by Matt Shaw
Becky laughed and patted her stomach. “You forget I’m eating for two.”
“Shit.” He paused for a moment. “How’s about a Happy Meal at McDonalds?”
“Ooh, a meal and Bubba’s first toy? Should I turn the car around?”
“Tempting. Is this one of those tricks women do? They say one thing but they mean another? So...I say yes let’s go and grab a burger and you end up sulking with me? Like the time when we were first dating and you told me you didn’t believe in Valentine’s Day but, when it came around and I hadn’t got you anything, you sulked for two days solid. In fact, until I bought you some flowers I believe...”
“Do you want to risk it?”
“Actually, I think I’m more in the mood for Italian tonight. Burger another day?”
“That sounds nice!” Becky laughed. It was good to hear her laugh. It had been too long. Even with her doing so much better recently, Mark still hadn’t heard her laugh - nor had he expected to.
“I mean, I’m sure the kid can go without a few nappies for a while. At least as long as it takes to pay the restaurant’s bill off anyway. Maybe forgo a few teddy bears too. That’ll save us a bit more money.”
“We could be careful with what we eat. That way we could have a nice night and Bubba won’t have to go without.”
“We could. Yes.”
“So I’ll have the fillet steak with red wine sauce and you could have the salad.”
“To be honest we could probably fold the nappies inside out a few times. Get maximum use out of them. No one need know. Our little secret. So...With that in mind...Two steaks then, yeah?”
Becky laughed, “Such a bad father...” There was that laugh again. Mark smiled. Can’t get enough of that laugh. Such a beautiful person, inside and out. She didn’t deserve to have that laugh taken from her. Neither of them deserved it. Becky leaned forward and put the radio on as she concentrated on the road. The rain outside lashed down heavily, making visibility poor - even with the windscreen wipers on full and lights on high beam. It didn’t matter to Becky, though. The weather wasn’t going to ruin their night. She wouldn’t let it.
Twenty minutes later and they pulled into the restaurant’s crowded car park and Becky killed the car’s engine with a flick of her wrist. She pulled the key from the ignition and leant back in her seat. Mark looked at her. He was suddenly concerned about her quietness.
“Everything okay?” he asked, almost fearful of the potential answer, especially considering the earlier mood in the car. There was an uncomfortable moment of silence before she gave him the answer he was waiting for.
“Yes. I’m happy.” She laughed as though she couldn’t believe the words which had just slipped from her mouth. She turned to Mark and repeated them, “I’m happy.”
“Well that’s good,” said Mark. He’d promised her, when things went bad, that they’d get better again. He didn’t say when but he knew it’d be a matter of time. They just had to be patient. He leant forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I love you.”
“Let’s go eat! I’m ravenous!” She climbed from the car. Mark felt his heart sink a little. He was still desperate to hear her say the words back to him. He couldn’t remember the last time she had done so. He couldn’t press it though. Even if he did, and she said it to humour him, it wouldn’t have been the same. He kept telling himself, she’ll tell me when she’s ready.
* * * * *
Inside the restaurant, the service and food were as expected. The food was of the highest standard, the wine (in Mark’s case) was free-flowing and the service impeccable. When the time came, the bill was as expected too - if not a little higher; not that Mark minded. The way he saw it, you couldn’t put a price on a night like this. Good memories with the love of your life, and she was the love of his life. He just wished they hadn’t had the last couple of months’ worth of happiness snatched away from them. As he counted out the notes, in the wallet the waiter provided, he tried not to think about the months of potential happy memories taken away from them. He wasn’t going to let the bastard ruin the night. Not this night. Not after such a great night. He quickly changed the subject to something of a little happier note. The baby. Their baby.
“When should we tell people?”
“That we ate out?”
Mark smiled. He knew Becky was teasing him. She knew what he was talking about. The baby had filled much of the evening’s conversation. More specifically, which room they were going to change into the nursery? And names. Names were a gender of the conversation. Mark was thinking of boys’ names and Becky was thinking of girls’ names with neither party managing to think of a name they both agreed upon. Two months in (nearly three), they had plenty of time to iron that out.
“When do you think we should tell people about us and the baby? Our parents would be excited.” Neither of the couple had told the parents about the attack. As far as they’d be concerned, the baby would actually be their own. One of the benefits of keeping the whole unpleasant incident between the two of them. It was one thing for Mark and Becky to come to terms with what’d happened and accept the child as their own but it was another thing altogether to expect family and friends to think of it the same way. Neither of them wanted the child to grow up as a figure of resentment. Mark closed the wallet, full of money, and set it to one side of the table, ready for the waiter to take away when he came back from wherever he had wandered off to.
“After the scan.”
“The scan? What scan?”
Becky reached around to her handbag, which hung on the back of her chair, and pulled it over to her lap. She fished inside and pulled out a white DL windowed envelope. It had already been opened but the flap had been folded back over. She put it on the table between the two of them.
