Some Kind of Wonderful

by Giovanna Fletcher

  ‘But I’ve got so much more to give …’ he protests.

  ‘Not necessary,’ she interjects.

  ‘Oh well, that’s perfect then. As long as it’s not going to affect us, I don’t mind,’ Natalia laughs, putting her glass to her mouth while waving her arm between the two of us. ‘As you were.’

  ‘Oh yay,’ claps Connie.

  ‘You’re all crazy!’ I scream, wondering how I got to the point in life where my best friend has had to negotiate the terms and conditions of sexual relations with someone else’s best mate.

  ‘Never a truer word spoken!’ shouts Matt, who’s been quietly observing the whole thing.

  ‘Amen to that!’ laughs Connie.

  ‘Well, thanks for taking all the sexiness out of the hottest moment I’ve had this year,’ I say. ‘Now, let’s get back on that dance floor! Now!’

  I hold out my arm like I’m an army sergeant as I order them off to the square of enjoyment. Connie and Matt do so straight away, with Connie twirling under his arm as they go. Alastair and Natalia have a further stand-off first.

  ‘Just don’t hurt her. I need her,’ she shouts, her finger waggling at him.

  ‘He won’t. I promise,’ I say, taking her finger and pulling her with me as I turn and start shaking my hips to the music. ‘Come on, you,’ I shout at Alastair, smiling to myself as I see him following suit and catching me up.

  ‘Hottest moment?’ he says, his nose nuzzling by my ear.

  ‘I said “this year”. We’re only a few minutes in,’ I wink, giggling as I continue to lead us into the sweaty madness ahead.

  28

  ‘Where the fuck are you?’ Michelle hisses down the phone.

  ‘I’ve just handed in my notice,’ I say, deciding not to add that Stephanie took my resignation so badly I’ve been forced into having an early lunch and am actually sitting on a bench by the river, in the freezing cold, scoffing down a Big Mac meal and half a dozen chicken nuggets – complete with a vanilla milkshake. Eating fast food is one thing, but actually eating ‘in’ McDonalds is quite the other. Order, leave, demolish, that’s how I roll, and the only way I can avoid the guilt of eating it. Besides, despite the temperature, it’s a beautiful winter’s day with the sun shining brightly on the dark murky water, so it’s been nice to sit and reflect on what has passed and what is about to start. Although Michelle’s booming voice has put an end to that.

  I’ve been over at her house a few times since New Year. We’ve been talking non-stop about Dad while stocking her freezer full of homemade meals in anticipation of the birth. I say ‘we’ but really I’ve been doing most of the work while she puts her feet up and bosses me around. It’s something she’s very good at.

  ‘Need something?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m in fucking labour.’

  ‘Pardon? Now? The baby is coming right now?’ I say, hastily shoving my empty wrappers into the brown paper bag and walking/skipping/tripping my way back up towards the high street. I won’t be going back into work if that’s the case. Michelle’s only a few days before her due date, but I figured her baby would be just as stubborn as she is and would be at least a week late.

  ‘Not right this second, you twat. I wouldn’t be talking to you if a baby had its head out of my vag— Oh fuck,’ she grunts, clearly holding her breath.

  ‘You OK?’ I ask, stopping in my tracks, while trying to breathe for her.

  We’ve had a long time to prepare for and anticipate this moment, but hearing my sister having a contraction surprises me, making the whole situation more real. She’s about to have a baby! I’m about to become an aunt!

  ‘Am I going to be a good mum?’ she asks when she starts breathing again, her voice now weepy and soft.

  ‘The best,’ I smile, wishing I could rub her back – although knowing I would not like to be in Stu’s shoes right now. Michelle’s difficult to deal with on a day-to-day basis; I can’t even imagine how that’ll escalate when she’s passing a baby out of her lady garden.

  ‘You would’ve been better,’ she says sadly.

  ‘Shut up,’ I laugh, finding it ridiculous that she’s comparing herself to me at this moment when she has far bigger things to be focusing on.

  ‘It’s true,’ she says. ‘You’re the carer. You’re more ready for this than I am. You’re so together. That’s why I hate you so much.’

