Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes (34 page)

“Hello,” he said quietly into her hair,
holding her tightly and breathing in her familiar smell.

“You’re not supposed to be here until
tomorrow!”

“I know. But after our conversation
yesterday I wanted to come and see you, make sure you weren’t
thinking of running off with Daniel.”

“As if I would,” she murmured, kissing
his cheek and nibbling his ear.

Aware of an expectant hush in the
kitchen, Helen realised that Simon and her father were still sat at
the table, while her mother was hovering in the doorway where she
had stopped after opening the door for Marcio.

Embarrassed, she pulled away from him
and turned to face her family saying, rather unnecessarily,
“Everyone, this is Marcio.”

“We gathered that,” Simon said dryly,
standing up with his hand outstretched.

Marcio grinned, and shook it warmly.
“You must be Simon, lovely to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Simon said, although his
reserved manner belied his words.

Marcio turned to address Helen’s
father, who smiled more warmly as they shook hands. Any man that
made his little girl so obviously happy was fine by him, even if he
was a writer. He would have preferred someone a bit more useful
with his hands, like a plumber or a farmer, but he would take this
young man over that weasel Daniel who, as far as he could
establish, made nothing except money and trouble.

Marcio had already introduced himself
to Maggie when she opened the door, and she now came fully into the
kitchen, saying, “You must be hungry Marcio, I don’t suppose they
feed you much on a short flight from Spain.”

“I’m starving,” he admitted, “I had to
be at the airport at 5am, and not much was open at that time on the
morning after Christmas.”

“Not like here then, when all most
people seem to do on Boxing Day is shop!” Helen’s father had views
about shopping on Boxing Day. For him, it was a day to eat
leftovers, watch war movies and try out his new slippers. Now there
were few animals on the farm he got to do those things without
first having to go out to milk cows or feed pigs.

Marcio sat at the kitchen table as if
he’d been living in the farmhouse all his life. Helen marvelled,
not for the first time, at how relaxed he was in new situations.
She thought he would be a little nervous at meeting her family, but
he was soon chatting to her father like an old friend. Simon was
proving a little more recalcitrant, playing out the protective
brother routine. Helen sensed he was jealous of Marcio, and
wondered if he would like to be as laid back. She knew Simon had to
work hard to settle into new environments, and found it amazing
that he lived in such a different culture as Abu Dhabi.

In the end it was Abu Dhabi that broke
the ice between them. It turned out that one of Marcio’s sisters
had been there as part of her gap year and soon they were swapping
stories of what it was like there, particularly for a single female
travelling through.

Helen sat back and watched Marcio at
work. Her family were soon won over, and she wondered how many
comparisons were being drawn with Daniel. In the two years they had
been together he had come to Devon twice, and both times he had
seemed uncomfortable, as if the slow pace of life shackled him in
some way. He’d been frustrated by the lack of phone signal and had
ridiculed the painfully slow dial-up internet that her parents
had.

She supposed that Marcio’s mother’s
vineyard was not dissimilar to the farmhouse, and realised that,
despite the different countries, their parents had a fair amount in
common.
At least they’ll have something to talk about if we ever
get married
, she found herself thinking. Marriage was the one
topic of conversation that seemed to be banned between them, but it
was hard not to imagine Marcio as her husband, seeing him sat at
the table she had sat at as a child. She had always dreamed of the
perfect wedding, and had spent many a Sunday afternoon designing
her wedding dress, sat at this very table, while her mother
prepared lunch. Funny how the creation that Daniel picked was
nothing like her childish drawings at all. She had longed for a
dress that wasn’t white or ivory. If she hadn’t been cursed with
copper hair she would have loved a red dress. In her mind she had
settled for a deep blue, or something that shimmered green like the
ocean.

“Isn’t that right, Helen,” she heard
suddenly, and looked up to find four pairs of eyes looking
expectantly at her.

“I’m sorry, I was daydreaming,” she
confessed, hoping no-one asked her what about.

