The Aftermath

by Gail Schimmel

  ‘From Egypt? You want me to find something from Egypt at the last minute?’

  Mackenzie nods and carries on eating her toast.

  ‘Sweetie, we don’t have anything from Egypt,’ I say after a quick think.

  Mackenzie spits out the mouthful of toast and shouts, ‘It is today. I must have it.’ Having made her point, she calmly puts the half-chewed toast back in her mouth.

  I rack my brain. Egypt? Pyramids? A sphinx? For the first time in my life I wish I owned one of those touristy papyrus things with Egyptian hieroglyphics. Like they have on the wall in the house next door.

  Bingo.

  I message Lynette, my elderly neighbour, and ask if Mackenzie can borrow her ‘beautiful Egyptian artwork’. I’m worried Lynette won’t be awake – it’s early – but she messages back in seconds, and offers to bring it round.

  I feel like Supermum. Like I have literally saved the world.

  ‘Lynette is bringing something perfect,’ I tell Mackenzie.

  Mackenzie looks at me. ‘For what?’

  ‘For your Egypt show-and-tell.’

  Mackenzie shrugs. ‘Oh, that,’ she says. ‘It’s not important.’

  I consider throwing something at her, but the doorbell rings.

  Lynette is at the gate, and thrilled to be helping. I thank her effusively, deciding that it’s better to keep her away from Mackenzie, who might not show sufficient gratitude. I use the opportunity to tell Lynette that we’re going away, and she wants to talk about Mauritius. I know she’s lonely, but I have to get Mackenzie to school, and before I know it, I’ve arranged to pop by for afternoon tea. Which is literally the last thing I can manage. But the promise gets Lynette out, and Mackenzie and I finally leave for school.

  On the way, Daniel messages me: What hotel are you staying at in Mauritius?

  I want to tell him it’s none of his business, but I need him to sign the affidavit. So, when we’re stuck at an endless red light, I simply message him the link to our package. Hopefully he’ll realise that I can’t be bothered to give him the information myself.

  At school, things go downhill.

  Mackenzie and I bump into Janice outside the classroom. ‘We’re going to Mauritius,’ Mackenzie tells Janice before either of us can say anything. ‘Mummy decided yesterday.’

  Janice looks gobsmacked. I’m quite sure she’s rehearsed a little speech about my separation from Daniel and me not telling her. And this must look like I’m raining on her Italy trip. I’ve probably offended her on so many levels that she’ll never talk to me again.

  I go for honesty.

  ‘I’m a mess,’ I tell her. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Daniel for so long. And I’m sorry I’m going to Mauritius. I’m just a mess.’

  Janice is looking at me like I’m crazy. ‘Claire,’ she says, taking my arm, ‘I totally understand why you didn’t want to talk about Daniel. We all do. We respect that.’

  As she says this, I realise it’s true. While most of the friends I messaged yesterday came back with things like So sorry. Xxx, no one asked questions and no one made me feel bad. That was all in my own head.

  ‘As for Mauritius – why on earth are you apologising? I think it’s a magnificent idea. You be sure to take lots of pictures, you hear?’ I nod, speechless.

  ‘Now,’ says Janice, ‘what can I do to help you? It must be madness with this last-minute planning, and I know how busy you are.’

  ‘Janice,’ I say, ‘you know what? You’ve already helped me. So much.’ I give her a hug.

  ‘Can we go in now?’ demands Mackenzie from waist level, and we mums both laugh.

  When I come out of the classroom, I bump into Laurel.

  ‘I overheard your conversation with Janice,’ she says after we greet each other. ‘You’re right. She’s actually a very nice person. I misjudged your sheeple.’

  ‘I probably misjudged them too,’ I say.

  Laurel laughs. ‘So,’ she says, ‘Mauritius?’

  ‘You should come,’ I say, inspired. ‘Please come with me?’

  Laurel laughs. ‘That would be so fabulous,’ she agrees. ‘But I can’t.’

  ‘Sandy?’

  ‘Nothing that exciting. We’re going to Max’s folks’ place at the coast. Family holiday. His sister’s kids’ school is also closed for this stupid course, so apparently that was taken as a sign that we should all go away together.’

