by Adele Parks
‘I did.’
‘Well then, doesn’t that make you two the perfect match?’
‘I changed my mind.’
It wasn’t a change of mind, it was a change of heart, but how could Neil say that? Karl would probably feel the need to give him a wedgie or something, the way kids in playgrounds did to one another if they felt that one of their mates was going soft. Karl shifted the bendy models. Neil subconsciously recognised that they were now performing the position Karl called the humpbacked bridge. Neil didn’t believe this was a real position at all, it looked impossible, although Karl swore it existed and that it was a favourite of his.
‘What brought this on?’ asked Karl.
Neil could not explain to Karl that it had been his insistence that sex was everything that had been the catalyst. What an irony; the most deeply shallow man in history had inadvertently brought on this existential crisis. But when Neil had thought about it this morning (in the shower, as he dressed and as he walked to work), he knew, quite definitely, that he did want a baby. In fact, more than one, he wanted two at least. Not at the same time necessarily although that would be neat and probably easier on Nat’s body in the long run, but whatever the details, he was sure he wanted a family. Neil thought perhaps that somewhere deep in the back of his mind he had always wanted and expected a baby. Yes, he’d heard Nat say she didn’t want kids, loud and clear and frequently, especially in the early years. He’d thought it was quite sexy at the time. He’d been turned on by her independence; it had been a refreshing change from other women he’d known – the ones who had measured the circumference of his head on the first date and asked whether he carried any hereditary diseases before they’d ordered drinks. But Nat had been only twenty-six when they’d met, they had both been so young, he hadn’t had much concept of for ever. At least, not in terms of being denied a baby for ever. He didn’t believe she had either.
‘A teeny, tiny part of me thought Nat would probably change her mind one day, you know, about the whole baby thing,’ admitted Neil. He’d half expected it three years ago when the famous, oft talked about biological clock was supposed to kick in but apparently Nat’s clock (if she had one at all) was a silent digital thing, with no alarm, not even a loud tick. ‘She still might, hey?’ asked Neil optimistically.
‘Er, plonker,’ replied Karl harshly. ‘Look, Nat is the most clear-sighted and focused woman I’ve ever met, and you have to remember my experience with women is wide and long.’ Karl chuckled at his own innuendo but then caught the look of despair on Neil’s face so made an effort to stay on track. ‘Nat rarely changes her mind about anything as small as what she’ll eat for supper, so she’s unlikely to change her mind about something as fundamental as this.’
Neil realised this was true. To date Neil had admired his wife’s determination; indeed he’d found it quite a turn-on. He’d dated enough wishy-washy, dreamy types – who expected to be handed life’s goodies on a plate – to rate a woman who worked relentlessly to self-improve and improve the world around her. He’d always been spectacularly proud that he was married to a woman who never backed down in an argument or gave up on a challenge once it was set, even a challenge she’d set herself. Now he felt daunted and defeated as he remembered that his wife, a poor sportswoman and bad swimmer, had completed the London triathlon three years ago just because someone had said she was the least likely person in the world to do so. Of course the triathlon was a good thing; she’d raised £1,800 for Sparks, a charity for sick kids, by completing it. Plus it was her grim determination that meant she’d worked her way up the greasy corporate pole at the pharmaceutical company she worked for, in order to be in a position to influence and change. It was her staunch belief in the fact that she knew what was right that made her a loyal and forgiving friend. Neil knew that it was her doggedness that had ensured that tiffs in the early days of their relationship had never rocked their boat, she’d always sailed them to calmer waters because she’d always been sure that they should be together. She’d always been sure that he was the man she wanted.
