Five Unforgivable Things

by Vivien Brown

  Natalie wheeled her chair over to the table and slid it into her usual place. ‘I’ve missed this,’ she said when they were all settled and eating. ‘I know you were only gone two nights, but …’

  ‘Better get used to it, girl. You won’t have us two around all the time once you’re married, you know.’

  ‘I know. It’s like the end of an era, though, isn’t it?’

  ‘You didn’t say that when Ollie left home.’

  ‘That was different somehow. This is … well, I don’t know, I love Ollie, of course I do, but maybe it’s just because we’re the girls. It feels like the break-up of the Three Musketeers or something. You know, all for one and one for all.’

  If only it was really like that, she thought. The three of them doing everything together. Because, although she knew they meant nothing by it and the last thing they would want would be to hurt her, they did make her feel a bit left out sometimes. Sharing a room for so long had brought the two of them closer, along with all the whispering and giggling together after lights out that had inevitably come with it. And hadn’t they just been away together and left her at home? Still, she shouldn’t blame them. Her wheelchair made it harder to do things together. Normal things, that didn’t need loads of planning and thinking about stairs and ramps and space. It even put her at a different level, a good couple of feet below everyone else, so even hugs were hard sometimes.

  But she was being too harsh. She knew she was. Just look at how Beth had carried the plates and gone to the fridge for the cheese. They were always making allowances for the things Natalie couldn’t do as easily, or as quickly, as the others, anyway. Both of them, always being extra kind, extra helpful. And they were her sisters, for God’s sake. They knew her inside out, but for weeks now the elephant had been stomping about in the room. The wedding they seemed to find it so hard to talk about. The wedding that Natalie wanted, and the one – the very different one – they were trying to push upon her. If they still didn’t understand that all she needed was to feel normal and relaxed and comfortable, especially when it came to her own wedding, what hope was there that anyone else would?

  ‘Is Phil back at the weekend too?’ Beth said.

  Natalie nodded, her mouth too full of food to talk.

  ‘More wedding stuff to sort out, I suppose. You really should get out more and have some fun, you know.’

  ‘Yes, you’re like an old married couple already,’ Jenny added. ‘Still, not long to go now, eh?’

  Natalie swallowed the pasta and wiped her mouth. Ah, here we go, she thought. They’ve brought the conversation back round to their favourite topic. She wondered what had taken them so long. ‘Eleven weeks. As you well know!’

  ‘Chosen the dress yet?’ Jenny asked. ‘Only, you do seem to be cutting it a bit fine.’

  ‘Well … I did try something on, but I’ve decided I’m going for simple. I can’t be doing with all the flounces and trains and stuff. Probably straight from a shop rail, so I’ve still got plenty of time. For now, it’s getting invitations out and making sure you all get something to eat at the reception that’s taking priority.’

  ‘Oh, so we are invited, then?’ Beth said, sounding very much like she was only half-joking.

  ‘Of course you’re invited! You’ve already had the ‘save the date’ card. In fact, I can see it from here, stuck on the fridge door. Oh, I get it. This is about the bridesmaid thing again, isn’t it? Look, I want you there as guests. Very important guests, but I’ve already told you I don’t want bridesmaids.’

  ‘And we don’t believe you. Everyone has bridesmaids! And if you leave it much longer to change your mind, we won’t have time to get our dresses sorted out.’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake! I haven’t even got a dress myself, and you’re already worrying about yours. Whose wedding is it anyway?’

  ‘Yours, Nat. And that is why, as your loving and loyal sisters, we don’t want to see you make a mistake you will come to regret, like not having a big white dress and us right there behind you. As your bridesmaids. In pink.’

  ‘Pink? You’ve already chosen the colour?’

  ‘Well, it’s up to you, obviously, but we’ve talked about it, just in a what-if kind of a way, and we do think pink would look best. The bright-fuchsia kind of pink, obviously, not the wishy-washy baby kind. Or maybe some kind of purple. Blue or green don’t really work for bridesmaids, do they? Too cold. Although Mum’s planning on wearing blue, so she says. And I know it’ll be nearly Christmas, but red would just be way too much like we were trying to look like robins, or Mrs Santa Claus! And, besides, I’ve seen the most gorgeous shocking- pink satin shoes. Not too high. I know you won’t want us to look too tall …’

  ‘Beth!’ Natalie had to raise her voice to be heard. ‘Beth!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Okay what?’

