by Tracy Bloom
Katy beamed back. This was the best news she’d had all day.
‘Daniel, could you pop up to my office and—’
‘Of course,’ replied Daniel. ‘Totally in baby overload now. Ciao, Katy.’ He kissed her on the head. ‘Call me.’
‘Bye,’ she said, watching him leave as fast as he could before the boss closed the door behind him.
‘I was hoping I’d catch you,’ Andrew said, sitting down with Millie still cooing gently on his shoulder. Katy prayed she didn’t chuck down the shoulder of his expensive suit. ‘I know I really shouldn’t ask you this, but is there any chance you could give me an indication of when you might be coming back?’
‘Er, well, I’m not really sure yet,’ she admitted. ‘You said I should come in at three months and discuss it with you.’
‘Yes, I know, but, well . . .’ Andrew paused, looking nervously at the door. ‘Between you and me, Daniel is slightly out of control without you to hold him back.’
‘Well, I did see the Shakespeare Crispy Bix campaign . . .’ Katy shook her head.
‘Exactly. He can’t help himself. And Freddie, your stand-in, thinks the sun shines out of his arse so is doing nothing to stand in his way. I never realised what a fantastic job you did of guiding his talent. I just wanted you to know that as soon as you want to come back you would be very, very, welcome. Like as soon as possible would not be soon enough.’ He looked nervously at the door again. Katy knew he was taking a big risk talking to her like this. She’d be well within her rights to make some kind of compliant involving discrimination or harassment or something. But she didn’t feel harassed. She felt enormously flattered.
‘Well . . . as you can see, it’s not that simple,’ she sighed, nodding at Millie.
‘Just think about it,’ he pleaded, putting his hand on Katy’s. ‘Please. Call me in a week and tell me what you think.’
Chapter Six
Katy’s eyes flashed open as soon as she heard the front door bang. She thought she’d been asleep. She must have been asleep. She squinted across the bed to Ben’s Darth Vader alarm clock and saw it read 11.23. She’d fed Millie, she thought, around ten-ish, so she must have slept since then. A few precious hours that needed to be filled with sleep or else Katy knew she would be unable to function at all. She winced in dismay as she heard a cupboard door slam in the kitchen. Her precious sleep interrupted by Ben’s arrival home from the pub. She held her breath, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before Ben would arrive in the bedroom about as quietly as a herd of baby elephants and risk waking Millie, at which point Katy would quite possibly kill him with her bare hands. She tried to keep her breathing low and calm as she awaited his arrival. He’d only been out once since Millie’s arrival to wet the baby’s head with some colleagues. He’d come back slightly worse for wear and put Match of the Day on at full blast, totally forgetting there was a baby in the flat. This time she’d left a trail of reminders such as cuddly toys and nappies, hoping he’d remember to be quiet.
After a few minutes the door to the bedroom slid open and she watched as he tentatively crept around the room going about the business of getting ready for bed. His glass of water was successfully placed on his bedside table without too much fuss and he even managed to extract his pyjamas from under the pillow without sound effects. Failure struck, however, once he’d got himself into the en-suite, shutting the door behind him and putting the light on. There were a few moments of quiet rustling before the delicate silence was ripped apart by a massive fart.
Katy shook her head in despair, waiting for Millie to protest at the interruption created by her father’s backside. Thankfully, despite the fact that the noise still felt like it was echoing around the entire flat, Millie continued to sleep and Katy allowed herself to breathe again. Ben emerged shortly afterwards and slid into bed next to her. She was wide awake now and for a moment they looked at each other, their faces illuminated by the glow-in-the-dark room thermometer.
‘If the room gets too hot, does Tom Cruise drop down from the ceiling on a wire and blast everything with a freeze gun?’ Ben had asked when he’d unwrapped the gift from Dennis, a fellow teacher from school.
‘Given how much my wife said she paid for it, I’d want at least Cameron Diaz dropping from my ceiling, not Tom bloody Cruise,’ Dennis had replied.
