Five Unforgivable Things

by Vivien Brown

  The crosses meant nothing really. It wasn’t as if he had any religious leanings, beyond a vague belief in a God who, when he thought about it now, can’t have been quite the all-knowing, all-giving, all-loving being He was meant to be. If He was, then he would have seen more evidence of that benevolence in his own life by now. No, the crosses were just little pieces of wood, tacked to the wall above the bed. At the time he had made the first one, he had been pouring out his pain into something solid, something he felt was needed as a memorial, to ensure his baby, small and unformed as it had been, was never forgotten. And, having done it once, there was no option but to do the same for the others. But he knew now that they never would be forgotten. They were in his heart, not in three lumps of wood pinned to the wall. Perhaps Laura needed the crosses more than he did. He would have suggested she take them with her if he’d known she was about to leave. But he hadn’t known. Hadn’t had even an inkling, until it was too late.

  He pulled himself up and knelt on the quilt. Time he took that off and washed it. There was no need to let himself turn into some sort of useless male who couldn’t look after his own flat properly, let alone himself. Then slowly, one by one, he lifted the crosses down, blew away a thin film of dust and put them on the bed. Three crosses, one for each miscarriage, all so early it had been impossible to tell if they were going to be boys or girls. Probably something wrong with them. Best lost early. Nature’s way. More common than you think. It will be okay next time. It’s what people said. All well-meaning. And so horribly wrong.

  He put the crosses away in a drawer. How could they help him to remember his babies when he’d never seen them, couldn’t picture their faces, never even given them names? They weren’t like Rosie. Rosie had been real. Although he had no memory of her, they’d shared a womb. For all those weeks she’d been his sister, and she’d come out into the world alongside the rest of them, with arms and legs and a face, and his parents had named her, and held her, and loved her, even though she never took a single breath. If they could cope with that, then it was time he manned up and stopped feeling sorry for himself.

  He wished he knew where Laura was, so he could just hug her and tell her it wasn’t her fault, that he would never have given up on her, that he would have loved her for ever, with or without children. But it was too late. She was gone. She didn’t want him. Or the pain and grief that came from being with him. Because it could have been down to him, couldn’t it? Something in the genes, something that stopped his babies from growing? Perhaps, in time, with somebody else, Laura might yet have the babies she wanted so badly. Living, healthy babies.

  He looked at the clock. It was almost ten and he was hungry again. The steak pie and chips he’d enjoyed earlier were long gone, but the chicken leg was still in the fridge. As he chucked it into the oven, sprinkled with oil and turned up high, he wondered how Beth was getting on with Sean, if they were still there in the pub. He may have made a cock-up of his own love life so far, but there was still hope for his sister, and maybe even for himself. Plenty of time for both of them to start again. God, they were only twenty-nine. And not bad looking, either of them.

  For some reason, probably because he was thinking of Beth, the nativity play popped back into his head and an involuntary smile crept up on him. On Friday, if the donkey costume was ready, they were going to have a full dress rehearsal, so he could see how the whole thing was going to look. Just a month ago, he would never have believed how happy and hopeful something that had previously been so utterly alien to him could make him feel. Maybe life was looking up at last.

  Chapter 29

  Kate, 1988

  Dan rolled off and lay flat on his back beside me. I could feel a thin trickle of sweat – his, not mine – cooling as it slid down between my exposed breasts, and quickly pulled the quilt up to cover myself.

  ‘Can’t you at least pretend you enjoyed it? For fuck’s sake, Kate, I’m not sure you even moved at all. Not once.’

  ‘Sorry. I’m so tired, and if we make too much noise I’m worried one of them will wake up again. And is there really any need to swear about it? I’m doing my best, but it’s not easy …’

  He didn’t answer, just reached out and switched on his bedside lamp. I blinked in the sudden light and turned away, burying my face in the pillow.

  ‘I’m going to make a cup of tea. Want one?’

  ‘Dan, it’s late. I just want to go to sleep. What do you want tea for?’

