by Adele Parks
And now there was the attraction of having Heidi’s company too. Over the past ten weeks, since Neil had decided he wanted to be a father, he’d naturally become incredibly curious about other people’s children. Well, it wasn’t as if he had any of his own to be interested in. He made small talk with mothers in the queue at the supermarket checkout. He now knew that if the baby was crying, the standard comment was, ‘Hungry?’ or ‘Tired?’ and if the baby was gurgling, the thing to say was, ‘How old?’ All three of these questions had to be delivered with a knowing nod that was at once reassuring and open, somewhat informed and very sympathetic. He knew it was crucial to avoid gender. It was all too easy to ask, ‘How old is this little chap?’ and a cross mum would snap, ‘She’s eight months, her hair is still growing in.’ He smiled at toddlers and sometimes even asked them questions, like what were they going to have for tea or whether their mummies were going to cut out a cat’s face in a pumpkin? Neil asked these questions in an odd, overly jocular voice. Nat said if he carried on like this he was going to be arrested. She maintained it wasn’t normal to take so much interest in other people’s kids but he found that parents quite liked it.
There was a woman at work who had twin boys. Every day he asked how their football was coming along. He’d started to call his brother regularly and ask about his niece and nephews’ progress at nursery. He’d become expert at showing concern over parental moaning about broken sleep and the speed at which kids grow out of their shoes. He found himself staring at kids in the street and wondering what these kids chatted about with their parents when they got home, what toys they played with and what they liked to watch on TV. He wondered if his own childhood experiences were at all relevant to the way kids rumbled through childhood now. He wondered if he’d ever get to tell a son or daughter of his own that Snickers were once called Marathons and that they used to be bigger. He wondered what gave kids nightmares nowadays. Not Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’s child-catcher, surely. More likely some character he’d helped create for a video game. He desperately wanted the chance to soothe nightmares into distant, impotent memories.
Cindy believed that the three of them were together in Ravenscourt Park by coincidence. This was reasonable as the park was sandwiched between Chiswick and Hammersmith; Neil lived and worked somewhere in Chiswick, didn’t he, and Cindy lived and worked in Hammersmith. She accepted that Neil was taking a short cut through the park and just happened to spot her. She’d been quite chuffed that he’d come over to say hello.
‘Most of my clients pretend not to recognise me. Or maybe they really don’t recognise me,’ said Cindy, as she glanced apologetically at her tracksuit bottoms.
Bizarrely, Neil thought Cindy looked more, not less, sexy now her body was covered up. The tracksuit was not shapeless and bobbly, (like Nat’s comfy one, which she tended to wear to watch TV as often as to go to the gym), it was a clingy, apple-green velour number, that subliminally suggested fun and freshness. She certainly stood out against the grey day as she wore a short, sleeveless, hot pink padded jacket and yellow trainers. She looked like a yummy dessert. But she must be freezing. Nat had pulled her winter coat out of the wardrobe last weekend; it was almost floor-length and black. If you looked carefully at Cindy (and Neil found that he was looking carefully), it was possible to see the muscles in Cindy’s peach-like bum flex ever so slightly when she pushed her daughter on the swing.
The daughter.
Heidi was a beautiful child. Neil had spent an awful lot of time adoringly staring into prams and pushchairs but even he was not blind to the fact that a huge number of kids and babies were really quite odd to look at. They were often sticky or had two tracks of luminous snot running from nose to lip, which was never a great look, and besides that he had to admit that many of them had thin, wispy hair, weird, gummy smiles or overwhelming foreheads. This observation did not make him want children any less, he found the gummy smiles cute and simply thought that it was a sin the snotty, sticky kids weren’t being attended to more efficiently. Neil was certain that any baby he had with Natalie would be a beauty and he’d definitely always carry a tissue. Still, it was a bonus to catch sight of the sort of child that took your breath away and Heidi was such a child. She looked as though the angels had made her to celebrate a special occasion, the first day of summer perhaps. She had blond curls that bounced around her cherubic face, a tiny button nose, fat, pink, pouty lips and enormous blue eyes, framed with lashes that caused draughts when she blinked. She looked pretty much how Neil imagined a child belonging to him and Nat might look (if Brad Pitt was willing to donate).
