Feels Like Maybe

by Claire Allan

  I could sense his hand move toward me and much as I wanted and needed him to cup my breast in his hand and do with it what he wanted, I just couldn’t.

  “Stop,” I said, pulling back from him and trying to focus on the room around me. “Stop.”

  

  Chapter 35

  Beth

  The drive to my mother’s house had been an odd experience. I don’t think either of us could switch off all those horrible little thoughts that were running through our minds.

  I knew that just as we were powering down the motorway, Jake would be sitting in Aoife’s flat, chatting to her – possibly even cuddling Maggie. My Maggie.

  If I asked Dan once if it would be okay to call Aoife just to see how things were going, I asked him a thousand times. But he just told me, over and over, that it would be prudent to wait until she phoned me.

  “Aoife’s a big girl,” he said again, like some New Age mantra.

  And then again, we had problems enough of our own. We had to face my mother and Dan had made me promise to come clean about our problems conceiving. It’s not the ideal conversation you want to have with your mother over the lamb roast on a Sunday, now is it?

  While my mother and I had a gorgeous friendship, there was still a part of me that could never be comfortable discussing my ovaries and my sex life with her. Even in my late teens I used to turn an attractive shade of beetroot if I needed her to get me some “women’s things” when my period arrived. So to discuss my desire to conceive a child seemed somehow wrong. But then, surely if anyone understood how nice it was to have children, then it would be my mum. She’d had three of us and, according to family legend, would have had a whole heap more if my father hadn’t put his foot down.

  I think our house became a sort of halfway house for waifs and strays because of that. Both my sister and brother had brought friends home almost every weekend while they were at university and, while I studied a little bit further away, I generally came home accompanied by an Aoife totally gobsmacked by our lifestyle.

  I’ll admit, we had it nice. We were spoiled materially, but much more importantly with love and I wanted so desperately to share that with my own child.

  “Your mum will be fine with this, you know. You haven’t actually done anything wrong,” Dan soothed.

  “I know, and I know it means she might lay off the ‘when are you going to make me a grandma’ comments for a while, but I can’t help but feel she will be disappointed in me.”

  “That’s daft, Bets. You know that.”

  I looked at him, his eyes staring straight ahead at the road as he drove. “I just want to have your baby so much.”

  “Remember you said that when you’re threatening to cut my balls off in the delivery room.”

  “I can assure you I will never, ever threaten to cut your balls off. They mean too much to me.”

  “Even if they can’t give you a baby?” he said, staring onwards – afraid even to glance at me, even for a second.

  “Even if we never have children and I’m stuck talking to no one but you for the rest of my life,” I answered – and, actually, I started to realise I wasn’t lying this time.

  Still, I wasn’t going to give up on this just yet. Not when we had our appointment to look forward to on Thursday.

  Dan pulled the car onto the driveway, the gravel crunching below the wheels as we drove to the front door. Floodlights illuminated the front of the house and I could see the lights on in the dining-room and lounge. Mum was obviously cooking dinner – any excuse to show off her eight-seater dining-table which was a bit grand and ornate for my liking but was her pride and joy.

  I had yet to convince my mother to let me “do” her house. The closest I got to an Instant Karma makeover was a revamp of my old room, where Dan and I slept when we visited.

  I stepped out of the car just as my mother opened the big red front door and smiled beatifically at us.

  “Oh darlings, it is so nice to see you! It has been much too long.”

  She walked towards me and enveloped me in a hug and I breathed in her comforting scent of fabric softener mixed with Chanel No. 5.

  “It’s nice to see you, Mum,” I muttered into her, before she released me from her hug and made for Dan.

  “You really shouldn’t keep our daughter away from us like this,” she scolded. “We’ve missed you both. Come in, grab a drink. Dinner will be ready in ten and then you can fill me in on all your news.”

  We looked at each other. Without speaking I think we both realised what that meant, and neither of us wanted to give the family indigestion talking about our issues over the desserts.