“I said we were going to start
house-hunting in the New Year.”

“Yes, now Marcio has sold a book, we
can afford a deposit.” She had told her parents about Marcio’s good
news, but not about them getting a house together. She wanted them
to meet him first.

She detected a glance of disappointment
pass between her mother and father. She suspected they still
cherished ideas of her moving down to Devon when the twins were
born. However, they never stood in the way of her happiness, and
were soon involved in a discussion about the exact requirements of
a house that would have two young children in it.

“You’ll need a garden, and not too many
stairs. And make sure you have a door on the kitchen, or they’ll be
into everything!” Her mother’s voice was laced with experience, and
Helen smiled at memories of being ushered out of the kitchen even
as a teenager.

“Mum, it’s going to be nine months
before they’ll even be crawling!”

“The time will go fast enough, believe
me. Plan now, that’s what you need to do.”

“I’m not sure, even with my advance,
that we’ll be able to afford something in London with a garden! Not
if we make sure we’ve a spare room for when you want to come and
visit.” Marcio was rewarded with a beaming smile from Maggie. She
hadn’t wanted to suggest a spare room, knowing how much a three-bed
house in London would cost, but she loved the idea of being able to
stay without having to worry about hotel bills.

“We can make sure we’re near a park,”
Helen said, “then we won’t have to worry about mowing the
lawn!”

They stayed in Devon for a few days, and
Helen loved how Marcio adapted himself to life at the farm. He
helped feed the goats, hunted for eggs with her in the hen-house,
and walked for miles over the fields. Since meeting they hadn’t had
so much uninterrupted time together; it made Helen yearn for the
future when they would wake up every morning in the same house, the
same bed.

Her mind kept playing with the idea of
them getting married. She wanted security for her and the twins,
and more than anything she wanted to demonstrate to Marcio that she
wasn’t going to leave him. However, she knew how much his
experience with Mia had scarred him, and she couldn’t imagine him
ever walking down the aisle again. She would have to settle for
them finding a house together.

During their time in Devon they
discussed the options for a house, and eventually agreed that, with
the babies due in only a few weeks, they should rent somewhere
first. It would help them find out what they wanted, and it would
mean they could be together somewhere before the babies were
born.

“We’ll have to look as soon as we get
back to London,” Marcio said one day, while they were walking the
dogs along the beach. “I’m renting anyway, and my lease is up in
March. It’ll mean paying an extra month’s rent, if they can’t find
someone else, but at least we’ll be able to bring the babies home
together.”

“My place will let easily,” Helen
mused, “So the mortgage will be covered. I can put it on the market
too, then we’ll be ready to move when we do find somewhere.”

Much as she was enjoying their stay
with her parents, she was also itching to get back to town, so they
could get on with their lives. The only thing marring the happiness
she felt was the nagging thought that she hadn’t heard anything
more from Daniel. Knowing him as she did, she was aware the silence
wouldn’t last for long if there was something on his mind.

Chapter
Six

Helen looked up at the black door and
felt the music pumping through the Georgian windows. She could feel
the vibrations through her bump and hoped the babies didn’t mind.
The party was clearly already in full swing and Helen wondered if
it would be better just to turn around and leave.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t decide what to
wear. Now I’ve made us late,” Helen said, on the verge of tears,
“I’m just so FAT.”

“You are not fat,” Marcio said for the
eighth time, “And you look gorgeous. We are not late, it’s a New
Year’s Eve party, and there are still,” he consulted his watch,
“three hours until midnight.” Turning Helen to face him he kissed
her gently and stroked her hair.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, “My
hormones are raging. The babies are doing a highland fling and
these…” She paused and breathed in deeply, as Rachel had shown them
in the antenatal class. “These Braxton Hicks,” she resumed, when
the mock contraction had passed, “are killing me! If these are fake
contractions, I dread to think how much the real ones are going to
hurt.”