‘What are you doing in a park at this time of the day?’ asked Cindy.
‘I got stuck on a project at work, thought I’d stretch my legs, get a bit of fresh air and maybe find some inspiration,’ lied Neil. The truth made Neil uncomfortable, it would probably terrify Cindy. He sure as hell couldn’t risk admitting to Cindy that since she’d mentioned that she sometimes spent her mornings off here in the park with Heidi, he had taken to mooching around, hoping to catch a glimpse of them. He wasn’t sure why he was so curious about Cindy’s life, it didn’t make sense, but he had an increasing, overwhelming urge to be with her. Being with her was straightforward and relaxing. She didn’t trade sarcastic comments with him nor did she sulk, seethe or swear at him, unlike his wife.
‘Fancy a coffee?’ he asked tentatively.
Cindy glanced at Heidi and for one awful minute Neil thought she was going to say no. He fought the disappointment that was surprisingly bitter and potent. ‘I can throw in an ice cream,’ he added, hoping he didn’t sound quite as pathetic and desperate as he felt. Neil was banking on the fact that even on a chilly autumn day children were always keen for an ice-cream cone.
‘Scream!’ cried Heidi with excitement. She pushed at the iron bars that harnessed her into the swing, straining to get free, clearly keen to accept the invitation. Cindy and Neil laughed at her enthusiasm and Cindy nodded.
The café was cramped with noisy kids and mothers whose attitudes towards those kids tended to be equally divided between harassed and indifferent. The windows were steamed with the effect of the hot drinks being made and the hot gossip that passed between the women. Cindy scanned the room and then told Neil she’d prefer to sit outside, she liked the fresh air, even at this nippy time of year when their breath could be seen on the air. She already spent more than enough hours in hot, sticky rooms.
‘OK, you grab a bench and I’ll bring the stuff out. What do you want?’ asked Neil.
‘A skinny latte for me and a vanilla ice cream for Heidi, just a small one. Thanks.’
Neil ordered the coffees and as it was nearly midday he added a ham sandwich and an egg sandwich on white bread (no cress, he thought cress stalks were the devil’s pubes; no child could want to eat them). He also bought a couple of slices of carrot cake, two packets of crisps (ready-salted and cheese and onion as he couldn’t decide which flavour Cindy might prefer). He considered the soup but wasn’t tempted by carrot and coriander and wasn’t sure Cindy would be either. He thought she’d be a chicken soup sort of girl. When he was in front of the ice-cream cabinet, he found himself asking for a triple scoop ice cream (vanilla, chocolate and strawberry). The server smiled. ‘Good, that will finish it off.’ She piled the ice cream high upon the cone and then threw away the tub. It was time to defrost the freezer and push it to the side of the café, out of the way until next spring. There would be more room for indoor tables that way. ‘We’ll be selling mince pies before you know it,’ she commented. With difficulty, Neil carried the tray and the cone out to Cindy where the goodies were greeted with muted appreciation.
‘She won’t eat lunch if she has that,’ Cindy grumbled, glaring at the extremely large ice, embellished with a chocolate flake and coloured sweet sprinkles.
‘I bought egg sandwiches for lunch, maybe she could have the crisps and sandwich first and then the ice cream,’ offered Neil. ‘Or there’s ham.’
‘We have to get home for lunch,’ Cindy said. She swiftly scooped off half the ice cream with her coffee spoon. It landed with a splat on the ground. Neil and Heidi looked at the gloopy mess; it was unclear which of them might cry first. ‘Thanks, though,’ added Cindy more kindly, perhaps seeing that she’d upset one of her best clients, perhaps seeing she’d upset a decent bloke. She grabbed the plastic boxes of sandwiches and the packets of crisps and shoved them into her rucksack. She forked a small piece of cake into her wide mouth and said appreciatively, ‘Great cake.’
Neil watched Heidi lick the ice cream. She was surprisingly methodical and neat for one so young. She took tiny laps, putting Neil in mind of a small kitten. ‘Her photo couldn’t do her justice. She’s dead cute,’ he mumbled.
‘Isn’t she?’ agreed Cindy, not managing to suppress her maternal pride. She rummaged in her bag, retrieved a woollen hat and then plonked it on Heidi’s head, pulling it down firmly about her ears. ‘Can be a little bugger though, obviously. When she wants to be.’
