“We made it all the way to Devon, I’m sure we can manage the flight to Barcelona. From memory it’s shorter than the train trip anyway.”
“Flying is a bit different to being on a train.” Marcio’s voice was full of doubt.
“Don’t you want to go?” Privately Helen thought Marcio needed to see his family, to show them the twins. Maybe then he would feel assured that they were his children in every way that mattered.
“I do, I’m just not sure we’re ready for that yet.” Marcio thought about trying to get all their luggage and the twins on a budget airline. He was used to flying with carry-on luggage and a newspaper tucked under his arm. Looking at Helen, he wondered how she would cope with the stress of the flight if the twins screamed for the duration. He’d been on planes when harassed mothers tried to shush their miserable infants. It was usually pretty awful for everyone and Helen was still fragile.
“When is your mother’s birthday? Is it before you start work?”
“End of March and yes, I don’t start until after Easter. But Helen, it won’t be easy, flying with the babies. What if they cry all the way?”
“The twins will be ten weeks old, they’ll be fine.” She looked closely at Marcio’s face, and realised what was bothering him. Her first reaction was to defend herself and her ability to cope with the twins. Before she could speak, a small voice murmured at the back of her mind, He’s just worried about you. He doesn’t think you’re going to show him up, he’s just concerned it will be more than you can handle.
Helen stood up and went to Marcio, putting her arms around his neck. “I’ll be fine. You’ll be there with me, and I can feed them for the whole flight if needs be, to keep them happy. Let’s do this; let us go away as a family. Your mum needs to see the babies, and I’m sure your sisters can’t wait. Tell her we’d love to come.”
Marcio held her tight and breathed in the scent of her hair. “You’re amazing.”
She laughed. “Not at all. I fully expect to have several child-free days, while your family hog the babies. I’m looking forward to it already.”
As they all laughed a thought crept into Helen’s mind. There were still a few weeks until the planned trip to Spain. It might just be possible to find another way to make them all feel like a family. Another way to convince Marcio that he was the twins’ father now and that they were all intending to stay in his life. It was an audacious plan, but sometimes life insisted that you learn how to be brave.
Later that evening, when Marcio had gone upstairs to get the twins ready for bed, Helen dug out the number she had surreptitiously copied from his mobile. Grabbing the phone from its cradle she dialled and waited nervously, her pulse rushing in her ears. The phone clicked.
“Hola?”
Helen took a deep breath.
“Benita? It's Helen. I need your help.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Oh god, Helen, I’m so sorry.”
Helen was too tired to understand what Marcio meant. It was all she could do to push the double-buggy after Marcio and their over-full trolley, praying none of the suitcases fell off as they wove their way through customs.
When they reached the arrivals lounge she understood the cause of his apology. From the chorus of greeting as they came through the doors it seemed his whole family had turned out to meet them. Helen looked on sleepily as one person after another greeted Marcio, cooed over the babies, then came over to kiss her too. Marcio gave her an apologetic grimace and pushed through the bodies to give her a hug. His body felt comforting against hers, but all she wanted was to sit down and maybe drink some tea.
The flight had been uneventful, but Marcio was right, there was a big difference between travelling to Devon and flying to Spain. The hours sitting in the airport, breathing artificial air, trying to care for the twins, was more exhausting than the flight. Helen stretched her neck left and right; feeding in the cramped seats on the plane had been challenging too. Next time we find the money not to fly budget.
She barely remembered the drive out to the vineyard, or how she made it to her bed when she got there. Someone brought her the twins for a feed but, after that, all was silence. For the first time Helen truly appreciated the wonder of a big family.
In the morning it was the same. The twins were spoilt for choice of which Auntie would change their nappies, bathe them, burp them. The only thing Helen had to do was keep the milk coming, and rest.
Taking an opportunity when Marcio was being proud parent in the other room, Benita came over to Helen and said quietly, “It took some doing at such short notice, but it’s all arranged.”
Helen felt a flock of butterflies take flight in her stomach. She looked deeply into Benita’s eyes, trying to read the thoughts hidden in their dark depths.
“What does everyone think?” Her brows contracted and the butterflies reared up, leaving her dizzy with worry.
Benita took Helen’s hands and held them, smiling warmly at her.
“They think it’s wonderful. Some shock, yes, some natural concerns. Ultimately the choice is his. If he is happy, so are they.”
“And so am I.” Helen took a deep breath. Everything would be fine, it had to be. It was too late now.
“Ahem.”
Marcio’s mother cleared her throat to get her family’s attention. There were five or six family members gathered for breakfast in the cluttered kitchen and the babble of voices was loud. Too loud, Helen decided. Although she had slept well since they arrived, her head was still muggy from too many thoughts jostling for attention. She looked around through heavy eyelids and marvelled, not for the first time, at how like her own family home the vineyard felt. As she became aware of Marcio’s mother’s voice, Helen’s heart thudded painfully in her chest, almost drowning out the words.
“Marci, Uncle Enric is coming to the party this evening, I need you to go and pick him up from Hotel Arts later.”