“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
Mark reached across and picked the envelope up. It was from the hospital. A letter, inside, inviting Rebecca Stephens to her first scan. Mark smiled. This wasn’t a hospital visit to do with the attack. Instead it was an appointment to do with the future. A welcome change.
“You want me there?” he asked. He was so used to Becky doing everything by herself -therapist appointments, police appointments, doctor appointments - he didn’t want to presume he was automatically invited.
“Of course I want you there.”
He looked to the letter within. The date of the scan was for a couple of days’ time. He smiled. “Well, I want to be there!” Of course he’d want to be there. It was his son, after all. His son. He kept telling himself that. His son. He got up from the table and walked over to where Becky was sitting. He pulled her to her feet and put his arms around her. They just stood there, next to their table, hugging. The waiter, eyeing up the money on the table, hung back patiently - too embarrassed to interrupt them.
Chapter Fifteen
Another day off from work for the pair of them. This time it was organised with their relevant managers. Becky told her manager, a kind lady by the name of Fiona, that she had a scan at the hospital (having already informed Fiona she was pregnant) and Mark told his work that his wife had a follow-up appointment at the hospital; technically not a lie but neither was it the whole truth. Of course, there’d be no harm in telling the heads of his office what was going on, that he was having a baby, but he didn’t want to jinx it until they knew there was a good chance nothing could go wrong. After all, he’d always been told that if a miscarriage were to occur it would be within the first three months of the pregnancy. Give or take, it had been around thirteen weeks since they’d first found out about the baby so he was close to being safe to making the announcement - but even then he’d start with his family. Family first. Friends second. Work third.
Becky smiled at him as he held the front door open for her. It wasn’t a smile of happiness. It was one of nerves. The worried look of an expectant mother. Within a few hours she’d know, hopefully, that everything would be okay. Until then, she’d be worrying the
y’d be told about a list of problems or, worse yet, that there was no baby anymore. It wasn’t just Becky with the niggling thoughts in her mind either. Mark was concerned too. He just did a better job of hiding it. For her sake he had to. For his sake too. Bury his real feelings or succumb to them.
“Everything will be okay,” he reassured her.
She smiled again - an attempt at a real smile but it didn’t come across. Nerves still shone through as they had with the previous smile. “Just nervous,” she said. She didn’t bother hiding her feelings. Not when she realised she couldn’t do it anymore. Not from Mark.
“We might find out the sex today,” Mark continued. He stepped forward and hugged Becky. “I mean, that is, if you want to?” She nodded. “And then we could start thinking of names. Like, for example, Mark Junior?” Becky frowned. “Okay, maybe not that but...Well what name would you go for? Jack? Rupert? Dean?”
“What’s to say it’s going to be boy?”
“A girl?”
“You never know.”
“A girl who likes football and wrestling?”
Becky pulled away from Mark and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Let’s just get today out of the way, okay?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She turned away from him and stepped from the house, towards the waiting taxi. Mark chased after her and got to the taxi’s back door before her. He opened it up for her. Becky climbed in, Mark climbed in after her. “What about Honey?”
“As a name?” Mark asked as he slipped his seatbelt on.
“What else?”
“I don’t know. For a moment I thought you were discussing possible breakfast feasts.”
“Honey’s a pretty name.”
“Well I did have a hamster called Honey once.”
The taxi driver spoke out from the front, “Hospital then?”, a destination given to the cab office when Mark phoned through to them.
“Yes, please. And don’t go the long way. I know what you guys are like,” said Mark - half joking and half serious. He turned back to Becky to continue talking her out of the god-awful name Honey. “She was a golden hamster. I spent five pounds on her and my mum bought me the cage. Good little hamster, lasted me two and a bit years but...Still a hamster called Honey.” He realised Becky wasn’t listening to him. She was staring forward. A pale look on her face. A slight shimmer of sweat on her forehead. She looked as though she were struggling for air. “You okay?” Mark asked. He took a hold of her hand and started to gently rub it, thinking she was having a mild panic attack - brought on from the earlier nerves. She didn’t respond to him. “Becky? You okay?”
“Everything alright back there?” the taxi driver asked. He turned to face his passengers. Mark noticed the fear on Becky’s face. The horror in her eyes. He followed her gaze and felt the same horror she did when he noticed the taxi driver’s face bore an uncanny resemblance to the picture the police released after Becky’s description. Unlike Mark, Becky didn’t need to see his face to recognise her attacker. The way his voice rasped - she’d never be able to forget it, no matter how hard she tried.
* * * * *
Mark awoke with a start. The image of the rapist’s face burned into his early morning mind. Of all the days to think of him. The day of the scan.
