He stood mutely but resolutely blocking the path, forcing her to talk to him.
“Please move.” She was about to explain that she was taking things to her new apartment, but she had no intention of letting him know her new address.
He stood to one side, again giving the impression of trying to appease her.
“Are you going to the station? Can I at least wheel the case there for you?”
His voice was warm now. It confused Helen, jarring against her memories of his anger the night she announced her pregnancy. She concentrated on those memories and forced herself not recall earlier, happier, times.
“Surely you have some business meeting that requires your urgent attendance, something more important to do?” Helen was pleased at the firmness of her voice. She turned away from him and began to wheel the suitcase down the street.
“There is nothing more important than this.”
Something in Daniel’s voice made Helen look back sharply. There was veracity in his words that surprised her. His face radiated sincerity. She began to wonder if he did really care about the welfare of their children; about her.
Looking at him properly now, it was hard to forget the two years they had lived together; that she had intended to walk with him up the aisle as his wife.
As if detecting the tiny glimmer of concession, Daniel pressed home his advantage. He reached forward and gently took the suitcase handle from her grasp.
The case was heavy. Only stubbornness had stopped Helen giving up at the first flight of stairs. The thought of wheeling it for the best part of a mile wasn’t appealing, but neither was the prospect of getting it back up the stairs.
Why not let the man be helpful? It is the least he can do. Besides, he’ll have to find out our new address eventually, he is the biological father even if I want nothing to do with him.
They walked in silence, Helen slightly ahead on the pretence of showing the way, Daniel following behind in an abnormally submissive position, trundling her suitcase along behind him. It kept bouncing on the pavement and turning on its wheels. Helen could hear Daniel cursing under his breath, trying not to lose his temper.
She smiled viciously at the sound, but her mind churned with emotions. It felt like a betrayal to Marcio to be even walking with Daniel. At the same time, however, it was surely better for the twins if she could at least be in the same street as the man without wanting to scream obscenities or slap him.
It was a fifteen minute walk to the apartment, but it felt like an hour. Helen’s neck was prickling with the sense of Daniel just behind her. It felt awkward walking in silence, but there really wasn’t anything to say. She suspected Daniel had intended to talk en-route, but Helen kept up a brisk pace, despite the bump, so that all his attention was focussed on not losing control of the suitcase.
When they reached the new apartment, Helen stopped several doors down from her new front door and reached out her hand for the suitcase.
“Thank you.”
“Are you going to invite me in?” Daniel was flushed from the walk and panting slightly.
“No.” Helen’s response was curt. She kept her face expressionless despite the tumult of emotion churning her stomach.
Daniel looked at her and seemed to weigh his options. He seemed to come to some decision in his mind. Helen sensed he was reluctant to leave, but knew to quit when he was ahead.
“Well, it was lovely to see you. You look great. How many weeks left now?”
“Four.”
“Okay. Well, you will tell me, when they arrive, won’t you?”
Helen considered his request. She had no such intention, not right away. The last thing the twins needed was any mixed messages over who Daddy was. There was no confusion in her mind. Still, Daniel wasn’t a man she would choose to cross face to face, not if it wasn’t necessary.
“Of course.” Well, she would tell him eventually. Time enough to worry about when, after the babies arrived.
She stood motionless while Daniel hovered, then turned to walk away. She watched his retreating form until he was out of sight, not wanting him to see that she was standing outside the wrong door.
He turned once, at the end of the street, and raised his hand in greeting. Helen shivered, as if a cloud had passed over the sun, plunging the street into sudden darkness.
Shaking off the thought, she wheeled the case the extra few yards to her new home, and gratefully went inside.
Chapter Ten
“Marci, Marci. Marcio! Wake up!”
Marcio rolled over and looked blearily for the bedside clock. It was in the wrong place. Confused, he looked around and saw it on the other side of the bed. They’d only been in the apartment a week and he still hadn’t got used to where everything was. The green numbers swam before his sleep-laden eyes before coming into focus. 4am. He rolled back to look at Helen. She was sat on the edge of the bed, fully dressed.
“Wha?” he managed. Then something sparked in his sleepy brain. “You’re dressed.”
“Yes, I’m dressed, and you need to be too. It’s time.”
The words it’s time finally galvanised Marcio into action. He was out of bed and into his jeans, his heart racing. “How long have you been up?” His voice was urgent. Helen looked so awake.
“An hour or so. The contractions were light to begin with; I didn’t want to wake you before I needed to. You’re going to need as much sleep as you can get. But Rachel said to go to hospital when I couldn’t stand the pain any more, and I think that time has come.”
The last word stretched out into a howl of pain, as Helen braced herself against the bed, breathing hard. Through sheer will she managed to bring it under control, breathing through the pain in a way that Marcio could only marvel at. Women were amazing.
Thankfully the new apartment had permit parking, so the car was just outside on the road. Helping Helen out the door, Marcio felt the need for some deep breaths himself. He ran back in for her bag, which sat waiting by the door. It was a tiny particle of order amidst the chaos. The flat was still in upheaval from the move, and much of their stuff hadn’t even been moved in, let alone unpacked.
