by Carmen Reid
‘God, your dad is so young looking . . . doesn’t he look handsome holding Markie!’ she said.
Bella laughed out loud. ‘You are about to be so embarrassed!’
‘No!! It’s not?’
Bella nodded vigorously. ‘Oh yeah.’
‘Well he’s very good-looking, but . . . er . . . quite a bit older than you.’
‘Thirteen years,’ Bella answered. ‘He went grey really young, but I think it’s sexy, obviously I have a father complex or something.’
‘Right . . .’ Red put the photo down and emptied out her bag of goodies: ‘For you – a choice of comfort aids: bottle of red, a bottle of white, a family pack of Pringles and ten Marlboro Lights, because I suspect you smoke, am I right?’
Bella nodded.
‘Also some lavender oil, to keep both of you calm and finally –’ Red fished the last thing from her bag – ‘this is for you, Markie.’ She pulled out a little beige towelling bunny with long, dangly ears.
‘Thank you.’ Bella was really touched by all this.
Markie grabbed the bunny with his hands and giggled.
‘OK, we’ve got bath, feed and story time to fit in before bed at eight on the dot. Lead the way,’ Red told Bella.
After his bath, Markie was breastfed downstairs on the sofa with the TV on loud and the lights turned up to ensure he didn’t fall asleep.
Finally, he’d eaten his fill and was looking dopily tired.
‘Now take him upstairs,’ commanded Red. ‘Read him a nice little book on your knee, then dim the lights, lie him in his cot with his little bunny and say “Good night” really nicely and leave when he’s still awake. And no cheating.’
‘He’ll just howl the house down and I won’t be able to stand it,’ Bella insisted.
‘We will not leave him, I promise. Trust me.’
‘OK, OK, I’ll give it a go, but I’m giving in if it gets too awful.’
‘OK.’
When Bella settled Markie down in the cot, he kicked off his blanket with a giggle, and looked wide awake again. But she stroked his little forehead and said ‘Night, night,’ then stepped out of the room, leaving the light on low.
There was silence for a moment, then a surprised cry.
By the time Bella got downstairs to Red, muffled roars were coming from the baby monitor in her hand.
‘OK.’ Red pulled out an alarm clock from her coat pocket and handed Bella a glass of wine.
‘Sit down here for two minutes, we’ll time it, two minutes, that’s all. Then you can go to the door of Markie’s room and tell him it’s OK, you’re just downstairs, then leave.’
‘Right,’ Bella said dubiously.
She gulped at her wine then went upstairs again and did exactly as she was told. Markie stopped crying for the few moments she was at the door but bellowed with renewed vigour when she left.
‘Bloody hell,’ she told Red when she got back down. ‘Do you really expect him to fall asleep like this?’
‘He will, trust me.’ Bella urged her to finish her wine, poured her another glass and opened the crisps. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘You’ve got to wait five minutes now.’
Bella didn’t feel she could argue.
They sat for five minutes, Bella slugging back the wine, munching the crisps absent-mindedly and staring grimly at the monitor. The row of green and red lights rose and fell on the monitor, Markie was screaming his head off.
‘OK,’ Red said as the clock hand nudged towards the five-minute mark. ‘Just do exactly the same again, poke your head round the door and speak to him, then leave.’
Bella was shocked when she saw Markie this time, he was bright red and his hair was matted to his head with sweat. He looked furious and didn’t stop screaming when he saw her. She spoke as soothingly as she could, then came down the stairs quickly.
‘Are you sure he’s going to be OK?’ she asked Red anxiously. ‘He looks really hot.’
‘He’ll be fine, now light up,’ Red said proffering a cigarette. ‘You’ve got to deal with the full ten-minute wait this time.’
‘Oh Jeez.’ Bella drew in a deep breath of smoke. She fixed her eyes on the alarm clock, which seemed to be standing absolutely still.
‘You’re sure this is working?’
‘The clock? Of course!’ Red answered.
Somewhere around minute seven, Markie’s cries began to grow a little bit less desperate, then abruptly they stopped.
