by Trish Morey
‘Is everything all right?’ Sophie asked.
‘Oh, I expect so. I just need to confirm something.’ And she promptly turned her attention to the screen.
Sophie looked at Nick, despite everything, never more grateful to have him here, with his warm hand cradling hers, lending her his strength.
After what felt like another interminable delay, the doctor nodded and turned to them both. ‘I’m so sorry to make you wait, but there was something that wasn’t picked up on your seven-week scan that we just needed to check to ensure everything was in order.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘It happens sometimes, but it can come as a bit of a shock, I hope not an unpleasant one. You’re expecting twins, Ms Faraday. Congratulations.’
Sophie was too dumbstruck to do anything but blink.
‘Twins,’ she heard Nick say, from what sounded like a long way away.
‘Like I said,’ the doctor continued with a knowing smile, ‘it can come as a bit of a shock. Now if you’ll excuse me, Jenny will introduce you to your babies. Enjoy.’
‘Twins,’ he said again as the doctor departed and Jenny turned the monitor around so they could see.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you straight away,’ she said, working the transducer over Sophie’s belly to find the best angle. ‘I know it’s awful waiting.’
‘My sisters are twins,’ said Sophie, her short-circuited brain starting to kick back in.
‘It must run in the family,’ said the clinician. ‘Ah, here we go. They’re lying next to each other, so it’s hard to make them both out clearly, but right about here …’
Nick looked at the screen, saw the black-and-white images zoom in and out, all weird circles and shapes and nothing that looked like anything to him, until the sonographer found the right spot and whoa, there they were, two tiny heads and two rows of tiny white beads that could only be their spines, and then the babies rolled over and there were tiny arms and even tinier fingers and toes.
‘Oh my God,’ said Sophie, ‘look at that. Can you believe there’re two of them?’
He couldn’t believe it. And it didn’t matter one iota that he’d been present for Min’s scans and that he’d seen this kind of picture before, because this kind of miracle didn’t get old. He lifted Sophie’s hand in his, her gaze locked on the moving images on the screen before them, and pressed his lips to the back of it.
Two babies.
Bloody hell!
Fifteen minutes later they sat shell-shocked together in the coffee shop, his long black coffee and her lemon-and-ginger tea sitting untouched as they both stared disbelievingly at the picture on the table between them. ‘What are you going to do?’ he said.
‘I don’t know. I’d only just come to terms with having one baby. Now, I have to come to terms with having two.’
‘I think I know the feeling.’
She managed to drag her eyes up to look at the man opposite, appreciating the fact that he would be a bit blindsided by the latest revelations. ‘Nick—I want to thank you for coming.’ She licked her lips. ‘I really thought something was wrong. I’m so, so glad it wasn’t, but I’m glad you were here.’
‘Me too,’ he said, and she had to look away, because his slate-blue eyes were altogether too warm for her to feel comfortable.
‘What will you do about work?’ he asked. ‘With two babies, I mean?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll have to take leave, I thought at first just for a few months, but now …’
‘Surely you can’t think about working with twins. Not full time, at least.’
‘Says who?’
‘Says common sense. You’re not working and putting our babies in care. They deserve better than that.’
She blinked. ‘Oh, and just because I invite you along to a scan, you think you’re running the show?’
‘I’m just trying to think through the logistics. One baby would be challenging enough, but twins changes things, Sophie. You must see that. There’s no way you’re going to be able to cope by yourself. We have to make suitable arrangements.’
‘Suitable for whom?’
‘Suitable for the babies, of course. Like where are you going to live?’
‘Where do you think? I’m not planning on moving just because I’m pregnant.’
‘You and two babies, in that flat?’
‘I’m converting the second bedroom into a nursery. It’s no big deal. Babies are small.’
‘Yep, they start out small and they come with a lot of shit. Before you know it, you’ll have play gyms and baby rockers and lambskins and bouncers all over the place, and you won’t have an inch of floor space left in which to scratch yourself.’
