by Vivien Brown
I hadn’t seen Mum for a few weeks, hadn’t told her much about the treatment, except that it had happened and hadn’t worked. She and Trevor had announced at Christmas that they’d decided to get married, which hadn’t come as that much of a surprise, I suppose, after they’d lived together for so long, but I still felt uneasy about it. This man who was living in Dad’s house, sleeping in his bed, taking over his life, wasn’t Dad and never would be.
Mum wanted me to get involved with the wedding, help her plan things, choose flowers, be her bridesmaid, and I was putting it off. Waiting. Making a baby was my first priority, and once I had that in the bag, I could have coped with just about anything, Mum’s wedding included. Now it hadn’t happened, I knew I couldn’t put things off any longer. I had run out of excuses.
I’d have to go over there. She’d be thinking something was wrong, that she’d upset me in some way. Just as she’d announced her big news, I’d done a disappearing act.
It was a Sunday, late in January, cold but bright outside. I decided to walk, pulling on boots and wrapping a scarf around my neck, eager to take in some fresh air and clear my head. It was about three miles to Mum’s, which was just about manageable, one way at least. I could always get the bus back if I didn’t feel up to a repeat performance, and depending on how long I stayed. I didn’t much fancy walking home alone once it got dark.
As I turned the corner into Rose Walk – I loved that name, even though there was hardly a rose in sight – I could see Trevor’s car on Mum’s drive, and the little rivulets of soapy water that had run away from it and were already semi-frozen on the pavement outside. He’d obviously been giving it a wash, and the house windows too, by the look of things.
‘Kate!’ Mum was wearing an apron and peeling off a mucky rubber glove so she could open the door without covering it in grease. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were coming? I’m cleaning the oven – horrible job – but come on in.’ She stood back to allow me room to squeeze past her. ‘No Dan?’
‘No, he’s gone down to his parents’. So, it’s just me. You sure it’s okay? If you’re busy, I can always come another day.’
‘Of course it’s okay, you daft thing. It’s lovely to see you. Go straight into the kitchen, but mind the bowl on the floor. It started out full of hot soapy water but it’s all gone a horrible greasy brown now, and you wouldn’t believe how many sponges I’ve got through already. It’s only been a few weeks since I did it the last time. With just the two of us, you’d think the damn thing would stay clean a bit longer, wouldn’t you? It’s not as if we cook roast dinners every day of the week.’
‘Not cooking one today then, obviously!’
‘Oh, dear. Did you want to stay for lunch? You can, of course, but I was only going to have a bowl of soup.’
‘It’s all right, Mum. I wasn’t hinting. Soup will be great, if you’ve got enough to go round.’
She lifted the big plastic washing-up bowl and carried it over to the sink, carefully tipping its contents away, then went back to close the oven door. ‘That’ll have to do, I think. It’s looking better than it was anyway. Now, tea? Coffee? Or I’ve got some of that nice lemonade you like. The old-fashioned kind.’
‘Tea’s fine, Mum. Where’s Trevor? I saw the sparkly car, so I guess he’s in cleaning mode today too, is he?’
‘Oh, he took a stroll down to the pub as soon as his chores were done. I don’t suppose he’ll be back for a good while yet.’
‘Didn’t you want to go with him? You always used to go with Dad, didn’t you?’
‘No, love. Not always, though I sometimes wish I had.’
‘You’d get Mrs Blackwell in to babysit me. I remember that. Saturday nights. And you used to leave me a Mars bar to eat while I watched TV, but she was only allowed to give it to me if I was good.’
‘Which you usually were. Or so she’d tell us when we got home.’ Mum shook her head, as if to clear her thoughts. ‘But I’ve never been one for lunchtime drinking, you know that, and Trevor’s got a chess match planned, I think. With George from next door. They often do that, find a quiet table near the fire, get the pints lined up, and then they can be there for hours. Not my idea of fun! No, I’m much happier here, at home. Besides, it’s so much easier to clean without him under my feet.’