Karl interrupted Neil’s thoughts. ‘Look, mate, my advice to you is pull in your neck. Don’t you see what a good thing you’re on here? Count your blessings. You’ve got to remember, mate, you’re a six and a half out of ten.’ Neil was confused, he couldn’t see the relevance of Karl’s line of reasoning. Karl assumed Neil was affronted by the score he’d awarded and so added, ‘OK, maybe at a push a seven. Nat is a strong nine.’ Karl never gave a ten, not even to himself, no one is perfect. He paused to see if Neil had caught on yet. Neil continued to look dazed. Karl wondered if it was worth elaborating. Nat had better taste in music than Neil did, she was more active, she was widely read, she was funnier and she even earned more than him. What made Neil think this clever, beautiful, self-assured woman would ever change her mind about something as fundamental as having a baby? Neil was deluded.
Karl didn’t want to say all that. He needed to move this conversation on and get back to his desk. Karl was surprisingly conscientious at work although generally he went to great pains to hide the fact. ‘So what’s your plan?’ he asked.
‘Plan?’
‘Well, you have to have a plan.’
‘I dunno. Haven’t had time to think about it.’
‘Well, mate, if you want it enough, you have to make it happen,’ Karl said curtly. He wasn’t clear how this could possibly be the case but he really did need to be back at his desk.
6
Tonight, Nat chose not to go straight home but instead she got off the bus a stop after her usual one and then double-backed upon herself so as she could take her favourite walk along the river path. She needed time to think and process all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. How had all her plans for a perfect birthday party for Neil failed to insure her against such an enormous disaster? Could he really mean he wanted a baby? Her stomach froze at the thought.
Nat mooched along the thin, sandy path. She had to continually duck and dive to avoid determined joggers and cyclists; this was situation normal as it was never a quiet route, but today she found the vigilance necessary to avoid a collision was hard to muster. Somewhat defeated, Nat collapsed on to a wooden bench and stared out to the blue-green river. Sometimes it sparkled – today it was flat and solid. She looked about for the swans which often paddled near the bank. Nat adored swans, they were her favourite creatures. Yes, they were beautiful and elegant, that was a given, but she liked them for two other reasons. One, she always thought of the swan as a bird of ingenious illusion because while they appeared to glide through life, underneath the water they paddled furiously and she related to that. Secondly, she’d read somewhere that they were monogamous throughout their lifetime and while Nat realised there was probably a very rational reason relating to evolution which accounted for their mating habits, she couldn’t help but think the idea was wonderfully romantic. Today she couldn’t see any swans, they must have moved further up the river. Nat sighed, she felt cheated out of her diversion. There was no alternative, she had to go home.
When Natalie got home she slowly opened the door and edged into the hall; the street was full of sunlight and she wasn’t sure she wanted to relinquish the evening’s brightness for an awkward atmosphere indoors. How would Neil behave this evening? Would he reintroduce the subject of wanting a baby? Oh God, she hoped not. She really, really hoped not.
She was relieved to find that the house was awash with delicious smells of roast chicken and the distinct aromas of garlic, feta and tomatoes baking. She knew at once that Neil must be preparing her favourite supper, Greek chicken.
Hearing the front door click shut, Neil instantly appeared from the kitchen. He was wearing an apron. It was the one his mother had bought him as a fun novelty gift last Christmas. It had a neck down picture of a naked, curvaceous woman and even his own handsome face, emerging from the top, could do little to alter the overall effect – he looked ridiculous. Natalie was relieved that she could l
augh. Neil clamped his mouth down on hers, cupping her face in his hands and spreading his fingers so they touched her neck. He knew she loved that. They kissed for a long time. The kiss was still and serious but also conveyed warmth and an apology. They both regretted that last night had ended the way it had.
‘Sorry,’ they chorused in unison and then they laughed. Nat was, as ever, thrilled and filled by Neil’s life-affirming laugh. She felt the tension that she’d been lugging around all day (in her back, her shoulders, her heart) scuttle away. He’d cooked for her. How sweet! He was trying to make up for going wildly off track last night. What a relief. Nat had had one of the worst days of her life. She’d had no idea whether he’d been serious when he’d suggest they ‘make a baby’ and whether he’d renew his pleas tonight. She was terrified he would. What a disaster that would be. But it seemed she was in the clear. It had just been the drink talking last night. Well, everyone has done and said silly things because they’ve had more than a drop too many. She’d once thought it was a good idea to karaoke in front of her entire international division at an office evening reception and she couldn’t sing a note. Nat accepted Neil’s apology quickly and gracefully and decided to give one too. She scrambled into her bag and pulled out a sky-blue Diesel T-shirt.
