by Claire Allan
I watched him for another five minutes before his pottering started to irk me. “Are you sure I can’t help you with anything? I’m the proprietor.”
“Oh,” he replied. “I thought the girl with the baby was the owner.”
“Oh Aoife, no, well yes, but you see I’m the owner too and so is she. We’re business partners, but she is on maternity leave at the moment so if I can help you . . .?”
“But I was sure I saw her coming in here earlier?” he replied, a look of bemusement on his face.
“Well, you did. She lives upstairs,” I said, the words out of my mouth before I realised I knew nothing at all about this man and for all intents and purposes he could be some mad stalker and I had not only just A) told him Aoife’s name but B) also told him she lived up the stairs.
I might as well have handed him a pair of her knickers from the washing line and given him written permission to terrorise her.
“It’s just I saw her earlier in the coffee shop up the street and she seemed pretty upset. I don’t know,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “I just wanted to make sure she’s okay.”
“She’s fine,” I answered. “You know, just a new mum. Actually she’s going back home to Ireland for a bit. She should get a good rest then.” There, that should put him off his mad stalking ways, I thought, congratulating myself on my cunning. “I could tell her you called by?” I offered.
“No. It was silly really,” he said, looking rather embarrassed by the whole affair. “Just take care of her, okay?” And he left.
It was only as I started leafing through the catalogue again that I realised he might not be a stalker at all, but a burglar casing the joint and I had just told him the flat upstairs was going to be empty for a while.
How could I persuade Aoife to change the locks without revealing what an utter prick I was? I sighed, sipping water and popping two more Nurofen to fend off my cramps, and tried to cheer myself up by ordering an impressive chandelier adorned with Swarovski crystal.
Chapter 12
Aoife
It turned out that, no, you can’t lose a stone in five days. Most of that was down to the fact that Mrs Morelli was still giving me cooked breakfasts on the house each morning and I was still letting her. It was my escape, to leave the flat after sleep-free nights feeding an increasingly demanding baby and walk the short distance down the street to the welcoming cafe. The hours between Beth going home and arriving again for work had started to fill me with dread. It wasn’t right, couldn’t be right, that I had to do this on my own. It wasn’t right and it sure as feck wasn’t fair.
Between Beth, Mrs Morelli and Anna I had become sure that I was doing the right thing to go home and make my peace with my family. Of course, Anna had wanted me to at least confide in Joe before my arrival, but I just couldn’t face it. I knew he was going to find out eventually and I knew that I would need him onside before I told Mum and Daddy, but the thought of speaking to him filled me with dread and shame.
I’d like to say we had a close relationship but with five years of an age gap he always seemed distanced from me. I’d looked up to him, yes, and he had looked down on me, or at least it had always felt that way.
“Please, Anna. I’ll tell him before I come over,” I finally conceded. “Just let me do it in my own time.”
I said that every day for four days but then as I got ready to leave for the airport I knew I was running out of time. So the morning of our departure for Derry, I sat there, phone in hand and dialled my brother’s number, praying Jacqueline would be at work. The phone rang and Joe answered, his voice heavy with sleep. He’d obviously been working the night before.
“Joe, it’s me,” I said.
“Aoife, how the feck are you? We can’t wait to see you. Mum is talking about killing a fatted calf.”
“Very funny,” I deadpanned. “She only gets the fatted calves out for you. It will be Dohertys’ sausages and beans for me.”
Our conversation was light and easy and I wished it could remain like that – but as I looked at Maggie I knew I had to be honest with him.
“Look Joe, I have something to tell you and I don’t want you to go off your head. I really need you to be supportive about this.”
“You’re not up the duff, are you?” he laughed.
“Not exactly,” I answered, after a pause that probably wasn’t long enough.
“Jesus, Aoife, what have you done now?”
I don’t know why, but my defences always go up when I’m talking with Joe. I know he loves me and for the most part he has been a great big brother but sometimes I swear I hear my mother channelling through him.
“What do you mean, what have I done now?” I barked.
“Calm down, Aoife – there’s obviously something up.”
“But it’s not for you to judge me!”
“I’m not judging you. For Christ sake, I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”
He sighed and I felt my heart sink. This was going to be tougher than I thought, but nonetheless I needed to do it. I thought back to the delivery ward, how I had to keep pushing even though it hurt like feck and I realised I had to keep on talking even though this too hurt like feck.
“I’ve had a baby,” I said.
The world went silent. I wondered momentarily if the shock had killed him.
“Joe?”
“Christ,” he muttered.
“No, it’s Aoife,” I answered, my weak attempt at a joke failing to raise a laugh from him.
Another pause.
“Is that why you’re coming home then?”
“Yes, I think Mum and Dad have a right to meet their granddaughter.”
“Why now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why now, Aoife? I’m assuming you knew about this baby and it, he, she, whatever, was not a surprise. Why are you telling us now? Why not before?”
