Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes

by Amanda Martin

  If he was quick to blame me in his initial disappointment, he is sorry now he’s had time to reflect. He knows my sole focus is on making his business a success.

  She thought about the photography lessons and the shoot, the time she spent with her photography group in the coffee shop, and quickly pushed such traitorous thoughts to the back of her mind.

  “Did you go for a dress fitting today?”

  They had finished dinner and were enjoying a second glass of wine. Helen glowed at Daniel’s words; she still couldn’t get used to Daniel’s willingness to be involved in the wedding plans. What man would remember something as trivial as a dress fitting?

  “Yes, it looks amazing. I barely recognise myself.”

  That was true enough. Daniel didn’t need to know that it was a bit too sculpted for her liking. Or that the dress had been tight on her bloated tummy. Her period still hadn’t come – probably delayed by the stress of the photo-shoot and the award ceremony – and the bloating had annoyed the scary seamstress Daniel had chosen.

  Daniel was beaming at her now, obviously picturing her in the dress and no doubt imagining removing it at the end of their big day.

  “How about the photographer, did you pay the deposit to the one I suggested?”

  It was on the tip of Helen’s tongue to say, No I’ve gone with someone Derek recommended. As Daniel had no idea who Derek was, it didn’t seem wise to mention him. After the failure at the award ceremony now was not the time to give Daniel any idea that her mind had been on anything other the writing the submission.

  Instead she nodded, placed her wine glass on the coffee table and removed Daniel’s from his hand to place alongside it. Then she slid across the sofa toward Daniel, a clear look of intent on her face.

  Daniel’s response was immediate and soon neither of them were concerned about dresses or photographers, as they practised the only part of the wedding that meant anything at that moment; the wedding night.

  “Are you okay, lady?”

  Helen raised her head slowly and nodded weakly at the weathered face peering at her.

  “You look awful green. Can I get you some water?”

  The road cleaner gestured towards the nearby Tube station where a small shop could be seen selling bottles and cans.

  Part of Helen’s beleaguered brain marvelled at the random kindness of strangers. She would never have thought it, before moving to London, but concern often came from the unlikeliest sources.

  Blinking her eyes into focus she studied the leathery face still warily watching her and wondered if the cleaner was actually more worried that she was going to vomit on his pavement.

  I might. Particularly if he doesn’t move on. He may be kind but he is also smelly and my olfactory senses seem to be working overtime.

  “I’m fine,” she said, trying for a bright tone. “I just felt a bit sick, you know, because of the heat on the Tube. I came up for some fresh air; I’ll be right as rain in a moment.”

  The street sweeper nodded his understanding. He saw plenty of frazzled Suits staggering up the Tube steps in the summer. Satisfied, he moved on, pushing his cart and whistling a tuneless ditty through his teeth.

  Once he was out of range Helen inhaled deeply and willed the nausea to lessen. She tried to remember how much, if anything, she had drunk the night before. She was certain she’d only had a glass or two before she and Daniel had ended up enjoying each other’s company in the bedroom.

  I never get hangovers. Not like this. Maybe I’m coming down with something.

  Trying to clear her head, Helen sat back into the bench and idly looked around at the other people in the small park. There were a few office workers hastily eating sandwiches, glad to venture out of the workplace and breathe unfiltered air. One man was having a passionate conversation on his mobile, gesturing wildly with his free arm, startling the pigeons that were braving the “Do not feed the birds” sign in the hope of some lunch.

  Helen had been on the way to Daniel’s office to pick up some paperwork when she had been overcome with a wave of dizziness. Throwing up on the Underground was not something she was in a hurry to experience, so she had been forced to return back to the surface for air.

  As she mused on the cause of her illness Helen watched a mother come past with a small baby tucked inside a pram. Despite the summer weather the baby was swaddled, with only a scrunched pink face showing. Babies terrified Helen but she found herself drawn to the child, wanting to pick it up and hold it. A horrifying thought sprang into her mind, only to be desperately shooed away.

  I am not pregnant.

  She tried to think how many days late her period was. She’d thought she was due at the dinner party and that was over a week ago.

  A week late, that’s nothing. Even if I am usually more punctual than the talking clock; I’m on the Pill and Daniel uses Durex like he has shares in the company.

  As if it was the season for them, another horrible thought hopped into her head and smirked. You took antibiotics my dear, remember, for that ear infection? The Pill doesn’t work so well then, does it?

  I can’t be pregnant!

  Helen was aware of a note of hysteria in her thoughts and she tried to calm her mind.

  Even if the Pill failed, no one is more meticulous than Daniel when it comes to taking precautions. How unlikely is that – a condom failing at the same time as the Pill not working? I can’t be pregnant.

  Just then her head swam again with nausea as if her body was mocking the denial of the brain.

  I’ve just got a tummy bug, that’s all. Besides, I can’t be pregnant, Daniel will kill me.

  Of course he won’t, she countered. We’re engaged to be married; I’m not some one night stand.

  Telling her warring thoughts to hush, Helen tried to imagine what Daniel’s reaction would be, if she was pregnant. He had made it clear that children weren’t on his current to-do list.