  Dan carried our overnight bag upstairs while I hung up our coats and poured myself a glass of wine. Sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, I watched my mother strain pasta and put the garlic bread in to bake.

  “It’s nothing fancy,” she said. “Just pasta with garlic bread and salad. I haven’t had a chance to get down to Waitrose.”

  “I’m sure it will be lovely, Mum,” I said, reaching for a sliver of cheese from the board she had prepared for after dinner.

  “You look tired, Beth, and a little pale. Have you been working too hard?”

  “I always work too hard,” I said with a wry smile. She looked a little worried and I reached out and touched her hand. “I’m fine, Mum. Don’t fuss. Things are a bit crazy with Aoife and the baby and all, but honestly I’m okay.”

  “And how is Aoife and the gorgeous Maggie? I must get up to see them. I would have been up before now but I didn’t want to gatecrash on you and Dan when you both work so hard.”

  “Maggie is beautiful and Aoife seems to be taking to motherhood like a duck to water. I have a few pictures in my case. I’ll bring them down after dinner and show you.”

  Mum took a sip from her wine-glass. “Funny, I never saw Aoife as the motherly type. I always assumed you and Dan would be parents long before she settled down.”

  I nodded. Now was not the time for this conversation.

  “I think she thought that too, Mum, but sometimes things don’t work out just as you would think.”

  Dan walked into the room and kissed me lightly on the top of the head. “Pauline, can I help you with anything?” he said.

  “Ooh yes. Can you toss that salad while Beth runs and get the pictures of Aoife and Maggie. I’m dying to see them.”

  Dan rolled his eyes at me. We both knew babies were going to be the main topic of conversation while we were here – but we had been kind of hoping to do it on our terms and not my mother’s.

  “There will be time to see them after dinner, Mum,” I said. “I’ll go and set the table. Dan will toss the salad and you can pour my gorgeous husband here a glass of this fine Chardonnay.”

  “Yes, dear,” Mum said, lifting a wine-glass from the cupboard.

  “Your dad should be here any minute and then we can eat.”

  “Thank God for that. I’m starving,” Dan said. “That daughter of yours hasn’t fed me today.”

  My father – a burly man who to outsiders looked reserved but who actually had a heart of gold – arrived some ten minutes later, just as I was polishing off my first glass of wine and pouring my second.

  He walked in and smiled before kissing me gently on the top of my head in much the same way my husband had done.

  “How are you, princess?” he asked. “You look pale. Are you working too hard?”

  I smiled. “I thought Mum was supposed to be the worrier! I’m fine, Dad. It’s been a long week and I’m looking forward to a day off tomorrow. For tonight I’m just going to eat, drink and be merry,”

  “That’s my girl,” he said, patting me on the shoulder before sitting down in front of the glass of wine waiting for him.

  “So why has it taken so long for you to bring my daughter down to see us?” Dad asked Dan.

  “I’ve been pushing her to come down here for weeks, but you know how it is. Something always gets in the way and work has be
en mad for both of us, especially since Aoife went on maternity leave.”

  “Aah, Aoife. How is she? Has that cowardly bastard of a father lived up to his responsibilities yet?”

  I felt Dan blush. Even though it wasn’t his fault – even though Jake was an independent adult – Dan couldn’t help but feel somehow responsible for introducing him to Aoife in the first place. I squeezed his hand under the table.

  “Aoife doesn’t need him to raise her baby,” I said. “She’s doing a great job.”

  “Of course she is. You two girls are wonderful at everything you turn your hand to,” Dad said. “And won’t it be great when you and Dan here have your own baby? Aoife will have been there and done that first. She’s a great girl.”

  It was my turn to grimace – just a little – not enough for anyone other than Dan to notice and it was his turn to squeeze my hand gently under the table.

  Whatever happened to the days when we used to play footsie under the table? Now we were reduced to supportive hand-squeezes. I couldn’t help but smile wryly. Maybe if there was more footsie and less “handsy” we would be pregnant by now.

