by Dawn Harris
Finally, she asked what I’d been doing, and I told her, ‘Jack and I have booked our holiday.’
‘Oh good. Where? Majorca? Barbados?’
Chuckling, I shook my head. ‘Devon.’
‘Devon?’ she echoed in disbelief. ‘Keri, I definitely saw an aircraft and the sun rippling on the waves. Perhaps you’ll win a holiday, or even come up on the lottery.’
Tongue-in-cheek, I pointed out, ‘You mean, you don’t know? You’re the one with the crystal ball.....’
She sniffed. ‘We’ll soon see who’s right.’
Jack and I didn’t win a holiday or the lottery, naturally, but Serena was right about the sun and sea – and in a sense, about the aircraft too. Because on the last day of our holiday I dozed off in a sheltered, isolated bay, while Jack went for a walk along the cliffs. And I woke up to find the tide had swept in and I – a poor swimmer – was completely cut off, stranded, and in immediate danger of drowning.
When I related that experience to Serena, and how I was rescued, she remarked, ‘Well, I did say you’d get sun, waves and a trip in an aircraft.’
I almost choked. ‘May I point out that the words “air-sea rescue helicopter,”’ I said, emphasising them frostily, ‘never passed your lips. Even though I crossed your palm with silver.’
Grinning at me affectionately, she said, ‘Well, what do you expect for a lousy 5p?’
She seemed sublimely happy with Gus, until one day she visited me in a state of panic. ‘Gus wants me to marry him,’ she wailed.
I stared at her. ‘For heaven’s sake, what’s your problem? You’re nuts about each other.’
‘Yes, but....’ and her voice lowered to a whisper. ‘It’s the crystal ball. I can’t see my own future any more. Not since the day Gus and I met. I’m scared, Keri. How can I marry Gus when I don’t know whether we’ll be happy?’
I laughed so much I could barely speak. ‘Join the club. How do you think we mere mortals manage?’
She shuddered. ‘I can’t imagine.’ Wistfully, she murmured, ‘Gus is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.’
‘Then forget your wretched crystal ball. Follow your own instincts for once.’
In the end she took my advice and hasn’t looked back since. Or, come to that, into the future.
The Reluctant Father
I guess I’m a bit of a male chauvinist. Not that I would ever admit it, of course. But the fact is, I truly believe women are better suited to changing nappies and cleaning up baby sick than men. Well, it comes naturally to them, doesn’t it?
Now, don’t get me wrong. I do my bit around the house. I’m a dab hand at washing up and dusting. And when Lori, my wife, came home with the baby, I was happy to vacuum and cook. But it was Lori who looked after the baby. Like I said, that’s women’s work. Mind you, I really did intend to take a more active part, only it didn’t work out like that. And that’s how the situation stayed, until fate stepped in.
When Lori wanted to go away for the weekend, I assumed her sister, our chief babysitter, would look after Jessica. ‘Leave her with Sue?’ Lori echoed incredulously, looking at me as if I’d suggested dumping her in the middle of the Sahara desert. ‘Jessica is your daughter too, Gavin,’ she went on, white-faced. ‘You see so little of her, I thought you’d enjoy having her to yourself for a whole weekend.’
‘And so I would, darling,’ I agreed glibly. ‘But I’m playing cricket all that weekend. And,’ I continued, ‘I can’t let them all down, can I?’
Lori stared at me for a long time, looking almost – well, almost as if I’d struck her. I simply couldn’t understand it. I thought I was being perfectly reasonable. I would never deliberately hurt Lori – I love her far too much. But there are times when I do wonder if I’ll ever understand what goes on in a woman’s mind.
Eventually, tight-lipped, she muttered, ‘I see.’ And swept past me to pick up the phone. I went into the kitchen, reckoning I’d better show willing in some department, and I’d almost finished the washing up when Lori joined me. ‘Sue says she’d love to have Jessica,’ she said quietly, as a single tear quivered on an eyelash before dropping onto her cheek.
Horrified, I scooped Lori into my arms and kissed her. I had to come up with some pretty convincing lies – and fast – if I was to remove that tragic, hurt expression from her eyes. I threw myself into the role with gusto. ‘Look, darling, I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘but I’m not much good with babies. Lots of men aren’t. I’m really terrified of doing the wrong thing.’ Well, I couldn’t tell her the truth, could I? Jessica is six months old, a pretty baby with blonde curls and blue eyes. But I feel absolutely nothing for her. No love, no commitment. Nothing.