Bella looked at the monitor. She went out into the hall. . . silence. What!? He must be lying in his cot wondering what to do next to get her attention.
Red looked at her and smiled triumphantly.
‘He’s going to start up again in a second,’ Bella told her.
‘He is asleep, fast, sound asleep,’ said Red. ‘Believe me, if he had an ounce of strength left, he’d still be bawling at the top of his lungs.’
Bella turned the monitor up to full volume: she could hear the quiet rustle of her son’s breath.
‘I don’t believe it!’ she was astonished that her baby could actually go to sleep without being breastfed, rocked, walked, patted or soothed in some way.
‘And I bet he doesn’t wake up again till the morning,’ Red said. ‘Because he’s learned to fall asleep without you.’
‘In one lesson?!’
‘Well, it might take a few nights, we’ll see,’ Red replied. ‘Tomorrow night, just do the same and soon you’ll be able to put him down without a squeak.’
‘OK.’ Bella was still unconvinced. ‘Can I go and check him?’
‘No! He’s fine . . . OK, you can go in five minutes. Meanwhile, let’s not waste the wine,’ Red answered.
They drank the best part of the two bottles and Bella smoked seven cigarettes. OOPS. But it was a laugh. It was a girlie laugh, well more a mummy laugh.
They talked organic baby milks, stopping breastfeeding, favourite purées and Bella felt at least some of her anxieties about Markie were allayed.
Then they got more personal and talked about themselves. The origin of Red’s unique colouring was explained: she was part Polish, part English with a generous measure of Jamaican.
‘So,’ Red topped up their glasses. ‘When did you meet Don? And how?’
Bella told her, reminding herself what a whirlwind romance it had been.
‘God, you two didn’t hang about, did you?’ was Red’s verdict.
‘We just knew it was right and that we were ready. . . I suppose,’ Bella answered, then stumbled on, ‘Everything has always been really full-on between us. What’s happening now is weird. I just don’t know what he’s thinking.’
‘I really hope you guys will be OK,’ Red said.
‘Hmmm.’ Bella took a long drag on her cigarette and thought about her husband. She had to get herself together and get him back.
It was time for Red to go. As she slipped on her coat, she asked: ‘So is Markie going to Sylvia’s tomorrow?’
‘Yes . . . I think so.’ Bella still wasn’t sure if she could bring herself to do it.
‘We have to go out, to distract you, otherwise you’ll just sit here worrying about him and phoning Sylvia up every ten minutes to listen for wailing in the background.’
‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. Don’t you have work?’
‘I can make an exception.’
‘Where can we go in two hours?’
‘We’ll go to the shopping centre and the market down the road,’ answered Red.
Bella raised her eyebrows. She couldn’t see any reason to go there.
‘Bella! You’ve obviously been far too snobbish to notice the good stuff there,’ Red teased her. ‘It will be fun, I’ll meet you at Sylvia’s when you drop Markie off.’
They were at the door now. ‘OK,’ said Bella, ‘I’ll see you there, 10 a.m. tomorrow. Thanks for tonight, Red,’ Bella said and kissed her on the cheek.
‘I’m glad to help, OK!’ Red smiled.
Chapter Forty-three
THE SOUND OF cr
ying woke Bella – as it had done for the past seven months. She opened her eyes and looked at daylight filtering in through the white curtains. Daylight?!! She leaned over to look at the clock – 7.26 a.m.! She was waking up from the first full night’s sleep she’d had since her son was born. Apart from the incredible weight of the full breasts lying on top of her chest like bricks, it felt amazing!
She went through to Markie’s room and bent down to pick him up out of his bed. He smiled and giggled at her, stretching up his chubby hands. She took him back to bed with her and they curled up together, Markie latching on ravenously to feed.
He gazed up at her with his brow furrowed and she just adored him. This was the only time he lay quiet in her arms now, he had grown into such a wriggly, inquisitive little thing. She would miss feeding him so much.
She spent the next two hours in a mild panic – breakfast, changing, dressing, packing one hundred assorted bits and pieces into Markie’s bag, so that he wouldn’t be without his favourite drink, snack, toy, whatever else she thought he needed to survive two whole hours at Sylvia’s without her. She packed a sheet of paper into his bag with her home number, her mobile, her bleeper, Don’s mobile, Don’s work number. You’re being ridiculous, she kept telling herself. Relax.