  “She is indeed a great girl,” I said as my mother walked in carrying her salad and garlic bread.

  I knew it was going to be a night of wine and good food. Did I really want to ruin it with news of our problems?

  No, that could wait till the morning, I told myself as I tucked in. It wasn’t like anything was going to change between now and then anyway.

  ****

  Dan and I curled together in the wrought-iron bed in my freshly designed room. The dinner had been lovely and for the most part we had managed to steer the conversation away from babies. For all his encouragement to be open with my folks, I knew he was reluctant to actually say the words “We are having problems having children” out loud. I turned around to look at him, his face silhouetted in the dark room, and I gently traced my finger along the line of his jaw. I don’t know how I could have been so blind to it before. He was worried that this was all his fault just as much as I was worried it was mine. These new tests we would have might get us some answers but they might not be answers we wanted to hear. It was okay-ish thinking no one and nothing was to blame. How would we manage if we found out differently?

  I stared at the clock. It had gone five. I was suddenly so thirsty that I knew there was no way I was getting back to sleep without first drinking a long cold glass of water to quench my thirst. Slipping out of bed and into my dressing-gown, I padded down to the kitchen and poured some water from the fridge.

  As I drank, I wondered how Aoife was. Please God she had sent Jake packing and he would clear off on some half-baked dream again sometime soon. I didn’t want him getting his hands on my goddaughter. At the thought of the word “daughter” I sighed and drank deeply from my glass.

  “You okay, darling?” my mother’s voice called out.

  I looked up to find her standing poised with one of Dad’s golf clubs in her hand as if she was about to take a swing for me.

  “Jesus, Mum, what on earth are you doing?”

  “We’re not used to having people about any more,” she said, blushing furiously. “I forgot you and Dan were here and when I heard someone rattle around in the kitchen I thought we might have had burglars.”

  “I’m sorry,” I laughed. “I didn’t think I had been that noisy.”

  “Don’t fret. I wake at the drop of a pin these days. The rattle of the ice-cubes would have done it.”

  “Can I pour you a glass too?”

  “Ah, go on. Let’s be devils!” she laughed, passing me a tall glass for her water. She sat down on the stool opposite me.

  I marvelled at how her perfectly coiffed hairstyle seemed to have survived what little sleep she had managed.

  I rubbed my eyes and drank some more. “I really need to realise my limits when it comes to wine. I’m going to regret that in the morning.”

  “You only live once and, besides, once you have kids you won’t be able to manage it any more. Enjoy yourself now while you still can.”

  At that, I burst into tears – watery, gulping sobs that racked my body and made my mother adopt a very concerned look indeed.

  “Darling, what’s wrong? Is it me? Damn it. Your father has told me I need to stop badgering you and Dan about having kids. It’s just, well, you know I’d love to be a grandma. But you do it in your own time, sweetheart. I’m not one to butt in to your life. I’m really sorry if I’ve upset you.”

  “Oh Mum,” I cried, “I’m so sorry. There’s something I need to tell you.”

  

  Chapter 36

  Aoife

  “I kissed him. Or more he kissed me. Anyway we kissed, and I’m sorry, but nothing else happened. I promise. God, I’m embarrassed to tell you this, but my boobs, well they started leaking and then I wasn’t quite in the mood any more.”

  “Thank Jesus and the wee donkey for your leaky boobs,” Anna answered, her voice thick with concern.

  And there was me thinking the story of my leaky boobs would have raised a smile, or maybe even a wee laugh from her.

  Nada.

  “I know you don’t approve,” I started, “but I think he may actually have changed.”

  She snorted.

  “You should have seen the way he looked at Maggie. He was totally besotted with her.”

  “So he stayed then? Despite your leaky boobs? Just so he could get to know his daughter a little better and maybe change a nappy or two?”

  I rolled my eyes at the phone. I had fully expected this to be hard work, but not this hard. Then again, I knew what I was about to say sounded a little pathetic.

