Marcio tried desperately to consider a way through the tangled mess they were in. It had never occurred to him that Helen would see Lucy or the flowers before reading his email. He could only imagine his message must have been junked by an overzealous filter on her email account. Looking up he caught Helen staring malevolently at him. She looked magnificent, with her copper hair highlighted by the morning sun streaming through a window. In the four weeks or so since he’d last seen her, the bump seemed to have doubled in size. There was no mistaking her condition now. He wondered how long she was going to be able to continue undertaking assignments. For the first time in his life he wished that he were rich so he could take care of them all, whisk Helen away somewhere and let her rest. With what was coming he knew she would need all the rest she could get now.
That’s a vain hope on all fronts, he thought pensively. I can only just afford to feed myself at the moment, even if she would so much as let me take her for a cup of tea.
Studying her beautiful face he could see she looked pale. Her cheeks had lost the bloom they had developed in Barcelona and there were dark smudges under her eyes. He hated that he was partly responsible for her sadness, but couldn’t think how to reach through her anger long enough to explain the string of disasters that had led them to this place.
The footsteps belonged to a middle-aged man in a suit, who came towards them, hand outstretched. “Good morning, I’m Peter Falkirk, I’m the Trust Director. I manage the funds that keep the day care running. Thank you for coming so early.”
Once the introductions had been made, Peter led them to the new wing that they were there to write about, which had been financed through fundraising and lottery grants. Autumn sun illuminated the room as they entered, making the fairer children look almost angelic as the sun glinted off their hair.
Helen was amazed by the tranquillity in the room. The children were all under 5, as the morning session was for pre-schoolers. Yet there were no tantrums; no yelling or fighting. The children were playing, either together or independently, some drawing, some cooking in the play kitchen. It wasn’t at all how Helen had imagined preschool children to be and it gave her some hope that maybe her serene existence wasn’t entirely over.
Peter smiled proudly at the scene before turning to address Marcio and Helen.
“Our main aim, of course, is to produce the article for your magazine,” he nodded towards Helen and she smiled at the thought that it was her magazine. “However we also have an agreement to use the material – your writing and your photographs,” he addressed them each in turn, “for some promotional literature. Aspiration Publications has agreed to let us have the extra content free of charge, as a contribution towards the day care centre.”
Helen knew all this, but was glad that Peter was preventing Marcio from speaking again. It took all her focus just to stand motionless next to him. Her mind was fire-hot but her body was yielding to the proximity of his. Her fingers curled as she tried to ignore a desire to bury them in the thick hair tickling his neck. She also fought an equally strong desire to empty the goldfish bowl she could see in the corner of the room over his handsome head.
At last Peter finished his introduction and Helen was released. Feeling able to breathe finally, Helen busied herself organising her camera equipment and taking light meter readings for the various areas of the room. Even though she kept her eyes down on her apparatus, her body seemed to be acutely aware of Marcio’s whereabouts at all times.
Marcio opened his notepad and began making observations while he pondered his dilemma. Relieved as he was to see Helen again, it was clear it was going to take some effort to convince her he still had feelings for her. Her intention seemed to be to freeze him out entirely and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her again.
He decided to start with the most pressing issue first. While Helen was pausing for his instruction, a sardonic look marring her face, he said in a low voice. “I bought the flowers for Lucy only because she gave me your email address when I thought I’d never find you again. If you look in your junk mail folder, you’ll probably find a full explanation from me. I’m so sorry.”
He was about to explain how he’d lost her details but the Trust Director was heading their way. Instead he said in a louder voice, “I’ll be concentrating on how the design of the building enhances the children’s sensory experience during their time at the centre, so if you can get some pictures of happy faces lit by the sun coming through the windows, and some of the little ones playing with the toy kitchen that would be great.” He moved off to get some information from the director about where the funding had come from, leaving Helen staring mutely after him, torn between irritation and amusement.
Later the children were gathered together for story time. Marcio watched them piling onto the beanbags and smiled fondly. It really was a great facility. He could imagine the twins coming somewhere like this while he and Helen worked together as writer and photographer. He felt that, together, they could achieve anything. He just had to make her see that.
Helen looked up from studying the camera screen and caught sight of Marcio watching the children. His face was soft, full of light. His affection for the children was palpable. Helen ignored the hard knot in her throat and surreptitiously pointed her lens at him, snapping a couple of quick pictures. Looking again at the image viewer, she felt her own face softening. He was not just handsome to look at; he was a beautiful human being. He was one of the few people she knew who really saw the world around him. She would be foolish not to at least listen to his explanation.
I see so many men out with their children who seem to find them a nuisance and here is a man who looks as if he’d happily take every child here home and play with them and count that a great day.
Still, it won’t hurt to make him sweat a little bit, she thought with a glimmer of a smile.
Moving nearer to the story-time, Helen deliberately avoided making eye contact with Marcio, keeping her shoulder slightly turned. Marcio could feel the animosity in her body language and despaired. Still, nothing ventured, he thought. If she’s that angry with me, what harm can I do now?