Finally, they were ready to go. She whizzed Markie, his buggy and the bulging changing bag out of the door and over to Sylvia’s house.
Red was there waiting for her and Bella was able to hand Markie over without feeling too awful about it. She babbled out a torrent of instructions to Sylvia about drink times and nap times, despite her impression that Sylvia was listening but probably not going to worry about it too much.
‘She thinks I’m totally neurotic, doesn’t she?’ Bella asked Red as they walked away from the house.
‘And who could blame her?’ Red teased, then added: ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’ll learn to let go bit by bit.’
Bella fumbled in her handbag for a cigarette. She lit up and inhaled.
‘Feel better?’ asked Red.
‘Yes, a bit. Do you fancy a drive to the high street?’
‘Well, it’s more environmentally friendly to walk – but if you really want to . . .’
Red was very impressed with Bella’s car.
‘God! How come I’ve never noticed this outside your house before?’
They climbed in and Bella revved the engine up.
By the time Bella was parking dextrously in the shopping centre car park, Red was talking about work.
‘Couldn’t you go part time, or work from home . . . set up on your own like I did?’
‘Well,’ said Bella as they headed down the grimy staircase towards the shops, ‘these things are all possibilities, I’m just trying to get my head round them.’
‘OK,’ said Bella as they got to the bottom and surveyed the scene: stalls selling limp vegetables, a tatty supermarket, a branch of Woolworth’s and a discount jewellers. ‘Where do you want to go?’
‘We’re heading for the café, but not until we’ve trawled round the amazing clothes shops. Follow me!’
Bella wondered what the hell Red could mean. All she could see were the crappy cheap chains with prices plastered on the windows. Red was making a beeline for one of them. ‘You cannot be serious,’ said Bella.
‘Come on!’ said Red.
Once they were in, Red scanned the racks like a pro. ‘OK Bella, we are finally getting you out of your leggings and rugby shirt and propelling you into the twenty-first century.’
Bella was looking through the stuff and laughing. ‘Sequined denim?? You can’t make me do this!’
‘Look, perfectly acceptable grey combat trousers . . . £8 on the sale rail . . . padded waistcoat £12, T-shirts, a fiver, customized jeans, denim skirt . . . black three-quarter sleeved shirt . . . blah, blah, blah. Bella you are going to come out of here a new woman . . . for less than 50 quid.’
They went to the changing room with armfuls of stuff.
‘Oh my God, it’s a size 16,’ wailed Bella pulling on a remarkably close-fitting shirt.
‘The sizes are wincey here,’ Red said. ‘That’s how they save money – use less material.’
‘Yeah that and child labour in third world countries.’
‘No, this lot are OK. The stuff’s mainly made in Morocco and Portugal.’
‘OK, well, I’m leaving my social conscience at the door. How come your stomach is so flat already?’ Bella asked, eyeing Red up in the long, narrow mirror installed presumably to make women think they looked long and narrow too.
‘Gym twice a week. I’ve gone since Ellie was tiny,’ came the smug reply.
‘Ah! I remember the gym. I still have membership for the really poncey one, down in Belsize Park.’
‘Well, go!’ Red replied. ‘If you don’t go when you stop feeding, you’ll be tying your tits up in a bow. They’ll have a crèche, you know.’
‘Yeah, I know, I just couldn’t bear to leave him in there.’
‘But you’re getting over that, aren’t you? Looks very good,’ Red nodded at Bella in the sporty, grey trousers and a tight red long-sleeved T-shirt with a flower on the front.
‘Is it mutton dressed as the proverbial?’
‘No! It’s Seattle fashion . . . downsized, homeworker, computer nerd. You’ve got to get some trainers.’
‘What about this?’ Red asked, modelling a spray-on denim skirt embroidered with multicoloured flowers. ‘Hot off the catwalk. This is real designer diffusion . . . never mind DKNY, Emporio and all that . . . they’re just trying to keep up. This stuff is knocked off and in the shops three days after the shows.’