‘I could teach you what to do, if you’d let me,’ Lori said.
I frowned. ‘I’d like that, but the trouble is she’s usually asleep by the time I get home.’ Then I weighed in with what I knew to be the clincher. ‘There are the weekends, of course,’ I mused doubtfully. ‘Maybe if I cut down on my sporting.....’
‘’You’ll do no such thing, Gavin,’ Lori protested, outraged. ‘You work so hard all week, you deserve to relax at weekends. Anyway, it’s what we agreed before Jessica was born. I wanted to stay home with our children until they went to school, and you wanted to keep up your football and cricket.’
‘As long as you’re happy with that,’ I said.
Okay, so I’m a heel. I know it. I felt pretty bad, I can tell you. Especially with Lori being so supportive. She’s totally unselfish, caring and loving, with a great sense of humour. She watches all my football and cricket matches, cheering me on and helping with the refreshments. And it’s just great to have her there. She’s the best wife a fella could have.
Lori’s weekend away was a reunion of classmates from her old school. They were meeting in London on Saturday evening and, as we live in Devon, Lori decided to go by train. When she packed the night before, her eyes sparkled in such happy anticipation, I put my arms round her, murmured softly into her sweet-smelling hair, ‘Lori, I want you to have a wonderful time.’
At that moment the phone rang. ‘Will you answer it, Gavin?’ she smiled. ‘I’ve still got to sort out Jessica’s clothes.’
Picking up the receiver I gave our number, and a familiar voice said, ‘Gavin, it’s Sue.’ She sounded out of breath. ‘Bad news, I’m afraid. I can’t look after Jessica after all.....’ I groaned out loud. ‘Sorry, but I’ve sprained my ankle. It’s so badly swollen I can’t even stand.’
She sounded really distressed and I called Lori to the phone. They exchanged a few words, and then Lori said, in a voice trembling with disappointment, ‘I’ll have to cancel my trip, that’s all. What else can I do?’
Now, male chauvinist I may be; heartless I am not. I knew how much Lori had looked forward to this weekend and I was determined she should have her treat. She deserved it. There was only one thing to do and I did it. I crossed the room, put my arm round her waist and gulped, ‘I’ll look after Jessica.’
Lori gazed up at me, eager with hope. ‘Are you sure?’ I swallowed hard and nodded. Tears misted her eyes as she told Sue the good news. I pulled out of the cricket match immediately for, as Lori pointed out, ‘They’ll need time to find a replacement.’ Adding consolingly, ‘It’s only this once, Gavin.’
By the morning I was beginning to regret the impulse of the night before. I mean, what did I know about babies? It was true, work had stopped me seeing much of Jessica. I’d spent six weeks away on a course and, now I was the sole breadwinner, I worked harder than ever. True I’d bathed Jessica and changed her nappy occasionally, but I’d had no sleepless nights, as Lori had breast-fed the baby until recently. And when Jessica cries, it’s always Lori who comforts and cuddles her, never me.
Lori had written out a huge list of instructions covering every eventuality. She looked up at me rather anxiously. ‘You’ll be all right, Gavin.’ It wasn’t quite a question.
‘Of course I will,’ I said. But, as Jessica and I waved goodbye a
t the station, terror filled every fibre of my being. Jessica’s bottom lip quivered a little as I put her back in the car seat, almost as if she knew she was a huge disappointment to me. Poor little soul, I thought, it’s not her fault she isn’t a boy.
Everyone had expected Lori to produce a boy; no girl had been born into our family for a hundred years. Her arrival, which had thrilled my family, had left me devastated. A sport-loving son would have completed my happiness. I heaved a huge sigh. How differently I would have behaved with a son too. Proud, loving, interested. I would have done my bit, shared the responsibility. Does that make me feel guilty? Does the sun rise in the morning?