“I can’t believe you’re in labour,” he panted, after running back to help her into the car. “The babies aren’t due for three weeks. We’re still moving house!”
“Rachel said twins sometimes come early.”
“I can’t believe you’re so calm.”
“I think it’s the hormones. There has to be some upside to all this agony.” She gritted her teeth as another surge of pain ripped through her. She could think of nothing for the next thirty seconds until the contraction subsided.
Thankfully even London roads were quiet at 4.30am and they made it to the hospital in record time. There was no need to explain to the girl on the desk why they were there. Helen was sobbing with pain by the time they arrived. Managing contractions in the bathroom was one thing, but swaying on all fours in the back of a moving car was something entirely different.
They were led immediately to a private room, where the midwife hooked Helen up to a monitor to measure the babies’ heart-rates. Helen had known she would be under consultant-care, and was resigned to being tethered to a machine. The equipment she was more interested in was the one dispensing gas and air, which was positioned behind the bed. Gesturing at the mask, she no longer even had the words to speak. The midwife took her blood pressure and recited instructions on how to use the unit. Helen heard only noise, as if she were in a giant fish tank and everyone else was on the outside.
She knew what to do from the antenatal class, and as soon as the midwife passed her the mask, she held it to her face and breathed deeply. Two more breaths and some of the tension in her eased, as she felt herself regain control.
The sense of being underwater lifted slightly and Helen became aware of Marcio talking quietly with the midwife. He had calmed down as soon as they arrived and he could pass responsibility to the medical staff. His role now was to fetch, car
ry, rub, soothe and take abuse. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the writer was taking notes, revelling in the extremity of the experience. Another wry voice was thinking, at least she can’t accuse me of getting her into this mess.
Time passed, marked with numbers. So many centimetres dilated, so many hours. Because Helen was only 37 weeks pregnant, she wasn’t permitted pethadine; the babies were likely to be too small to cope with the drug in their bloodstream. In the end, after several hours on gas and air, Helen agreed to an epidural. It was strange to her that, once the contractions had started, part of her was reluctant to lose all sensation to the numbness of the drug. All her protestations that she didn’t want to feel a thing evaporated with the strange exhilarating power of the physical experience, and the strength she found within herself to cope with it.
However, once the epidural began to take effect and the stillness spread through her tired muscles, all doubt evaporated. She had experienced labour. Okay she wasn’t going to experience the need to push, but rather would need to judge when by the spikes on the graph paper. On the plus side she was able now to focus on Marcio, to share the moment with him.
In her secret thoughts Helen had wondered whether it would matter, here at the crux, that Marcio wasn’t the twins’ father. She asked herself the question now.
It doesn’t. My love for him has fused somehow with my love for the twins. Together we are a unit, excluding Daniel and any part he might have played in the distant past.
Helen hadn’t heard from him since he had wheeled her suitcase to the apartment the week before, and she had no intention of contacting him immediately to tell him about the birth. Time enough for that. Looking into Marcio’s tired but elated face she thought, this is my family now.
Eventually the number reached the magic ten, and her body was ready to move into the next stage. Helen couldn’t understand why she was so exhausted, even though she had been lying still for the last few hours.
“Your body is still having contractions,” the midwife explained gently, “you just can’t feel them. We’re going to turn down the epidural now, so you can feel more when to push. Hopefully by the time the twins are ready to come out you’ll have regained some sensation.”
Helen wasn’t sure how she felt about that. It was one thing to deal with unavoidable pain, another thing entirely to have someone decide it was time to feel it again.
After she had pushed against an imaginary barrier four or five times, Helen was grateful to feel the sensation returning. She felt too disengaged, like someone else was giving birth to her babies. Now she could feel it, and the sensation was entirely different to the contractions. Now there was a purpose.
“Sir, if you want to see the first head, you can come and look now.”
Marcio looked up, startled, at the midwife. Did he want to see? He wasn’t sure. He looked at Helen and she smiled. “It’s up to you, darling, I’ll understand if you aren’t sure.”
Marcio hesitated, then took the step. He was glad he had. It wasn’t gory or strange at all, just amazing. To see the baby, his baby, coming into the world, was indescribable.
Helen gave an enormous yell of effort and the first baby slid free. There was a pause, and the entire room went still. Then the baby too gave a yell, and everyone breathed again.
“It’s a boy. You have a son.” The midwife addressed both parents. She efficiently cleaned the baby, before handing him to Marcio. He gave the tiny bundle a cuddle, then laid him on Helen’s chest. They had been told the babies would be taken immediately to special care, because they were small and early, but that Helen would be allowed to have skin-to-skin contact first.
As a nurse took the baby and wrapped him in a blanket, Helen’s face contorted and she began to push again. It took three more pushes and the second head was visible. Again the pause, again the yell.
“This one is a girl. One of each, well done.” The midwife sounded genuinely pleased for them, as she passed the girl to Marcio, who again gave the child a hug and laid her on her mother’s chest. When she, too, had been whisked away, Marcio laid his cheek against Helen’s and stroked the damp hair off her brow.
