Marcio happened to be looking straight at him as he caught sight of Helen, and saw the emotions that passed over his face. First recognition, then disgust, as his eyes scanned across her gigantic form, her face puffy from water retention and lack of sleep. Marcio had a pretty shrewd idea who the man must be, and seethed internally but said nothing. With any luck he wouldn’t want to come face to face with Helen while she was with him, and would leave the party before he was spotted.
It was a vain hope. The man said something to the group of people he had arrived with, and made his way over to where they were sitting.
“Helen. You look amazing.”
Helen looked up at the familiar voice, her face stony. “What are you doing here? Where’s your fiancée?”
Ignoring the last barbed remark, Daniel lent casually against the wall and responded languidly to her first comment. “Mike invited me. You know Mike, does work for me from time to time. You’ve entertained him at our place before.”
Our Place. Helen remained silent. It had never occurred to her that Karen’s Michael would be Mike, Daniel’s lawyer. She didn’t even realise he was married.
As her silence continued, Daniel seemed to realise that more effort was required. He pushed himself away from the wall and moved nearer to Helen.
“I miss you.”
Helen turned away and resumed her perusal of the bookshelf.
“I am so sorry, words cannot express my remorse at my behaviour.”
Even to Helen’s ears it sounded rehearsed. Marcio found he had to swallow a snigger. Did he really think Helen could be won over so easily?
Daniel must have sensed the stifled laugh because he looked over at Marcio for the first time. His glance took in Marcio’s dark jeans, navy polo shirt, leather jacket, as if mentally comparing them to his expensive, tailored outfit. He then returned his gaze to Helen, dismissing Marcio from his mind as if he were the hired help.
Marcio found he was forced to stand by helpless while another man attempted to woo his girl from under his nose. He didn’t know whether to laugh at the man’s audacity or simply punch him. In the end he did neither, but instead responded to the silent message in Helen’s eyes, and made an excuse to leave them alone. He had to trust in her love for him.
Once Marcio had left, Daniel steered Helen to a sofa in the quietest part of the lounge. Helen found that her body responded to his domineering behaviour even while her mind screamed at her to snap out of it and tell the bastard to get lost.
“Darling, please tell me you forgive me. I was an idiot. I don’t want our children growing up without knowing their real father. You won’t deny them that.”
Part of Helen marvelled at the skill in his words. Of course she wouldn’t deny her children anything. They had a right to know their origins, even if she didn’t approve of them. If he sincerely wanted to know them, which she doubted, she couldn’t say no. He probably had a legal right to access for all she knew. Some of her earlier fear, that Daniel would try and portray her as an unfit mother, would try for custody, came back into her mind. Anything would be better than that.
“I won’t deny you access,” was all she said, “But it will be on my terms.”
“Of course.”
Marcio finally located them in the corner and headed towards them with drinks. Daniel seemed to decide it was opportune to quit while he was ahead. His demeanour was meek, but Marcio could have sworn he saw a victorious glint in the man’s eye that left him feeling slightly nauseous.
Any desire to be sociable departed with Daniel’s retreating form. By mutual consent Marcio and Helen agreed to head back to her apartment and see the New Year in together, just the four of them.
Chapter Seven
He was loath to admit it but meeting Daniel at the party had rattled Marcio. While he was still a shadowy form from Helen’s past he hadn’t seemed much of a threat. In Marcio’s mind he had taken on the role of the pantomime villain, the evil person Helen had fled from, to find happiness in his arms.
Now, however, he was too real. Marcio had felt his writer’s instinct flare up in the short time he’d been around the man, and every nerve screamed heartless bastard.
I wouldn’t trust the man to give me the right time of day.
He had to admit, however, that Daniel hadn’t come across as a villain. He was tall, good-looking, charming, well dressed. Marcio was conscious of a sense of fear.
Helen was equally subdued after the meeting. Marcio’s stomach twisted painfully as he recalled how Mia had gone quiet, before the wedding. Was Helen having second thoughts too? Was she regretting leaving Daniel? Did she imagine the life they could have together, bringing up their babies in their luxury apartment, every necessity catered for? It ate away at Marcio, consuming him, until he thought he might go crazy.
“She says it’s because she’s scared Daniel might try and sue for custody.” Marcio explained one night on the phone to his sister Benita.
He needed to talk to someone and it didn’t seem right talking to Helen. He realised that, despite being his best friend, there were things he couldn’t share with her yet.
“Do you think this man might try and take the children?” Benita sounded sceptical. “Did he not suggest she terminate them?”
“People can change. He certainly got very cosy with her at the party.”
“Did she respond?”
“I left them to it. I can stand many things, but not watching another man try and seduce my girl.”
“Maybe you should have stayed to fight for her?”
“Do you think I needed to?”
Visions of Helen leaving him for Daniel swam through his mind. It made him feel sick. It seemed like history repeating itself all over again. Only worse. Even though they had known each other for only three months, Marcio already felt closer to Helen than he ever had with Mia. The babies too. When he felt them kick, his heart beat with joy at impending fatherhood. But he wasn’t the father. Daniel was.
