Feels Like Maybe

by Claire Allan

I looked at her and wondered if she resented things ‘coming good’. I so wanted things to come good for her too. “How are things with you anyway?” I asked.

  “Better, thanks. The shop has been going great guns since you left, and Elena and I had a great day browsing through Selfridges for knickknacks. You know how she loves her bits and pieces. Oh, and Aoife, you really have to see our yard. It’s amazing. I had a few client meetings out there and it was just glorious.”

  I found myself blushing. I knew when it came to talking about the garden, it would soon come about that we would talk about Tom Austin. I took a deep gulp of my wine and sat back.

  “I look forward to seeing it,” I said.

  “Is that all you look forward to seeing?” Beth asked, smiling.

  “You know full well that it isn’t. Oh, Beth, am I mad? It’s not right to have feelings for him. And besides we both said we would just be friends. And besides again, I have a child.”

  “I think he knows that,” Beth said.

  “Yes, but it means we couldn’t date as such, could we? There would always be someone else to consider – a tiny screaming gooseberry of a thing? It would never be just him and me. There wouldn’t be lazy Sunday mornings in bed reading the paper and having sex. There would be bottles and leaky boobs and teething and my jelly belly.”

  Beth looked at me, her eyes misting over, and I clamped my hand to my mouth.

  “Jesus, I’m sorry. I’m such an insensitive twat.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she half smiled. “I might want a baby but that doesn’t mean I never worry about the loss of freedom we would have. Dan and I do enjoy our time alone together.”

  “Bless you,” I said, topping up her glass. “So you know what I mean then? Even if I was interested in Tom – could I really expect him to be interested in me with all my baggage?”

  Sitting forward, and gesturing for me to come near, Beth said: “You may be interested to know that Tom Austin isn’t actually opposed to the idea of children.”

  “What do you mean?” I looked at the bottle of wine at our table, quickly assessed how much of it had been drunk, and wondered if Beth was under the influence.

  “Let’s just say I happen to know that he wants kids, except he’s a bit like me. You know, infertile or whatever, so he can’t have them. His marriage broke up over it all so Maggie could actually be a big plus tick in your desirable partner column.”

  ****

  I didn’t sleep well that night. It wasn’t that I wasn’t tired. Physically my very bones ached, but my mind refused to shut off.

  “Please,” I pleaded with myself, “she’ll be awake in an hour for a feed and then you will be fucked. Go to sleep, Aoife, go to sleep.”

  I even tried my relaxation exercises – letting the muscles from my head to my toes contract and relax, taking myself to my peaceful place – but no, I was still awake. I got up and padded downstairs and made some warm milk but, even though my eyelids were drooping, each time I lay down and closed my eyes the thought would come into my head: Tom Austin doesn’t want me: he wants his ready-made family. He wants Maggie. He has been nice to me because I can offer him the one thing Kate couldn’t. He doesn’t really care. And Jake didn’t care either – and my mother certainly didn’t care for a long time and all I wanted was someone to care.

  Eventually I drifted off, just as Maggie started to whine. I hauled myself from my sleep to feed her, trying to fight the growing resentment of both my daughter and Tom fecking-Eejit-fecking-Man Austin.

  ****

  By morning I was as ratty as a bag of cats. I was tired, my hair had taken on a weird nest-like quality thanks to copious amounts of tossing and turning, and I was contemplating commissioning Anna to make a couple of new voodoo dolls.

  “You okay, pet?” my aunt asked as she boiled the kettle.

  “Just tired,” I lied, staring out the kitchen window.

  “Well, you’ll have to rest, with the big day tomorrow you want to be feeling good.”

  Feeling good? Ha! That was a laugh. I snorted and rolled my eyes, while Anna looked on confused.

  “Are you sure you’re just tired?” she asked and I nodded.

  “Yep, tired of everything. Tired of being a means to an end rather than an end in myself.”