“I’m embarrassed to admit the truth,” he whispered quietly without quite facing her. He could tell she was listening as her finger on the shutter button stilled for a moment, before resuming the click click.
“I had my wallet pinched by a pickpocket, outside the harbour. After all the times I nagged you, I fell for the most basic of tricks. My wallet had your details in it and I couldn’t remember them no matter how hard I tried.”
He paused, and his voice changed tone slightly. “Besides, who uses a nickname for a business email address? What kind of name is MissSteady85 anyway?”
She turned at that and saw that he was teasing her.
“Not very professional! I still don’t know your surname and, really, that should be a primary piece of information in your email. It is effectively your business card these days. Miss Steady sounds like a tame bond girl.”
Helen glared at him, about to retort that she’d set the email up as a joke, because of her photography nickname: That she was trying to get an email address with her full name, but her current provider didn’t have it available. Then she realised he was trying to distract her, disarm her into talking, and she closed her lips.
Marcio grinned despite the failure of his ploy. He carried on with his explanation instead.
“So, knowing you were taking lifestyle photos in Barcelona, I started ringing all the magazines in London I could think of, asking if they had a freelancer by the name of Helen working for them. I’d more or less given up hope when Lucy answered at Aspiration, and hesitated when I described you. It took some convincing to get her to give me your email address and, as it turns out, it did more harm than good. You obviously haven’t received my message and, as if that wasn’t enough, you think I’m shagging that child. She can’t be more than nineteen. I’m hurt you would think that of me.”
Again, h
e was trying to engage her by forcing her to defend herself. Sneaky git!
This time she did respond, but with a barb. “Not shagging,” she lowered her voice to avoid little ears hearing something that shouldn’t be repeated, “You’ve added that in your own mind. I merely thought dating.”
Marcio grimaced, “I do seem to be digging myself in deeper and deeper don’t I? Will you let me take you to dinner, to make amends?”
Before Helen could answer, the story finished and the room erupted into chaos. It seemed it was snack time. Helen found herself the centre of a maelstrom of children, swirling around her, heading for the table in the corner. After some shuffling for seats they were then calm again as a huge pile of fruit and pancakes was carried in from the kitchen.
Helen began clicking away: The provision of healthy food was one of the great things the day care centre did for some of these children and she wanted pictures of their delighted faces as they hid blueberries inside their pancakes, before squishing them all out again as they tried to take a bite.
Out of the corner of her eye she could see Marcio taking notes as well as talking quietly into his Dictaphone. He crouched down and asked one of the children something about the food. Helen captured the animated reply, trying not to dwell on a future where Marcio might engage with her children in that way.
No more games, she thought to herself. I can see how he got himself in this pickle, and he’s obviously suffered as much as I have. Time to forgive and move on.
As if he could hear her internal dialogue, Marcio looked up and caught Helen’s eye. The intensity of his stare sent goosebumps dancing across her skin, despite the warmth of the sunny room. His blue eyes seemed to grip hers and he raised his eyebrows slightly as if repeating his request for forgiveness. Helen gave a small nod and the beaming smile that spread across his face made her stomach squirm with pleasure, and something more besides.
Chapter Seventeen
Helen looked at the cherished face across the table from her and was conscious of a soft cloud of contentment settling gently around her shoulders. I can’t believe it’s only been a week since the day-care centre. She thought about the long conversations they had shared on the phone since meeting on their joint assignment. The more she found out about Marcio, the more dreams they shared, the more she felt he belonged in her life.
Her mind shied away from the thought. It was too soon to feel entirely secure. She hadn’t forgotten the gaping emptiness in her heart left by Marcio’s silence. However accidental the cause, it had made her aware of how much it was going to hurt if he left her again. Squeezing Marcio’s hand tightly, she was about to answer his questioning look when she heard a familiar voice hail her from near the door.
“Helen, darling, how marvellous to see you.”
Looking over Marcio’s shoulder, Helen looked into the eyes of one of her former colleagues. She smiled in greeting but was conscious of a sense of trepidation. Sara was nice enough, but a terrible gossip; she was bound to spread the word about her being here with Marcio. Helen hadn’t seen any of her colleagues since her acrimonious lunch with Maria back in the summer and the last thing she needed on what was really only her third date with Marcio was a bitchy confrontation.
Sara approached the table and looked at Marcio with an appreciative gleam. She addressed her words at Helen without taking her eyes from Marcio. “Are you going to introduce me to your delectable friend?”
Marcio stood slightly and held out his hand. “Marcio, pleased to meet you.”
Helen decided she needed to be friendly, so she also rose and leaned over to peck Sara on the cheek. Sara glanced down and her smile became wolfish. “Goodness me, but you’ve been busy since Daniel dumped you! And we thought you’d disappeared because you were pining.”
Hot blood rushed to Helen’s face as she returned to her seat. Eyes flashing fire, she was about to retort when Marcio gently reached across the table and pressed her hand in a significant way.
He looked up at Sara, turning on his most charming smile. “Yes, isn’t it marvellous? We’re very excited about being parents. Do you have children?”