  ‘Okay, I give in.’ Natalie couldn’t help but laugh. Beth was nothing if not persistent. ‘You can be my bridesmaids. Both of you. But we do it by my rules, okay? And no fuchsia pink. Absolutely, definitely no fuchsia pink.’

  Chapter 11

  Kate, 1983

  Four years had been a long time to wait. Mum had offered, had said that Dan could move into my room at home, that the two of us could treat her house as our own home for as long as we needed, but living with Mum would have meant living with Trevor and I felt I’d done that for more than long enough already. No, living at Dan’s place hadn’t been too terrible in the end, and Rich wasn’t too bad as flatmates go (he tidied up, cooked well and smelled okay), so things could have been a lot worse.

  In fact, those first four years of married life were fantastic. Like they say about schooldays, they were probably the best days of our lives. And nights. Being one half of a couple was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Living together, taking the good with the bad, sharing the chores and the worries and the joys, and learning to become the invincible team we had always suspected we were meant to be. And being squashed into that small room wasn’t so bad either, or into that not-big-enough bed, as we curled up under the covers at night, moulded sweatily together like two smoothly curved spoons that fitted inside each other as if they had been made to do nothing else. Whispering so Rich couldn’t hear us, and giggling when he banged on the wall, making it clear that he had.

  But it was good to finally have saved enough for the deposit to buy a place of our own, where we could spread out, make noise, run around naked if we felt like it, and start buying the furniture and curtains and sets of matching plates we needed to make a proper home together.

  Working at the bank had turned out to be a godsend when it came to getting an affordable mortgage, and now we’d painted the small lounge and smartened up the kitchen, it was time to turn our attention to the bedrooms. There were three, although the smallest was little more than a box room, with just about enough space for a single bed and a wardrobe.

  ‘This will make a great nursery,’ Dan said, standing in the middle of the empty room with a paintbrush in his hand. ‘Are you sure you want it this neutral magnolia colour? Not covered in Disney characters or Winnie the Pooh or something? It would save having to change it again later.’

  ‘Nursery?’ It was the first time either of us had mentioned the possibility of another baby and just hearing the word stopped me in my tracks.

  ‘Well, not right away, obviously, but one day soon …’

  ‘Really? But, Dan, we haven’t even talked about it.’

  ‘Then maybe it’s time we did. I’ll be hitting thirty soon, and you’re …’

  ‘Yeah, I know. There already, and beyond. Don’t rub it in. But a baby? I didn’t think you were that keen. I mean, last time was an accident, so it’s not as if it was something you’d ever said you wanted. Or me, for that matter. Much as we’d got used to the idea …’

  ‘Baby Blob. Remember?’ He grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze.

  ‘Of course I remember.’

  �
��I do wonder about her sometimes, you know. What she would have looked like. A little bit of me and a little bit of you. Can you imagine it, Kate? She’d be four now, wouldn’t she? Probably starting school.’

  ‘She!’ I smiled at him, my hand automatically moving to draw little circles over my tummy. ‘Why did we always think of it as a girl? It could have been a boy, you know.’

  ‘Maybe the next one will be.’

  ‘Oh, Dan, really? Are we ready to try again, do you think? What if something goes wrong again? I don’t think I could face it … And shouldn’t we get the house the way we want it first?’

  ‘How long can that take? We’re halfway there already. Another couple of months, maybe, to decorate up here and buy a few more bits and pieces? And babies do take nine months to cook, don’t they? Plenty of time, even if you fell straight away. And there’s no reason to fear the worst, is there? The doctor said there was no reason we couldn’t have more, didn’t she? When the time was right.’

  I sat down on the bare floor and rested my back against the wall. ‘You’ve really thought about this, haven’t you? Where was I when you were plotting away with a calendar in your hand?’