  Anna sat down, poured the tea and I spilled my guts out to her.

  ****

  An hour, and half a box of tearsoaked tissues later, I had resolved to phone Tom and tell him I knew what he was playing at. I had needed someone to be honest with me lately and he had been hiding something just so very huge from me that I could not pretend not to know.

  Poor Tom. He really hadn’t seen hormonal me in full flow yet and he was in for a shock.

  “You said you had no agenda,” I snapped down the line as he said hello.

  “I don’t,” he said, “and I’m fine, thanks for asking.” There was still a jovial tone to his voice. He didn’t realise just how pissed off I was.

  “Don’t lie, Tom. Don’t you know that the worst thing you could have done to me was lie?”

  “Aoife, are you on drugs? Who has lied to you?”

  “You have, Tom. You said you had no agenda. You wanted to be my friend and then you flirted with me. Damn it, you made me have feelings for you when all the time you were just pretending to be something you aren’t.”

  “You have feelings for me?” he asked, his voice thick with confusion.

  “Oh don’t pretend you don’t know, Tom, and don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m so angry about.”

  “I’m not pretending anything.”

  “Well, I’m not going to pretend not to know that you can’t have kids and are only interested in me because I have one. I want someone who wants me for me, not for my child.”

  There was a silence – a long silence.

  “If you want to think that of me, Aoife, then by all means go ahead and think that. I didn’t want to have feelings for you either, as it happens – and that is in spite of you having a child. I didn’t throw myself at you. How can you even say that?”

  His voice was angry – his words tumbling together in rage.

  I wanted to reply “You have feelings for me?” but the conversation wasn’t salvageable now. I had said too much.

  “Yes, I can’t have children, but I came to terms with that when I left Kate to her new life. I’m not that sad that I went on a mission to bag myself a single mother. I thought you knew me better than that, Aoife. I thought I knew you better than this.” He sighed. “I have to go.”

  And I apologised to a dead line.

  

  Chapter 52

  Aoife

  The sun shone brightly on the day of Maggie’s christening and for the first time in recorded history the McLaughlin connection, including Perfect Jacqueline, Anna and her new man, managed to make it through the day without a major row.

  Jacqueline had called earlier that week with the christening robe that both Joe and I had worn as children. A simple gown, in raw silk with a delicate lace detail around the hem. I looked at it and tried to imagine that I ever fitted in it. Maggie would look like an angel.

  My mother made her first post-op trip into town to buy a candle in the Holy Shop and according to my daddy had spent a good half hour talking to the wee woman behind the counter, showing her pictures of her latest grandchild.

  “Of course, she’ll do well for herself. My daughter is a fancy interior designer in London, you know. She’s just decorated my bedroom and is planning on redesigning the rest of my house. I’m very lucky,” mum had said, while daddy nodded beside her. The woman had, Dad said, looked suitably impressed.

  “And why wouldn’t she be?” he added with a smile.

  Anna had picked Beth and Dan up from the hotel that morning and brought them to Mum’s house. Beth had made her hellos – handing my mother a bunch of freshly cut flowers. Dan stood to the side – I think he was, if truth be told, utterly terrified of my mother and afraid to speak
– and now was not the time to gently take him to one side and let him know she had softened considerably in recent weeks.

  “Lovely to welcome you both here for such a special occasion,” my father said, dressed in his best (and only) suit. “Youse are both very welcome to Derry, especially you, Dan. Don’t worry, we’ve told the local terrorists to leave their guns behind today. You’ll be safe with us, son.”

  Dan tried to laugh it off, but his face flushed with concern. My father burst out laughing.

  “Jeez, you are terribly easy wound up for a big fancy London lawyer.”

  Dan smiled uneasily until Beth gave him a gentle dig in the ribs and told him to lighten up.

  Then Joe walked in and handed him a beer, garnering a look of utter disapproval from my mother who could not believe her precious son was drinking alcohol before going to church. Dan, however, appreciated the gesture and the menfolk made their way into the kitchen to talk about man stuff.