The thermometer was thankfully glowing an acceptable yellow, giving them both a slightly jaundiced appearance as they continued to look at each other, neither daring to speak as Millie slept soundly next to them. Ben smiled, a contented, slightly drunken smile. Katy smiled, an exhausted, just-let-me sleep smile. Ben moved his hand up to rest on Katy’s waist. Katy felt herself tense. She knew what usually followed the post-pub contented smile and hand-on-waist routine.
‘I’ve got a great idea,’ whispered Ben, leaning towards her. Katy did a rapid mental inventory.
Legs – stubbly and dry. No shaving or moisturising in at least two months.
Underarms – hairy – not evacuated since Millie had been born.
Attire – pyjama’s that hadn’t left her body in possibly over twenty-four hours.
Underwear – maternity bra that contained breast pads.
Fragrance – faintly of cabbage.
Hair – dirty and containing Vaseline from when she’d raked her fingers through her hair earlier after attending to some dry skin on Millie’s leg.
Atmosphere – mood lighting courtesy of baby room thermometer, sleeping baby right next to them.
Fit for Purpose – stretch marks and eighteen stitches in her vagina for goodness’ sake!
There was nothing about their circumstances that was conducive to sex.
Ben leaned forward again and squeezed her waist.
‘Did you hear me?’ he whispered in her ear. ‘I’ve had a brilliant idea.’
Katy could have wept. She wanted to want to have sex with Ben, she really did, but she just didn’t see how. The woman who used to be only too happy to have a quick romp when Ben came home like this was gone. She didn’t exist any more. This hairy, stubbly, smelly monster had replaced her.
‘I think you’ll like it,’ whispered Ben.
She pushed him away.
‘I can’t,’ she said, failing to stop the tears falling down her cheeks as tiredness and disappointment got the better of her.
‘What is it?’ asked Ben, raising his hand to gently brush away her tears. ‘This isn’t like you.’
Well, he was right there. It wasn’t like her. But then again, she didn’t know who she was any more. Her body no longer felt as if it belonged to her, her brain was away with the fairies and her emotions were totally out of control. It felt as though Katy was no more, a shadow she couldn’t quite grasp hold of. The only time she’d caught a glimpse of her had been that morning when she’d been arguing with Daniel about the Crispy Bix campaign. The old Katy had re-emerged for a moment then disappeared when Millie woke, dismissing old Katy as useless to her existence. It had been a mistake going to work. All she’d thought about that morning was old Katy, and how she missed her, and the impossible dream her boss had tempted her with of being old Katy again whenever she wanted.
Ben leaned in again. She had to put a stop to this. She couldn’t stand it.
‘Why don’t we go into the kitchen?’ he said gently.
He wanted to do it in the kitchen? Under halogen spotlights and on hard granite? Was he insane?
‘Come on,’ he said, getting out of bed. He crept through the door, leaving it ajar. Reluctantly, she heaved herself up and grabbed a tissue before following him.
‘Are you insane?’ was all Katy could gasp once Ben had revealed his brilliant idea that had nothing remotely to do with sex.
‘I think it could work,’ he said, nodding vigorously. ‘It makes absolute sense as long as you think you could cope with not being at home with Millie every day.’
‘How much have you had to drink?’ Katy asked.
‘Adequate,’ replied Ben.
&n
bsp; ‘What does adequate mean?’
‘Enough to have made a night of it without having made a big night of it.’
Katy moved to get up from the kitchen table.
‘I think we should talk about this tomorrow when you understand exactly what you’re saying.’
Ben caught her arm and forced her to sit down.
‘I know exactly what I’m saying,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m offering to swap roles. I’ll stay home and take care of the Millster and you go back to work.’
‘But . . . but . . . you love your job,’ said Katy, desperately trying to get her head around what Ben was saying.
‘I do,’ he replied, ‘and believe me, I’ve been racking my brains as to how I can earn more money to keep you both in the manner to which you’ve become accustomed, but teaching is never going to pay as well as what you do. The only thing I came up with was tennis coaching. I can start down at Henshall whenever I want, but it’s all evenings and weekends.’