“Do you think so?”
Marcio was initially confused at Benita’s words, having lost the train of the conversation within his own dark thoughts.
“Do you think you need to fight for her?” Benita clarified, when Marcio didn’t respond.
“I think Helen loves me. Certainly she tells me, every day. I just worry that Daniel has more to offer.”
“Such as what?”
“Money. Which we will need, with twins to care for. Helen’s getting work now, but that will stop soon. I’m not sure I can support us both on my wages, and still pay off my debts.”
“Then Mia should help with the debts. You know my thoughts on that.”
Marcio did, it was an argument they had had before. He needed to change the subject.
“It will be different. When we have our new place together. A fresh start. It’s hard, of course, not spending every night together.”
Benita was silent for so long Marcio wondered if the battery had gone on his phone. Eventually she said, quietly, as if fearing to upset him.
“Be careful, brother mine.”
Marcio was indignant that Benita felt the need to caution him. Helen wasn’t going to hurt him, not like Mia had. Still, he understood the root of his sister’s words, and his only response was, “I will, Benita, I will.”
Chapter Eight
Helen felt goosebumps rise along her arms as they approached the front door. She looked at Marcio and his face mirrored her feelings. Helen could tell that Marcio was trying not to get excited, but this was by far the most promising start. The house was old, Victorian at least, with red bricks glowing in the weak January sunshine. The apartment was ground floor, which Helen would once have dismissed as unsuitable. Now the risk of being accessible to burglars had to be weighed against buggy logistics and garden access.
As they waited for someone to answer their knock Helen could see the apartment had its own front door and she, too, felt her excitement rise.
With the due date looming there had been
no time to lose in finding a place where they could live together. They had discussed it at length on New Year’s Eve, almost as a way to drive out Daniel’s presence and his attempt, deliberate or otherwise, to ruin their night.
They were agreed that the perfect flat would have to wait. If the babies decided to come early, as Rachel had said they might, they only had a couple of weeks to find somewhere and move in. It was a daunting prospect, and the practical part of Helen knew they should wait until later in the year. However, unbeknownst to her, one of the many hormones released into her body by the pregnancy seemed to come with a nest-building urge that was hard to subdue. She found that, almost overnight at 30 weeks, she had an overwhelming desire to create order around her, to ensure that everything was ready for the babies’ arrival.
Thus it was with an uncharacteristic zeal that she began scouring the internet and the property pages for a three bedroom flat to rent that was even vaguely in their price range. They very quickly agreed that a 2-bed would be fine, for the six months they were intending to rent, as the twins would be in their room for that time anyway, so the second room could be a spare-cum-nursery. Helen was sure her mum wouldn’t mind yellow walls and a changing table in the corner.
By the time they had traipsed around the tenth flat and had dismissed it out of hand, Marcio and Helen were resigned to staying put in their respective places until the spring. Helen made a deal with herself that, if this last place they had lined up to see was no good, she would give up quietly and concentrate on relaxing before the birth.
Eventually they could hear footsteps along a tiled floor, and the large white door swung open to reveal a lady, bowed with age but with a twinkle in her eye that suggested mischief.
“You’ve come about the apartment?” She opened the door wider as they nodded, and ushered them inside.
“Hello, I’m Muriel, I live upstairs. The apartment has been empty for a few weeks, so you can come straight in. Have you come far? You must be tired.” She eyed Helen’s bump with warm approval.
They explained that Helen’s own flat was actually only a few streets away, and that they knew the area well.
“It is a good area.” She showed them a cloakroom by the front door, before taking the other exit from the hallway, which led straight into a sunny kitchen. Her clogs clip-clopped on the quarry tiles.
“Good for children,” she continued, with a nod at Helen. “When is he due?”
As she took in the details of the kitchen; the warm red and yellow tiled splash-back which complemented the red floor, and combined with the pine units to give a farmhouse feel, Helen answered absently, “They’re due in February.”
“Twins?”
Helen nodded, nervously.
“How lovely.” Muriel beamed at them again.
Helen was relieved; some landlords and fellow tenants had balked at the idea of two tiny babies.
The lady continued, “I live above you and my hearing isn’t so good. You need not worry about any noise. Besides, I’ve seen it all before. I had nine.” She sighed, “They’ve all flown now.”
Nine! Helen could only imagine, although Marcio, being one of seven, was nodding as if that were perfectly normal.
Leading off from the kitchen was a sun-drenched lounge, with original wood flooring, two battered but comfy-looking red sofas, and a large sash window overlooking the street.
Marcio gestured at the open fireplace and murmured, “Perfect for getting cosy in front of when it snows.” He winked, and Helen blushed, hoping Muriel was as deaf as she made out.
The main bedroom was at the back, with two windows onto the garden. The garden door was in the second bedroom. Helen wasn’t sure about having outside-access into the nursery, but she bit her tongue. There was no way she wanted to find fault with this gorgeous flat. Time enough to worry about that when the twins had moved out of the master bedroom.