  ‘Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise I needed permission to be thirsty these days. Just go back to sleep. If you were even awake in the first place.’ He climbed out of bed and grabbed his robe from the back of the door, then bent down and clicked the light off again, plunging me back into darkness. I tried hard to sink back into it, but suddenly sleep seemed to elude me and I just lay there, listening to him moving about downstairs. I fumbled about for the tissue box next to the bed and gave myself a half-hearted wipe between the legs. It had been, I think, the third time we’d had sex since I’d given birth, and I couldn’t honestly say I had felt anything beyond a desire to get it over with as quickly as possible. Was this it now? What our marriage had become? After all the years of loving this man, all the times when we could hardly get enough of each other, suddenly even a quick bonk was more than enough.

  We ought to do something about contraception. For so long, we hadn’t had to think about it, with infertility hanging over us and all our efforts to conceive naturally falling flat on their faces. But wouldn’t it be just our bad luck now to make another baby, without even meaning to, and when we already had more of them than we’d ever thought possible? The mood Dan was in, I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk about sex at all, opening the door to discussions or complaints I really didn’t want to hear, but maybe I should get him to buy some Durex, or buy some myself, just in case. Or get a prescription for the pill. My chosen option at that moment would have been just to stop having sex altogether, but somehow I couldn’t see Dan agreeing to that. For him it seemed that even bad sex was still (marginally) better than no sex at all.

  I must have slept. When the first of the babies woke me at four in the morning I had no recollection of Dan coming back to bed, yet there he was, snoring quietly beside me, utterly oblivious to the hungry wailing coming from the other side of the wall.

  ***

  I’m not sure why we had them christened. It wasn’t as if I was religiously inclined in any formal sense, although I have always believed there must be something beyond the life we have here, but to Dan it seemed important.

  ‘We got married in church, Kate. You didn’t raise any objections then,’ he said, and he was right, of course. The babies deserved their day, just as I had had mine, even if mine had ended up with me in a hospital bed, covered in my own blood, and was nothing at all like the wonderful white wedding I had wanted it to be. Sometimes I wondered if that day had been some kind of omen, warning me of what the future was going to bring. Disappointments, a constant seesaw of ups and downs – with the downs winning. I was just telling myself not to be so melodramatic, that none of it was anyone’s fault, especially Dan’s, when he added, ‘And it’s a great way to get presents. Everyone brings something to a christening, don’t they? We might even get some cash …’

  Just what sort of a callous money-grabber had I married? Even when he was in full-on accountant mode, Dan had never been quite so money-obsessed before.

  ‘We? Surely if anyone brings cash it’s meant for the children, to go into some sort of savings account for their future? It’s not for us.’

  ‘Well, their future depends on us at the moment, and they’re not going to get much of one if we can’t find some money from somewhere, Kate. And pretty damn soon.’

  ‘It would feel like robbing from our own children. Who does that? And when did you get to be so mercenary?’

  ‘Not mercenary. Just practical. Realistic. The world turns on money these days, and we don’t have enough of it. What are we going to do when they get bi
gger, eh? Feed them on stale bread and margarine and shove them all together in one big bed with a hot water bottle because we can’t afford the heating?’

  ‘Dan, you’re being ridiculous. I’ll go back to work if I have to. We’ll manage somehow.’

  ‘And who will look after the kids?’

  ‘When they start school …’

  ‘That could be four years away. We could starve to death by then.’

  ‘Now you really are being ridiculous.’

  I turned away and went back to sorting out the clothes the babies had already outgrown. Despite their rocky start, they were growing well, and there were still a few things people had given them when they were born, made for the usual seven- or eight-pounders that Mr and Mrs Average laughingly called new-born size, and that just about still fitted them more than five months later. The upside of being born so tiny. It didn’t feel like the right time to mention that within another week or two we would definitely need to buy more. At least Molly had come good with the christening robe, the one both Dan and his sister had worn at their own ceremonies, and which had arrived, all neatly packaged up in tissue, in the post. Mum had dug mine out from her loft, a bit yellowed but it’s a wonder what a good overnight soak in a bowl of soap flakes can do, and we’d been really lucky to find a third in the charity shop that had only needed a bit of almost-invisible mending to a tear in the seam to bring it up to scratch. So, the three of them didn’t match, and the gowns were all way too big, but that didn’t matter.

