“Marcio!” Helen’s heart raced at the idea that Marcio had even registered what she was wearing when they first met. She thought he had hardly noticed her at the Hotel Arts.
As if reading her mind, a sheepish look came over Marcio’s face.
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“Of course.”
“I watched you, out the window. At Hotel Arts. God I fancied you. I wanted to rush back down and drag you up to my room.”
Helen slipped off her shoe and ran her leg up the side of Marcio’s under the table.
“So, you had naughty thoughts did you? Ooh, I like that idea. I think I might be having naughty thoughts of my own.”
She looked at him through lowered lashes.
A mischievous glint lit up Marcio’s blue eyes. A seagull landed with a squawk on their table in a brazen attempt to steal their chips.
“Bird, you’re welcome to them. We’re off.”
Marcio reached round to Helen and pulled her to her feet.
“You and I have unfinished business. Do you still have that green dress?”
“I do. I’m not sure I’d still get in it!”
“How about we just drape it on the floor?”
The idea made Helen’s tummy quiver with anticipation.
“Can we get a taxi?”
“Well, it is your birthday.”
Nibbling at Marcio’s neck as he helped her along the gangplank, Helen prayed they would be able to flag down a taxi in record time.
Lying motionless, listening to Marcio’s gentle breathing, Helen’s mind drifted. When they had reached Helen’s apartment their love making had been urgent, then gentle.
Part of her mind couldn’t help but compare it to what she had had with Daniel. That wasn’t love-making. Just sex, really. I was attracted to him physically but we were like strangers, using each other to gratify ourselves.
It was different with Marcio. More intense, but also fun. They had groaned and giggled in equal measure.
She hadn’t closed her eyes once.
Chapter Twenty
“It turns out John can’t stand the empty nest either.”
Dawn’s voice was low as she told Helen about her conversation with her husband.
“He says he spent all those years doing what he thought was the right thing; serving his country, putting food on the table, providing for us, and now he feels he missed out on what was really important.”
Dawn had her head in her hands. They were both sitting at Helen’s little table with the sun streaming in through the grubby window, making the dust motes dance. Dawn had said she couldn’t face going to Pops.
“Now the children have left,” she continued, letting go of her face and wrapping her hands around her cup of tea, “he’s scared he made a terrible mistake.” She took a sip, before resuming her story.
“He even admitted,” she swallowed, feeling the fear anew. “He admitted he’d thought about starting again, with some divorcee he knows who has young kids.”
Helen drew breath, but couldn’t find any words to say.
“He said he wondered if he could right his wrongs with her, with her kids. You know, a new beginning?”
Helen looked aghast.
Dawn saw her expression and was quick to clarify. “I don’t think he ever did anything, as much because of her scruples as his.”
She removed her wedding ring and absently flicked it back and forth between her thumb and forefinger.
“Oh, Dawn, I’m sure John loves you.”
“I am, too.” Her voice was firm. “He said he does and I believe him. I just don’t know if it’s enough. If I’m enough.” She wiped at her eyes and gave Helen a weak smile.
“What a mess eh?”
“If he loves you, surely you can work out the rest?” With her newfound love for Marcio it seemed important to Helen that everyone was as happy as she was.
“I hope so. We’ve come up with an idea, at least, to help us find a way forward.”
“That’s good. What’s the plan?” Helen couldn’t imagine John agreeing to marriage counselling.
“We’re going to let the house for six months, visit our children. Spend some decent time with them and our grandchildren. And with each other.”
“Bloody hell, that’s some plan.”
“Yes. Quite frightening as well. To spend that much time with each other. It will be kill or cure.”
“So, when do you leave?”
“Sometime after the New Year. We’ll have the family Christmas at home first, as the children are already expecting to come. We’ll probably leave in February.”
“You’re kidding? Blimey. What about the house?”
“We have let it to some friends. It has worked out rather well. They are stuck in a chain and have decided to sell their house and rent ours for a while.”
“Where will you go first?” Helen couldn’t believe how courageous Dawn was, to turn her life upside-down in order to save her marriage.
“I think we’ll track down Adam. It might be nice to get some winter sun. He has just finished with that band you knew, in Bangalore. I am not sure where he will be going next but, knowing Adam, he will aim to be somewhere hot over the winter months.”
“Wow.” It was all Helen could think of to say.
“After that we’ll head to Geneva, to stay with Florence. John has barely seen Florence’s girls, except for a few days at Christmas. They have a big house, so they can put up with us for a while.”
“I’m rather jealous. It sounds like a gap year.”
“Well, we didn’t get to do it the first time round. It wasn’t something people really did in our day. Maybe our time has come.”
Helen reached over and gave Dawn a hug.
“I’m going to miss you.”
“Hopefully we’ll still be in the country when the twins arrive. I want to meet them before we go. And to make sure Marcio takes good care of you!”
“You make sure John looks after you.”
As Helen looked at the hesitant smile on Dawn’s face she prayed that she would be planning just such a trip with Marcio when their children were all grown up.