You enjoy getting rid of him for a while, more like, I thought, a bit uncharitably. She used to stick to Dad like glue, from what I could remember. Couldn’t bear to let him out of her sight. That was love, the real thing, like being two halves of the same person. It was what Dan and I had been like for so long, and hopefully would be again, as soon as this IVF nightmare was out of the way. It was such a shame Mum was having to settle for second best this time around. For lanky Trevor, with his baggy jumpers, and his boring chess games. Still, they weren’t married yet, were they? Anything could happen.
She placed two cups of tea on the table and sat down next to me. ‘So?’
‘So, what?’
‘Oh, you know what I mean. Don’t make me have to drag it out of you. I’ve hardly seen you lately. How’s the treatment going?’
‘Not much to say, really. You already know it didn’t work the first time, and I can’t say I’m looking forward to doing it all again. It’s not all that pleasant. Lots of drugs and injections, all designed to help me make eggs, which I did, thankfully, so that bodes well. And they fertilised them okay, in their little dish. It’s not actually a test tube, despite what the papers like to call it. But when they were back inside me – three of them – they didn’t take. I’m starting to think it’s not meant to be. That something inside me must have rejected them, killed them off.’
‘Don’t be silly. Of course it’s meant to be. It’s early days yet. It will happen, in its own good time. And blaming yourself isn’t going to help at all.’
I sipped at my tea and gazed out of the window at the garden, which still had a surprising amount of greenery for the time of year, even though the lawn was looking a bit sorry for itself in places. A lone crocus had pushed its way through the hard earth and was flashing its tiny yellow petals at the foot of the one and only tree.
Mum followed my gaze. ‘See?’ she said, laying a hand over mine. ‘New life popping up where and when you least expect it. I don’t even remember planting that one. Your time will come …’
‘I hope so. But it’s all so difficult, so stressful, so bloody expensive.’
‘How much is it all costing? If you don’t mind me asking. Can I help out in any way?’
‘It’s been thousands already, Mum. And it will be even more thousands if we want to carry on. Whether it works or not, it costs just the same. And we don’t have it.’
I saw her shake her head, a blast of air blow out through pursed lips.
‘We can’t even book another try until we’ve saved up again. Just the drugs on their own run into hundreds every time. I don’t suppose you have a hidden fortune in old fivers stashed under the mattress, do you?’
‘I’m afraid not.’ She stirred her tea, slowly, her head lowered. ‘But, believe me, love, if I did, you’d be more than welcome to it.’
‘The price of becoming a granny, eh? I bet you didn’t have all this trouble, did you? Getting pregnant with me?’
‘No, I can’t say that I did. If anything, you came a bit too easily. A little accident, let’s say. Right out of the blue. Not exactly planned! And we were still so young, only married a couple of months.’
‘You didn’t consider having an abortion, though?’
‘Kate! What a thing to say. Of course not. How could you even think such a thing? You were the best thing that ever happened to us, your dad and me. After we got over the initial shock, that is.’
‘But you didn’t have any more, did you?’
‘You know we didn’t.’
‘Was I that bad a child?’ I sort of half smiled, not even sure myself whether I meant it. ‘Did I put you off having another one?’
‘I don’t know what’s goi
ng on in that head of yours today, I really don’t! You were never a bad child, and we couldn’t have loved you more. But the time was never right to have another. Lack of money … your dad losing his job … lots of things. We concentrated what we had into looking after you, giving you the best we possibly could, and, in the end, having just one child was enough. More than enough.’
‘Right now, I’d settle for just the one.’
‘I know you would, love. But two would be nice, wouldn’t it? One of each. And I’ve heard that a lot of IVF ladies end up with twins.’ She laughed and pulled me towards her in a hug. ‘Two for the price of one, Kate. Imagine that!’
I tried to, but right then I could no more summon up that image than I could my own dad’s face.
