’t sure what she’d do when they got older. She needed life to slow down. Right now, all she seemed to do was rush from one task to another. She seemed to be the only person in her job who needed to leave work by 5 p.m. each evening. But that didn’t mean it was the end of her working day. She often stayed up late, reading manuscripts. Could she really have it all – work and at home? Josh reached up and put his arm around her neck, sighing with contentment. These three children were her greatest accomplishment. And her work was also something to be proud of. She was good at it. She had to find a way to make the juggle less of a struggle. And she had to lose the guilt. She would go mad otherwise. She was doing the best that she could.

  Halfway through the movie, Bill brought in plates of steaming pasta with arrabiata sauce. Glasses of cold milk accompanied the meal, and it was delicious.

  When the movie was over, she carried the children upstairs, one at a time, and put them to bed. Each of them had their own favourite bedtime story, so the whole process took an hour. But she treasured this time each evening and, on those days when she missed it because she had to work late, she felt off-kilter for hours afterwards.

  Once they were settled, she came downstairs again to find a clean kitchen.

  ‘You’ll make someone a good wife one day,’ she joked and he laughed alongside her.

  ‘I’ve made coffee and I texted Adam, told him I was here. But there’s been no answer yet.’

  ‘He’ll be in touch.’

  ‘How long since you’ve had a drink?’ Bill asked. ‘If that’s not being too intrusive.’

  ‘I can answer to the exact day. I worked it out only recently. I’ve too much time on my hands.’

  ‘I doubt that very much,’ Bill replied, looking upwards. ‘Three children . . .’

  ‘And a full-time job. But I do have help. David. Ramona. She is with her boyfriend tonight. He’s visiting from France, so I’ve given her time off.’

  ‘I remember her. Your Spanish nanny.’ Bill smiled. ‘I’ve not forgotten that you haven’t answered my question.’