  ‘It’s going to be fun tomorrow, Dan. All our family and friends together. Even Linda’s going to try and make it. So, let’s not spoil it, eh?’

  ‘I’d be a lot happier about it if feeding the five thousand wasn’t going to cost us an arm and a leg,’ he muttered. ‘If only those damn Goo Goo people hadn’t ruined it all and reneged on our deal.’

  ***

  I still remember those words and how much they stung. Ruined? There I was, feeling happy, looking forward to something good for a change, sorting out what everyone would wear, hoping for fine weather. And there was Dan, thinking about money. Oh, I knew it was important, that we had to find a way to get by, but right then? Couldn’t we put all that aside for a while and enjoy the moment? Accept that the christening was a special occasion, something to help us escape the everyday struggle for a while, that it was meant to be about looking ahead, celebrating what we had, sharing our joy in our children with family and friends. And for those who believed in that sort of thing, maybe even with God.

  It wasn’t ruined because we couldn’t produce a five-star buffet, was it? It wasn’t ruined because some big impersonal company had turned their back on us. No. But Dan saw things differently. He always did. And, although he didn’t say it, I knew what he really meant. ‘If only we’d had all four, we’d be rich. If only Rosie hadn’t ruined it all by dying …’

  ***

  I loved Molly and Sam. I really did. What with the distance between us, the problems of us even contemplating travelling with three tiny babies, and their workload at the farm, we rarely saw them these days, but they had arranged at the last minute for someone to step in for a few days and had driven up to surprise us, laden with eggs and potatoes, and big solid frozen lumps of meat wrapped in layers of newspaper that I had to cram into our small freezer as soon as they arrived.

  ‘Kate, my love …’ Molly threw her wobbly arms around me and enveloped me in the biggest hug. She smelt of a mixture of fresh air and lavender, with just a hint of sweat. ‘You’re looking so well, considering. I half expected to find you a worn-out wreck. Believe me, I know what new babies can be like, but at least I never had to cope with three at once. Although our Dan was as much trouble as three sometimes, the little sod! Not that I’d say that to his face, of course. Now, where are they? My beautiful grandchildren. Let me at ’em, and you can go and get your head down for a snooze. I bet that’s what you need, more than any presents!’

  ‘I’d love that, but let me make you a cup of tea at least. You’ve come all this way. I can’t just disappear upstairs as soon as you arrive!’

  ‘Oh, yes, you can, my love. And you will. And, if you want to stay there until the christening tomorrow, that’ll be just fine with me. I’ve come to help, not to be waited on like a guest. We’re family and that’s what family do. Help. So, whatever you need while we’re here, you just say. Sam here may be about as useful when it comes to babies as a bag of blind one-legged frogs, but you know you can count on me.’

  She had all three babies settled in a row on the sofa with Sam on guard at one end to make sure they didn’t fall off, and was rolling her sleeves up and making a start on the pile of washing up as I headed for the stairs.

  As far as I was concerned, our money worries could wait. Sleep was all the currency I needed right then and Molly gave that to me. I nodded off to the sound of silence, in the middle of the afternoon, and didn’t wake up again until nearly nine o’clock. When I put the light on and peered at the clock, I could hardly believe the time.

  Downstairs, Dan was home from work and drinking a beer with his dad, the dinner had been cooked and eaten, the plates washed and put away, and a huge pile of food had been put aside for me and was quickly popped into the oven to warm up.

  ‘You should have woken me …’

  ‘Nonsense. Whatever for? Everything’s fine here. Babies fed and changed and tucked up in their baskets. I would have run the hoover round but I was worried the noise might wake you. Or them. Now, come and sit here next to me and we’ll have a good old girly catch-up.’