  They’re not on mine, either, if I’m honest. I’ve got a creation of a wedding dress to fit into and a baby-bump doesn’t form part of that plan at all.

  Watching the mother wheel her pram to a nearby bench before tenderly lifting out the swaddled infant, Helen began to wonder if maybe a baby could be part of a new plan. Being a third of a PA to Daniel wasn’t really the meaningful career she’d set her sights on at King’s and even if the photography took off it wasn’t going to fill her life overnight. Watching the mother snuggling into the tiny infant Helen felt an alien pang of envy.

  The tricky part, of course, will be convincing Daniel.

  Helen opted to travel halfway across London to buy a pregnancy test, wanting to make sure she didn’t bump into anyone that she and Daniel knew. It seemed crazy to be so furtive about something so exciting, but the emotions running through her were too tangled to comprehend.

  The paper bag containing the test lurked ominously at the bottom of her rucksack all day, drawing her thoughts and her gaze more than once. She decided to do the test the following morning, when it would be most accurate.

  After Daniel has left for work, she added subconsciously. In her mind Daniel had begun to take on the role of a disapproving parent that she needed to hide the truth from.

  It was difficult to act normally around Daniel that evening and she was glad that he, too, was preoccupied. She gathered from his monologue ramblings at dinner that he had some big deal at work that he was hoping to secure. Normally she made every effort to follow his conversation so she could have a valid opinion and not need to ask stupid questions when entertaining his colleagues. Tonight, though, she nodded in what she hoped were the right places and murmured soothing responses when he seemed most agitated.

  When he said to go to bed without him as he had a report to finish she had to try hard to mask her relief.

  Daniel left early as usual and Helen lay in bed pretending to be asleep so she didn’t have to speak to him. She had barely shut her eyes all night, thinking about the test in the paper bag. As sleep stubbornly refu
sed to come Helen had stared at the darkness trying to analyse her emotions, wondering what her reaction to the test result would be however many lines there were in the window.

  It shocked her to discover that part of her longed for the test to be positive. A need that she hadn’t realised existed was growing inside her much as a baby might, even though the concept was still terrifying. Dawn was the only person she knew with kids and she was such a natural parent, Helen couldn’t imagine being anything like as calm or in control. The idea of having a tiny baby to care for at once pleased and petrified her.

  At last the apartment was still and Helen felt able to get out of bed and retrieve the paper bag from the hall closet. With trembling hands, Helen tore into the foil packet. Part of her mind was surprised that they made the packet so hard to open. Surely every nearly-mother is nervous at this point, even for a planned pregnancy? So much would come from the next three minutes, her whole life potentially changed forever.

  After following the instructions carefully Helen sat staring at the bathroom tiles not daring to look at the little plastic window until the three minutes was up. It took all her willpower to keep looking away, as if her attention or inattention might influence the outcome.

  When she finally dared to look she forgot for a heartbeat whether seeing two lines was good or bad. A quick glance at the instructions confirmed what she already knew and her limbs became limp and liquid.

  “Good god.” Her voice, unnaturally high, echoed around the immaculately finished bathroom

  She wanted to ring someone, anyone, with the news, but she knew in her heart that she would have to tell Daniel first. He didn’t accept personal calls during the day and it was hardly the subject for a text message. I’ll have to tell him this evening, she thought woodenly, wondering how on earth she was going to keep herself together until then.

  Chapter Five

  Watching the clock tick over another minute, Helen replayed for the twentieth time the lines she had rehearsed, their meaning lost with too much repetition. She stared at her phone, wondering if today would be a day when he messaged her to say he would be late. Usually it irritated her but today she thought maybe she wouldn’t mind. The waiting was awful but some part of her dreaded the event even more. She had thought and thought until her brain ached, wondering how to tell him, of the best time, the best way. She’d seen enough bad movies and soap operas to know that quick was best, like taking off a plaster. Whatever the outcome, nothing would be worse than the anticipation, nothing more damaging than concealment.

  When the door eventually opened, Helen would have given anything to be on the outside of a large glass of chilled Chardonnay. Knowing that alcohol was a luxury denied to her for at least a year didn’t help the nervousness. She felt limp, waiting for him to come into the kitchen where she was sat twisting her fingers at the breakfast bar. He was a man of routine and always expected to find her in the kitchen, two wine glasses waiting and dinner simmering.

  If Daniel noticed the solo wine glass, he said nothing; he merely bent over to kiss her perfunctorily on the cheek. He didn’t ask about her day but that was nothing new, particularly when things were stressful at work.

  As usual he lifted the pot lid and inhaled. If he was disappointed at the simple fare on offer again he said nothing. Part of Helen willed him to notice these changes to the norm, to give her an opening, a reason to speak. Usual form was that he would begin his debrief of his day while she sat supportively and smiled. Helen had spent all day wondering how she would get her news in first.

  “I have something important to tell you,” she said, in a voice that shook only slightly. “You’d better sit down.” It was a cliché but it would get his attention, as would the word important. She’d considered exciting or brilliant but wondered if he would feel the same way she had come to feel. She had to remember that this would come completely out of nowhere for him – she at least had had a week or so of murmuring suspicions.

