The Family Trap (27 page)

‘She’s having twins!’ This is from Franklin, who looks like he’s lost a fiver and found a million dollars. He’s still holding Edie’s hand tightly. I hope he never lets it go.

‘Triplets,’ shouts my dad. I throw him a warning look.

‘Very funny. No, nothing like that. But it is about babies. And children.’ I look around the room and find Sally. She smiles and I keep my eyes fixed on her. ‘There are lots of female employees here at Twilight who find it hard to pay for good childcare, and their work is all the harder for it. I’m going to be in the same position next year, so I decided to do something about it.’

Lipsy is looking at me with a new kind of respect. Of course, she’s all sorted now she’s got her grandma on tap – replacing me who she’s had on tap thus far – but it’s not that easy for everyone.

‘You’ll be pleased to know that the board of directors have agreed to let me convert the reading room into a crèche.’

I’m expecting cheers round about now, but all I’ve got is a bunch of confused faces.

‘A crèche,’ I explain, ‘that will be staffed by volunteers, some working around their shifts, looking after all the children of the staff here, and providing a great place for the children of visiting families too.’

‘I could help out in there,’ Rosa pipes up. ‘I was a teacher before I retired.’

‘That’s fantastic, Rosa, thank you.’

Sally’s face is slowly breaking into a smile. I give a little bow and jump out of the limelight as quickly as I can. Well, they’ll all be chuffed to bits when they see it in action. But right now, I’ve got other things to think about. My stomach has started up with those bloody practice contractions again; they’re not too frequent, but they are getting progressively worse. I lean against the back of a wing chair and pause to catch my breath.

Sally walks over, still grinning. ‘You know what this means, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I do. Get that application in pronto.’

She hugs me and fairly skips back to the kitchen. I close my eyes and wait for the contraction to pass.

‘Some plan, Stella. What a brilliant idea.’

‘Thanks, Mum.’

She lays a warm hand on my lower back. ‘Are you OK?’

‘I think so. It’s just these practice contractions again. Like I need to practise! I have already been through it once.’

She smiles and shakes her head. ‘It might be different this time around. You and Billy had totally different births. Billy was really easy, just popped right out, but you, you were –’

‘A nightmare, I know. You may have told me once or twice already.’

Something else Billy did better than me.

‘You know,’ she says, gazing off above my head, ‘I could come and help out sometimes. With the crèche, I mean. I could bring Phee with me. I’m CRB checked from my job at the school.’

I was kind of hoping she’d say that. So, finally it’s all coming together. In the absence of my perfect future, at least I’ve managed to carve out one that is just about all right. And not just for me.

‘Stella.’ I sense her stiffening at my side and I look up in alarm. There’s a look on her face that’s somewhere between shock and joy.

‘What’s wrong?’

She shakes her head slowly, raises her arm and points. I follow her gaze.

Standing at the back of the room, holding the biggest teddy I have ever seen in my life, is Paul.

Chapter 29

I can barely see him over the top of the teddy. Really, the thing is quite preposterous, and if he thinks he can win me round by buying the biggest, best, most cuddly …

Just get yourself over there, you stupid woman.

For once, I’m listening to the voice in my head.

‘Paul?’

He puts down the monster teddy and takes my hand. There is the slightest tremor in his, and I tell myself not to build up my hopes. This could mean anything – forgiveness, friendship, the softening of his heart. It doesn’t necessarily mean what I want it to mean.

‘Looks like a great party,’ he says, looking over my shoulder. I’ve yet to take my eyes off his face.

‘Hm-mm,’ is all I manage.

Paul looks at my hand in his, then looks up into my eyes.

‘Did they knit you another bed jacket?’

‘No. But there’s a bag of baby clothes over there that I think is coming my way pretty soon.’

‘That’s nice.’

My heart’s pounding. I let out a breath and it sounds like a whimper. Paul looks down at his feet.

‘What colour are they?’ he says.

‘What?’ I follow his gaze. His shoes are brown, polished to a high gloss.

‘The baby clothes. Are they pink or blue?’

If my heart keeps this up much longer I’m going to collapse.

‘A mixture, I imagine,’ I tell him, moving half a step closer.

‘You don’t know yet?’ The hope in his voice is clear.

At least I got something right.

‘Not a clue.’