“You did it. All by yourself,” he murmured. “I love you so much. All of you.”
The midwife came over. “Well done, you two,” she said again, obviously happy that they had had a fairly uncomplicated delivery. “The little ones are fine and healthy, special care will just weigh and measure them, check for jaundice, that kind of thing.”
She turned to Helen. “You need a few stitches I’m afraid, nothing serious. We’ve turned your epidural up again so it won’t hurt a bit.” Facing Marcio she said, “If Dad would like to come with me, you can sit with the little ones while Helen is being looked after. Do they have names yet?”
“James Eduard and Jasmine Aina,” Helen said quietly. Marcio smiled. Helen had decided on her top boy and girl names even before he met her. She had offered to let him suggest alternatives, but he thought they were fine names. If they’d had two girls or two boys, the choice for the second would have been his: Helen had used those for middle names instead.
“Beautiful,” the midwife smiled. “Well, Dad, come along and meet James and Jasmine. When the checks are all done, I’ll take you to the ward and you can wait for Helen there.”
“Mum should be here soon, if she isn’t already,” Helen whispered, starting to feel groggy as the epidural increased in intensity.
“Don’t worry, she texted half an hour ago to say she was in the taxi from the station. I’ll go down to reception and find her.”
As she lay quietly by herself, after the frenetic final hour, when the room had seemed full of paediatricians, consultants, midwives and nurses, Helen thought about Marcio and their babies. The midwife had known Marcio wasn’t the real father, but she had called him Dad throughout. For some reason that brought a lump to her throat. As the salty tears ran into her mouth, coming from a mixture of relief and exhaustion, she hoped she would always be this content.
Chapter Eleven
“Darling!” Her mother stood up, with one of the tiny babies cradled in her arms, as Helen’s bed was wheeled into the cubicle. “Congratulations! How are you feeling?”
“Hungry,” Helen replied, aware of a hollow rumbling in her tummy.
“I have food, don’t worry. One thing I do remember from giving birth is being starving and not being offered so much as a bite of toast. Can she eat?” She addressed the latter to the midwife who had stayed behind after moving the bed.
Checking the paperwork to see how long it had been since she had last had the epidural increased, the midwife consulted her watch.
“She should really wait a bit.”
Helen squawked in protest.
“But a banana or some toast would be fine,” she concluded, smiling. “I can have some toast brought in, if you like, and some tea or coffee?”
“Tea please. For all of us?” Helen asked. She knew Marcio and her mother must be gasping too.
“I’ll see what I can do.” With that she left, tugging the curtain shut behind her.
“What time is it?” Helen asked, starting to feel more alert after what felt like days of living in a tight tunnel.
“7 o’clock.”
“Is that day or night?”
Maggie laughed, as Marcio pulled up a chair with one hand, while still cradling his bundle tenderly in the other. “Night time, dear. You’ve been here about 14 hours.”
“Gosh, it feels less than that, really.”
“Speak for yourself,” Marcio mumbled.
Looking up, Helen realised he was pale, with dark circles developing under his blue eyes. She was about to retort that it was she who had done all the work. Then she remembered that he’d spent the last day hovering around her protectively, while she lay on the bed, or dozed. He’d brought her tea and water and biscuits and made sure she was comfortable. She wondered if he’d taken care of himself at all. She was glad her mother was here to share the load.
>
“Could I see my babies, please?” her voice sounded plaintive. Maggie and Marcio both started up, as they realised Helen wasn’t actually holding either of her children. The babies were asleep, and so tiny, it was easy to forget they were there.
Maggie came over immediately and gently pulled back the swaddle of blankets before laying Jasmine on Helen’s chest. Someone had thoughtfully provided her with a pink hat – all of the clothes they had brought with them were neutral colours, yellow and purple, as they hadn’t known what they were having.
“Do they look alike?” Helen knew they weren’t identical, as the scans had shown separate placentas.
“I have no idea.” Marcio laughed. “They are of course adorable, but they are also scrunched and red and a bit flaky.”
Helen gave him a lock of mock outrage. “How can you say that about your children?”
It warmed Marcio inside whenever she said your children. Of course he loved them as much as if he had fathered them. He had felt them kick, seen them born. Since meeting Daniel, however, their real father had become a solid person, no longer just an idea, and that made it harder to escape him. He felt like a usurper; part of him wondered if the babies would be better off with their own father to care for them.
The tiny bundle on Helen’s chest started to mew fitfully, followed by a similar sound from the bundle in Marcio’s arms. Helen realised the babies were probably both hungry. Rachel had talked through the options for feeding twins, but Helen’s head was fluffy and muddled, and she started to panic.
“Hush, hush, little ones. Mummy’s not sure what to do.”
The midwife bustled back in. “This is your first time, isn’t it? Let me help you.” With calm efficiency, she got Helen propped up in bed, and wedged her in with pillows. “For the first feed, well do one at a time, until they get the hang of it. Dad,” she looked up, “Could you wander for a little bit with…?”
Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes Page 27