‘But you hate tennis,’ Katy exclaimed.
‘Correct, but . . . but if it meant we could afford the mortgage on this flat . . .’
‘You’d do that for me?’ said Katy.
Ben nodded, then looked down at his hands.
‘I hate the idea of you having to make sacrifices because I don’t earn as much money as you.’
Katy closed her eyes. They’d been here before. She knew Ben was insecure about the fact she earned more money than he did. In fact, he’d assumed that she’d slept with Matthew because he was as successful as she was, not just some lowly PE teacher like him. But now Ben did have a point. Financially it did make sense. Katy had been worrying about the mortgage, and if she went back to work it wouldn’t be a problem; they might even be able to save for a house . . . with a garden. But she couldn’t stand the thought of Ben feeling bad because he earned less.
‘I’m very proud of what you do,’ she said, taking his hand. ‘Which is why I could never ask you to give it up.’
‘I teach PE,’ said Ben, shaking his head. ‘I’m not changing the world.’
Katy didn’t know what to say. Ben looked sad, like he’d realised that he actually wasn’t changing the world and he should have been.
‘Would you like to go back to work?’ he asked.
Katy was torn. Part of her was desperate to. To go back to old Katy, in control Katy, competent Katy, respected Katy. What a breath of fresh air that would be. But was that the mum she wanted to be? The one who couldn’t wait to shed her duties and leave the care of her baby to someone else. She could already feel her heartstrings being tugged.
‘I’d love to go back to work, but—’
‘We could do it,’ Ben interrupted. ‘Not straight away, of course. I reckon if I tell them now they’ll let me leave at Christmas, so maybe you could go back straight after New Year. Millie will be four months old by then. That’ll give you a bit longer with her, then I can take my turn.’
Katy was staring at Ben open-mouthed.
‘What?’ he asked. ‘You think I want to do this so I don’t have to work, don’t you?’
‘You think looking after Millie isn’t work?’
‘No . . . I wasn’t saying that exactly, I was just saying that of course caring for Millie won’t take up all my time during the day, but I won’t be slacking around or anything, maybe just give myself an hour a day off, you know, for like, lunch.’
‘An hour a day?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You’re expecting an hour a day to yourself?’
‘Sure.’
Katy laughed. The hysterical laughter of a woman who was sleep deprived and had had her world totally turned upside down and didn’t know which way was up any more.
‘What are you laughing at?’ asked Ben.
Katy couldn’t stop. Tears were now rolling down her face.
‘I really don’t see what’s so funny,’ said Ben.
‘You have no idea, do you?’ said Katy, using her tissue to wipe away her hysterical tears. ‘You’ll be lucky to have a minute to yourself, never mind a whole hour.’ She began to get up. Ben had totally lost the plot, she was tired, and this discussion was keeping her from her sleep.
‘Well, maybe if you were a bit calmer about it all then Millie might relax more and you’d find that she spends less time crying and needing your attention.’
Katy took a sharp intake of breath and sat herself back down again.
‘What are you saying?’ she hissed.
Ben shrugged. ‘Just that I can tell you’re all tense and hormonal and all that, and maybe if you just relaxed a bit you might find it easier.’
Katy couldn’t speak. The anger and the hormones were building up inside her to an almighty blowout, but she couldn’t quite formulate her fury into words.
Ben ploughed on. ‘I mean, maybe there’s a reason why Millie falls asleep the minute I’m home and we have a cuddle. I’m just more relaxed about the whole thing than you at the moment, which is perfectly understandable. Don’t get me wrong, I totally sympathise with why you’re all wound up all the time, but I’m just saying that chilling out a bit might help.’
Katy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Of course she was bloody well always wound up. Seven pounds four ounces of relentless demands had passed through her uterus. Demands that she constantly worried she was failing to meet, and here was Ben assuming that because he appeared to be akin to the baby whisperer for maybe one or two hours a day that he had it nailed. That she was making a big fuss about nothing.