‘I bought you this at lunchtime today,’ she said, revealing that she’d been thinking of him.
‘Smart, cool,’ Neil enthused as he gave the top full and careful attention. Perhaps more focus than he would have given it if they hadn’t had a fight the night before and while that meant there was still a tension in the air, it also meant intentions were good. ‘Wait, wait right there.’ Neil ran into the kitchen and immediately returned with a glass of red wine. He handed it to Nat and instructed, ‘Go upstairs, have a bath, dinner will be ready in forty minutes. No arguments.’
She wasn’t planning on offering any.
Nat lay amongst the bubbles. Her breasts and her thighs broke the surface. Her skin glistened pleasantly. She tried to file away her omnipresent ‘to do’ list and instead she thought about what she should wear to eat supper. Normally Neil slobbed about in whatever he’d been wearing at work that day (one of the joys of wearing jeans to work) and Nat would change out of her suit and pull on the nearest thing to hand, jeans and a T-shirt, her misshapen tracksuit, or sometimes, if she was particularly knackered, her tatty bathrobe. But tonight, as Neil had cooked, poured Merlot and run her a bath, Nat felt inclined to dress up for him. She dismissed the idea of stockings and suspenders and a little black dress. However grateful she was for the bath and wine, she couldn’t get trussed up in the full Monty just to sit in her own front room, she wasn’t a footballer’s wife, but she could wear a decent pair of jeans and one of her pretty, going-out tops. She’d wear La Senza silky knickers and matching bra rather than her reliable (but greying) M&S favourite pants.
‘Oh, wow. This looks fabulous,’ said Nat with a beam as she walked into the sitting room-cum-dining room. She didn’t just mean the salad, garlic bread and Greek chicken, which were triumphantly laid out on the table, she meant the entire room. Neil had tidied around, he’d picked up magazines and gathered empty mugs and he’d lit the candles. Nat was always buying candles and cushions. Neil normally didn’t give either much thought but tonight he’d plumped the numerous cushions and he’d lit all twelve candles that were scattered around the room. As there was still plenty of evening sunshine flooding through the windows, he’d drawn the curtains; he thought the effect was a bit Turkish harem but he didn’t have a problem with that. He knew that Nat thought candles were enchanting and the dim light did a good job of hiding the fact that he’d scorched the garlic bread.
They sat and ate and drank, initially not bothering with conversation beyond light chatter about which dressing Neil had used on the salad and how much more they’d eaten in the last few days than was sensible. Nat commented that she’d have to cut back but they both knew she wouldn’t. She hated dieting and had never stuck to one, so about four years ago she’d just given up on them altogether. Funnily enough, since then she’d stayed exactly the same weight, give or take a couple of pounds that came and went around Christmas. The fact that Nat didn’t obsess about her weight and knew how to enjoy food was one of the many things that Neil found fabulous about her. They chattered about the latest reality TV programme and Neil suggested they visit Ben and Fi at the weekend. Nat agreed without having to think about it. After a while, Neil felt the need to move the conversation on. After all, he’d put a lot of effort into preparing the perfect mood tonight, he couldn’t blow it by losing his nerve.
‘How was work today?’ he asked.
Frankly, he didn’t have that much interest in Nat’s work, but the most important thing was whether she liked it or not; if she liked her work, that was enough for him. He knew the names of her closest colleagues and her boss, he knew that her work involved occasional trips abroad and that to be suited to her particular field you had to be resilient, commercially minded and have strong analytical skills. He knew about the travel because when she was away he missed her warm body in bed and her chatter in the house and he knew the thing about resilience and commercial skills because he’d once heard Ben telling his father this. Ben did seem to have some idea what Nat’s job involved and he was clearly impressed by it. The fact that his wife impressed his big brother pleased Neil enormously.