Marcio looked up at his mother in surprise. “Why on earth is he staying there? Or coming to your party for that matter? You haven’t spoken to him in years.”
“Don’t ask questions; just do as you are told!”
Marcio grinned; his mother hadn’t used that tone with him in years. Obviously being a parent himself now didn’t stop him being treated like a child. Shrugging, he decided if it made his mother happy it was a small price to pay to drive into the city. Besides, he could pick up his email in the internet café en-route.
“Make sure you dress smart,” his mother said sternly. “You know Uncle Enric is a stickler for a tie!”
“You want me to wear a shirt and tie just to collect old Enric? You are joking?”
“I do not joke, not about such things. You will wear a tie, you will be on time, that is my wish.”
“Well, mother, if that is your wish, then that is my command,” and he bowed, ducking as she threw a bread roll across the table which narrowly missed his head.
Arriving at the Hotel Arts, Marcio went to reception and explained he was there to collect his Uncle Enric.
The lady behind the desk gave him a look he couldn’t quite interpret, and said, “Certainly, sir, this way.”
Intrigued, he followed the receptionist as she led him out of the hotel and down to the beach. He wondered what on earth the old codger was doing on the beach in March.
He noticed that there was a group of people gathered on the sand, obviously for some special occasion. The receptionist was leading him towards the group. What on earth is going on?
Marcio saw the pram first; a giant old fashioned thing, decked with ribbons. His pulse began to beat time loudly in his ears. Standing next to the pram was his whole family, dressed in their best outfits, with long coats to protect against the chill breeze. Even Spain wasn’t warm in March, although the weather was sunny and mild enough.
Marcio felt a lump come to his throat. The last time he’d seen his family smiling fondly at him like that, it was about thirty seconds before his whole life collapsed like a sa
ndcastle washed by the tide. The rushing in his ears became drowned out by the waves on the beach as he walked slowly towards the gathered people.
His eyes scanned the crowd and alighted on his mother, standing in the centre of the group. She was smiling. As if her approval was the key, Marcio felt his mind clear and his limbs cease to quiver. Walking more briskly he headed to where she was standing. She kissed him on both cheeks and held him close.
“My son. This is still your choice, and we support any decision you make. Here.” She passed him a note. It was from Helen.
Darling Marcio
If you don’t want to do this, I won’t mind. I wanted to show you how much you mean to me and how I want you to be Jasmine and James’ Daddy. If you are happy to go through with it, take your place at the altar and I will meet you there.
Love Helen
Marcio swallowed a lump in his throat and ignored the prickling at the corners of his eyes. He read the note again, but there was no thinking to be done. His mind was clear.
Looking up, he saw a table behind the group of people, and made his way towards it, head high. He noticed that Helen’s parents were there too, as was Simon. Behind the throng, holding hands, he spied Ben and Sharni, and next to them stood Dawn and John, tanned, also holding hands.
How did she plan all of this without my knowledge? Scanning the crowd again, he realised Benita was missing. So that’s it! My darling sister has been busy.
Following his instructions, Marcio went to stand by the table, trying not to dwell on the last time he had done what he was told and turned up at the altar. He stood staring out to sea, ignoring the hubbub of conversation behind him. The sun broke through the cloudy sky overhead and its rays warmed him through his jacket. He inhaled the scent of the sea and tuned his senses into the rush-rush of the waves lapping the sand.
There was a hush in the group and Marcio turned his attention away from the dark blue waves to look behind him.
There was Helen, radiant in a simple sea-green gown that clung to her curves and made him think unchristian thoughts. Their family had formed two groups, allowing a path between them, for Helen to approach the altar.
Across the space, Marcio could see Helen staring at him, trying to read his mind. Her face was rosy from the wind and, he guessed, from the emotions that must be churning within her. He longed to run across the sand and pull her close. Instead he remained in position, reaching towards her with his eyes.
Her face was serene, but her eyes seemed troubled. He guessed she was unsure about his reaction to being led unknowing to the altar. He wanted to tell her that it was perfect; that he felt nothing but overwhelming love for her, for organising this idyllic wedding on the beach with his family all looking on.
He smiled and gave a slight nod, as if to say, “It’s all good.” He was rewarded with a beaming smile. Even across the distance he could see the tension drain from her face and shoulders.
Helen felt a sob of relief well up in her throat and willed it to go away. I am not going to cry today of all days. I’ve shed enough tears. She hadn’t realised how frightened she had been, until Marcio’s nod of consent. What if he’d said no? She shivered at the thought. Her left side was suddenly warm, as her father came to stand beside her, pulling her arm through his. It seemed he, too, had been waiting for Marcio’s nod. Her mother handed her a posy of flowers, then melted away back into the crowd.
Helen felt her heightened senses take in the space around her; the waiting friends and family, the altar, the sand beneath her feet and the sea whispering in the distance. After weeks of planning, it was finally real. She wanted to kick off her shoes and dig her toes into the sand, to convince herself that she was really here. Shivering again from the cool breeze, she thought better of it, focusing instead on walking down the makeshift aisle.
How did I dare do it? To plan a wedding without consulting him. Do all this behind his back, after we said no more secrets?