  ‘Sounds fun,’ I say.

  ‘Not to me,’ laughs Laurel. ‘But what can I do? And the kids love it – all the cousins together.’

  Now I’m worrying that I’ve made a mistake. What is Mackenzie going to do on an island with just me? But it’s like Laurel reads my mind.

  ‘You and Mackenzie are going to have a ball, Claire. And you need the break.’

  It would seem that absolutely everyone in the world thinks I need to go to Mauritius. I decide to stop feeling guilty, and just get ready.

  Helen

  I phone Edward in the morning during a lull at work.

  He explains that he’s having his brother and his wife, Lizette, and Miriam’s brother, to lunch on Saturday. Tomorrow.

  ‘Please come, Helen,’ he says. ‘There are too many men, and Lizette will feel awkward. She finds me ridiculous anyway, thinks I should buck up.’

  ‘She doesn’t sound very nice,’ I say, wondering if I want to spend an afternoon with her.

  ‘Oh, she’s fine. A bit annoying, but I liked her well enough before. She just can’t understand grief. Her greatest loss in her life so far has been her dog.’

  ‘Surely she’s lost parents?’

  ‘No,’ says Edward. ‘They’re obscenely old and obscenely healthy. They’re not even a burden to her. I think she thinks I’ve done something careless, letting Miriam get damaged and dependent. Like it was my fault, which it wasn’t. But other than that, she’s actually quite nice.’ We both laugh, and I have a strange thought: Edward’s going to be okay. I don’t know where it comes from – being okay is not something I expect of people. It’s not something I think people should necessarily aspire to.

  ‘And Miriam’s brother?’ I ask.

  Edward sighs. ‘He’s a really nice man. I’ve always liked him. In fact, I was friends with him first at Rhodes – that’s how I met Miriam. But he worries about me all the time. It gets tiring.’

  ‘What about his wife?’

  ‘Ah,’ says Edward. ‘Poor man. His wife left him about ten years ago for a trainer at the gym. It was the most shocking scandal at the time, because we all liked her so much. And Larry was devastated, of course. Plus, she left him with two young sons. She just walked out on the family.’

  He sighs again, obviously reliving that time. A part of me is interested that he’s even able to engage with another person’s historic suffering. Again, that unbidden thought: He’s going to be okay.

  ‘Okay,’ I agree. ‘I’ll come. I’m visiting Mike in the morning and I’ll come straight from there. Want me to pop in and see Miriam?’

  ‘Please would you?’ says Edward. ‘I usually go, but I have to get ready for this lunch. She’s going to be so worried – I always go on a Saturday.’

  I know better than to say Miriam doesn’t know whether he’s there or not. I mean, she can’t even breathe on her own. But I want to reassure him.

  ‘You know,’ I say, ‘I don’t think they feel time the same way an awake person does. I mean, I don’t think they know what day it is. They just know that we visit. I don’t worry when I change days. As long as I go often.’

  Edward is quiet for a moment. ‘You’re probably right,’ he says eventually, but I know he doesn’t agree. He just doesn’t want me to feel bad. We’re so gentle with each other, us damaged people.

  ‘Either way,’ I say, ‘I’ll pop in and chat to her. She’ll be glad of a visitor whatever day it is.’

  I can hear the relief in Edward’s voice. ‘Thanks, Helen. It’s so wonderful having someone who understands.’

  I su
ddenly realise Edward has probably never had to cook a lunch on his own. ‘Oh, can I bring anything tomorrow? A salad or dessert or something?’

  He laughs. ‘Actually,’ he says, as if reading my mind, ‘I’m quite the chef. I’ve always been the one who cooks for company. Miriam used to tease me.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll be sure to tell her you’re toiling over a hot stove.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he says, sounding happy. ‘She’ll like that.’

  We make final arrangements about times and I get his address – I’ve never been to his house before and I’m relieved that it’s not too far from me. I can have a glass or two of wine.

  ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ I tell Edward.

  And to my surprise, I actually am.

  Julia

  ‘You look good,’ says Daniel as I get ready to leave the flat. I took particular care this morning, knowing that I would see Steve again today. But this is the nicest thing Daniel’s said to me for ages, and I perk up.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say.