Chapter 18
Natalie, 2017
The wedding was getting nearer and nearer, but at last she had a dress. They’d found a shop with one of those huge communal changing rooms, so there was room for all of them, and the wheelchair. Jenny had guarded the door, or curtain to be more accurate, turning customers away with some made-up tale about her sister feeling ill and likely to be sick any minute, while Natalie waited in her underwear and Beth ran backwards and forwards, bringing dress after dress, and Mum just stood back and watched, with a silly proud sort of a grin on her face. Luckily, it was a Monday lunchtime and it was raining, so there were very few shoppers about and the staff who had offered help had been only too pleased to find it wasn’t needed and skulk back to the stockroom for a sneaky sit-down or to slip outside for a fag.
‘Are you all right, Jen?’ Natalie asked, when Beth had disappeared yet again, two cast-offs slung over her shoulder and on a mission to track down the cream silk dress they all liked but in a bigger size, and Mum had popped out in search of a loo.
‘Yeah. Why?’
‘You’re acting a bit funny, that’s all. Around Beth. You two haven’t fallen out, have you?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Well, tell me to mind my own business if you like, but I can tell something’s up.’
‘Leave it, Nat. This is your day. We’re here for you, and to find you the dress of your dreams, come what may. Let’s concentrate on that, shall we?’
‘There is something, then? Look, Jen, I’ll only worry about it now, or spend all my energy trying to wheedle it out of you when I should be heaving myself in and out of dresses. So, spill!’
‘Got it!’ Beth came bounding back in then, the cream silk dress draped over her arm, and putting a hasty end to any revelations that might have been about to be made. ‘The last one too. God, this one had better fit or I’ll be writing a letter of complaint.’
‘Who to?’ Natalie laughed.
‘Oh, I don’t know. Whoever sticks these silly size labels in without actually measuring any real people. If that last one was a twelve, then I’m a doughnut.’
‘It’s me eating too many doughnuts that’s probably stopping it from fitting in the first place.’ Natalie edged forward and raised her bottom up from the chair as her sisters lowered the dress over her head and eased it down, Beth sliding the zip up at the back as Jenny re-arranged the folds of material at the front.
‘Oh, wow. It’s beautiful,’ Mum said, arriving back just in time and placing her hand gently on Natalie’s shoulder as if to steady herself. Were those tears in her eyes? ‘The first of my girls to get married. It’s all feeling very real all of a sudden.’
‘It’s real all right.’ Jenny lifted Mum’s hand and kissed it, then swivelled Natalie’s chair round slowly so it faced the big mirror on the wall. ‘Oh, Nat, you look like a princess.’
‘Which one? Princess Anne?’ Natalie giggled.
‘No! I meant a Disney princess. What with all the silvery bits and the way it nips in at the waist, all you need now is a tiara and some silver shoes and you could pass for Cinderella!’
‘Better make sure I’m home by midnight then, or God knows what might happen. I don’t want Phil turning into a pumpkin or something.’
‘Isn’t that the coach? Not the groom …’ Beth smiled. ‘It does look great, though, Nat.’
‘So, this is it?’ Jenny was gazing into the mirror over Natalie’s shoulder, playing with the back of her hair. ‘This is the dress you’re going to get married in?’
Natalie turned and lifted her arms above her head, lowered them to run her hands over the slinky material as she adjusted the neckline, and rode her chair round in a big circle, until she’d seen herself from every possible angle except upside down. Then she laughed out loud. ‘Yes!’ she said, excitedly. ‘I do believe it is.’
***
When Beth had reluctantly headed back to the salon, already late for her two o’clock perm, and Mum had gone rushing off to Gran’s to show her the sneaky phot of the dress she’d taken on her phone, Natalie finally got the chance to question Jenny again. They were in the small coffee shop at the foot of the escalators in the shopping precinct, the one where there were no doors to navigate, and each hugging a much-needed hot chocolate and a Danish.
‘Okay, now you can tell me what it is you don’t want to say in front of Beth.’
‘Do I have to?’
‘It’s what sisters are for, Jen. So, what’s she done?’
‘She hasn’t done anything. That’s the trouble. She’s completely innocent in all this. It’s that … that …’
Natalie waited.
‘That nasty little rat Jake, that’s who. He’s a dirty two-timing cheat and Beth deserves so much better.’