  ‘Michelle, don’t be daft. I’m single and living in my childhood bedroom,’ I remind her, sidestepping a bunch of schoolchildren who’ve congregated around a bench outside Debenhams to munch on their lunch, and puff on cigarettes at the same time.

  ‘Very true. You fucked it all up,’ she states, making us both laugh.

  ‘I can’t wait to see you as a mum,’ I tell her, sincerely. ‘You’re the strong one.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she retorts.

  It’s true. I know she’s not as strong as people think she is. I know she is the way she is as some sort of defence mechanism and that she would never truly want to hurt anyone, but she’s still a force of determination and confidence. That’s what makes her so great.

  ‘Darling, out of everyone I know, there’s no one else I’d rather have on my side in life; willing me on and supporting me. There’s nothing you won’t be able to tackle. Your little one is going to admire you so much. I’m sure they’re going to look at you and think –’

  ‘Elizabeth?’ she interrupts.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Shut the fuck up.’ I can hear the grin in her voice. It’s not that she’s ungrateful, but more that she’s thankful that I’ve taken her out of her place of self-doubt and doesn’t know how to respond.

  ‘What do you need me to do?’ I ask as I reach New London Road and anxiously wait to cross.

  ‘You’ve already done it.’

  ‘Is the midwife on her way? Is everything organized?’ I ask, wondering whether Stu has managed to fill the birthing pool in the lounge without causing it to flood.

  ‘She’s here.’

  ‘OK. Well, I’ll head home now.’

  ‘It might be a while.’

  ‘It’s OK, I’ll work from home today. Stephanie won’t mind,’ I say, although that’s not technically true. I’m sure Stephanie would love to talk further about how she took a chance when she employed me, as I’d had no real experience. I’m sure she’d revel in repeating the fact she feels she’s taught me all the tricks of the trade, so therefore I should be more loyal. I just think my sister having a baby is a great excuse to give us both some breathing space.

  I haven’t even told her about Natalia yet, I didn’t think it was necessary this morning. I’m meeting Natalia in a fortnight (once she’s back from a series of work trips in Milan, Dubai and Canada) to talk through the plan she sent over, but the offer alone has made me realize there are other opportunities that exist out of Home Comforts, and maybe, just maybe, staying in a job I’ve fallen out of love with is just the same as staying in a relationship purely because you’re comfortable and don’t want to rock the boat. If Ian could pull the rug from under both of us after ten years when our lives were so entwined, then I decided I could stop wasting my life in a job I get no real fulfilment from. Handing over that letter and uttering the words ‘I’m really sorry, but I think it’s time I moved on,’ was a big step for me.

  ‘So if you need anything, you know I’ll only be just round the corner,’ I tell Michelle, even though I know she’s going to be in safe hands with Stu and the trained professionals.

  ‘Just keep Mum there until I’m done,’ she instructs. ‘I know she means well, but I can’t deal with her getting involved and offering around cups of tea like they’re going to make the whole thing any easier. I don’t want the faff.’

  ‘If you insist,’ I say.

  ‘Don’t say it like that, you’re going to make me feel bad,’ she grumbles.

  ‘I didn’t say it like anything!’ I protest. We both know that if it were me in Michelle’s shoes I’d be having Mum there with me, but we just
have a different relationship. Not closer, just less intense than hers with Michelle. Mum winds Michelle up, whereas I love the fuss and effort.

  A groan comes from the other end of the line as another contraction hits.

  I wait for it to pass while I look around at shoppers going about their day-to-day life, completely unaware that a miracle is about to occur. I want to stop them and shout it in their faces, or maybe do a little song and dance number on the subject like we’re in La La Land. Instead I nibble on my lip, smiling at the thought of what’s to come, even though I’m aware of what Michelle is going to go through first. I’d say it’s a small price to pay, but I don’t think she’d be welcoming of my input right now.

  She’s wrong about me being more prepared or suited for motherhood, though. I might’ve agreed two months ago before we went to Dubai, but that’s only because I yearned to be ready. It felt like the next step and the natural route for our lives to take, but now that path is way off in the distance after I achieve other goals that excite me. I know I’d like to reach motherhood at some point, but right now I’m happy watching her do it first. Plus, being second in this case takes the pressure off. It allows me insight into a world I’ve never seen before while preparing me for the reality of what’ll hopefully happen to me one day.