‘Stella,’ he says, dropping my hand and taking hold of both my wrists, ‘I’ve been such an idiot. I’m so sorry and I love you so much. I want more than anything to make things right between us.’

Wow. It
does
mean what I want it to mean.

‘This has been the worst year of my life, Stella, but there’s still time to turn it around. If you want to.’ He’s gazing at my bump reverently, admiringly. His hand twitches as if he longs to touch it.

I can’t speak. My body is thrumming with emotion. I can feel it from my fingertips, through my wrists – still encased in Paul’s trembling hands – all the way down to my swollen ankles. I’m a whale, an enormous tank of a woman, but next to Paul, with him looking at me this way, I feel like a fragile teenager all over again. And my mind is going round in circles.

My right hand escapes his and flies up to touch the locket at my throat.

Something old.

‘Stella,’ Paul says, going down on one knee.

Oh, my.

He fishes around in his pocket and then pulls out – my ring.

‘Stella, will you marry me?’

A round of applause breaks out behind me. Oh, right – now they’re clapping. Now I need them all just to disappear and leave me in peace, they’re suddenly more interested in me than the TV. Typical.

‘Stella?’

Paul is looking up at me expectantly. He’s smiling, but it’s a smile of anxiety, and I realise what this has cost him, to come here and risk humiliation all over again.

‘Do you love me?’ he asks softly.

‘You know I do. But there are things we need to–’

‘Talk about. I know. Definitely.’ He nods his head furiously, nearly head-butting my belly. ‘I’ve written you a letter, too. It’s here somewhere.’ He starts to root around in his trouser pocket again but then gives up. ‘I think it’s better to say it in person. I do want to start a family with you, Stella. You’ll be a wonderful mother to my baby, and I’ll do my best to be a wonderful father. You’re not old, you’re not past it. I thought I was, I thought … But I was wrong. About so many things.’

‘Is this a sudden change of heart?’ I can’t help asking. I need to know how deeply this goes. My entire future happiness depends on it.

I also wish he’d get up off the floor. It’s making my neck ache looking down at him, and my abdomen is starting to contract again.

‘When I spoke to your dad, he told me that pride nearly ripped your family apart.’

‘And that’s all it was? Pride?’

‘It stopped me admitting how much I wanted a family. That and fear. Fear that it wouldn’t happen for us. And I thought we had it all figured out, moving away, starting again. But I didn’t listen to you, Stella. I didn’t ask myself – or you – what we really wanted. We just went off on this … tangent. We never really talked about the important stuff.’

He’s right there. Which is all well and good, but someone has to break the pattern. Someone has to give in and be willing to take a chance.

And, in the words of my antenatal practitioner, in the end all it takes is one big push.

Or a leap of faith.

Trying to ignore the pain that is ripping at my belly, I bend down and whisper, ‘Would you like to meet your new baby?’

He nods again, tears misting his eyes. I take his hand and place it gently on my bump.

‘Oh, Stella.’

A cheer goes up, followed by another bout of clapping.

‘Will you lot just sod off,’ I say, turning to glare at them. I catch Lipsy’s eye; her expression is one of almost unbearable hope. I’m just about to signal to her that I think this time it might really be OK, when another wave of pain hits me.

‘What was that?’ Paul says.

‘Just a contraction. A practice one,’ I add as he jumps to his feet and puts his arms around me.

‘Ah,’ he says, nodding sagely. I wonder if he has the slightest idea what a practice contraction is. He’s missed out on so much. But, hold on, Bump wants to have his say.

‘Feel.’ I grab Paul’s hand again and press it to the top of my stomach. His eyes go wide.

‘It that the baby?’

‘I sure hope so. Ooo!’

The pain is too much now, far more than it should be. My mother appears by Paul’s side, and together they lean over me, concern clouding their faces.

‘How close is she?’ Paul asks her.

‘She’s got a few weeks to go yet. Stella? Are you all right, love?’

‘It’s fine,’ I tell them, waving my hands. ‘Fine. Just a little ... Ow!’

‘Stella,’ Paul begins, his voice husky with emotion, but then he looks down at my feet. My mother’s eyes follow his, and I wonder for a couple of blissful seconds what is so interesting down there.

Then I take a look myself.

‘What the ...?’