Jessica gazed uncertainly at me when I went into the feeding and changing routines, but I coped. The afternoon being sunny and mild, I took Jessica to watch the cricket match I should have been playing in. While the wives fussed over Jessica, my teammates came in with the heavy barracking. ‘Lori’s got you under her thumb at last, eh Gavin?’ And, ‘What colour’s your apron then, dearie?’ All the usual kind of stuff. But, as none of them had such a wonderful understanding wife as Lori, it was easy to laugh off.
Only another 24 hours, I thought, as I bathed and fed Jessica that evening. After her bath she smelt so good, I found myself unconsciously kissing the top of her head, just as Lori does. When I settled her down in her cot, she fixed her blue eyes trustingly on to mine. She reminded me so much of Lori that my heart lurched a little.
Lori rang a few minutes later, and I was able to report confidently, ‘Everything’s under control. No problems at all.’
And it remained that way until midnight, when Jessica suddenly began to cry. Not the half-hearted squawk I’d learned to associate with a momentary waking up, but a full-blooded yell. I dashed in to pick her up, and changed her, but it made no difference. I tried giving her a bottle, only for her to push it away angrily. I paced up and down, cuddling her as Lori did. Nothing worked. She just kept screaming.
After half an hour, I was desperate. And very, very scared. Even though it was nearly one in the morning, I rang Sue, pleading with her to help me. ‘All right, Gavin,’ she said calmly. ‘Don’t panic. First of all, take her temperature.’
I followed her instructions and reported, ‘It’s normal.’
‘Well, that’s good. Now, tell me what she’s doing, apart from crying.’
‘She’s stuffing her fist into her mouth and dribbling.’
‘Ah,’ cried Sue in triumph. ‘There’s your answer. She’s teething.’
I was immensely relived. ‘What should I do?’
‘Frankly, Gavin, not having kids of my own, I don’t know.’
‘I wish you were here, Sue,’ I groaned with heartfelt longing.
She hesitated. ‘Sorry, Gavin, but I still can’t stand up. Look, what Jessica needs more than anything is plenty of love. You can give her that, can’t you?’
‘Yes. Sure,’ I mumbled. I put the phone down and remembering Lori’s instructions, I grabbed them. Jessica had no teeth yet and Lori hadn’t covered the subject. I was on my own.
Two hours later I was still pacing. Nothing seemed to comfort Jessica. Sometimes she yelled, sometimes she simply grizzled with her fingers in her mouth. I took her temperature again. It was normal.
All sorts of terrible possibilities kept looming in my mind. What if she wasn’t teething? Did all lethal illnesses raise the temperature? I examined her for spots. Nothing. All the time one horrific thought hammered relentlessly in my mind. How would I ever face Lori if I let anything happen to our baby? Lori trusted me. She didn’t know I felt nothing for Jessica. Or did she? Sometimes, when I held Jessica, I caught Lori watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite fathom out.
If only I’d taken more interest in our child, I might have known what to do. I thought of the excuses I’d made not to get involved. Work, sporting commitments, odd jobs around the house. Anything. All put before Jessica, simply because she was a girl.
I had no idea it was possible to feel so scared about the safety of a child. But then, never before had my daughter been totally reliant on me for her wellbeing. Whenever I’d held Jessica, Lori had always been there ready to take over. Had Lori felt like this when I had been away on that course?
I broke into a sweat. I saw now that babies brought worries and responsibilities, and I had let Lori shoulder them all. Alone. Even though we were equally responsible for Jessica being in the world. I’d let them down, and I felt deeply ashamed.
Around three in the morning, exhausted, I sank onto the sofa with Jessica on my stomach. After a few whimpers, she finally slept. The softness of her warm body against mine made me feel extraordinarily good.
The next thing I knew it was 9a.m., and Jessica was wriggling around. My left arm, which held her safe, was completely numb. I moved slightly and she woke up properly. One of her cheeks was still bright red. ‘Poor love,’ I murmured and kissed her soft blond hair.
She looked into my eyes and beamed. Then she said, as clear as could be, ‘Da-da.’ A sense of euphoric wonder ran through me, quickly followed by a tremendous guilt. No father deserved that accolade less than I did. Nevertheless, I rang Sue and related the exciting news.
‘That’s early,’ she exclaimed. ‘Lori said that wouldn’t happen for another month at least.’
‘Jessica’s first word and I was the one to hear it.’
