by Gil McNeil
‘Gran.’
‘Yes?’
‘Just give her a cuddle.’
She picks her up, ever so carefully.
Great. I can sleep now. Gran’s here, and she’s got the baby. Now I can sleep.
‘Are you hungry, pet?’
‘Starving. What time is it?’
‘Nearly three. Reg has gone to get the boys from school. Let’s get you fed, then, before she wakes up. What do you fancy?’
‘Tea and toast?’
I had tea and toast on the recovery ward after I had the boys, and I really fancy it now.
‘That’s not a proper meal. What about if I do you some nice scrambled eggs, and Reg is getting you a steak for your tea. We’ve got to keep your strength up. I’ll do you chips too, if you like; Reg can go home and get my chip pan.’
‘Lovely. But just toast for now, thanks.’
Gran brings the boys straight upstairs when they get in from school and Archie sits eating my toast, while Jack kneels down by the Moses basket and looks at his sister.
‘Mum?’
‘Yes, Jack.’
‘So it’s a girl, the baby?’
‘Yes, love.’
‘It doesn’t matter, Mum. She can still play with us. When she’s bigger. What’s her name?’
‘I don’t know. I couldn’t decide without you two here.’
He smiles, and Archie leans forward to peer into the Moses basket.
‘What about Galadriel – she’s a queen, in The Lord of the Rings, and she’s great. That would be a good name.’
‘I was thinking about Mary.’
Gran makes a small noise and steps backwards in the doorway as Reg puts his arm around her.
Archie sits down on the bed.
‘That’s quite nice. What other ones?’
‘What about Pearl?’
Jack nods.
‘She is quite pearly.’
‘So shall we call her Mary Pearl then?’
‘Yes.’
Archie nods.
‘Yes, and we’ll call her Pearly. Pearly girl, because she’s a girl.’
‘Or maybe just Pearl.’
I pat the bed.
‘Come on then, I’m waiting for my cuddle.’
Actually, I must try to remember not to move my legs so quickly.
They both wriggle up next to me, and start off very gently, before they relax and snuggle in.
‘Do you want to cuddle the baby?’
‘Pearl, Mum, you should call her Pearl. She won’t like being called the baby all the time.’
Archie’s clearly enjoying his newly elevated Big Brother status.
‘Okay. Do you want to cuddle Pearl?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘I would.’
Gran puts her on my lap, and she brilliantly stays asleep while Jack has his first tentative cuddle.
‘Her hands are so tiny, Mum.’
‘I know.’
‘Because she’s only little.’
‘Yes.’
Actually, eight pounds four ounces, so not so little, thank you very much.
‘Were my hands that tiny?’
‘Yes, love. And you had the same hair. Lots of black hair.’
‘But now it’s brown.’
‘It changes.’
Actually, it’s uncanny how like Jack she is; she’s got the same long thin feet, and long fingers and the same-shaped head. Archie was more rounded, and had less hair. Please God she takes after Jack and sleeps sometimes. But actually, even if she doesn’t, I don’t care, not really. She’s here, and she’s perfect. Absolutely perfect. All three of them are here, and everything’s fine.
I’m going to cry again if I’m not careful.
‘Tell us about when we were born, Mum.’
‘Can we do it later? I’m a bit tired now and you need your tea. After bath-time?’
‘What’s for tea?’
‘I don’t know, Archie – Gran’s in charge. Probably anything you like.’
‘Yess! Anything we like. I want a lobster. Cooked. With sauce.’
I think I’ll leave Gran to sort that one out.
‘Will you be coming downstairs later?’
‘I’m not sure, Jack. Maybe not tonight. I’m a bit tired now.’
‘But I’ve got a new reading book.’
‘Come on, boys. Your gran’s got a surprise for you. Let’s leave your mum to have a rest. And your new sister. She’s had a busy day too, you know.’ Reg has already had a quick cuddle earlier, and seems tickled pink with his new granddaughter.
Archie nods.
‘See you later, Pearly.’
I’m dozing when Gran comes up with the phone.
‘It’s Ellen. I thought you’d want to talk to her.’
‘Thanks, Gran.’
‘Hello, darling. God, you don’t hang around, do you? What’s that all about, giving birth on the floor? Christ. I can’t believe you went for it at home.’
‘I didn’t have much choice in the matter, trust me.’
‘How is she? And how are you? Was it awful?’
‘She’s perfect and it was completely terrifying, but weirdly okay as well. It was so quick I didn’t have time to get totally freaked out. Thank God Martin was here.’
‘Good old Dovetail – I knew he’d come in handy. Have you called Daniel?’
‘No. It’s weird but it’s right in a way that he doesn’t know she’s here. And if I call him it’s like I want him to want to know, like it’ll make a difference, which it won’t.’
‘You could always text him.’
‘True.’
‘You don’t really care, do you?’
‘No.’
‘Good.’
‘Now she’s here the only thing that matters is that she’s safe.’