‘How do you know all this?’ said Bella, trying on a fuzzy white zip-up jacket made of long curls of acrylic wool: ‘Ha ha, look at this. Outrageous!’ she laughed.
‘This chain is my biggest client,’ Red answered her.
‘Really!’
‘The chief exec made almost a million last year on bonuses alone.’
‘Wow. Do you get a discount?’ Bella joked.
She liked all the shiny anorak fabric stuff. She was thinking how wonderfully wipe clean it would be and went for it big time, deciding on a pair of beige trousers, the grey ones and a long black skirt, all in the same shiny, crackly stuff with drawstrings and plastic buckles.
Then she got three long-sleeved T-shirts with wild designs on the front and a short silvery grey anorak lined with fleece. Red made her buy an over the shoulder rucksacky thing, teasing her that a mock croc kelly bag just wouldn’t go with her new outfits.
The total bill was less then a week’s groceries, so Bella paid without any accompanying feelings of guilt.
‘Boots next,’ said Red, who’d bought a couple of tops.
They went to Boots and browsed about the make-up stands like schoolgirls.
‘You can’t buy red nail polish. It’s the most boring shade in the world,’ Red insisted.
‘Well, I’m not buying green!’ said Bella.
‘Why not?’
‘It’s so teenage.’
‘So? You’re only late twenties, not 100. You don’t need to wear camel and dress like your mother just yet.’
‘Hmmm. Well what about silver grey? It will go with my anorak.’
‘I think there’s a daring side to your nature just waiting to be unearthed.’
‘No, believe me, I’ve spent years trying to bury it.’
‘Really! But you always look quite . . . conservative.’
‘Yeah, fashion was never my thing, just recreational drugs and casual sex.’
‘Maybe you should channel your need to shock into something a little less harmful.’
‘Like green nail polish?’
‘Try it!’ Red laughed.
There was time for coffee in an organic, vegetarian, ceramic mug kind of place tucked round the back of the centre which no, Bella had never noticed before.
‘I usually do Mothercare and the cute little baby shop, then I’m out of here.’
Her face suddenly looked pained.
‘Stop it,’ said Red sipping her frothy coffee. ‘You were thinking about Markie, weren’t you?’
‘Yes, but only because I haven’t thought about him since we got here.’
‘Good.’
‘But I haven’t even been to the baby shop,’ Bella said, picking her phone out of her bag and double-checking for messages.
‘They are fine,’ Red said firmly.
And when Bella was back at Sylvia’s house thirty-five minutes later, it was obvious that Red was right. Markie was fast asleep in his buggy and Ellie was playing with the baby Lego in the middle of the sitting room floor.
‘He’s been good as gold,’ Sylvia told her.
Bella wheeled Markie home while Ellie stayed on with Sylvia because Red had gone home to do some work.
Work . . . Bella mused to herself as she pushed her sleeping baby along the road . . . work?? She couldn’t deny she was a bit jealous of Red. She would be sitting in her little office, making calls, using all those cool, logical parts of her brain and earning money.
A whole massive part of the stress situation with Don would be eased if she was earning a good whack again. The overdraft was beyond maximum and realistically, if she didn’t have a job very, very soon, they would have to put the house on the market. That thought instantly depressed her.
She got in, unzipped Markie’s coat and loosened his hat, then left him to doze in the hall.
She took the bags from the morning’s shopping trip upstairs and decided to cheer herself up with a quick try on. On went the long skirt, with the deep slit up the front, then she pulled on socks and her gym trainers and one of the new long-sleeved T-shirts. She put the silver anorak on top and laughed at herself in the mirror.
It was very different, but comfortable and kind of cool – she looked at her old clothes lying in a heap on the floor – why had she skulked about in that crap for so long?
Internet geek chic. She looked in the mirror and Red’s comment about it being the ultimate diffusion fashion came to mind.
Diffusion, brand names for less . . . internet chic. She had the strange, exhilarating feeling that something was coming together in her head. . . then bing! The pieces slid into place and she had the most amazingly good idea.