“Remember what Rachel told you,” Marcio
said, rubbing her lower back gently, “When you’re actually in
labour you will be so focused you’ll be able to breeze through the
early contractions. By which point,” he held up his hand to
forestall what she was about to say, “By which point we will be in
a hospital and you will be able to have as many drugs as you
want.”

“You’re an angel. Just you make sure
you hold tight to that promise. I. Want. Drugs. None of that
natural birthing for me, thank you!”

“That’s my brave girl!” Marcio said
teasingly. He didn’t mind, it was her body, if she wanted an
epidural that was fine by him. He’d seen too many movies of men
having their hands squeezed by screaming women to know he didn’t
want to go through that. Not that he would mind his own pain, but
he couldn’t imagine watching Helen suffer, even if it was all as
nature had intended.

“Remind me again whose party this is,”
Marcio asked as they waited on the doorstep.

“One of my baby group. You remember
Karen? She’s married to a guy called Michael.”

“Which ones were they?”

“Michael hasn’t been to the antenatal
classes, he’s always working. She comes with her sister Pauline.
Karen works in advertising, Michael’s a lawyer.”

“That would explain the fancy address.”
Marcio looked up at the building, mentally comparing it with his
tiny place.

“Hush, they’re nice people, well Karen
is at any rate, I haven’t met Michael.” The antenatal group met for
coffee when they could, so Helen knew her better than Marcio did.
Karen had invited the whole baby group to her party, although Helen
was privately surprised they were even having a party, with twins
on the way. Karen was a few weeks behind Helen though, so she
perhaps had more energy.

Inside the house, the music reverberated
off the white walls and wooden floors.

“The kids are moshing!” Helen said
loudly, grimacing at a particularly violent kick to her
kidneys.

“Let’s take refuge in the kitchen!”
Marcio yelled back, leading Helen towards a door that seemed to
lead in the right direction.

It was only marginally quieter in the
kitchen, as the door was propped ajar. He located drinks for them,
and found Helen a chair to perch on.

It was difficult to talk, even in the
kitchen, so they remained in companionable silence, watching the
people milling around, eavesdropping on conversations.

They had been there about twenty
minutes, and Helen was studying a shelf of books on the wall, a
favourite pastime when she visited someone’s house, when a man
wandered into the kitchen and glanced over to where they were
sitting.

Marcio happened to be looking straight
at him as he caught sight of Helen, and saw the emotions that
passed over his face. First recognition, then disgust, as his eyes
scanned across her gigantic form, her face puffy from water
retention and lack of sleep. Marcio had a pretty shrewd idea who
the man must be, and seethed internally but said nothing. With any
luck he wouldn’t want to come face to face with Helen while she was
with him, and would leave the party before he was spotted.

It was a vain hope. The man said
something to the group of people he had arrived with, and made his
way over to where they were sitting.

“Helen. You look amazing.”

Helen looked up at the familiar voice,
her face stony. “What are you doing here? Where’s your
fiancée?
”

Ignoring the last barbed remark, Daniel
lent casually against the wall and responded languidly to her first
comment. “Mike invited me. You know Mike, does work for me from
time to time. You’ve entertained him at our place before.”

Our Place
. Helen remained
silent. It had never occurred to her that Karen’s
Michael
would be Mike, Daniel’s lawyer. She didn’t even realise he was
married.

As her silence continued, Daniel seemed
to realise that more effort was required. He pushed himself away
from the wall and moved nearer to Helen.

“I miss you.”

Helen turned away and resumed her
perusal of the bookshelf.

“I am so sorry, words cannot express my
remorse at my behaviour.”

Even to Helen’s ears it sounded
rehearsed. Marcio found he had to swallow a snigger. Did he really
think Helen could be won over so easily?

Daniel must have sensed the stifled
laugh because he looked over at Marcio for the first time. His
glance took in Marcio’s dark jeans, navy polo shirt, leather
jacket, as if mentally comparing them to his expensive, tailored
outfit. He then returned his gaze to Helen, dismissing Marcio from
his mind as if he were the hired help.