‘Will you have more?’
‘One more. Two kids is plenty. Don’t want three. Three does terrible things to your stomach muscles, not a good idea in my line of work. But I’d like her to have a brother or sister. It’s just finding the right time. I mean, you can’t dance and give birth.’
‘No, of course not. Did you, erm, dance while you were pregnant with Heidi?’
‘Yeah.’ Cindy did not offer any explanation or excuse, or explore the moral connotations of this fact. Neil felt uncomfortable. This beautiful child should never have been inside Hush Hush, even if at the time she had been inside her mum’s womb. Especially then. Cindy correctly interpreted his silence and commented sardonically, ‘Not all mothers get the chance to spend their pregnancies at pre-natal yoga classes.’
‘No.’ Neil blushed that his condemnation had been so transparent.
‘I wouldn’t have kept on dancing if they’d still allowed smoking in there but it was banned by then and exercising during pregnancy is a good thing.’
‘Right.’ He didn’t want to ask the next question but found he couldn’t help himself. ‘And how long did you go on with—’
‘Eight months. I was very neat. Such a small bump. We did a special show, early teatime slot. A lot of men find pregnant women very sexy.’
‘But—’
‘You, for instance.’ Cindy stared at Neil, silencing him.
Neil blushed again and searched around for a change of subject. If he couldn’t come up with something fast, he was pretty sure that Cindy would swiftly drink her coffee and then shoot off. He didn’t want that. After a pause, he offered, ‘Do you watch much TV?’
Cindy and Neil chatted about reality TV, soaps and game shows. They both admitted to loving The X Factor and Strictly Come Dancing, although Cindy said, ‘The ice skating one bores the tits off me,’ and Neil said he stopped watching Big Brother (celebrity or otherwise) a few years back. ‘Bloody freak show.’
They discovered they both liked cooking and they competitively compared recipes for lasagne. Cindy’s husband had bought her a Wii last Christmas but she said she didn’t get much time to play on it; she was shocked at how many hours Neil owned up to playing games.
‘When do you get time to shop?’ she asked, aghast that anyone might compromise how much time they spent on that national sport.
‘Not much of a shopper,’ mumbled Neil. ‘Although I do like Westfield shopping centre.’
‘I go there all the time. It’s my idea of heaven.’
Neil wondered if they’d ever passed one another, slipped by, shoulder to shoulder, unnoticed, shrouded in an anonymous crowd.
Cindy talked about Heidi and revealed she was a good sleeper and that the birth had been easy. ‘Six hours from water breaking to weigh-in,’ Cindy said proudly. ‘She’s perfect.’
Neil couldn’t help but agree. Heidi seemed remarkably calm and easy to amuse. Cindy was right, she was just the sort of child that could seduce anyone, even Nat, into wanting to become a parent, surely. When she’d finished her ice cream, she climbed into her stroller and curled up for a nap.
Cindy confessed to having a ‘desperate sweet tooth’ that she constantly had to keep in check. ‘I eat a lot of wine gums, there’s no fat in them.’
Neil told her about a scruffy newsagent in Chiswick that still sold sweets from enormous jars. ‘Sadly, not glass jars, just plastic ones. I’m sure I remember there being glass jars when I was a kid.’
‘Bollocks. What are you, Victorian? They were plastic jars. You idealise things too much, Neil.’
Despite her gentle mocking, Neil confessed to buying a quarter of strawberry bonbons whenever he passed.
‘If they sell sherbet fountains, will you pick one up for me? I haven’t had a sherbet fountain for years.’
It was Cindy’s stomach growling raucously that finally brought their chatter to a halt.
‘Shit, it’s ten to two,’ said Cindy, glancing at her watch. She quickly began to snatch up baby wipes, small toys, bibs and the other child paraphernalia that littered the table. ‘I’m meant to be in work by two thirty and I haven’t given Heidi any lunch yet.’ Heidi was still asleep in her pushchair. Plump and rosy-cheeked, she looked, if possible, even more delectable than she had when she was awake. The adults gazed on adoringly and even though they were both conscious that they ought to be elsewhere, they allowed themselves a silent, still moment to revel in her perfection.
