All the Forbidden Things

by Jones, Lesley

  We drink, we hug it out, we go home to our women, and now, here we are. All together on Christmas morning, enjoying the chaos.

  After the girls finish opening their presents, they start handing out the adults gifts, which we were all instructed to place under the tree.

  I made a point of pushing Billie’s to the very back because I want hers to be the last opened.

  Wren passes me a tube-shaped gift that looks somewhat like a Chrismas cracker. I shake it, and something rattles inside. Belle passes Billie what I know is her gift from me. My mum and Cal know what’s in it and apparently so does everyone else because the room begins to fall quiet.

  Billie reads the label and frowns.

  “I’m not sure this one’s for me,” she tells Belle.

  “It is, Max told me it was yours,” Belle reassures her. Billie looks at me and I nod.

  “Open yours first,” she orders.

  “Bamm …”

  “This present is for someone called Autumn Sun, I’m not sure it’s even mine.”

  “Ah,” Jake says. “Autumn Sun, I get it now.” I turn towards him and shake my head, seriously wondering how he gets through life.”

  “If you open yours first, I’ll open this,” Billie offers.

  I pull the ribbon from one end and tip the tube up, the first thing that falls out is a key.

  “What’s this?” I ask with a frown.

  “Pull out the paperwork,” Billie tells me.

  Doing as she says, I pull the paperwork out, unroll it and read. It’s the deeds to a house. The house we fell in love with in St Ives, Cornwall. The house we couldn’t buy because my legal team had advised me not make any large purchases until my divorce was settled. I’d been devastated when the agent rang and told me the property had sold, and I’ve kept it a secret from Billie for the last three days, not wanting to ruin her Christmas.

  “You bought our house?”

  She nods, then shrugs. “Well you couldn’t, and I wasn’t missing out on our dream home because of that bieeeeep …” Billie trails off, attempting to rein in her language around Jay’s girls.

  I’m stunned, and it takes me a moment to process.

  “You bought a house.”

  “We bought a house, it’s ours. Now close your mouth and open the rest. This part, you might not be so happy about.”

  I stare at the key and the paperwork a little longer, floored, but also loving the way that Billie tackles life, always going for what she wants. I so hope Layla grows up to be just like her.

  I tip the tube up, and a piece of plastic lands in my hand. I think it’s a USB stick at first, and frown as I stare at it.

  “Whoa, dude,” Jake says from somewhere beside me. “How many bedrooms you got in that new house? Coz it looks like you’re gonna need them.”

  And that’s when it hits me. My head spins. The floor feels like it falls away, and the room disappears around me. When everything rights itself, it’s better, it’s perfect. I look at Billie.

  “You’re pregnant?”

  She nods. I open my arms for her because I can’t form words. I keep opening my mouth but try as I might, nothing’s coming out. Cheering, back slaps, hand shakes, cuddles and tears ensue, and in the end I crawl on my knees to where Billie sits on the end of the sofa, and I kiss her.

  “Thank you,” I whisper against her mouth. She pushes my hair off my face and smiles down at me.

  “I told you it would happen if you didn’t buy condoms.”

  “And I told you I was never buying condoms again. When’s he due?”

  I know he’s a boy. It’s only been minutes since I found out the news, but I know that Billie’s carrying my son. I lean in and kiss her belly as she claws at my scalp through my hair.

  “Well that’s the bummer. He’s due early July when you’re on tour.”

  I look up at her and smile. “We’ll work it out.”

  “We always do,” she grins down at me.

  “Now open your present,” I tell her.

  I remain on my knees in front of her and watch as Billie pulls at the gold ribbon wrapped around the rectangular box.