“The garden is just for this flat. It made sense to me to have it that way, as I never go out there, and the top flat has a single lady in it. She works in the city, we barely see her. She is going to wear herself out, poor dear, but she seems happy enough.”
The garden was tiny, a bare patio no bigger than the room they were standing in. It was surrounded by a high white wall trailing ivy, providing shelter whilst still allowing the sun to enter.
Turning to Marcio, Helen’s face shone, and he came over to take her hand.
“I’m afraid there’s no bath,” Muriel was saying, as they stuck their head round the shower-room door before heading back into the lounge.
“We’ll buy a baby-bath,” Helen said, again not wanting to find anything wrong. She shared a look with Marcio, and he turned to Muriel.
“We’ll take it. When can we move in? As you can see, time is of the essence.”
“Today, if you like,” Muriel said, gesturing for them to sit at the small pine table that nestled under the bay window. “Once I have your deposit, the place is yours.”
Helen and Marcio smiled at each other in relief. Even though there were a few weeks until the babies were due, they didn’t want to still be moving house with tiny babies to care for.
“The flat is partly furnished, as you see. You are welcome to keep or dispose of the furniture; it was left by the previous tenant who returned overseas. Do you have much to bring?”
Helen thought about her cluttered flat, and all Marcio’s books. They would need to avail themselves of some storage.
“We have, but most of it can be packed up and stored.”
“There is a cellar you can use for storage. It is already quite full, but it is dry. Any space you can find is yours.”
Helen felt she might have to pinch herself. To go from all the things they had seen, to suddenly finding this place. She gave a small prayer to whichever deity might be listening, and then sat back contented while Marcio made all the arrangements.
He planned to bring the bulk of Helen’s things over the following weekend, so she could get herself settled and everything organised for the babies. He could bring his own things, most of which would go in boxes into the cellar, in the evenings and around his assignments. His flat was further away, but they had borrowed a car for a few weeks as Helen was getting too tired to manage the tube, and taxi fares were too pricey to be a permanent solution, so shuttling belongings around wouldn’t take long. Thankfully neither of them had a great deal of furniture, and nothing that couldn’t be disassembled and strapped to the roof-rack.
As they left, Marcio caught hold of Helen’s hand and kissed it, before pulling her close. Standing outside the front door after Muriel had closed it, he looked down into her eyes, his face suffused with wonder.
“Well, Ms Morley, our first place together. Are you happy?”
“More than you can possibly imagine, Mr Thomson. Are you?”
His response was to lean down and brush her lips gently with his, then her eyelids, before kissing a trail down her cheek and behind her ear, where he knew she was ticklish.
Helen giggled and pulled Marcio tighter for a proper kiss. Time stood still as Helen lost herself in the moment. The babies began to kick in response to Marcio’s contact with Helen’s stomach, causing Marcio to pull away in mock protest.
“Enough of that, you too. When I want to kiss your mother I will.” The moment had passed and, giggling at his outraged look, Helen intertwined her fingers with his and led him down the path that led back to her apartment.
Helen felt light, despite the weight of the babies, as they walked back to her flat. Not only had they found the perfect place to live; in a matter of days she would be somewhere Daniel didn’t know, somewhere he couldn’t come and take their babies away.
Chapter Nine
Helen cursed as the suitcase wheel caught on the door frame and flipped over. How can clothes be so damn heavy? She pushed it back onto two wheels and tried to get through the doorway again.
They had accepted the new apartment two days ago and she was itching to to get moved in. Ma
rcio had made her promise, before he left for work that morning, to stay put and not do anything until he got home. It had seemed harmless enough to wheel the suitcase containing her day-to-day clothes round to the apartment, as it was only a few streets away. Now she was starting to think he had been right. Damn him. And damn this stupid suitcase for having a mind of its own.
“Here, let me help you with that.”
Startled at the sound, Helen looked up from bitter contemplation of the offending suitcase and saw Daniel at the bottom of the short flight of steps leading from the front door to the pavement.
Aware of her flushed face and internal ire, Helen cursed under her breath. Great, that’s all I need.
“I’ve already managed it down two flights of stairs; I think I can handle it, thanks.” She tried to fill her voice with as much indignant authority as she could manage, aware as she was of the sweat patch between her breasts and the tangle of her hair.
“You should be resting.” He stood passively, regarding her. Helen couldn’t tell from his body language whether he was amused or trying not to antagonise her. It was unlike him not to have reached past and taken the case away.
She leant against the door frame, glad of the rest, and glared down at the man she had once intended to marry. The steps leading down from her flat, which were previously an annoyance, were now giving her a satisfying height advantage
“You are not in a position to tell me what to do. You threw away that right when you tried to throw away our babies.”
He looked calmly up at her. “They are still my children, whatever stupid things I said in the shock of the moment. I care what happens to them, whatever you may think.”
Not trusting herself to respond, Helen turned her back on Daniel and went back to getting the suitcase through the door and down to the pavement. Luck favoured her and the suitcase came obediently down the stairs, finishing neatly on the path. She hoped Daniel would have left by the time she turned back round, but she knew it was a vain hope.
Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes Page 26