“No, she was not a surprise,” I said. I felt embarrassed, ashamed even. Of course I should have told them before, but how could I explain it all now? How could I say “Well, I would have told you before but I was waiting for her daddy to realise he loved me after all and make us a family, but as it turns out he doesn’t give a flying fuck and doesn’t even know she has been born”? My cheeks burned and tears sprang to my eyes.
Joe sighed again – the same exasperated sigh my mother used so many times on me.
“I’ll see you later, Aoife,” he muttered. “I’ll figure out some way to sort this mess out.”
He hung up and I blinked hot tears at the phone.
“Maggie,” I said to the dead line. “Her name is Maggie. And she’s not a mess.”
*****
I never felt at home at home, if that makes sense, so as the plane pulled up on the runway of the airport the strains of “The Derry Air” were not playing in my ears. I wasn’t one of the many on the plane who sniffed and wiped away a sly tear to be back on the banks of the Foyle. No, this was not my glorious homecoming. This was not the town I loved so well.
A gust of cold air filled the cabin as the harassed stewardess opened the door and welcomed us to the City of Derry.
Maggie looked up at me, her eyes wide as if to let me know she felt as nervous as I did about this whole episode.
“We’ll be fine, darling,” I soothed, knowing full well the words were to reassure me more than my daughter.
Walking across the tarmac to the small terminal building, the breeze whipped around us and I struggled to pull my scarf tighter while carrying Maggie in her car seat.
Long gone were the days when I skipped off a plane with a copy of Cosmo and a half-finished bottle of water. This was extreme travelling – balancing a car seat, changing bag, baby and trying to keep warm in the biting cold.
I was almost grateful for the warmth of the terminal building. If it were not for the fact that I was about to shame my family eternally, it would have been a nice moment.
Lugging my suitcase from
the belt and onto a trolley, I balanced my precious cargo precariously on top and pushed my way through customs.
This is one time I wouldn’t have minded being stopped and searched. It would have killed another five minutes. Sod’s Law of course meant I was waved on through and, as the door opened to crowds of excited family members waiting to greet their loved ones, I felt my heart thud in my chest.
It was then I saw Anna and tears sprang to my eyes. At that moment she spotted me and waved enthusiastically. Her face was a mixture of affection and concern and just seeing her there, empathy etched in her smile, I felt my resolve weaken. My eyes filled with tears and I thrust myself at her and sobbed in her arms as she smoothed my hair and ssshed in my ear. “I’m – so – sorry,” I stuttered. “I – shouldn’t – have – put – you – in – this – position!”
“Ssh now,” Anna answered. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
I wondered how everyone else could be so sure of that because I wasn’t. Not one bit. Composing myself, I dragged one arm of my coat sleeve across my face to dry my tears.
“It’s nice to see you,” I muttered.
“You too,” She answered, gazing past me to the pink bundle in the car seat. “And this must be Maggie.”
I nodded, for the first time feeling a smile creep across my face. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?” I asked, not taking my eyes off my daughter for one moment.
“She looks just like you did when you little,” Anna answered, rubbing Maggie’s soft cheek.
“Really? I think she has a look of her father about her.” I said the words before I thought about them.
There I was, mentioning the unmentionable – Maggie’s father. I guessed that was one more demon I would have to face in the near future. Not, that is, that coming face to face with Jake was likely. He was still very much on the missing persons list.
Sensing my unease in that way only aunties ever can, Anna looked at me and assured me we could talk about that later. “Let’s get you in the car. Parking costs a bleeding fortune here these days,” she said.
Soon we were strapped in and heading homewards, the short journey to the city giving me insufficient time to gather my thoughts.
“I told Joe,” I muttered as we turned onto the ‘New Bridge’ towards Anna’s house.
“And how was it?” she asked.
“Not the best. He thinks I’ve made a mess. Which, I suppose I have. I’m not sure we can count on him to be our ally at the council of war with Mum and Dad.”
“I’ll have a word with him. If you ask me, me laddo’s getting far too uppity for my liking these days.”
“Easy to get uppity when you can do no wrong in your mother’s eyes,” I replied, a hint of bitterness in my voice.
“Your mum loves you, Aoife. She just has a funny way of showing it.”
That was for sure, and it was definitely funny peculiar and not funny ha ha.
We pulled up at Anna’s home, an ex-council house which made up in warmth for what it lacked in character. Carrying Maggie into the living-room, I breathed in the smell of home, the smouldering embers of the open fire, the faint smell of coffee from the kitchen. This was more of a home to me than my parents’ house ever was.
“Sit down,” Anna said. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll put the kettle on and then we’ll work this thing out.”
“I’m tired,” I answered. “Can’t I just have a little sleep first?” Suddenly, I felt as if I could barely keep my eyes open.
“Sure,” Anna replied. “You know where your room is. I’ll keep this little one here with me. Probably a good idea if you get a rest before we face your parents.”