I’m standing in a pool of slippery liquid. My leggings are drenched through, and my shoes are slick with it. Paul’s hands go slack and he drops the ring, just as another gush exits my body of its own volition.

But it can’t be happening now, can it? I’ve got weeks to go yet. Haven’t I?

‘Stella?’ Now my dad is in on the action, and I can see Edie and Franklin, their faces pinched with concern, hovering behind him.

Just before everything goes black, I see that they are still holding hands. It makes me so incredibly happy: a big wave of happiness washing over me as I fall into Paul’s waiting arms and close my eyes.

*

When I come around again, I only have eyes for Paul. In the ambulance, on the gurney, along corridors and through crashing double doors, his face is all I see. He doesn’t let go of my hand, not even when a nurse tells him to get out of her way so she can examine me. He moves to stand behind me, propping me up against his chest so I can see the top of her head as she moves her hands around under my clothing. I’m beyond feeling whatever it is she’s doing, and way beyond caring. Or maybe that’s the gas and air.

‘Ten centimetres dilated,’ she calls out to another nurse who is standing by just outside the room. ‘I think we have a baby on its way,’ she tells me with a smile.

I have a witty response lined up for this, and I’m ready to deliver it to the woman with her hands up my hospital gown. But just then the pain overtakes me once again and her face fades into nothingness. The only things I’m aware of are Paul’s hand gripping mine and his heart beating hard against my back. And the beep beep beep of my baby’s heart as he fights his way out into the world.

Chapter 30

‘Of course, I always knew it was going to be a boy.’

I’m sitting up in bed surrounded by my family – Mum, Dad, Lipsy and Paul. In my arms I’m holding ... well, a baby! That’s what all this fuss has been about, after all. This tiny, helpless bundle of love. Astonishing that he managed to cause so much trouble, really.

‘Our baby boy,’ I say to Paul.

He smiles, a smile of such incredible love it takes my breath away.

‘I know,’ he says. ‘And he’s beautiful. Just like you.’

‘He really looks like you,’ I tell him. Paul pinks up with pleasure, and peers over my shoulder.

‘He looks like you, too.’

‘Only smaller,’ I joke. ‘And with a bit less hair.’

Lipsy hugs herself, and I wonder if all this brings back painful memories for her.

‘Where’s Phee?’ I ask.

‘He’s at home with Rob. They’re coming over later.’

‘I’ll be back on my feet in no time,’ I say reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry – I’ll still be able to babysit when you need me to. You won’t have to rely only on your grandma.’

Lipsy rolls her eyes. ‘Yes, Mum,’ she says, ‘that’s all I’m worried about right now. Thinking of myself, as usual.’

My dad steps forward for a better look, and I send him a silent thank you. It’s not just for putting Paul in the picture – I would have done that myself soon enough – it’s also for reminding me about what’s important. Not pride. Not being right, or even being happy. What is important is to be clear, and understood. No more misunderstandings. Ever.

‘Have you thought of a name yet?’ my mother asks, wiping her eyes on Dad’s hanky. I remember how drained I was after seeing Lipsy give birth, and my heart goes out to her. What a day. What a year. She’ll need a holiday after all this.

Maybe they could go on honeymoon, I think with a smile, and I file that away to say to her later. There’s a lot more I need to say besides. Like sorry. And I love you.

‘Yes,’ Paul says, nervously. ‘Have you got any ideas for a name?’

‘I have,’ I say with a mischievous smirk, ‘I’m going to call him Aiden.’

‘Aiden?’ Dad repeats. ‘That’s ... nice.’

‘It means “little fire”,’ I add. And then I wait for it to sink in. But instead of hilarious laughter I just get a whole load of groans, and Lipsy reminds me that I said symbolic names were naff.

‘Phoenix has brought me round to the idea,’ I tell her, but none of them are fooled.

In a while I feign tiredness, and they take the hint and leave Paul and me alone. I am tired – I’m exhausted – but no force on earth could make me sleep right now. I’m too worried that I might wake up and find all of this has been a dream. That I’m still sitting in my grotty bedsit, staring out of the window and thinking about Paul, instead of sitting propped against hospital pillows holding a beautiful baby boy with curly blonde hair and a beatific expression, with the love of my life by my side, gazing at me like I’m the most incredible creature ever to have walked the earth.