‘Yes,’ Sue remarked acidly. ‘There’s no justice is there?’
I realised then that I hadn’t fooled Sue. She knew how I’d felt about Jessica. And if she knew....... I gulped and hurriedly changed the subject. ‘How’s the ankle?’
‘Agony,’ she declared.
As I gave Jessica her bottle, her hand curled round my finger. The expression of sheer bliss on her face, and the trust in her eyes, made me catch my breath. And I did some serious thinking.
I thought of my own father, solid and reliable, always there when needed. He had been one of the most important influences in my life. As I could be to Jessica. If I chose to be. Perhaps she would be musical, or a dancer, maybe even a sportswoman. But, whatever she was, I knew now that I wanted to be a part of it. My daughter would not have a male chauvinist for a father.
Already I’d missed out on Jessica’s first six months of babyhood, but it wasn’t too late. I was lucky --- this weekend had provided me with a second chance.
When I went to pick Lori up that evening, I was astonished to see Sue bounding along the pavement, tennis racquet in hand. ‘Jessica,’ I said, as the truth dawned. ‘Will you look at that? I have been well and truly conned by two scheming women.’ And I thanked heaven for it.
The Assignation
Stuart knocked hesitantly on Christabel’s bedroom door, his heart hammering wildly. For the thousandth time he checked the note she’d thrust into his hand earlier that evening. My room, 11p.m. Bring your toothbrush.
From the moment Christabel walked into the computer room that morning, she’d commanded total attention. A strikingly beautiful blue-eyed blonde, her perfect figure was enhanced by a smart business suit. She was the instructor in charge of the five day IT course to which Stuart’s firm had sent him and nine other new employees.
‘Teachers,’ whispered Stuart’s nearest neighbour, ‘were never like that when I was at school.’
At the end of the first day, when they were all relaxing in the hotel bar, Christabel had blatantly handed Stuart the note, right in front of all the others – and with one smouldering glance, had left.
They were all pretty merry by this time, and the new Cardiff representative had read the note over Stuart’s shoulder. ‘You lucky dog!’ he gasped in envious tones. Snatching the note from Stuart’s hand, he’d passed it round, pronouncing, ‘Old Stu here has hit the jackpot!’
Stuart’s face flushed a bright red, a colour that did not go well with his ginger hair. ‘It must be a joke,’ he babbled. No woman with Christabel’s looks had ever given him a second glance.
‘Hardly!’ mocked Phil, the
Cheltenham representative. Being tall, distinguished and good looking, he had strongly fancied his own chances. ‘If you’re not up to it, I’m perfectly willing to deputise!’
Clearing the constriction in his throat, Stuart thought of Jeannie and the boys back in Inverness and muttered self-consciously, ‘She obviously doesn’t realise I’m married.’
‘Don’t be so dumb,’ Phil burst out, with a scathing laugh. ‘Of course she knows you’re married. She had all our personal details on file.’
‘Forget the little woman at home,’ urged another colleague. ‘It’s not as if she’d ever know.’
‘Besides, Christabel must be crying out for it,’ Phil sneered. ‘Saddled with a husband like hers.’
Puzzled, Stuart demanded, ‘What do you mean?’
‘Good God man, don’t you know? He’s been in hospital for months. Paralysed from the waist down after a skiing accident.’
‘But --- that’s dreadful,’ Stuart said.
‘Well, y –e –s..... And no,’ Phil drawled with a smirk. ‘His bad luck looks like being your good fortune.’ Leaning back in his chair, he finished his glass of whisky in one go, and smacked his lips. ‘The question is, Stuart old son – do you have the guts to accept her invitation?’ Then he sniggered in a manner that left no-one in any doubt about his own opinion.
The sea of grinning faces stung Stuart into retorting, ‘Of course, I’m going. What do you take me for? A wimp?’
When the ribald comments finally dried up, someone suggested a game of snooker, and Stuart escaped to his room. Before the business of Christabel’s assignation, he had intended to spend a couple of hours going over what he’d learnt today. He hadn’t used a computer for his work before; in fact he’d never bothered with them much at all. He liked to be outside, walking or playing sport. The others all seemed to know much more about IT than he did, but he simply had to master it; he’d be working from home in Inverness, with no colleagues within easy reach who could pop in and help him out.