‘I’d better be getting back too.’ Neil knew he had a meeting at two. He’d be late. Plus he’d taken a two and a half hour lunch break, how was he going to explain that? He had been a bit rubbish about timekeeping recently although he was pretty sure no one had noticed his morning strolls or early evening departures. But his manager had had a winge about his late start last Wednesday; he’d been at Hush Hush until late the night before and he just hadn’t been able to drag his carcass in by ten, no matter how much Nat nagged. ‘It’s been lovely bumping into you, Cindy.’
‘Yes, and you.’ Cindy didn’t look at Neil but continued to pack up the stroller efficiently. Heidi, disturbed by the activity, woke up and looked around placidly. As Cindy set off along the path, she threw out a cheerful wave and called, ‘Till next time.’
‘Yes.’ Neil felt his body become weightless as a reaction to the delight that he might anticipate a next time.
‘Wave goodbye to Neil, Heidi,’ Cindy instructed.
‘Beb bye,’ gurgled Heidi as she waved enthusiastically from her buggy. She craned her neck around the side of the buggy so that she could keep her eyes on Neil as Cindy pushed her in the opposite direction. When she was about ten metres away, she very carefully enunciated, ‘Beb bye, Neeeeeil.’
Neil took a mental snapshot of the image of the beaming, waving child and the obviously attractive mother marching away from him. He stored the memory in his head but allowed its prettiness to filter down into his stomach, creating a feeling similar to the one he got when on rare occasions he drank malt whisky. A lovely comforting, intimate feeling.
25
Natalie had not been planning on calling Alan Jones. Her recent meetings had shown her that there was no mileage to be gained in poking about in the past. She was wasting her time, indeed she was wasting everyone’s time. Besides, out of all her exes, he was the one she had absolutely no desire to catch up with. There was no mystery there. No ifs or buts. She knew he was not her One. They were unsuited. They wanted different things, they had agreed as much twelve years ago. But fate was a cruel and bossy minx and she intervened.
Nat was queuing in Mortimer & Bennett, a charming, rustic deli just off Chiswick High Street. The deli had been brought to the attention of the foodies in W4 as it was often listed by the likes of Nigella Lawson and other celebrity chefs as a great place to buy difficult-to-find products like marron glacé, La Maison du Miel honey or tasty legs of Jabugo ham. The result was that the place was always jam-packed. Passionate foodies stood elbow to elbow alongside under-conf
ident housewives who wanted to impress their dinner guests by buying locally and organically. Nat was visiting Mortimer & Bennett because she was buying a present for Ben and Fi. She hadn’t seen much of her in-laws recently and felt bad about it. In truth, she’d been avoiding them. Neil had made their previously precious visits to Ben and Fi uncomfortable as he endlessly and obviously extolled the joys of parenthood. The last time they’d visited, he kept picking up one or other of the children and then dropping them in Nat’s lap, much to the embarrassment and distress of all involved. Angus was happier playing Lego than being forcibly made to give Nat a cuddle, and Nat appeared reluctant to deliver said cuddle because when Neil demanded it of her she happened to be holding a cup of hot tea and she had nowhere to put it down. She was sure her apparent reluctance was noted by everyone and of course Fi would have taken offence, any mother would do so. It wasn’t fair. Left to her own devices Nat was a fantastic aunt, she was lively, loving and interested, but in the hothouse atmosphere that Neil had generated recently she appeared reluctant and gauche.
Nat had decided to buy some handmade chocolates for Fi and a selection of rare, smelly cheeses for Ben. She’d drop round at the weekend and deliver her peace offerings. She had no idea what Neil’s plans for the weekend might be but she assumed he’d be happy to visit his brother and family. She could take some sparklers; she wondered if the kids had gone to a firework display last night. She and Neil usually went to the display in Ravenscourt Park which always took place on the Saturday nearest to the fifth; that would be this Saturday, but neither of them had mooted the idea as yet. Nat decided she would suggest it tonight. She’d call up Ali and Tim and Karl and Jen and ask if they wanted to come along too. They could all eat hot dogs and toffee apples and have some fun, it had been a while since they’d got together, too long. Of course it would be icy cold and probably wet as well, that was traditional, but it would be worth it to see the fireworks whoosh, flash and bloom against the black sky.