  ‘I’d like that. Other than my mum – and Trevor, of course, who’s part of the package these days – I don’t get a lot of adult company.’

  ‘Oh, charming. What am I then?’ Dan chipped in, and I wasn’t entirely sure he was joking.

  Molly leant across and clipped him around the ear with a magazine. ‘Enough of that,’ she said. ‘It’s a big day tomorrow, for all of us, and I don’t want to hear any bickering. Now, how many are coming, and what can I do, sandwich-wise?’

  For the first time in months, I felt relaxed and stress-free, and supported. It was half-past nine, the house was no longer a mess, and my eyes were actually open!

  Now, all Dan had to do was shut up about bloody money all the time and we just might have a very enjoyable christening.

  ***

  We came out of the church into warm autumn sunshine and the occasional flashing of Trevor’s old camera. They had all whimpered a bit when the vicar poured water over their heads, not a full-on cry, and then only for a minute or two, but generally they had been good as gold.

  Beth was fast asleep in Mum’s arms, with a trickle of milky dribble down the front of her gown, and Ollie was wide-eyed awake and making gurgling sounds at Molly that I was trying hard not to panic about, the ever-present threat of another chest infection playing on my mind. Dan was cuddling Natalie, who I was beginning to realise was already his favourite, and trying to line everyone up for a group photo without shouting out instructions in case he made any of the babies cry.

  We’d struggled over our choice of godparents, deciding in the end that letting all the babies share the same three would make life a lot less complicated. Not that we could have come up with nine suitable candidates if we’d gone for three each anyway. So, having dismissed Linda as having been a bit too long out of our lives, we’d settled on Dan’s sister, Jane, and her husband, Alan, and good old dependable best man Rich.

  We didn’t see so much of Rich these days, but we were both still very fond of him. I did think that perhaps babies were a bit alien to him and the whole domesticity thing had scared him off. He was still resolutely single and still, amazingly, living in the same flat, although he no longer seemed to need a flatmate to share the rent and had spread himself out, using our old bedroom as some sort of home cinema, with piles of video tapes on every shelf, big black curtains to shut out the light, and the biggest telly of anyone we knew. I’d half expected him to say no
when we’d asked him, but he’d actually jumped at the chance.

  ‘Oh, wow! Godfather, eh? I’ve never been one of those before. Makes me feel like Marlon Brando!’ He’d said that last bit in a weirdly exaggerated Italian accent that had sent me into a fit of giggles and reminded me what a good sort he was and always had been. I think we made the right choice.

  Chapter 30

  Beth, 2017

  Beth peered at the illuminated alarm clock by the bed. Pleased to see she still had at least ten minutes before she had to get up, she snuggled back down under her quilt and thought about Sean Harper. She couldn’t remember enjoying an evening as much as last night in ages, and they’d only had a pie and a couple of drinks in the local pub.

  She knew what Ollie was trying to do, of course, going home early and leaving them together like that. And, to a certain extent, it had worked. They’d got on like a house on fire, sharing the same sense of humour and spluttering into their beer over silly jokes that sent them both into fits of laughter. He’d even given her a rather nice, and just a little more than brotherly, kiss when they’d parted outside, but that was it. Sean was an Australian. His home was on the other side of the world and pretty soon he would be heading back out there, no doubt for good. Clearly he was loving his time in England, and she was loving his company, but it was a temporary thing. It had to be. The last thing Beth needed right now was to lose her heart to someone who, before they even got started, was destined to dump her. But that wasn’t to say they couldn’t have a bit of harmless fun while he was still here.

  The plans for the show were going fantastically well. The kids had thrown themselves into it wholeheartedly and little Victoria’s performance, for a child of only ten, was a revelation. There was a star in the making there, and Beth wouldn’t have been surprised to see her pop up on Britain’s Got Talent in a few years’ time, if Ollie hadn’t got her name down for the British athletics team first.