It seemed real then, the thought that I was going to face my parents. There had been obstacles in the way up till now, bridges to cross and things to do. Now, there was nothing between me and Mum and Dad but three miles and a sense of panic. I tried to block those thoughts out as I closed the door to Anna’s spare room and sat down on the bed. I was a big girl now. I could handle this. As Anna has said, I hadn’t killed anyone. I’d only had a baby. Millions of unmarried women have babies. And it’s not as though I was a teenager when I got pregnant. I was thirty-one for God’s sake. That’s proper grown up. And I was in a relationship, albeit a highly dysfunctional one which meant that despite our three and a half years together I never actually referred to Jake as my boyfriend to my parents. No, I had nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all.
I lay down and pulled the soft pink duvet up under my chin. The rain was battering against the window and I was soothed by it. Closing my eyes tightly I curled up into a ball and wondered if I could make all these feelings of dread go away
*****
I’m not a saint. After Jake had left, cursing and slamming the door I had sat in shock in my bed and wondered what the hell I would do. A wave of nausea had hit me and I ran to the bathroom and threw up until my throat was raw. I’m not sure to this day whether I was throwing up through shock at Jake leaving or if it was the start of morning-sickness. If it was the latter then you’ve got to respect its sense of timing.
Once I had stopped throwing up (and crying, and wailing generally) I sat with my legs pulled up to me and rocked back and forth trying to think out my options. I guess I knew there was a chance Jake wasn’t coming back but I wasn’t sure that I was ready to accept that. I had to start “Mission Make This All Better” – I just wasn’t sure where to start.
Yes, I contemplated an abortion. As I sat there, my mouth tasting bitter from the vomit and my stomach still churning despite now being empty, I knew that Jake would come back if I did what he wanted and got rid of this baby.
But there was a part of me that knew I would never forgive myself. I would be as guilty of rejecting this baby as my own mother was of rejecting me – more so even. So as I cried bitter tears I realised “Mission Make It All Better” was not going to be easy. I couldn’t get rid of this baby, and yet if I didn’t I faced losing Jake. Both options were too painful to contemplate – even though having a baby was the last thing I needed or wanted.
I stayed on that bathroom floor until it started to get dark and then I dusted myself off and phoned Beth, who came around, hugged me while I cried some more and promised to support me whatever I decided. Dan, she said, would support me too and it was then I started to wonder if perhaps he could talk to Jake on my behalf and this could be salvageable after all.
Looking back now I realise I was grasping at straws. It’s tragic really, tragic and funny. I was so utterly blind.
******
After I’d slept a fitful hour away I padded down the stairs to see Anna cuddling Maggie and singing softly to her. It was the same song she had sung to me when I was a child and I felt my heart swell with pride. How I wished in that moment Maggie would get to call Anna “Granny” instead of my insufferable mother.
That thought, of course, brought me back to reality with a bang. Now there was not even the excuse of being tired and needing a sleep to allow me to escape my mother’s evil glares.
Seeing me standing at the door, Anna stopped singing and said, “Do you want to talk about it now then?”
I knew the question was a formality. This was her way of telling me we were going to talk about it now and there was to be no argument about it. I sat down, made myself comfortable (or at least as comfortable as you can be with a hungry baby latching on to your boob) and took a deep breath.
Okay, I was ready to start talking.
“It just kind of happened. I didn’t plan it. The only thing I can think of is that I had this mild stomach bug. I threw up, but only once. I didn’t think that would affect things. I didn’t think I would get pregnant.”
Anna nodded.
“Jake, that’s the father by the way, and me, well, we had been together for about three and a half years.”
“And you never thought to mention him to any of us?”
“It was complicated. And anyways, I did mention him. Remember I told you abou
t the sexy singer I was seeing?”
“Dan’s cousin?”
“Yep, well, that was him.”
“But you never told me it was serious.”
Anna looked a little hurt and I can’t say that I blame her. I have confided everything in her since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. I could barely believe myself that I never told her every little detail of my relationship with Jake.
I sighed. “It was complicated. I would have told you but there wasn’t really much to tell.”
“Three years and not much to tell?”
“Well, he never really felt much for me. Not really.” My face started to blaze a little. My aunt was pretty darned open-minded but could I tell her that I’d in all honesty spent the last forty months of my life as nothing more than a fuck-buddy to an aspiring musician? Every part of me cringed at the thought.
“Look, Anna. The fact is I was mad about him. A part of me is still mad about him, but we were never serious or, at least he was never serious. It took me telling him I was up the stick to realise just how unserious he was.”
“You should have called,” Anna said.
“Shoulda, woulda, coulda.” I moved Maggie from one boob to the other. “I was embarrassed, Anna. And if I’m honest, I wanted him to come back. I hoped that after living without me on call 24/7 for a few weeks he would realise just how much he loved me and come back and make us a family. I planned to come over here and tell you all then. I had it all planned out in my head. Only it didn’t happen. He never called again. He doesn’t even know she has been born.” My voice had started to crack just slightly. “And I just stuck my head in the sand and tried to pretend none of this was happening.”
“Your poor, poor thing!” Anna paused, then added, “The birth? Was Beth there? Did you at least have someone to hold your hand?”
“I had a very nice midwife,” I replied and Anna started to cry.
Then I started to cry.
Then Maggie started to cry.