  “No. Well, he stayed for a bit and then he had to go. He’s in the studio today and he needed his sleep.”

  “Aoife, you deserve better.” Her tone was harsh. It reminded me of that night I went out and got wasted in Derry.

  “You don’t know him, Anna,” I said.

  “I know enough of him. You are an intelligent woman. I know he’s Maggie’s daddy but you don’t really believe him now? If he really cared he would have stayed, or he would have called sometime in the last nine months. He can’t just walk in and out when he wants to.”

  “But I loved him,” I said.

  “That’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard you say all day, young lady,” Anna said. “If you are saying you ‘loved’ him then there might just be hope for you yet.”

  We finished our call and I wrapped Maggie up and headed for the park at the top of the street. Anna was right, of course she was. I knew that, but love wasn’t always about being sensible, was it? When he had kissed me last night I had wanted him. I hadn’t cared about how much he hurt me. I just wanted the perfect life we could have together – like we had before he walked out on us. I couldn’t see that it was so wrong to want that.

  And it would make life easier at home. Perhaps not with Anna, who at this stage was probably fashioning a voodoo doll of both Jake and me to attack with pins. No, knowing Anna she was probably making a chart detailing how and when she would tear us apart – and then she would make the voodoo dolls.

  But my mother, chances are she would be delighted. After all, the shame would be gone. Sure it was a bastard that we hadn’t managed to get married before our daughter was born, but Mother would soon forgive us for that once I phoned her and told her to buy a hat and head down to Veronica’s for a Mother of the Bride outfit.

  There was a spring in my step as I walked through the paths of the park until slowly, like it always did, that sinking feeling returned. I’d always had that sinking feeling with Jake. In fact, when I thought of how he used to make me feel, I’d forgotten just how far my heart could sink with him. It had always been that way. I’d always been waiting for the axe to fall and for the next humiliation to be heaped upon humiliation.

  The first time I saw him I’d been blown away. He had been on stage singing, moving his hips, eyes closed in the spotlight.

 
People had been chatting all around us, enjoying their pints and glasses of wine, but all I could see was him. I told him that once and he had laughed it off, saying that of course all I could see was him – who else in that bar would have been looking at anyone else but him?

  But yet he must have seen something in me he liked, because between sets he sat by me, bought me drinks and talked to me like there was no one else in the world that mattered. And it wasn’t as if he couldn’t get attention when he wanted it. Women swarmed to him. Like flies round shite, Anna would no doubt say. I realised those swarming women came with the territory. It would have been foolish and the cause of much heartache not to. Both Beth and Dan sent gentle warning signals to me.

  “He’s not the settling-down type,” Dan drawled in a faux American accent, while nuzzling into Beth’s neck.

  “Not like ma sugar plum,” Beth drawled back, and we all laughed.

  Because at that time, in those early weeks and months, there was no way I even considered settling down with Jake. He was to be a bit of fun, which I know is terribly un-PC, but that is all I was interested in. Work was going well and while I wouldn’t have said no if Mr Perfect had come along and whisked me off my feet, I wasn’t openly seeking anyone. I just wanted someone to have a few drinks with, maybe a little rumpy pumpy with (well, in fairness, maybe a lot of rumpy pumpy with) and if anything more came out of that so well and so good.

  But when I met Jake first – when I saw how women flocked around him and how he in turn responded to them – I resigned myself to the fact that he was not a keeper. I’m not sure when I changed my mind. Maybe it was after four months when we were still together and people started referring to him as my boyfriend. Maybe it was when he was still there at six months and I realised I missed him when he wasn’t around. Or maybe it was on our year anniversary when he crooned to me from the stage and announced to a crowded room that I, Aoife McLaughlin, was his number-one girl. So despite my best intentions not to fall under his spell, I did, and all the while I hoped he was falling under mine too. Seems my magic appeal – my allure – was on the blink though because he didn’t.