  Daniel turned and looked properly at Helen for the first time since coming home; his face was dark and clouded.

  “Yes?” he responded without taking a seat.

  She decided to battle on despite his less than encouraging stance.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “You’re what?” Helen jumped at the sound of his voice but said nothing.

  “How? Who?”

  Each shouted word made Helen flinch, while her stomach churned. Who? How dare he? Her face, already pale from the beginnings of morning sickness, turned white.

  “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” She bit out the words as slowly and calmly as she could manage. “As if it would be anyone’s but yours. As to how, I’m sure you are aware how babies are made.”

  Her tone froze the air between them, sizzling against his red hot rage. She wondered who he was angry at – her? As if this was her doing. His next words confirmed it.

  “You planned this. You tampered with the condoms. You want this.” He folded his arms tightly.

  Again Helen was speechless with shock and a burgeoning rage of her own.

  “Are you mad?” The words were out before she could think it through. She never spoke out to Daniel, no matter how he infuriated her. It was dangerous and futile. Aware of a sensation of pain she looked down at the breakfast bar to see her hands clenched, nails digging into the soft flesh of her palms.

  “Am I mad? No, Helen, I am perfectly sane. I know how babies are made, I know how condoms work, and I know that you are on the pill; if you have managed to get yourself pregnant you must have done something wrong, deliberately or otherwise.” He unfolded his arms and reached for the wine glass, drinking half the contents in a long angry gulp.

  “Condoms aren’t infallible you know, and I’ve been on antibiotics.” She couldn’t believe she needed to explain such stupid details, as if she were some employee discussing who was to blame for a lost deal. “It was an accident.”

  Helen inhaled deeply trying to control her rising anger. She had known he wasn’t going to be thrilled, but they were getting married for goodness’ sake, it wasn’t like she was some barmaid he’d slept with who’d turned up on his doorstep claiming paternity.

  The wine seemed to calm him; his face lost some of the livid hue and his voice returned to its normal volume.

  “Well, however it happened, it must be dealt with.” He was all practical now, as if someone at work had presented him with a technical error that needed fixing.

  “I assume you will book into a clinic, get it sorted. You’d best be quick about it, the wedding isn’t far away and you need to fit into that dress.”

  Helen stared at Daniel wondering whether he was drunk, though he’d only had half a glass. His words made no sense to her. They were getting married. She didn’t believe in abortion anyway, not if you were over eighteen and healthy. But she wasn’t some unfortunate teenager; she was in her twenties, with a home and a husband-to-be.

  A baby should be welcome in this house, not be seen as a problem to be dealt with.

  “Daniel we're getting married in a few weeks. I'm at home all day with nothing to do but manage your diary and cook for your dinner parties. Having a baby does seem an obvious next step.” She tried to keep her voice low and level.

  “So that's what this is about.” His face twisted, marring his handsome features with a sneer. “You resent me for asking you to leave your banal job to manage my social functions, which, you know, are an essential part of my career and for which I pay you a generous salary. Most women would relish having time to go to the gym, shop, paint their nails.” The beetroot hue began to seep back into his cheeks. “I have given you everything and this is the thanks I get?” He folded his arms again, tightly, as if restraining himself.

  Helen felt glad that the breakfast bar was between them.

  “I keep telling you I didn't plan to get pregnant, it was an accident. Besides,” she paused, registering the rest of his words, “it was not a crap job; I was a very good executive ass
istant as well you know. And I hate having nothing to do that's for me.” The whining tone in her voice annoyed her.

  Daniel immediately picked up on it. “It's all about you isn't it Helen? I would have thought you have enough on your hands planning the wedding.”

  “What is there to do?” She stopped, dropped her voice. There’s no point getting angry with him or trying to out-argue him, she thought. He does it all day long for a living; for fun.

  “I love you,” she said softly instead and the words calmed her, reminded her of what was important. “I am carrying your child, doesn’t that mean anything?”

  She could see in his face that it didn’t. Helen’s thoughts became clear, as if seen through the lens of her camera. Daniel’s opposition solidified in her own mind how she felt.

  I want this baby. It terrifies me, but there is no question of not having it, loving it. As the idea grew another thought emerged. I love this unknown bundle of tiny cells as much as I love him. She looked at Daniel, his face implacable but still the face she knew and loved so dearly.

  Still, I think maybe I love the baby more. What does that mean? Surely it isn’t possible to love someone more than him? Daniel, who gives my days purpose and fills my nights with passion. The thought momentarily distracted her; the idea that there might be no more her and Daniel. She felt empty. How can I choose? Surely he isn’t asking me to choose?

  She focused her green eyes on Daniel trying to see behind the words, beneath the anger.

  “Are you scared?” Her voice echoed in the silence.

  “Scared?” He threw the word back as if it had no meaning to him.

  “Of being a father, I mean?”

  His face said clearly that the idea was preposterous. That nothing had ever scared him in his life.

  Maybe it hasn’t, she thought, certainly I’ve never known him show weakness of any kind.