Knowing that Sara was too absorbed with climbing the career ladder to even keep a man for five minutes, Helen was gleeful at Marcio’s words. He couldn’t have said anything more designed to repulse her.
“Goodness, no!” Sara confirmed, “Noisy, smelly things.” Then realising that perhaps this wasn’t the most diplomatic thing to say, she hesitated before recovering quickly, “But of course adorable. So when is he or she due?”
“They are due in February,” Helen purred, rubbing her stomach lovingly.
“Twins?” Helen could see Sara was thrilled to be the possessor of so much gossip. She had more to add. “You know Daniel has a new job?”
“Oh yes, something Japanese wasn’t it? Good for him.” Helen’s voice was icy with indifference.
Frustrated on that front, Sara continued. “He’s engaged too, I hear. Didn’t take long.”
Helen swallowed hard. She didn’t care for Daniel any more, but knowing he had got engaged again so soon sent shards deep into her heart. I can’t believe he replaced me so quickly. So much for love. She looked across at Marcio and realised that she, too, had found a replacement for Daniel in her heart. Her brain ached with confusion and she was furious with Sara for bringing darkness to her date with Marcio.
Determined not to show Sara how much her words had disturbed her, Helen forced her cheeks into a wide smile and a dangerous glint appeared in her eyes.
“Ah, I’d heard he was dating again. He probably did a deal with the wedding venue when I left him, so as not to lose his deposit. That’s very Daniel.”
Marcio’s eyes twinkled as he watched Helen wade into battle. He hadn’t seen this side of her before. He liked it. Sexy.
“I suppose you don’t have much contact with the City anymore, now you’re expecting.” This said in a tone that suggested Helen was much to be pitied.
“No, thankfully, I’m too busy with my photography.”
“Oh yes, your little hobby, how lovely.”
Marcio felt compelled to defend Helen, even though he could see she was easily holding her own. “Yes, it’s a good hobby that sees you take the front page of Femtastic.” His face glowed with pride, and he inwardly chuckled at the sour look that settled on Sara’s face. Femtastic was clearly one of the magazines she subscribed to.
Glancing theatrically at her watch, Sara pasted a sickly smile on her face and shone it at Helen and then Marcio. “So lovely to catch up, and to meet you, Marcio. I must dash.”
As she exited the restaurant, Helen and Marcio collapsed in giggles, startling the waiter as he arrived with their meal.
“Do you still miss your office job?” Marcio raised his eyebrows with the question, a forkful of calamari hovering halfway to his mouth.
“I don’t miss bitches like her, that’s for certain.”
“Hush now,” Marcio admonished, “not in front of the children!”
Helen smiled before giving Marcio an arch look in return. “If you remembered that I had the front cover of Femtastic, why didn’t you ask them for my contact details when your wallet was stolen?”
Marcio looked wide-eyed at Helen, his mouth a perfect ‘o’ of horror. Then he smacked his forehead hard. “What a complete idiot. I have that damn picture of Rosa staring at me and it never even occurred to me. You know I work for that publishing house?”
“No, I didn’t. That makes you even more of an idiot, doesn’t it?”
Helen chuckled at the look of chagrin on Marcio’s face. Then something else from their conversation with Sara occurred to her.
“Did you mean it?” Helen asked quietly, busying herself with her ham and melon, eyes firmly on her plate.
“Mean what?” Marcio’s voice was quiet as he sensed the change of mood.
“Did you mean it when you said you were looking forward to being a parent?” She looked up then, earnest, needing him to be hone
st. “I don’t expect you to do it, you know.”
“Do what?”
“Be their parent. It’s a huge responsibility and I’ve only known you five minutes.” She inhaled deeply. Her next words might signal the end of what they had. Ignoring the gnawing sensation in her stomach she forced herself to speak. “It’s just that there aren’t many weeks until February and I don’t want to get used to having you around, only for you to run scared when the time comes.”
Marcio reached across the table and took Helen’s hand. “I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you. All of you.” He looked into her green eyes, willing her to believe him. “Of course I would prefer it if they were mine, and in an ideal world I would have met you a year ago, and we could have had some fun first.” He winked and Helen felt a quiver of desire run through her.
Marcio smiled as he correctly interpreted her response, but then his face became serious again. “But when life deals you an amazing hand like this, after the terrible one I thought I was holding, well, you don’t complain that it’s all kings instead of all aces.”
Tears leaked out the corner of Helen’s eyes and trickled down her face, leaving tracks in her makeup. Marcio was round the table in a heartbeat, his arms cradling her shoulders protectively.
“What is it? What did I say?”
“The most beautiful things,” she sobbed, as the tears fell harder. “Sorry, it’s the hormones, don’t mind me.” She smiled weakly at him and Marcio laughed.
“What are we going to do with you?” He kissed the tears dripping down her face, then handed a napkin. “Dry your eyes and eat your food before the children think you’re starving them!”
As they walked back to the Tube after dinner, fingers entwined, Marcio turned to Helen and declared, “I’ve decided to send a couple of my novels to agents.”
“What made you change your mind?” Helen remembered their conversation about Marcio’s fear of rejection.
Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes Page 21