‘True. And you’re okay, really?’
‘Fine. And she’s very clever. Already had two feeds.’
‘What a surprise.’
‘Are you implying she might take after her mother in the piglet department?’
‘I think it’s a pretty safe bet, darling. She certainly takes after her mother in the not-hanging-about department. Great name, by the way. I wonder who’ll be the first person to buy her pearls? Actually, why don’t I do that, as my first godmotherly thing?’
‘That would be lovely, Ellen.’
‘Your gran said she’s Mary Pearl, yes? Sweet.’
‘The boys are already calling her Pearly. I’ll have to sew pearl buttons on her coat and get her a tambourine.’
Ellen laughs.
‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, sweetheart. You must have been so frightened. Not that I’d have helped much. I’d probably have been totally hysterical, but still. You’re amazing. You know that, don’t you? And I’ll be there first thing tomorrow. I’ll get her loads of girly stuff. I thought that could be my new role, Fairy Shopping Godmother. Because let’s face it, darling, someone’s got to teach her how to shop. Anything you need?’
‘Twelve hours’ sleep.’
Gran’s holding court downstairs, with Betty making tea and popping up on tiptoe with tasty snacks, and standing looking at the baby with a huge grin on her face. Elsie burst into tears, and so did Connie, and there’s been a steady stream of visitors by the sound of the knocking on the door, but Gran’s not letting many of them up until tomorrow, and I’m too tired to argue.
And anyway, the only person I really want to see her, now the boys and Gran have seen her, the person I most want to show her to in the whole world is Nick. Which is daft. But I know how knocked out he’d be with her looking so like Jack, and he’d hold her, like he held the boys when they were tiny, and he’d sing to her, in that deep voice they used to love so much. ‘Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do.’
Damn. I’m definitely crying now. The hormonal maelstrom is definitely kicking off, and it’s completely ridiculous, but I want him here, just for a little while, so he can see her, just once. She’s my bonus baby, the on
e I never thought I’d have. And what’s really odd is how she feels far more related to him than Daniel. She’s ours. Part of our family. The moment I saw her, I recognised her, like I’d known her for ages. And I want him to see her, because I know he’d recognise her too. It’s like magic.
Martin’s sitting by the bed when I wake up, holding Pearl.
‘Your gran said it was okay.’
‘Of course.’
‘She started waving her hands, so we picked her up. Was that all right? Your gran said I should just sit and hold her.’
‘It’s fine, Martin.’
‘She’s so tiny. And so beautiful. So how are you feeling now?’
‘Completely exhausted. Actually, beyond completely; it’s almost scary.’
‘I’m not surprised. It’s so like you.’
‘What is?’
‘To just get on with it. You’re extraordinary.’
‘I think that poor ambulance man might feel differently. I bet he’ll have his arm in a sling tomorrow.’
‘Your gran’s in seventh heaven. She was showing me all the flowers. It’s like a florist’s downstairs; why haven’t you got any up here?’
‘Gran thinks flowers suck the air out of a room.’
‘Do they?’
‘Not as far as I know. Although maybe that’s why most film stars are usually so daft. Too many flowers.’
He laughs.
‘It would explain a lot. The boys seem pretty chuffed too. Archie’s been telling me he’s got a new baby so he might not go to school tomorrow.’
‘Right.’
‘I’ve fixed the back door, by the way.’
‘Thanks, Martin.’
‘So, have you called him?’
‘Who? Oh, sorry. No, not yet. He knows the baby’s due around now, and he’s got my number.’
He smiles.
‘Well, I’d better be off. I just wanted to make sure you were both okay. I might pop back later on, if that’s all right? I’ve got something I want to bring round.’
‘Of course. We’d both love to see you.’
He’s whistling as he goes downstairs.
The midwife comes back, and then Connie, followed by the boys with their reading books.
‘Mum?’
‘Yes, Archie?’
‘When Pearly gets bigger, who do you think she’ll like best, me or Jack?’
‘She’ll love you both the same, because you’re her big brothers.’
‘And who do you love the best?’
‘All three of you.’
He nods.
‘So all the love you have gets shared out between all of us?’
In other words his half-share in the maternal devotion stakes has just gone down to a third.
‘Actually, it’s better than that, Archie. You don’t share it out, you just get more. When Jack was born I loved him millions, and then when you were born I loved you millions too, and now we’ve got Pearl it’s happened again. Isn’t that clever?’
He smiles.
‘It’s millions to the moon and back again.’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
Jack nods.
‘But she’ll have her own toys.’
‘Yes, love, she will.’
‘We can share sometimes. But not all the time.’
‘Okay.’
Archie giggles.
‘We probably won’t want to share her pink girly stuff.’
‘She might not be a pink girly girl, Archie. Not all girls are.’
All three of us look at her.
She’s on my lap, half-asleep, head to toe in pink. Gran changed her earlier and put her in the pale-pink Babygro Connie brought.
He tuts.