  ‘I’m going to head home and keep them all caged in,’ I tell her, letting her know I’ll take the task seriously so that she doesn’t have to worry about Mum popping in and passing round an array of sandwiches. ‘You just keep doing what you’re doing. Breathe and enjoy.’

  ‘Fuck off,’ she replies with her usual air of affection.

  ‘I hope it hurts like a mother fucker!’ I state, my voice low.

  ‘Bitch,’ I hear, before the phone goes dead.

  Now, obviously I hope my sister has a pain-free ride and that it all goes without a hitch and I know that she knows that too. But I also know my words will give her that extra bit of oomph to get through it. There’s nothing like a bit of sibling rivalry to get you going.

  It’s not surprising that by the time I get home half an hour later, Mum, Dad and Ted are all sitting around the kitchen table with the home phone perched in the middle, alongside a pot of tea under a cosy and three open packets of biscuits. I imagine one thing that’s really playing on Mum’s mind right now is the fact that her selection of treats is part of the discarded leftovers from Christmas, and not specifically curated with this occasion in mind. This isn’t the time for a Rich Tea or Nice biscuit. It demands a Chocolate Hobnob, or Jammie Dodger, solid and dependable while multi-layered in their offerings.

  ‘Are you literally going to be sitting around like this all day?’

  ‘Until there’s news, yes!’ says Mum, not even tearing her eyes away from the cordless BT phone. It must be killing her not to be with Michelle right now.

  I head upstairs to get changed into my comfies and when I come down ten minutes later they’re still sitting in the same positions. The only sound coming from the room is either a rustle of a wrapper, the crunching of a biscuit, tea being poured from the pot or the slurping from their cups. If Michelle has a long labour, this is going to be tedious. I think I’d rather be with her where all the action is happening. No, that’s not true at all. I’m safer here. We all are.

  ‘Does this make you think back to when we arrived?’ I ask Mum and Dad. I might as well start a conversation I’m going to enjoy hearing about.

  ‘Oh, it does,’ Mum smiles, looking up at me as she finally tears her eyes away from the phone. ‘I was so nervous to meet you. I couldn’t wait, obviously, but I was scared I wouldn’t be enough. Your grandmother was amazing, and I didn’t know if I could live up to that.’

  It’s funny how Mum’s feelings of not being good enough echo Michelle’s.

  ‘You had nothing to be scared about though, did you,’ Dad says, joining in while looking adoringly at Mum. ‘You took to it like a duck to water straight away.’

  ‘You say that, but then I used to escape to the loo and cry. Or I’d be feeding one of you in the middle of the night and sobbing all over you.’

  ‘Why?’ I ask, surprised by the confession when I’ve never known Mum to be anything but Wonder Woman and taking everything in her stride.

  ‘All those hormones, I expect,’ says Ted, taking Mum’s hand and rubbing it with his own. I wonder what it must be like for him, never having had children of his own while Mum had this hugely significant part of her life that he didn’t experience with her.

  ‘Yes, it was that. But I also felt completely out of my depth. Everyone always told me I’d make a wonderful mother, and I completely agreed. Children loved me as much as I loved them. Having your own is a completely different situation though. You can’t hand them back over at the end of the day and sleep. You can’t slip to the shops on your own or have a bath without the worry of a baby waking from their nap and needing you.’

  ‘It wasn’t an easy time for you. Not with me working all the time,’ Dad nods. ‘You did it all on your own.’

  ‘Most of it,’ she agrees, picking up her teacup and cradling it in her hands. ‘The guilt is the worst bit. Even now, I feel guilty for the fact that Michelle is about to endure childbirth, even though I had two wonderful labours with you girls. It’s as though it’s my fault that she’s over there having to go through it.’

  ‘You didn’t force her into having a child, Mum.’

  ‘You don’t think so rationally when you’re a mum. I don’t anyway,’ she says with a sniff.

  ‘Do you wish you’d had kids?’ I ask Ted, taking the focus off Mum.