  “Right, I’d need to be getting this one ready,” I said, lifting Maggie from Beth and making for the stairs.

  “Wait a minute, love, I’ll come and help,” my mother said, following me.

  “You need to take it easy, Mum,” I chided and she gave me a gentle push upwards.

  “I’m fine, madam, now let’s get a move on or else we’ll be late for church and the priest won’t be one bit impressed.”

  We went into my mother’s room and the christening gown lay, pristinely pressed, on the bed. She handed me Maggie’s white tights and stared in awe at my daughter’s chubby legs as I dressed her.

  “She is gorgeous, you know,” Mum said.

  “I know.”

  “Look, darling, I don’t know much about her daddy and I have a notion I don’t want to know but I know you will do the best job you can to raise her to be a great girl.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I said, feeling suddenly emotional.

  “Now, none of that crying,” Mum said. “This is a day for celebration.” She got up and walked to her dresser. “I have a little something here,” she said and turned and handed me two parcels, both wrapped in gold paper. She nodded to one and said “That’s for Maggie, the other one is for you.”

  I opened Maggie’s present first and uncovered a gorgeous ceramic cross with a little girl kneeling and praying. Under it was folded a beautifully delicate lace bib.

  “It’s not much,” Mum said and I shook my head.

  “It’s perfect, Mum, really perfect.”

  “Now open yours,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

  I opened the small box and recognised the ring immediately. “Your granny would have wanted you to have this,” Mum said, staring at the ruby and diamond ring that I knew as my grandmother’s engagement ring.

  I slipped it on and then the three of us hugged – well, Mum and I hugged. Maggie just wriggled uncomfortably in her lacy gown wondering where her comfy babygros had gone.

  ****

  The ceremony went well. Maggie slept for most of it and only cried for a few seconds when she was doused with cold water. Beth and Dan managed to pass themselves as practising Catholics even though it had been a while since either of them had set foot in a church and Odhran had made everyone laugh by singing the Bob the Builder theme tune as we walked away from the font. Jacqueline had blushed for a moment but when I smiled at her she relaxed and smiled too. I’m sure under it all she probably was still a god-awful bitch, but at least for today we could pretend to be an eeny bit functional.

  Afterwards we went back to Mum’s house, where she had gone all out by hiring a catering company to bring in some food. Ordinarily we would have had to make do with soggy egg and onion sandwiches and Pringles (the fancy crisps), but her near- death experience had made my mother almost reckless with money and the caterers had been called in. She had even sprung for a six-pack of beer and a bottle of wine. Of course we managed to sneak in an extra few drinks when she wasn’t looking, which Daddy had put out in the fridge in the garage to lessen her suspicion. By the time we were onto our secret stash we knew Mum would be doolally on her medication and we would be able to get away with it.

  As Jacqueline was pregnant and not able to partake, she had offered to keep an eye on Maggie to allow me a chance to let my hair down – something I fully intended to do.

  The April night was balmy and Beth, Anna and I escaped to the garden to get a breath of air.

  “It’s been a lovely day, hasn’t it?” Anna sighed contentedly.

  “Really lovely,” I answered looking down at the new ring on my finger.

  Beth sighed. “It has been nice. Maggie is so gorgeous. It’s been nice to get away from work for a day or two as well.”

  I blushed. “Look, I’m really sorry for leaving you in the lurch like that. I’ll be back soon – Mum is getting better.” Although if I was honest, now that Tom and I had fallen out, I wasn’t looking forward to my return as much as I had been.

  “Oh, I wasn’t having a go,” said Beth defensively. “Sorry. It’s just been really bloody busy and I’m worn out with everything.”

  “Are you okay?” Anna said, putting her arm around my friend’s shoulder.

  “I’m grand. Just tired and emotional. Bloody PMT,” sighed Beth. “And it has been a lovely day and I don’t want to ruin it.”