‘Well, if she’s not, she’s going to be very cross when she sees all her clothes.’
Gran comes up with Martin, who’s carrying what looks like a small sideboard.
‘I thought I’d have a few more days to get it finished, before you came out of hospital.’
It’s a crib, a beautiful old-fashioned crib that rocks gently from side to side when you push it. The boys are very impressed.
‘I measured the Moses basket with your gran, ages ago, so it should fit. Shall we try it?’
The Moses basket fits inside perfectly.
‘Isn’t that lovely, pet?’
‘It’s great, Martin. Thank you so much.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on. Would you like a cup of tea, Martin?’
‘Yes, please, Mary.’
‘Come on, boys. You can have a tiny bit more telly if you’re quiet.’
‘Thanks, Martin, really. It’s lovely.’
‘I’m glad you like it.’
There’s a silence.
‘Well, I should be going. Oh, I meant to say. I should be able to start work on the shop next week.’
‘Great.’
There’s another silence.
‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you, actually, about putting things on a more official basis.’
‘Like a board outside saying “Carpentry by Martin Trent”? That’s a good idea. It would be great for your new business.’
He sighs.
‘No, I meant, well, I thought I should ask you.’
‘Sorry, Martin, I’m still not sure I follow you.’
‘No, well, that’s the point. I mean I don’t want you following me, or me following you, but I’d like us to have an understanding.’
At this precise moment, so would I; I’m still not sure what he’s trying to say.
‘An understanding?’
‘Yes. I didn’t want to say anything until the baby was born, it didn’t seem right, but now she’s here … well, I thought I should ask you.’
‘Ask me what, Martin?’
‘Look, I know I’m not very good at this sort of thing, and things are complicated and this probably isn’t a good time, but I’d like it if we could have an understanding. I know it sounds old-fashioned.’
‘No, it sounds rather nice.’
He smiles.
‘Well, that’s great. Excellent, actually. And I don’t want you to think you’re getting mixed up with someone useless. And I’m glad he’s not going to be around, her biological father. I know it’s probably not the right thing to say, but I am.’
‘You make him sound like a box of washing powder.’
He smiles.
‘I didn’t mean –’
‘Actually, so far he’s been a lot less useful than washing powder.’
‘That might change.’
‘Maybe.’
‘And?’
‘And nothing. I’ll do what’s right for Pearl, but there won’t be anything else.’
He looks at his feet.
‘You’ll want new skirting boards, I take it?’
‘Will I?’
‘Yes. In the shop.’
‘Okay. There is one tiny problem I can see on the horizon, though.’
‘No, I’ve thought of that. We can match them, in both shops.’
‘I meant your mother, Martin.’
‘Right. Sorry. Well, don’t worry about that. Just leave her to me.’
‘How?’
‘Never you mind.’
‘I think I preferred it when you were all nervous.’
‘I’ll alternate then. I’ll be bossy about the stuff I know about, like why you can’t have MDF and why you need to spend money on proper oak for those shelves. And you can be in charge of, well, everything else really. I’ll spend half my time at your feet, and the rest of the time I’ll be up a ladder.’
‘My God, I think I’ve finally stumbled across the perfect man.’
He laughs.
‘Sorry to blurt all this now. I should probably have waited.’
‘No, I’m glad you did.’
‘Still, I should be off, leave you to rest.’
‘Okay.’
‘Night then.’
‘Night.’
>
He leans forward and kisses me on the cheek, bending forwards slightly so as not to squash Pearl.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Great.’
He’s whistling as he goes out.
Crikey. I really didn’t expect that, and who knows what will happen. But it’s a good start. And even though I’m not sure I’d have chosen someone with quite such a pronounced interest in wood, or with Elsie for a mother, there’s always a cloud to every silver lining, as Gran would say.
Crikey.
The boys come in for a goodnight kiss, in their pyjamas. Gran’s washed their hair and they’ve both got unusually neat centre partings.
‘Are you going to sleep now, Mum?’
‘Yes, Jack.’
‘Can we sleep with you and Pearly tonight?’
‘No, Jack. We all need to sleep in our own beds.’
‘Just for a little bit?’
‘Okay. But only for a little while.’
They snuggle in.
All three of them within arm’s reach, and everyone being quiet.
It doesn’t get much better than this.
Perhaps I should learn to whistle.
A Note on the Author
Gil McNeil is the author of the best-selling
The Only Boy for Me, In the Wee Small Hours,
Stand by Your Man, and most recently Divas Don’t
Knit. The Only Boy for Me has been made into a
major ITV prime-time drama starring Helen
Baxendale and was broadcast in 2007. Gil McNeil
has edited five collections of stories with Sarah
Brown, and is director of the charity
PiggyBankKids, which supports projects that
create opportunities for children. She lives in
Kent with her son and comes from a long
line of champion knitters.
By the Same Author
The Only Boy For Me
In the Wee Small Hours
Stand by Your Man
Divas Don’t Knit
The Only Boy for Me
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