‘We’ll manage!’
‘By yourself?’
‘Of course by myself.’ She put her cup down against the saucer with a decided smack, sending her cooling tea sloshing over the side. ‘You know, if you really wanted to be involved with these babies, you might try supporting the decisions I make a little more. I am their mother, after all.’
‘I’d like to do that, except you don’t seem to have a clue what’s in store. What are you proposing to do when you go into labour—drive yourself to hospital? Have you thought about that?’
She put her hands to her head. ‘Enough, Nick, do I really need to have that worked out already? It’s months away. I’ll sort it. I’ll manage.’
‘Sorry, I know,’ he said, holding up his hands. ‘I know you will.’ He sighed. ‘It’s just, there’s so much to think about.’
‘So give me time to think about it.’
He blew out a breath in a rush as he sat back in his seat. ‘Yeah, okay, point taken. But twins, eh?’
‘I know,’ she said, feeling similarly stunned. ‘Twins.’
Sophie stepped from the bright December sunlight into her unit, still shell-shocked at the news. Immediately the sofa beckoned, and it was all she could do not to plonk herself down and put her feet up. But that would have to wait, there was something she needed to do first.
Babies came with a lot of shit, Nick had said, and she didn’t doubt it. But she’d been counting on one baby, not two. She looked around the combined lounge/dining room with its neat kitchen behind an archway, mentally measuring the space, filling it with highchairs and play mats and a double stroller that had to be parked somewhere.
She flicked on the light in the second bedroom, reassured by the size. It would easily take two cots, and in time, two small single beds, and surely she’d need only one change table?
Her own bedroom was larger and north-facing, cool in summer and filled with winter sunshine. She nodded, a plan already forming in her mind. She’d swap rooms, she didn’t need all the space for herself, and then it could double as a toy room, too, when they grew older.
Heartened, she grabbed a glass of iced water and let herself flop onto the sofa at last.
Nick had nothing to worry about. It was going to work. She would make it work.
37
Hannah
‘It’s coming up to Christmas,’ Declan said, nuzzling sideways into her throat. ‘How about I take you out one night for a meal. The local does a great schnitzel.’
Hannah thought about all the people that knew her in this area, that she’d either grown up and gone to school with, or had tended their pets or livestock at one time or another, and said, ‘Probably not a good idea. I know so many people around here, we’d hardly get a chance to talk.’
‘We could go further afield,’ he suggested. ‘I don’t mind travelling.’
‘It’s so close to Christmas, though, and I’m so busy. Isn’t it easier if I just come here? It’s so perfect here.’
He smiled at that. ‘I’m glad you like Hobbitville, but I’d like to take you out somewhere for a change.’
‘You have Ella to think about. You can’t just leave her.’
‘You know she’s perfectly happy in her pouch, wherever I am.’ He raised himself up, pressed his lips to her naked shoulder and leaned over t
o kiss her cheek. ‘Wouldn’t you like to come out with me?’
She turned in his arms. ‘Of course I would. But if word got back to my family before I told them—’
‘So, tell them you have a boyfriend.’
‘I will, but can’t it wait just a little longer?’ Her fingers splayed in his sandy hair. ‘We’ve only been seeing each other a few weeks and there’s so much going on this time of year. Let’s get Christmas out of the way. Things will be quieter then.’
‘I’ll still get to see you Christmas Day, though?’
‘Didn’t I already promise?’
He grabbed her hand, brought her fingers to his mouth. ‘Okay, have it your way, then. I’ll wait. Though, I don’t know why your family knowing you’ve got a fella who’s crazy about you would bother them.’
It bothers me, thought Hannah, her blood pressure spiking at the prospect of going public, and that was enough to want to keep this to herself.