  Something started to tick over in my head. This didn’t sound right. Last week Beth had told me she had PMT – that her period was imminent and sure wasn’t she grand about it because it meant once it was over they could move forward with the whole getting-pregnant-by-whatever-means malarky. We’d had a great laugh making jokes about turkey-basters and the like.

  “Beth,” I said as gently as I could because I knew she must have been utterly scunnered over the last year with people assuming she was up the duff, “look, I might be way off here, but are you sure you aren’t pregnant?”

  “Don’t be daft,” she laughed. “My period is due any time now.”

  “Wasn’t it due last week?”

  Anna looked at me, slightly alarmed at my line of questioning. I’m sure she was willing me to shut the feck up and not make things worse for Beth.

  “No, it’s due now. It’s been . . .” Beth started counting in her head and then she paled and sat down on the back step. “Five weeks. Well, that’s just the icing on the bleedin’ cake, isn’t it? Not only can we not get pregnant but now my period decides to play silly buggers on me too.”

  Anna knelt down beside her. “But Beth, are you sure you aren’t pregnant? I mean, that is what it could be, couldn’t it?”

  Beth shook her head. “Of course not,” she said with determination before looking up at me. “Could it?” She looked at us both with wide-open eyes and we each held a hand.

  “Only one way to find out, babe,” I said.

  

  Chapter 53

  Beth

  If this was in the movies I would have peed on a stick and then sat it on the windowsill and gone out of the room for a few moments to talk to my loving husband about what might lie ahead of us. We would have chatted and then realised – silly us – that more than five minutes had elapsed and our test was more than ready. Then we would have walked back into the bathroom and had an argument about who would look at the stick.

  “You look at it,” I would say, my hand resting on my tummy.

  “No, you look at it,” he would say and on we would go until one of us would snap and lift the stick before comparing it with the picture on the box and announcing that we were pregnant – or not.

  As it happened this is not the movies and things were slightly different. I went home with Anna and Aoife, and while Dan – blissfully unaware – sat downstairs and opened another beer we had crowded upstairs with the paper bag containing a pregnancy test we had bought on the way home.

  “This is daft,” I protested. “I’m infertile, remember.”

  “There is nothing wrong with you,” Aoife reminded me. “You just haven’t got pregnant yet.”

/>   “Exactly, so what are the chances that this month I am?”

  “Just pee on the fecking stick,” Aoife ordered and walked out of the room.

  I sat on the toilet seat, with my head in my hands. How on earth had I not realised my period was late? I had lived by my cycle for the guts of two years and this time it had passed me by. Was I losing it entirely? Admittedly life had been busy. Elena Kennedy had announced she wanted her guest rooms done as well and the shop had become busy with people recommended by Tom – who was starting to do a roaring trade in yardens. He seemed more upbeat lately, and I knew he had been talking to Aoife on the phone a lot.

  “Have you peed yet?” Aoife stage-whispered outside the door, shaking me from my thoughts.

  “Okay, boss,” I said and unwrapped the testing kit.

  There was no way I would be sitting it on the windowsill to wait for the result. I would be doing what I always did, watching the liquid (okay, my pee) move across the window on the front of the test, wondering if a line was appearing and then throwing the stick in the bin when the single, lonely line control appeared declaring that nope, no baby for me.

  I peed, thinking how undignified the whole testing process was, before staring at the wand.

  I looked, watching the stick darken waiting for a line and then, as I saw it, I started to cry – mad, hysterical tears.

  “Well, fuck me pink!” I blurted as Aoife walked through the door a look of concernon her face.

  

  Chapter 54

  Beth

  A cheerful midwife called Peggy walked into the room as my contraction reached its painful crescendo. I had been trying to visualise my vagina opening like a flower, just as my pregnancy book had taught me, but no matter how I tried all I could visualise was me turning completely inside out.

  This hurt. This really hurt.