Natalie had joined the world’s largest pharmaceutical company way before she met Neil, almost as soon as she graduated. She’d been offered places on two other graduate trainee programmes with large, respectable companies; both of those jobs had larger salaries attached than the one being offered by the pharmaceutical company. But when it came to making a decision, Nat knew that, besides wanting to be part of something big, she wanted to be part of something important. She did not want to spend her life trying to persuade more people to buy cat food X rather than cat food Y, nor was she convinced that accepting or declining mortgage applications would be enough for her. She wanted to contribute to society in a real and pertinent way.
She won a place on the competitive three-year training programme within the purchasing and procurement division of the pharmaceutical company. On countless occasions Nat had explained this meant she was responsible for managing budgets, building and running e-bid events and auctions, project management, supplier conditioning and negotiation, data analysis, market research, and stakeholder engagement. Neil always found he’d tuned out at the word project. Still, he did know that Nat was highly regarded and had been continually promoted through the ranks. She now had a team of people who reported to her, all doing stuff he didn’t quite understand.
Once, when Neil had found he had three point five minutes to kill as he waited for the microwave to do its thing with his beef dinner, he’d come across Nat’s company annual report that she’d left lying around. He’d used the three point five minutes (plus one minute standing time) to acquaint himself with the company mission. It was a challenging and stirring mission. The pharmaceutical company aimed to ‘globally enhance the quality of human life by reaching out to facilitate people in their efforts to be notably more active, to achieve and enjoy good health and, ultimately, to live longer’. Neil wondered whether they couldn’t have come up with something a little more catchy.
Nat and her colleagues endeavoured to globally enhance the quality of human life from a grey office just off the A4. The A4 is one of Britain’s major arterial roads, merging into the M4 outside London and running to somewhere near Bristol. Nat’s grey office was placed squarely in an area that had some of the worst air pollution in London, which was no mean feat. Local doctors were always appearing on the regional news earnestly communicating their concerns about the number of patients they saw with breathing difficulties. As far as Neil could make out, Nat spent an average of ten hours a day at a small, grey desk placed approximately one metre away from another small, grey desk, where Becky Booker, her small, although admittedly colourful, colleague sat. They
shared the view of the grey A4 through a tiny window; the window was grey because the efforts of any window cleaners employed to scrape away the city’s grime were obliterated within twenty minutes, thanks to the fumes from steady through traffic. Neil didn’t understand why Nat bounced out of bed every morning, not really.
Natalie knew this was how Neil saw things. He had tried at the beginning of their relationship to appear interested in the work she felt so passionate about. He had listened when she chatted enthusiastically about the World Health Organisation and their rigorous regulatory processes but Nat had noticed that after a while he tended to fall silent, only murmuring the occasional word. He had a way of saying ‘really’ and ‘interesting’ that did not commit him to any sort of an opinion on whatever she had to say about her work. Nat didn’t blame him. She wasn’t at the coalface of medical care. If she’d been in the field, say a doctor actually vaccinating kids against river blindness, she was sure Neil would have shown more interest. But Nat had always known she didn’t have the stomach and nerve to be a doctor. Still, she believed her work was valuable even though she was stuck behind a desk. On a daily basis she battled to edge people towards a cleaner, safer world. What could be more important? Generally, Nat wasn’t offended by Neil’s disinterest in her work. In fact, as she gave it her all throughout the long hours she was in the office, it was often quite relaxing to come home and talk about something completely different, something trivial but fun like which contestant was the forerunner in The Apprentice. So whenever Neil asked how her day had been she invariably replied, as she did tonight, ‘Fine.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Oh, the usual. Meetings, conference calls. Balled at people, got balled at.’
‘Didn’t you have a big meeting with your boss today?’
‘Yes.’ Nat smiled, pleased that Neil had remembered.