38
Sophie
Christmas Day dawned bright and beautiful with the promise of low winds, warm temperatures and clear skies, pretty much idyllic beach weather. Sophie squeezed into her old one-piece, and it was a squeeze, but there was no way she was going to wear a bikini and she was grateful to find something to wear to the beach today. She’d put on the weight she’d lost before the wedding and then some. More than she was supposed to have put on, according to all the online forums she’d been reading. These twins of hers sure had a lot to answer for. She was going to end up being the size of a bus by the time the babies came if this kept up.
She was checking herself out in the mirror, thinking she didn’t look too bad if she didn’t look at herself sideways, when the doorbell rang.
Random callers on Christmas Day? That was weird.
Quickly, she threw the sundress she’d chosen for today over her head and opened the door. ‘Surprise!’ said Min, standing next to her father. ‘Merry Christmas, Ms Faraday.’
‘Min,’ she said, ‘happy Christmas to you, too.’ Her eyes stole up to Nick, who was looking decidedly sheepish. She hadn’t seen him since the scan two weeks ago, but he was up to something, she could tell. ‘Merry Christmas, Nick. To what do I owe this pleasure?’
‘We brought you a present,’ said Min, grinning from ear to ear, ‘didn’t we, Dad?’
‘It was Min’s idea,’ he warned. ‘Just in case you’re not too thrilled. Though, I checked with Dan and he ran it past the girls and they thought it was a good idea, so …’
‘Hurry up, Dad,’ urged Min.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘just so you know. We left it in the car in case you’d already gone out. Be right back.’
A few moments later he returned holding a big cardboard box with red Christmas ribbon tied around it. She ushered them into the living room, by which time he’d passed it to Min, and she duly and with due gravity handed it to Sophie. ‘Merry Christmas,’ she said again, lisping a little on the Christmas.
‘This is for me?’ She shook her head as she took it, surprised it weighed a lot less than she’d expected. ‘But, Min, I haven’t got anything for you.’
‘That’s okay,’ Min said, her grin refusing to let up. ‘Open it.’
The tiny mewl gave it away before she’d got the ribbon undone. Min got the giggles and Sophie stopped. ‘Is this what I think it is?’
Min giggled some more before she said, ‘Open it.’
Sophie put it down in the centre of the sitting-room floor, undid the ribbon and eased off the lid. The tiny cat blinked its big blue eyes at her and mewled again, and Sophie felt herself melt. The kitten was mostly cream-coloured with a black-and-grey nose and black-edged ears with a grey tail. ‘It’s gorgeous,’ she said, as she reached down into the box to pick it up, holding the soft, fluffy kitten to her chest.
‘You like it?’ said Min. ‘It’s one of Fat Cat’s kittens. He’s a ragdoll cat, or kind of, anyway.’
‘And so much bigger now than when I last saw it,’ she said.
‘You don’t mind?’ said Nick. ‘It’s a boy, I guarantee it.’
She pressed her lips to its head. ‘It’s the best Christmas present I’ve ever had. Thank you!’
Min clapped her hands. ‘Yay!’
‘We’ve got some more stuff in the car for you,’ Nick added, ‘just in case you said yes. Figured you might need a basket and food and litter tray et cetera. They kind of need a bit of baggage and we figured it might be a bit hard getting set up on Christmas Day.’
‘Thank you. What were you going to do if I said no?’
‘Keep it,’ said Min.
‘Sell it,’ Nick said at the same time.
Sophie laughed. ‘Now, you won’t need to do either. What should I call him, do you think?’
‘Well,’ Min started. ‘I was calling him Whiskers, but you don’t have to.’
‘Oh no, I think Whiskers is an excellent name for a cat this handsome.’
Min beamed.
‘I’ll get that gear for you,’ Nick said.
‘I’ll give you a hand. Min, can you look after Whiskers for a minute?’
Min was already on the case, making shadows on the floor with her hand that the kitten tried to jump on and catch.
Sophie followed Nick out, wondering how long it would be before she’d be immune to the sheer masculine poetry of the man. Or was it hormones getting in the way of forgetting him? That would be right. Whatever it was, watching his denim-clad hips reminded her of that night they’d spent together, while his open-neck navy-and-white check linen shirt showed off his olive skin to perfection.