‘Okay then,’ she said after she’d waited for the tide of anger to ebb slightly. She considered briefly trying to explain to him how hard it was, how relentless it was, how you lived with the constant terror that you were going to do something that would kill your child, and how exhausting that was in itself. How daily you were doing things and making decisions about stuff you had no clue about but were essential to the wellbeing of this tiny little bundle of life that relied on you for everything . . . absolutely everything.
‘Okay then,’ she said again. Swallowing hard to try and remain calm. ‘You think you can do a better job, then let’s try it. Let’s swap. On a trial basis.’
‘I didn’t mean I thought I could do a better job,’ Ben protested. ‘I just thought it might be a better way for all of us.’
‘No, you’re absolutely right. You’re way better with Millie than I am. You try it. You be mum for a while. I’ll go back to work.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Sure.’ Katy nodded vigorously then got up, determined to actually make it to bed this time. ‘You go for it. I’ll call work in the morning.’
‘Good,’ said Ben. ‘That’s all sorted then.’ He watched Katy leave the room, not feeling the relief he’d thought he might. Something in the look Katy had given him made him think that the swap wasn’t going to solve as many problems as he’d thought.
Chapter Seven
‘Matthew, Matthew,’ cried Alison. ‘Look, Rebecca’s face!’
Matthew peered round at Rebecca’s face to see what on earth was bothering Alison so much. A tiny bit of dribble was creeping its way down her chin and was about to drop onto her pristine sugar-pink dress with white ribbon trim. He was just about to shove a finger in its path when a tissue appeared out of nowhere and spirited it away. Matthew grinned at Alison, who was sitting next to him on a plush green velvet Chesterfield outside the studio of Leeds’ best family portrait photographer. As she smiled back, he caught sight of someone he’d not seen in a very long time. Her face lit up, and suddenly he saw the beautiful, confident Alison he’d fallen in love with all those years ago before they began their difficult journey to having children. Before the disappointment of her failure to get pregnant followed by the relentless rounds of fertility treatment had turned her into a worn-out rag with a face as long as the wait they’d had for these two miracle babies. Today she shone. Groomed to the hilt and still showing a hint of baby weight, which totally suited her, the old Alison
was back, and he couldn’t help but let out a small sigh of relief.
‘I’m so glad you wore a tie,’ Alison told him. ‘You look just perfect with Rebecca.’
‘Well, if I can’t dress up for my daughter, then quite frankly, who can I dress up for?’ Matthew planted a kiss on Rebecca’s head.
‘I never thought this day would come,’ he heard Alison say, suddenly emotional.
‘I know,’ he said, reaching over to take her hand.’
‘We’ve been through so much,’ she gulped.
‘We have,’ Matthew nodded. ‘But we made it. You made it. You had it the worst. I want you to know I’m so proud of you, Alison.’
She looked at him, but then had to look away and swallow hard. She fanned her eyes with her hand to try and prevent tears from ruining her perfectly applied mascara.
‘He’d better get a move on,’ she commented, trying to distract herself.
‘What time are we booked in for?’ he asked, looking hopefully at the heavy oak doors that separated them from the inner sanctum of Calvin McDonald.
‘Any minute now,’ she replied, looking at her watch and stroking George’s hair down simultaneously. ‘We need to begin soon, or else they’ll start to get hungry and crabby and not at their best.
‘I’m sure he’ll be out soon,’ Matthew said soothingly. He knew she desperately wanted the perfect family photograph, and he wanted it to be perfect, for her sake.
‘Although we are running slightly behind schedule ourselves. Did I tell you that Charlene called and asked me to cancel our antenatal gathering at the last minute and changed all our plans this morning?’
Matthew raised his eyebrows. His wife’s continued contact with Charlene never ceased to amaze him, given their opposite personalities. You never would have put them together in a million years, if it wasn’t for the fact that they’d met in antenatal classes and had been encouraged to support each other beyond giving birth. Although Matthew did secretly suspect that Alison enjoyed playing the role of baby expert to Charlene’s apparently clueless efforts.