  She pulls off the paper, and takes off the lid. Removing the tissue she finds the handwritten song sheets I placed in there last night. Unfolding them, she starts to read:

  From death you crawled

  In pain you found me

  Two souls destroyed

  Not looking for love

  The timing wrong

  My heart not open

  But you looked at me baby

  Like I was god above

  Autumn sun

  Slid across my skin

  Warmed my body

  Outside and in

  Autumn sun

  shine down on me

  Warm me in those places

  That bring me to my knees

  I watch as Billie reads through each of the song sheets, her fingertips pressed to her lips, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Her eyes meet mine and she clears her throat. “That’s …” she shakes her head. “That’s the most beautiful present I’ve ever had. Thank you.”

  She leans in and kisses me oh so softly on the mouth, her eyes dancing a path across my face.

  “I love you,” I tell her. “Lift up the rest of the tissue, there’s more.”

  She does as I tell her and pulls out the small velvet box. I watch her, trying to gauge her thoughts, but I get nothing, not until she opens it.

  “I know we can’t do it yet, I know we’ve still got shit to get through, but when the time’s right, will you marry me, Bamm?”

  She smiles and nods, and laughs and cries, all while kissing all over my face.

  “But how, how did you get this?”

  “I asked your brother’s permission, he told me about the ring, I went to the little jewelers in town and they fixed it all up, and added a few extra diamonds for me.” I watch as her eyes dart over my shoulder and she smiles.

  “You going to put it on, or keep it in the box?” I question.

  “Oh yeah, sorry. I want you to put it on for me.”

  I watch as Billie pulls what was her mum’s engagment ring from the box. The cushion-cut ruby is surrounded by diamonds, and was set in a white gold band, but the jeweler in the village has spent the last few days setting it into a diamond band for me.

  She hands it to me, and we both stare at it in silence for a few moments, before I slide it on her finger.

  “Finally, Bamm, we’re getting our us. Merry Christmas. I love you.”

  The room erupts.

  Max

  Six Years Later…

  “Is she nearly done, Daniel’s here?” I ask Billie who looks up at me from where she sits in the rocking chair in the corner of our kitchen, feeding Sunny, our three-month-old daughter.

  “She’s asleep, but you know what’s likely to happen if I move her off me, she’ll scream like she’s still starving, or I’ve pinched her.”

  “Why anyone would choose to live so far from civilisation is beyond me.”

  Billie looks over my shoulder, and I turn to watch Daniel Milliano walk into our kitchen.

  “Put your boobs away, Bamm,” I turn back around and say to her.

  “Oh, don’t mind me. Like I’ve told you both a million times, I like dick.”

  “Do you like my dad? Mummy says he’s a dick.”

  Kez, our five-year-old appears between my legs, crawling across the floor sniper style. I swear the kid has some kind of secret ninja skill because he always manages to appear out of nowhere.

  “We don’t say that word, it’s not nice,” I tell him while narrowing my eyes on Billie. She narrows hers right back.

  “What word?” My son rolls to his back, looks up at me with eyes an identical colour to mine and asks.

  Billie has always described my eye colour as ‘bird of prey gold’; the day we came to look at this house, a kestrel was sitting on an old tree stump watching us from the back paddock, and she brought u
p the eye colour thing again, saying that if we ever had a son, she wanted to name him Kestrel. I agreed, knowing full well no kid of mine was ever going to get the shit kicked out of him at school for having a name like Kestrel.

  After watching my wife endure a twenty-seven-hour labour, when our son finally came kicking and screaming into the world, I was ready to hand her my very soul on a platter.

  We compromised and came up with Kez, which I love. Now, getting to know the little shit, Damian, Lucifer or Little Fucker might have been more appropriate options.

  Don’t get me wrong, with every fibre of my being, I love the mischievous, loving, thoughtful little boy staring up at me.

  “I can see right up your nose, but don’t worry, there are no boggies up there.”

  “Good to know dude. Where are your brothers?”

  “Not sure. they said they was gonna find LaLa.” He shrugs, and I lean down, pick him up under his armpits and swing him up onto my shoulders just as Sunny starts to scream.