  He strolls over to kiss me goodbye, and pulls me in hard, slipping his tongue between my lips. ‘Do you have to go to work right now?’ he says. ‘Or we could have a quickie?’

  I know this worked for me just yesterday. But right now it feels like the baby is sitting on my bladder, and all I can think about is how I don’t want to have to change clothes. But I have kind of an idea that if I refuse sex, I’ll be like Claire. Only without the good bits. And I don’t even know why I have it in my head that Claire refused sex, because Daniel’s never said so. But if she didn’t, then why is Daniel with me at all? And that thought worries me. Do I believe that Daniel is only with me for the sex? That he’ll leave if I say no?

  While I’m evaluating my inner world, Daniel’s concerns are more corporeal, and he’s edging me against the wall, taking my silence for consent. For a moment I let him carry on, kissing me and touching my breasts and pushing me against the wall. And then the baby does that strange wiggly thing, like bubbles in my abdomen, and I’m absolutely sure I’m going to wee, and anyway I can almost feel my linen maternity trousers creasing in real time.

  ‘I’d love to, babe,’ I say, trying to sound as though I mean it. ‘But I have an early meeting. Can’t be late.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Daniel’s still holding my breasts and nuzzling at my neck. ‘Can’t you feel how much I want you?’

  The truth is I can feel, and it’s not really doing anything to ease the whole needing-to-wee situation.

  ‘I want you too, babe,’ I say huskily, but I push him away. ‘It’s just that I’ve got to get to work. Later.’

  I do a strange sort of manoeuvre to get past him and out the door, and try to throw a sultry look back at him, but suspect I just look relieved. Then I realise I haven’t weed, but I can’t go back in because he’ll think I’m up for it. Rather than risk that, I drive to work as fast as I can, and by the time I get there I’m so desperate that I virtually throw bodies out of my way to make it to the toilet. But it’s completely worth it.

  My next stop is the meeting room where, despite the early hour, Steve has already set up. He’s working hard and doesn’t notice me walk in. I watch him for a moment, his head bent over a hard-copy ledger as he tries to reconcile what he’s reading with something on his screen. His shirt sleeves are pushed up over his wrists, and he’s wearing his glasses. He looks like the dad in a 1950s movie – an impression enhanced by the dust motes dancing in the few sun rays that have managed to squeeze through the perpetually closed blinds.

  I cough, and he turns around.

  ‘Julia,’ he says, beaming and standing up. ‘I got here early to get a head start, and here you are – early too.’

  I smile. I’m not going to explain that I ran out the house to avoid sex with my boyfriend, the father of my unborn child.

  ‘I am,’ I say. ‘I needed to wee, so I drove super-fast.’

  Steve laughs, and pushes his glasses up his nose. ‘I bought you something,’ he says, reaching under the table. He takes a floppy-eared toy rabbit out of a gift bag. ‘Rabbit.’ His voice is steeped in satisfaction.

  I saw the same rabbit in a shop, and in fact considered buying it. But it was ridiculously expensive.

  ‘Steve, you’ve spent a fortune.’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ he says. ‘I had fun choosing it.’

  I don’t know what to say. This is currently the baby’s only possession. It’s suddenly so real, so tangible. There’s going to be a baby who will hold that rabbit. Tiny little fingers will wrap around the rabbit’s ear. A little mouth might suck on it.

  I start to feel a bit faint, and sit down.

  ‘Wow. I’m having an actual baby.’

  ‘Are you okay?’ says Steve. ‘You look a bit pale.’

  ‘I’m not really sure I’ve properly grasped this baby thing,’ I say. Not worrying about how foolish I must sound. I expect Steve to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead, he crouches down next to me.

  ‘It must be overwhelming. It must be the biggest thing ever.’

  ‘That’s just it,’ I say. ‘It is. But I don’t think I’ve understood that until now.’ I gesture at the toy rabbit. ‘I’ve just been thinking about Daniel, and us, and what that means. I haven’t thought about an actual baby. I’m not sure I can cope with an actual baby.’

  ‘You’ll be brilliant,’ says Steve. ‘You’re going to be an ace mum.’