“How are things with you and Marcio?” Dawn visibly pulled herself together and turned her focus on Helen. “Everything still rosy?”
Helen blushed. Even though she and Marcio had been together for a few weeks, she still felt like a giddy teenager when she thought about him. She mused on the languid morning in bed they had had that morning, before Marcio had left to write a review on a hotel in Brighton.
“Oh yes.”
“How does he feel about the babies?”
“The way he keeps buying knickknacks for them, I think he’s quite excited.”
“He doesn’t mind that they’re not his?”
Helen twisted her fingers together. She was certain Marcio didn’t mind, but she still couldn’t quite get her head around it. Surely men were touchy about such things?
“He doesn’t seem to mind. He keeps saying they’re my babies, growing in my tummy, and that he will love them because of that. And that being a dad is more than just providing a few cells.”
“Well, that’s certainly true. Do you think he’ll make a good father?”
Helen thought back to the family party in Barcelona, reflecting on how natural Marcio had been with his nephews and nieces.
“Yes, he’ll be great. He certainly knows more than I do!”
“Will you do an antenatal class?” Dawn rose to make fresh tea.
Helen sat back in her chair and gazed out the window, thinking it really needed a clean.
“Yes, I start in a few weeks. I’m rather nervous. It makes it all that more real somehow.”
“You’ll be fine. Have you heard from Sharni?” Dawn called out over the noise of the kettle. “I haven’t caught up with her in a while.”
Helen thought about the conversation she had had with Sharni the day before. Would Sharni mind if she told Dawn?
“
She called yesterday.”
“Is she still lusting after Derek?” Dawn came back to the table with two steaming mugs of tea.
“Oh, so you know about that?”
Dawn smiled. “I have daughters; little escapes me. You develop a sense for it. I have to say, I wouldn’t like one of my daughters dating a man of Derek’s age and, um, reputation?”
“Me neither!” Helen laughed. “Still, I don’t think Sharni’s parents will have much to worry about.”
As they drank their tea, Helen filled Dawn in on the convoluted story Sharni had regaled her with the night before. Apparently she had enrolled on the Fashion Photography course and had spent the day gazing longingly at Derek and asking all manner of questions. Despite following him around like a puppy, he had given her no encouragement.
“Then, as they were wrapping up, the model who’d been helping Derek on the course went over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Turns out he’s been dating her for weeks. Sharni says the girl threw her a look as if to say she knew something had probably happened between her and Derek but she couldn’t really care less because that was show-business and it was her Derek was going home with.”
“Poor Sharni. Maybe Ben will help her get over him. Ben’s a nice boy.”
“I don’t think Sharni wants a nice boy.”
“Maybe not now, but sometimes love grows over time. It isn’t always love at first sight.”
“I hope you’re right. They both could do with some luck in the love stakes.”
“Couldn’t we all?”
PART THREE
A parent's love is whole no matter how many times divided
Robert Brault
Chapter One
Looking around the room Helen realised she was the only person there on her own, although one woman was with another woman – Helen wasn’t sure if it was her partner or a friend.
Damn, I knew I should have taken Marcio up on his offer to come.
She hadn’t wanted to have everyone assume he was the father. Now, though, it felt worse having everyone assume there was no father around. She caught one or two pitying glances and determined at the first opportunity to drop in Marcio’s name. She didn’t know anyone here but still she didn’t want them to judge her.
It turned out the antenatal class was being held in the same day care centre she had done the story on with Marcio. It looked different in the evening with the blinds drawn and a circle of beanbags and low chairs. Having lowered herself into a beanbag, Helen was beginning to realise she needed to bring a partner with her just to help her get back up again. At nearly 30 weeks pregnant she had all the grace of a beached whale. The physique too, come to think of it. She had to wonder what magnetism kept Marcio by her side and attentive, because it certainly wasn’t her svelte body and snake hips.
Looking up she realised the class leader was introducing herself and explaining an ice-breaker exercise for the group to get to know one another. Oh god, Helen moaned to herself, maybe it’s just as well Marcio isn’t here, we’d be giggling like kids by now. Looking round the room she did see one or two couples rolling their eyes at each other and realised that there might even be some people here she could be friends with.
At the end of half an hour, Helen had spoken to everyone in the room, and knew what flavour ice cream they liked and their middle names. She wasn’t sure how that would help, but the class leader obviously deemed the exercise a success, as her face beamed with pride. She began pulling out some laminated sheets, sorting through them for the ones she wanted. Helen saw glimpses of images she wasn’t quite ready to see. Clearly the class leader thought so too, as she slid them carefully to the bottom of the pile muttering something about not scaring them straight away.
Comforting words, Helen thought sarcastically.
They were given sheets with the title “Birth Plan” and a range of bubbles of text underneath.
“Now, with your partners – Helen you can work with me – go through the things on the sheet and identify which you think should be on your birth plan. If you have completed your plan already, then feel free to spend the time thinking of any questions you might have.”