  ‘I used to,’ he says thoughtfully, his forehead creasing. ‘Sadly it never happened for me, but after I met your mum that void was filled. You and Michelle have been like daughters to me over the years, and that’s more than enough for me.’

  ‘Because we’ve been that awful?’ I offer.

  Ted laughs. ‘I only got to know you girls from young adults and can honestly say you’ve been delights.’

  ‘Slight stretch, but I’ll take it,’ I smile, tucking into the Rich Teas.

  ‘That said,’ he adds, ‘I’m sure you were terrors when you were younger.’

  ‘Michelle was!’ I agree, nodding adamantly as memories of my little sister as a child flood into my thoughts. All the tantrums she screamed, the dinners she threw and the downstairs loo she managed to flood by blocking the sink with toilet paper. She really was a devious little thing when she wanted to be.

  ‘Erm, you too!’ adds Dad.

  ‘That’s not true,’ I say, shaking my head at his muddled memory. Michelle was difficult, I was obedient and kind.

  ‘It is,’ laughs Mum. ‘You could be just as bad as Michelle. Worse sometimes.’

  ‘No! You’re lying,’ I gasp. I’ve always been good, that’s why I get on with them both so well.

  ‘It’s true,’ Mum says, rubbing my back while still laughing at my shock. ‘You used to bite.’

  ‘No!’ says Ted, clearly as shocked as I am.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you went through a phase of never letting us leave the house unless you were wearing green wellies and a pink tutu. Even in summer,’ laughs Mum. ‘Honestly, you’d throw the biggest wobbles if we said you couldn’t.’

  ‘You calmed down as soon as you met Connie,’ says Dad, giving me a little nudge, as though I shouldn’t worry about this hole in my childhood where I was evidently a madam.

  ‘Well, not so much calmed down, but you had a bit more of a focus. You still had your moments, but your new friendship changed you.’

  Interesting. If Connie and I ever fell out and decided to break up (I recently read in a magazine about ‘friends’ who’ve sat each other down to call off friendships due to having grown apart, or having a negative effect on each other) would I want to go back to before I met her and see who I was then? And find out the person I would’ve been if Connie wasn’t in my life? Was I meant to be a green-wellied, pink tutu-wearing vampire? I’m gue
ssing not. Actually, there is not one part of me that doubts the fact that the very foundations of my being and the core of who I am are largely down to knowing Connie – in exactly the same way that she is the Connie I know and love because she knew me.

  People are meant to come into our lives and affect us. They’re meant to challenge us and help us to grow. From the very first time you’re cradled into your mother’s bosom you’re learning about human contact, love and devotion. Not every interaction will be quite as significant or powerful, but they’ll push and pull you through life and help you grow and learn.

  Ian was always going to change me. It was inevitable. Perhaps acknowledging that fact as a part of life is a huge leap towards accepting who I am today.

  29

  Michelle’s living room looks like a bomb has been detonated in the centre of it and sent clothes, muslins, nappies, wipes and food wrappers flying everywhere. Empty mugs, cups and plates decorated with toast crumbs and splodges of honey have been stacked to one side of the coffee table in a bid to make some space, but they’ve failed to make their way into the kitchen. Books on labour, spare towels and a folded tarpaulin have been pushed into the corner of the room beside the sofa. They are no longer needed, but no one has found the time to find a home for them yet so this’ll be a temporary holding until they’re shoved into another tiny spot and forgotten about until (dare we say it) next time. Seeing as Michelle’s house is usually spotless when she has visitors I’m surprised to find she’s pretty calm about the disorder, especially when I can only imagine upstairs is even worse. But she doesn’t even acknowledge it. Quite rightly, she doesn’t care, and neither do I. Instead my attention is firmly on the miracle my sister spent nine months growing, who is now enjoying life ‘on the outside’.

  ‘I don’t see what everyone makes such a fuss about,’ she says, her hand down her top as she rubs a Vaseline-type substance on to her nipples. You think you see everything your sister can offer you, and there she is – giving you more.

  ‘It didn’t hurt?’ I ask, tearing my eyes away from her massive boobs and focusing my attention on gorgeous and magical Duncan in my arms. My incredible little nephew, who I’ve already promised to spoil more than his mummy will probably let me.