  ‘Don’t be daft. But I do think it’s something we should be thinking about now, and talking about. Maybe even doing something about …’ He lay the paintbrush down on top of the tin and sat down next to me, throwing an arm around my shoulders and planting a kiss on my forehead before moving his lips down to cover mine.

  ‘What? Now?’ I laughed, pushing him away.

  ‘Why not? Don’t you think it’s time we added a little heir to the Campbell empire? What’s the point of having three bedrooms if we don’t fill them up? Come on, Kate, at least think about it. We’re not getting any younger, are we?’

  ‘But, what about my job?’

  ‘Women do it every day, and so can you. Work, bring up babies, find help …’

  ‘Women give up work too. Look after their own babies, and stay at home getting fat.’

  ‘Well, if that’s what you want, I’m sure it’s a possibility. We’ll manage somehow, money-wise. For a while, anyway. But don’t get fat. Please don’t get fat.’ He grinned. ‘I don’t think I could cope with that!’

  We sat for a few minutes, saying nothing, his fingers playing with my hair, a jumble of images suddenly flashing through my mind. The blood on my dress, the pain, the awful empty feeling when it was over. Did I really want to risk all that again? But there really was no reason to think anything would go wrong again. Just one of those things, the doctor had said. Everything in working order, ready to try again. And this time we could do things properly, couldn’t we? Actually try. Not just let it happen. We could plan things. Get excited instead of scared. We had a nice home now. We’d be good parents. And I’d know for sure this time that Dan wasn’t just saying he wanted it. That he really did. As much as, or maybe even more than, I did.

  ‘Hold back on the magnolia, then.’ I looked around the room, slowly, the morning light flooding in through the window and throwing a long bright beam across the floor at our feet, tiny dust motes dancing in the air, a thin strand of lacy cobweb dangling high up in the corner. ‘Maybe lemon, so it will work for a boy or a girl. And, actually, I do quite like Pooh Bear …’

  ‘You mean it?’ Dan turned my face to his and gazed into my eyes, a look of sheer joy on his face as I nodded.

  And that’s how we did it, just like that, made a momentous life-changing decision in minutes, over a big tin of emulsion that never did get opened.

  ***

  I knew getting pregnant could take time. There was nothing unusual in having to wait a few months, maybe a year, before things clicked. I’d read enough magazine articles and agony aunt problem pages to know that. Not many couples get lucky in the first month they try. But I’d been there before, managed it without even trying at all, and while taking the pill as well. What did that say about my fertility levels? And Dan’s? So, I half expected a quick result.

  ‘What are you grinning at?’ Linda said at work one morning. ‘You look like the cat that got the cream. The whole jug, in fact!’

  I was a day late. Only one, but I was normally pretty regular, so I had already convinced myself this was it.

  ‘You’ll know soon enough,’ I said, refusing to explain.

  ‘Ooh, now I’m intrigued.’

  We were opening up our adjacent tills, ready for the onslaught of customers that always greeted us first thing on a Monday, so there was no more time to talk, or for her to start guessing. If she did, I knew it wouldn’t take her long. There are only so many happy secrets it’s possible for a woman to have.

  By the time we stopped for lunch, it was too late. There was no secret, and no baby. I was bleeding.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Dan, when I got home and told him the news. ‘It’s early days. Put your feet up and I’ll cook tonight. And if you’re really good I might even make you a hot water bottle.’

  ‘If I’m good?’

  ‘Well, you know what I mean. No crying, or worrying about it. We’ve got plenty of time, and having a few more practice goes at it could actually be quite fun. Practice makes perfect, after all! Now, what do you fancy to eat? Fish fingers or chicken pie? I think there’s one in the freezer somewhere.’

  ‘Fish please. It’s good for baby-making. I’m sure I read that somewhere.’

  ‘Really? Maybe it’s time we read up on all this stuff, eh? Get our facts straight. You know, loose underpants and cold showers, and timing things with a thermometer and all that. Give ourselves the best chance. We’ll get a book out of the library.’