‘Oh, dear. What’s he been up to, exactly?’
‘Exactly … I don’t know, but I can guess. I saw him yesterday, snogging some girl’s face off in the street, where anyone could see, so who knows what they get up to in private? And now I wish I hadn’t seen because it leaves me feeling like I have to tell her. But I don’t want to, Nat. Why should I have to be the one to break her heart when it’s that swine who’s doing it? And behind her back too?’
‘Don’t, then. Don’t tell her. Let her find out for herself.’
‘But what if she doesn’t? He could have been at it for months, for all we know. And could go on doing it for many more, without her ever finding out. Two girls on the go at once, having his cake and eating it …’ She bit into her Danish, viciously, as if she was biting Jake’s scrawny head off.
‘Your choice, Jen. Tell her and upset her, or don’t tell her, wait for the shit to hit the fan and hope to God she never finds out that you knew all along.’
‘Some choice! And why is it always me stuck in this position, worrying about all the grown-up stuff, trying to keep everyone happy? I’m meant to be the baby of the family … ‘
Natalie looked quizzically at her sister, wondering what on earth she was talking about. Was there something else? But she had turned away and clearly had no intention of elaborating.
They sat without speaking for a while, chewing on the last morsels of their pastries, the hubbub of chatter and hissing coffee machines and hurrying feet going on all around them, and occasional announcements about opening hours and lost children, and free knives for the first twenty customers to get to the third-floor kitchen department in Debenhams. ‘Shall we?’ Natalie said, half-heartedly. ‘Maybe I could do with a new knife, for when I’m married.’
‘There’ll be some long boring demonstration to put up with first,’ Jenny said. ‘And you can bet the knife’s just some cheap thing anyway. They’re hardly going to be parting with the good stuff, are they?’
‘True. Did I have any knives on my wedding gift list, by the way? I can’t remember.’
‘There’s so much on that list, I’m not surprised you can’t remember. Now, come on, let’s hit a few more shops, shall we? Find you some shoes.’
‘Fine by me. And Jake? What are we going to do about him?’
‘We?’
‘Well, you’ve told me now, haven’t you? A secret told can never be untold, as they say. So, I guess it’s my problem too now, isn’t it?’
‘And?’
‘And maybe we should go and get hold of one of those free knives after all. Stick it where the sun don’t shine!’
‘Nat!’
‘Only joking. No, we’ll tell her. I think we have to, don’t you? And if she wants to slice bits off him, that’s up to her. I’ll happily hold him down.’ Natalie drained her cup and wiped away the ring of chocolatey froth that she knew, without looking in a mirror, was bound to be stuck around her mouth, then released the brake on her wheelchair. ‘Yes, we’ll tell her tonight. But, for now …’
‘Shoes?’
‘Shoes!’
Chapter 19
Kate, 1987
That summer felt different somehow, as if a weight had been lifted, at least for a while. And it was a good summer, wonderfully warm and leafy green, and surprisingly carefree. Scraping together every penny we could find, we’d had a second attempt at IVF in the spring, another failure, but were not about to rush into a third. We were exhausted by it all, and in need of a break, and the truth was that there was no point in considering it or planning it or pining for it anyway, not until we’d saved up enough money, and enough resilience, to put ourselves through it all again.
But we were happy. As happy as we could be. For the first time in a long while, we had pushed away that lurking grey shadow that had been hanging over us, and we were just a couple again, in our mid-thirties, still in love, maybe not in quite the same way as when we’d started out, but having a go at leading a normal uncomplicated life again, making love for the fun and the feel of it, because we wanted to, not because we had to, and not even trying to get pregnant. And it felt surprisingly good.
Dan wanted us to go away on holiday. I remember protesting that we couldn’t afford it, that the money should be kept for treatment, not frittered away on luxuries, but Dan insisted it was what we both needed. Time to relax and regroup, to enjoy the calm before the storm. And I knew, when he said that, that he was still with me, that we were still in this thing together, and that he was right. We would try again, as soon as we were ready, and we would weather the storm, whatever it brought with it, and be stronger than before.