  I'd once told my wife I wanted a house full of redheaded girls. We had one. I was now done with that idea. One was more than adequate. My daughter is constantly hungry, always angry, and rarely sleeps.

  She is a wide-awake, hangry baby.

  Sunflower Autumn Young has a head covered in dark auburn hair, the biggest blue eye’s, a dimple in one cheek, and only smiles for me. After Layla and our three boys, I finally got my redheaded daughter, who is the image of her mum. Unfortunately, the only times the kid really settles are when Billie’s feeding her, and I’m either singing to her, or she’s sleeping in the crook of my arm or lying on my chest.

  “Muuuuuum!” Layla’s cry comes from somewhere in the house, and I know that Drix or Mac have found her. If she’s shit out of luck, it could be both.

  Our four-year-old twins are an equal match for their older brother when it comes to getting into mischief. They’re well mannered and polite, but they’re also boys, and trouble apparently finds them at every step.

  “Please go find the twins and stop Layla from killing them, I’m far too tired to be giving witness statements to the police today,” Billie says.

  Dan stands silently watching as I take Sunny from my wife, who expertly covers herself up after feeding our always hungry daughter. Right on cue, she gives a loud cry.

  “Hold on dude,” I tell Kez, who tucks his calves under my armpits and laces his fingers in my beard, beneath my chin. I settle Sunny against my chest and turn to search for my twins, in the hope I find them before my firstborn does any lasting damage.

  I stop in front of Dan. “Tell me again why this whole parenthood gig’s not for you?” He shudders, shoos me away with a flick of his wrist and says, “ugh, I don’t even know where to begin. Don’t get me wrong, I love your children dearly, but that’s probably because I only see them a few times a year.”

  “You’re missing out man. I can’t imagine my life any other way.”

  And it’s the truth. Billie and our kids are my world. Despite our rocky start, we got our us, and it’s more than I ever hoped it could be.

  "Thanks, but I'm delighted with my life of occasional hookups, and going home to Ted my Cavoodle . . . speaking of which, are the devil dogs with your devil spawn, or can I expect to be terrorised by them too?” Dan asks about our rescue dogs, Edna and Jack-Jack.

  "You're safe for now. They're upstairs with Layla, she's probably painting their claws and dressing them in tiara’s and tutus," I reassure him.

  “Or that’s what she’s doing to the twins, and they’re protesting. That’s probably what the noise is all about,” Billie adds.

  “Muuuuuum! Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad!” Layla’s cry for help again comes from somewhere in the house.

  An hour later, the kids are all settled over at my mum's cottage she shares on the grounds of our property with her partner, Aaron. Yes, that Aaron . . . And now I'm settled next to my wife about to give my first interview in over four years.

  The only reason I agreed to this is that it’s Dan who’s asking the questions, and we want to bring some attention to the farm stay charity Billie has set up to help children who are victims of trauma or violence.

  “Okay people, are we ready?”

  Billie nods as I reach for her hand, give it a squeeze, before pulling it to rest on my thigh.

  A cameraman and boom operator arrived shortly after Daniel. A blue screen has been set up behind us, and we’re all sitting comfortably.

  “So, Max and Billie Young, it’s been a while, tell me what you’ve been up to since YWR’s last album and tour?”

  Knowing how much Billie hates this kind of thing, I answer first.

  “Well, we finally finished renovating this place, we’ve just had another baby, I’m busy writing for the next album, and Billie’s been setting up her farm stay charity.”

  I smile down at my wife and give her hand another squeeze.

  “The charity sounds amazing, Billie, tell me a little more about that?”

  “We have twenty-four cottages built around a communal area which contains a play park, benches and barbeques. We have chickens, which have to be fed and their eggs collected every day. We have goats, and pony’s in a paddock, and we have horses for riding, who also need to be mucked out and fed. There’s an indoor pool as well as a small cinema.”

  I watch as she gives a small laugh and bites down on her bottom lips.

  “When I say it all out loud, it sounds like a lot.”