“Morning!” Becky was standing next to her wardrobe in her underwear. She seemed bright and breezy this morning. Mark tried to hide the foul taste his nightmare had left him with. “I wish they’d said what I needed to wear in the letter,” she said. “I have no idea what to put on.”
“Something comfortable I guess.” Mark watched her from the bed hiding, in part, under his duvet. Awake for thirty seconds and already hating a day he should have been loving. As he watched Becky rummage through her clothes. Maybe it was the dream lingering with him, maybe it was the hospital appointment coming up but, today, he seemed to notice the smallest of bumps in her belly. And all he could think about was the man who put the seed within her.
Becky turned to him, “You realise I’m going to get bigger? We’re going to need to go shopping!” she continued. She turned round and jumped on the bed next to where Mark was lying. She cuddled into him. “Give me a hug!” In his current mood it was one of the last things he wanted to do but seeing as it was one of the first things she asked for, he obliged her and held her close. For a moment they lay in silence. “We might find out the sex today,” Becky suddenly piped up. “What would you want?” she asked.
“I don’t mind,” said Mark. His mind was still in his dream. What he wanted, more than anything, was a baby of his own. Not the baby growing inside of her. He pulled her closer to him so she couldn’t see his face. She couldn’t see the disappointment and regret in his expression.
“I think I’d want a girl,” she said, her excitement for having a baby growing by the day helping her forget about what’d happened. At least Mark presumed it was helping her forget. She certainly hadn’t mentioned it as much. If only he were able to forget too but he couldn’t. The slightest thing reminded him of what’d happened but the biggest sticking point was that this dirty fuck of a man (not that he could be classed as a man) had managed to get Becky pregnant where Mark had previously failed. That really stuck in his throat. Becky patted him on the chest, “Come on, we need to get going soon...” She jumped up and returned to the wardrobe where she continued trying to decide upon something suitable to wear.
Mark slowly got out of the bed and walked from the room, towards the bathroom. Not that he needed to go to the toilet. He just needed a couple of minutes by himself. A couple of minutes away from her. A bit of time, for him, where he didn’t have to be faced with what’d happened. Long enough, at least, to put his brave face on for Becky. His thoughts still weren’t important enough to share with her. It still wasn’t her fault that they were in this position and he kept having to tell himself so. None of this was her fault. He shouldn’t punish her. He shouldn’t punish himself. He shouldn’t ruin his relationship because of it. No. If anyone needed punishing it was the asshole who had dared start this chain of events. He was the one who needed to be punished. He was the one who deserved to hurt. Becky and Mark were just the innocent victims.
“Stop being an idiot,” Mark told himself as he stared at his tired reflection in the bathroom mirror. “Stop letting this asshole ruin everything.” He turned the cold tap on and put his hand under the water before splashing it on his face in an effort to wake up. He looked back at his reflection as the water dripped from his face. He hated himself for the way he felt but he couldn’t help it. No matter how hard he tried, the feelings of resentment kept sneaking back in. He’d tried everything to bury them but there was only one way to get them to stay gone - at least, that’s what he believed. The man responsible needed to be punished. Not by the courts but by him. He needed to take vengeance on the man. Until then, the thought of him being out there somewhere whilst the two of them raised his child...It killed him.
“Are you going to be much longer in there?” Becky asked from the hallway.
“Nearly done.”
Chapter Sixteen
Detective Andrews was standing outside the entrance of the busy accident and emergency department, his mobile phone pressed to his ear. For the first time this evening, he was smiling broadly.
“They’ve just told me,” he told his work partner on the other end of the phone, “and she’s going to be okay. And the baby,” he continued, “they’ve performed a caesarean section on the mother....No....No choice...But the baby’s alive.” He paused whilst his colleague spoke on the other end of the line, no doubt saying how lucky they were and that at least there was some good news at the end of an otherwise stressful day. “They’re not out of the woods yet, neither of them. Next twenty four hours are going to be critical but - yeah - at least, for now, they’re okay.” He took a breath. “What about things that end? How are they? Any idea as to what happened?” In his head, from the limited time he’d had at the scene of the crime, Detective Andrews had already pieced
together what he believed to be a likely scenario for such bloodshed but his time on the force had taught him not to jump to conclusions. Just because something looks obvious - it doesn’t mean it necessarily is. “Hello?” He walked to the other side of the entrance in search of better signal. “You there? Sorry you broke up. Listen I’m going to go. I think, if you’re okay, I’m going to stay here for the night. I want to be here when she wakes up. Hello? Hello?” He moved the phone away from his ear. He’d completely lost connection. “For fuck’s sake.” He slid the phone into his pocket and ran his hand through his hair. He was tired, exhausted even, but he didn’t want to go home. At home there was nothing waiting for him but the bottle he’d come to rely on and he knew his body was in need of a break. Even if the break was for one night only. One night without the spirits to soothe his damaged soul. One night.