Birth plan? Helen vaguely remembered the midwife talking about such a thing, but she had figured it was making sure her mother was in London rather than Devon, and knew the number of the maternity ward. Looking at the sheet now, with strange words like episiotomy, pethadine, epidural, tens machine, birthing pool, she thought maybe she should have paid more attention to what the midwife was saying.
The class leader, whose name she now found out was Rachel, came and sat next to her with a pad and pen.
“Don’t worry if you haven’t written a birth plan yet,” she said to Helen kindly, correctly interpreting the look of horror on her face. “It’s more for your own comfort than anything else. It means that you don’t have to have lengthy conversations with the midwives or doctors once you’re in labour. But you will probably find your plan changes once labour starts. Many a person who was clear they only wanted gas and air starts calling for an epidural once contractions are coming thick and fast.”
Helen was wondering if she should admit she didn’t know what half the things on the sheet were. Perhaps she should have had an ante-antenatal class to fill her in? Was there such a thing? The class leader seemed to realise something wasn’t quite right when she looked around the room.
“Would you prefer if we went through the pain relief options before we looked at the birth plan?” There were eleven heads nodding vigorously.
Rachel returned to the front of the class and shuffled through her sheets again.
“My apologies, I’ve got a bit ahead of myself. We’re meant to do birth plans next week. I got confused with the class I had before yours.” She handed round some more laminated sheets.
“Okay, pain relief. Probably a good place to start, as it is often the thing that worries women the most. You will find that everyone’s reaction to pain, as well as everyone’s experience of pain, is very different. Like many things where babies are concerned it is best not to compare, and also to try not to worry too much about the myriad of advice you will be offered by friends, aunties, strangers.”
As she looked around the room, Helen could see several of the women nodding vigorously in agreement.
Maybe it isn’t a bad thing to come from a small family, at least no-one is dishing out unwanted advice. Imagine someone else telling you what to do during your own pregnancy and birth? I’d probably tell them to eff off.
Aware of the nodding, Rachel smiled. “If someone you know gave birth in two hours using only gas and air, be glad for them and don’t take it to heart if you find your labour lasts two days and you use the full suite of drugs available.”
She was clearly trying to make them feel better, but the idea of a two-day labour was so horrific many of the women in the room were turning to their partners for reassurance.
Helen tried to imagine having contractions for 48 hours. She couldn’t really imagine having contractions at all. She didn’t know anyone, apart from her mother obviously, who had given birth. She knew her and her brother had been fairly easy births, both at home. Helen wondered how much of the details disappeared with time. And of course her mother hadn’t had twins.
As if reading her mind, Rachel went on to say, “As you are all expecting twins, you will probably find a higher percentage of you deliver in hospital. In fact you may find your midwives are reluctant to offer you a home birth. Are any of you planning a home birth?”
Helen looked round the room and was relieved to see no one raised their hands. She hadn’t wanted to be the only scaredy cat who wanted to be in a nice shiny hospital when she gave birth, where they could take care of her and the babies if anything went wrong. Home births were probably great if it was your third child and you had a lovely big room with a tiled floor and space for a birthing pool. Her apartment with its cream carpets and two flights of stairs didn’t seem a great place to have
an emergency.
They talked about the different drugs available, about caesarean sections and episiotomies. All the men began to look more sympathetic, as if they hadn’t really considered what their wives and partners were going to have to go through.
All in all, Helen wasn’t sure she was glad she had come. It was nice to be around other women who couldn’t get up unassisted, and who kept disappearing off to pee every five minutes. But a large part of her had been happy in blissful ignorance, with still ten weeks yet to worry about what happened when the babies were cooked.
Helen walked out of the class with her head bowed, clasping the stack of notes to her bump. Around her the rest of the couples came chattering into the cold night air. It felt like leaving the school disco all over again, except this time her mother wasn’t there to hug away the emptiness.
Out of the darkness a man walked towards her and planted a kiss on her lips before saying loudly, “Darling, I’m so sorry I missed the class, was it fun?”
Helen raised her head and felt warmth flood through her like chocolate sauce. She smiled gratefully up at him and marvelled at his understanding.
“It was a little daunting,” she confessed, and was rewarded by a comradely chuckle from one of the girls coming out behind her.
The girl lent over Helen’s shoulder and said to Marcio, “Your poor girl has endured two hours of finding out the various ways doctors might cut her open and stitch her up again. I think she probably needs a hug and a drink.”
Marcio looked into Helen’s eyes to see whether this was true.
She shrugged. “That pretty much sums it up.”
He looked shocked, so she added, “What? Your sisters weren’t induced with a stretch and sweep? They didn’t have episiotomies or caesareans? No forceps or ventouse deliveries?”
His sisters hadn’t really seen fit to regale their brother with the gory details of their births so he had no idea. He hung his head and put his arm around Helen, giving her a squeeze. Since their first meeting in Barcelona, Marcio had figured he was the one with the answers, the one who knew about childbirth and babies and interacting with kids. Now it was his turn to flounder out of his depth. It wasn’t a nice sensation.
Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes Page 23