Thinking about it now, as she let her father lead her slowly across the sand towards him, she decided the sleep-deprivation must have addled her brain. Benita hadn’t thought she was crazy though, now she thought about it. When she had called her, only a few weeks ago, and begged her to help plan a wedding, Benita had been startled but enthusiastic. He can always say no, she had said with a shrug in her voice. We knew, the day you came to the vineyard, that you were meant to be together. If you leave it to Marcio, you’ll never get married. You take charge, Helen. When happiness is at stake, you have to just go for it.
Mum was as bad, Helen mused. Arranging for her and Dad and Simon to come over. She looked to her left and caught sight of Sharni grinning at her. Helen felt her cheeks twitch in response, and forced herself to look forward again. I can’t believe they all came too, in March! As the wind swept across her bare skin, raising goosebumps, Helen thought ruefully, Maybe I should have waited a few weeks. Would it have mattered?
She remembered the constant, increasingly desperate, calls from Daniel since their showdown. Even though she had kept him at arm’s length, cancelling his calls and refusing to answer the door to him, it had taken all of her and Marcio’s newly discovered strength and honesty not to be rattled by it. After today, Marcio will be one step closer to being the twins’ true father. And when Daniel’s calmed down, we can discuss it properly. For now I don’t want to think about him. This is, finally, my wedding day.
She was almost at the front. Marcio stood a few feet away, with the twins being held to one side, their little adorable outfits fluttering in the breeze. Helen’s heart felt as if it might pop from the love crammed into it. She reached out a hand towards Marcio and let him lead her the last few feet to the altar.
As he watched Helen approach across the beach, Marcio thought about the nine months that had led him here. It seemed a lifetime ago since Mia had made her brave decision, one that at the time he thought had ruined his life forever. Yet here he was, with a beautiful bride who understood him, gave him the space to be himself.
He looked towards the pram. Two of his sisters were holding the babies up so they could be seen. Someone had thought to dress them for the occasion; James in a tiny suit, Jasmine in a white silky dress. They were both wide awake, apparently unconcerned by everything going on around them.
My babies.
Turning back to face Helen, Marcio thought he might catch fire from the joy illuminating his entire body. Who knew such beautiful contentment existed in the world?
When she arrived at his side, Marcio pulled Helen close, kissed her cheek, and paused to whisper in her ear.
“So, do we live happily ever after?”
She looked into his blue eyes, tears filling her own, her heart thumping in her throat.
“I don’t know, ask me in fifty years. The story hasn’t ended yet.”
Epilogue
“Hold still everyone, please.” Stuart peered at the group through the viewfinder, then raised his head above the camera. “Will you two please stop snogging long enough for me to take at least one picture?”
“Sorry,” Sharni shouted over the laughter that followed. She stood on tiptoe to give Ben another kiss before turning back to face Stuart. “There, I’m all done for now.”
“I should hope so.” Stuart’s voice was stern, but his tanned face was creased with smiles. He bent down to check the viewfinder again and clicked off a few shots.
“Careful,” Helen called from her position next to Sharni. “If Derek hears you taking all those pictures, he’ll give you a lecture about how a real photographer only needs to take one shot, knowing always that it will be the right one.”
“I can hear you, Helen,” Derek called from further back in the crowd, where his arm was wrapped protectively around the waist of his latest sweetheart. “Besides, how many shots do you take nowadays?”
“I rather have my hands full these days, Derek.” Helen laughed. “I take the occasional picture on my phone. The rest will have to wait.” She looked fondly over to where Marci
o was sat under a tree, a bottle in each hand. They’d hoped that Luca and Johan might wait until the end of the photographs to demand feeding, but babies had terrible timing.
“Here, let me do that.”
Marcio looked up and saw Maggie approaching him. “You get back to the photos; someone needs to keep James and Jasmine from running riot.”
“Thanks, Maggie,” Marcio smiled gratefully up at his mother-in-law.
“That’s why you brought me along, isn’t it, to be babysitter?”
“Of course not.” Marcio saw her raised eyebrows. “Well, not entirely. We thought you and Frank deserved a break away from the farm, and Jersey is lovely at this time of year.”
“And flying solo with four children under four didn’t appeal to you?”
“Yes, that too. I would have been alright if Helen hadn’t come out the day before me. I can’t help it if Sharni and Ben’s school finishes earlier than the university.”
“Go on, get over there. Stuart’s likely to start frothing at the mouth if this takes any longer.”
Marcio grinned at Maggie, handed over the bottles, and hurried towards the crowd standing in front of the camera.
“Daddy, daddy!” A bouncing bundle, all silk and netting, wrapped itself around his leg as he reached the group. Scooping up his daughter, Marcio tickled her tummy and then lent back as she kicked her feet in giggling protest.
“Daddy, daddy!” a second voice chorused and Marcio smiled down at his son, as he hopped up and down, holding up his arms to be carried.
“I don’t know I can manage you both,” Marcio said to James, “You’re both so big now.” He bent down and pulled James onto his hip, wearing both children like a set of panniers.
Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes Page 36