Too damn good-looking to ignore—and now he was dropping in with his cute little daughter to give her an equally cute little Christmas present. Couldn’t he see what he was doing? It would be his fault if she got the wrong idea.
Nick pulled the cover back on the ute, and Sophie saw the mess of kitten stuff hidden below and forgot about being annoyed.
‘Wow, you got me all this?’
‘Figured you were going to need it, and seeing as you hadn’t actually asked for a kitten …’
‘It’s very generous of you.’
‘Hardly. You’re taking an unexpected kitten off our hands. I probably should have got you one of those serious vacuum cleaners while I was at it, the ones that are supposed to be good with all that cat fur, but I didn’t want to overdo it.’
‘No,’ Sophie said, smiling, and started to pick up stuff from the pile in the car. ‘Glad you didn’t overdo it.’
‘Oh, and don’t worry, I checked up with the doctor on whether it’s okay to have a cat while you’re pregnant, and he said so long as you’re past your first trimester and you make sure you use gloves to change the cat litter, there’s no risk to you or the babies from toxoplasmosis. I got a box of disposable gloves, too.’
She blinked at him. ‘You asked the doctor? Did you tell him why?’
She saw him swallow. ‘I said I was asking for a friend.’
Sophie smiled again. She would have loved to have been a fly on the wall at that consultation. ‘Well, good to know.’
He hauled out a box containing cat litter, tray and food and turned to her. ‘So, how are you, Sophie.’
‘Yeah, I’m good.’
‘And …’
‘The babies are good by all accounts, too. No change there, except to my waistline.’ She tried to be annoyed about his line of questioning, but her heart wasn’t in it. After all, it was Christmas Day and already it was proving to be too special a day to ruin, and why wouldn’t he want to know?
‘Dan says you’re having lunch down on the South Coast.’ He looked up at the clear blue sky. ‘Thirty-five C in the city so probably a few degrees cooler down there. Looks like a good place for Christmas lunch.’
‘It’s going to be a nice change. What are you doing?’
‘Min and I are going down to my sister’s family’s place for lunch. And then I’ll drop Min off at Penelope’s to have dinner there, but she’s going away early in th
e morning so I’ll pick her up after.’
‘Gosh, I guess it makes Christmas Day hard, juggling like that.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, his brows drawn together, his eyes on hers. ‘It does.’
She took a deep breath. This kind of sharing arrangement was exactly the sort of thing she’d been trying to avoid, but it would be churlish to say that, now. Besides, she could hardly argue that Min didn’t seem well enough adjusted to her turnaround living arrangements. Which didn’t suit her to think about at all. ‘Well, let’s get this lot inside, then.’
Min got Sophie organised and showed her how to set up the kitty-litter tray and how much food she needed to give the growing kitten, before Sophie went off to make coffee and get a water for Min.
Nick was lying on the rug, his back towards her and his head resting on his hand, his long legs stretched out. Sophie was struck by the father–daughter–kitten dynamic going on in her living room, the young daughter bubbly and brimming with excitement with the kitten’s every antic, the father engaged and involved but calmer, a steadying influence.
Something sharp stabbed her then. A pointed accusation that this cutesy family scene could be hers for more than just one day, if only she forgot about wanting to do this parenting thing alone and let Nick in. And she could almost picture it—her and Nick, Min and two tiny babies, lying together in the living room and needing nothing more.
The trouble was, she wanted that for real, not like this, feeling like an intruder, gatecrashing someone else’s family. And the pain was so intense she put her hand over her belly to protect her unborn children from it. Because no, this wasn’t happening. This scene before her was as shallow and artificial as the emotions that had bound her and Nick the night their babies had been conceived.
On autopilot she found a tray for the coffees, water and a plate of shortbread she’d made to take to today’s picnic. She’d just filled the tray and turned to return to the living room, when she heard Min say, ‘But do I have to go to Penelope’s?’ And she stopped in the archway.