  Typical Dan. Methodical, organised, a planner through and through. I suppose that was the accountant in him. Left to me, we’d be taking things as they came, letting nature take its unpredictable course, leaping into an early bed a bit more often and just enjoying the ride.

  ‘Okay. No harm in that, I suppose. And can I have carrots with my fish fingers?’

  ‘Carrots? I thought they were for helping you to see in the dark.’

  ‘Well, I’m going to need to do that too, aren’t I? If we’re planning on doing a lot of under- the-covers baby-factory stuff, I would like to see what it is I’m getting hold of!’

  ‘How about we just leave the light on?’

  ‘Or get a torch? I used to have one to read in bed when I was a kid. You know, all sneaky, under the blankets when I was meant to be asleep. Dad used to do his nut when he caught me. ‘You’ve got school in the morning,’ he’d say. He even took the batteries away once!’

  ‘Ah, but we don’t have to be sneaky, do we? We’re in our own home now and we can leave the lights on all night if we want to. In fact, we can do whatever we like. Even things that involve batteries, if you fancy it! And, besides, I don’t want to be the one holding the torch. I rather like having both hands free for …’I giggled as he grabbed me, one jumper-covered breast neatly cupped in each of his open palms.

  ‘Not tonight, Josephine! I’m bleeding, remember?’ I pushed him off, pulling his face down towards me for a kiss. ‘Now, go on, get out in that kitchen and make me that hot water bottle you promised me. Oh, and chips. Got to have chips with fish fingers.’

  ‘Yes, your Majesty. Whatever you say, your Majesty.’ He backed away, bowing and laughing at the same time. ‘Your wish is my command.’

  ***

  Dan looked funny in boxer shorts, his legs pale and spindly. I’d bought him some plain white ones, a pack of six, and deliberately a size too big, to be on the safe side, and he’d come home with a bright-red pair with little Mickey Mouse faces all over them, which he was now modelling in front of the bedroom mirror. I marvelled at how our tastes could be so different at times.

  ‘How can I take this whole thing seriously if I have to look at those monstrosities every time you take your trousers off?’ I said, bundling up all his old bottom-hugging clingy y-fronts and chucking them in the bin.

  ‘I won’t be wearing them every time, will I?
In fact, if you don’t like them, I’ll keep them for my day off.’

  ‘Day off?’

  ‘You’ve bought six pairs. Monday to Saturday, right? I’ll wear the Mickeys on Sundays. So, no sex on Sundays, okay? My day of rest.’

  ‘Dan, that’s not how it’s done. We’re not supposed to make love every night. Not even six out of seven. We’re not machines. It still needs to be fun, not some sort of chore. And sperm has to build up its strength a bit, over a few days, if you want it at its best.’

  ‘I know how it feels!’

  ‘Dan, we’ve hardly started. Anyway, it’s quality that counts, not quantity.’

  ‘You’ve been reading the book.’

  ‘Of course I have.’

  ‘You’d better draw up a timetable, then. Make sure I don’t accidentally get an erection on the wrong day!’

  ‘Now you’re just being stupid. But I am going to start taking my temperature every day, and when that tells us the time’s right, you’d better be ready. All guns blazing.’

  ‘I’ve only got one gun, sweetheart.’

  ‘One’s all we need. So long as the bullets you’re firing aren’t blanks.’

  ‘Not likely, is it? We’ve made a baby once, so things must be in working order.’

  ‘True. So, do you fancy a trial run?’

  ‘Now, you mean?’

  ‘Well, not if you have something better to do. Like mow the lawn or clean the oven, or something.’

  ‘Well, come to think of it, there was that silver tankard I’ve been promising myself I’d polish …’

  ‘Dan!’

  ‘Oh, all right then. Seeing as you’ve asked so nicely. I dare say the silverware can wait.’

  ‘But you’re still wearing the Mickeys. Didn’t you say no sex when you’re …’

  ‘Oh, don’t you worry. That’s easily solved. I’ll take them off. Let’s be honest, it’s a lot easier naked, isn’t it?’ And, with that, he pushed me down onto the bed and wriggled me out of my jeans, and we tried really, really hard to make a baby.