  ‘You’re just saying that.’

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘I have a gut feel for these things. You’ll be great.’

  ‘You’re kind of an odd guy,’ I say. ‘Not as straightforward as you seem.’

  ‘Oh,’ says Steve. ‘I’m very straightforward. To a fault. I’m the quintessential what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy. I’ve been told it’s not very sexy.’ He looks genuinely upset as he says this.

  ‘You know what, Steve?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I only date sexy guys. And I dated you. So to hell with those people who don’t see it.’

  Steve laughs. ‘Well, this is a pretty unusual start to a meeting,’ he says. ‘Toy rabbits and angst, all before coffee.’

  ‘In that case, we’d better get some coffee. And possibly do some work.’

  As I pack up the rabbit, I wonder what Daniel will say. He hasn’t bought a single thing for the baby so far, and he might feel that it’s his prerogative as the father to buy the first thing.

  On the other hand, he probably won’t.

  Daniel

  Claire’s message weighs down my phone. A trip to Mauritius without me. Claire with Mackenzie and an affidavit from me allowing them to go.

  I love Mauritius. Claire knows I love Mauritius.

  I follow the link she sent me and suddenly I know what Claire expects me to do. Everything makes sense.

  With a smile, I print out the affidavit. I take it down to the local police station, where I wait almost an hour to have it commissioned. Usually the inefficiency would annoy me, but today I feel strangely at peace.

  I get the document signed, and when I get back to the office, I get the driver to drop it off at Claire’s place.

  Then I buzz my PA, and tell her what needs to be done.

  SATURDAY

  Claire

  When I got home yesterday to find the affidavit from Daniel, I breathed a sigh of relief. I realised that part of me had expected him to object, to stop me taking Mackenzie out of the country without him. You’re always reading stories about women whose mean ex-husbands prevent them from travelling with the children anywhere, and they have to take them to court and all sorts of things.

  But Daniel’s signed the document without any fuss. There’s a small part of me that feels sad. Daniel loves Mauritius, and he loves family holidays. We’ll never have one of those again, and he’s obviously made peace with that. It’s just another of the many milestones I’ll have to face in this new life without Daniel by my side. I’m sad, but I’m also a bit exhilarated.

  Ma
ckenzie is beside herself. She’s ready to go to the airport hours before we need to leave. I have to persuade her not to travel in her swimming costume and the large straw sun hat my mother once left here. Mackenzie’s furious, and I placate her by allowing her to wear the hat.

  While I do the last of the packing, I tell her to phone Daniel to say goodbye. She likes phoning Daniel – the increase in the number of phone calls she’s allowed to make alone is, in her opinion, a positive side effect of our new situation. I hear her voice rise and fall as I pack, and I wonder what she’s saying to him. They never used to talk this much when we all lived together. I grimace. Another silver lining. It’s starting to feel a bit strange – exactly how many silver linings are there in this story?

  When she finishes, she reports back.

  ‘Daddy is very strange,’ she observes.

  ‘Why, sweetie?’

  ‘He kept laughing and saying stupid things that didn’t make sense. Daddy is so stupid. So dumb. I’m going to phone him and tell him that.’

  I let her go. It’ll keep her busy. I laugh to myself. We haven’t even left, and already I’m feeling so much better.

  And Daniel really can’t be told often enough how stupid he is.

  Julia

  I wake up happy. I don’t feel nauseous and I don’t feel tired. Best of all, I feel happy. Last night was the best.

  I got home and decided to leave the little toy rabbit in the car, because I wasn’t really sure how Daniel would react, and why borrow trouble? I opened the door and Daniel had transformed the flat. There were candles everywhere and rose petals leading from the front door to the table. The table was beautifully laid, and there was a huge teddy bear sitting on my chair, wearing a T-shirt that said ‘Baby’s First Toy’. I suppressed the thought that actually, by a few hours, it wasn’t.

  As soon as Daniel saw me, he came rushing over from where he’d been cooking, carrying a martini glass.

  ‘A virgin cranberry martini,’ he said. ‘For my beautiful Julia.’

  ‘Wow,’ was all I could manage.