  “There is a lot, it sounds amazing,” Dan tells her.

  “It’s a great place, a quiet place for kids who may have experienced any kind of violent trauma in their life to come and just chill out, be kids again.”

  “And you set this up after your own experiences as a child?”

  “Kind of. I just know what worked for me. I escaped to my aunt's ranch in California, it was a place I found I could work off my anger, and process what had happened to me … to my parents.”

  “And the kids who come to stay, they’re expected to help out with the animals?” Dan asks her.

  “It’s not expected, they’re welcome to help as little or as much as they like, but most want to do everything. For some of the kids, those from innercity areas, they’ve never ridden a horse, or been to a beach . . . Oh, I didn’t mention the beach did I, sorry.”

  I smile as she gives a small laugh and shakes her head, my heart feeling like it’s about to burst with pride at what she’s managed to pull together, while juggling four kids and a pregnancy. I slide my arm around her shoulder and lean in and kiss her temple. She tilts her head up and gives me a sideways smile before carrying on. “The beach is just a short walk from the cottages. It’s somewhere the kids can also swim, although, we make sure they have lessons in the pool first, and surf. All of our instructors and staff are police checked and hold the appropriate paperwork for working with children, over half of them are fully qualified counsellors, and some are even victims of trauma themselves.”

  A camera crew have already been out to the farm—which is set up just across the road from our own place, but we’re not making that fact public—The footage will be broadcast with the interview, along with all of the appropriate links for making donations, and information on how to apply for a break in one of the cottages at Sunflower Stays.

  “So, life in the country has worked out well for you both, do you miss London at all?”

  “No.” Our answer to Dan’s question is quick and unequivocal.

  We’ve not lived in London permanently since all of the drama with Whitney happened six years ago. My house in St John’s Wood was sold the following year, and although we still have investment properties there, we no longer have a permanent home in the city. Our time is spent here, at the place we bought close to Billie’s family in Australia, or at the cabin we purchased on the edge of Lake Tahoe.

  “We prefer life away from the city. Cornwall gives us much more freedom to live our lives quietly, away from any press intrusion, and it means o
ur kids are being raised around animals, close to the beach, and all of this wide-open space.” I gesture with one arm spread as if the wide open-spaces are surrounding us and not the walls of our home.

  “So you don’t miss the press attention then?”

  “Absolutely not,” I jump straight in to answer that one. “The way Billie was attacked by the media during my divorce is something I’ll never forgive them for.”

  “And Whitney Federov, the mother of your eldest daughter—”

  “Billie’s my eldest daughter’s mum. She’s been that since the day she came to work for me when Layla was just eight or so weeks old, and we made it official when Billie adopted her on the same day we were married.”

  “And Whitney has no contact with her dau—with Layla?”

  “None. The courts awarded me full custody, but we made it clear at the time if Whitney ever wanted to see Layla, we’d have no problem with that. She never has.” I try not to sound pissed off, we agreed to this line of questioning before agreeing to the interview, Dan said it would help put paid to any rumours that were still floating around out there about my relationship with my ex-wife.

  “And the band, has your rift with Callum Wild been mended?”

  Billie laughs and looks up at me shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

  “There is no rift with Callum Wild, he's my best mate, bandmate and brother-in-law. Yeah, he hated it when I first got with Billie, but he soon got over it.”

  “Is it true he punched you when he found out?” My hand instinctively goes to my jaw, and I scratch my fingers over my beard and laugh.

  “Yeah, he punched me. He put me on my arse if you must know, but come on . . . she was twenty-two, I was thirty-eight, a single dad and still married, I’d have ripped his head off if that was my little sister.”

  “And yet here you are, six years later, four chil—”

  “Five. We have five kids,” Billie jumps in and corrects him.

  “Sorry, my apologies. Five children and appear to be very happy. I wonder then, how is Callum responding to the rumours circulating about a potential relationship blossoming between Makenzie Wild and Jake Wright?”