Unveiled

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  ‘That’s a relief,’ George breathes, his hand now twitching over his spoon. ‘Can we start now?’

  ‘No!’ Harry shoots his little head back to the table. ‘Everyone needs to close their eyes so we can say grace.’ We all follow through on his order immediately, and he begins. ‘Thank you, God, for Nana Josephine’s cakes. Thank you for giving me the best mummy and daddy in the whole world, and thank you for Nanny Gracie, Pappy William, Nana Josie, Uncle Gregory, Uncle Ben, and old George. Amen.’ I smile and open my eyes, but snap them shut in an instant when he shouts, ‘Wait!’ I inwardly frown, wondering who else he’s grateful for, and come up with nothing. So I wait for him to continue. ‘And please, God, make the mummies and daddies of all the children in the land wear matching socks.’

  I smile and start to peel open my eyes again.

  ‘Amen,’ we all sing in unison; then everyone collects their spoons and dives in, me and Harry included, except my boy is more ravenous than me.

  ‘Nana, may I ask you a question?’ he asks, mouth full.

  ‘Of course! What would you like to know?’

  ‘Why does Daddy call you a twenty-four-carat gold treasure?’

  Josephine chuckles, as do George and I at his genuinely curious question. ‘Because I’m special,’ she says, flicking fond eyes to me briefly before returning her attention to my boy, ‘which makes you a thirty-six-carat gold treasure.’

  ‘Mummy says I’m very special.’

  ‘Mummy is right,’ Josephine confirms. ‘You’re very, very special.’

  ‘I concur,’ I interject, observing George working his way quickly through his first helping. There will be no contribution to conversation while he’s eating.

  A quiet settles around the table as everyone savours Josephine’s delicious cake, and I’m aware of the continuous fond smile she has nailed on my perfect boy. His mummy had a strange effect on me, but this little man sent the world that she made light into blinding beauty. Everything seems utterly perfect when he’s around, without any need to make it that way. Kind of. OK, so our home looks like a Lego bomb exploded in it, but I’m dealing with that. We lost the nappies, bottles and irritating squeaky toys and gained Legos, plastic crockery, and blunt knives and forks. I’ll live. Just.

  ‘Are we too late?’

  I look up and see Greg stroll in, Ben in tow, both looking even more cheerful than usual. It gets me thinking.

  ‘Uncle Gregory! Uncle Ben!’ Harry’s down from the table faster than lightning, running at his honorary uncles.

  ‘Harry, boy!’ Gregory catches him and chucks him onto his shoulder, all very neatly. ‘We have exciting news,’ Gregory tells him, all enthusiastic and tossing a look at his partner, who winks before claiming Harry from Greg. Now I’m really thinking. Exciting news? I rest back in my chair and fold my arms.

  I don’t need to push for enlightenment because my boy does it on my behalf, just as curious as me. ‘What? What exciting news?’

  ‘Uncle Ben and I are having a baby!’

  I swallow down a choke of shock, glancing at George who is actually choking. ‘Blimey!’ he splutters around his cake as Josephine hurries over and starts smacking him on the back.

  I sit up straight and find Harry, my shock turning into pure amusement when I watch him recoil, a little wayward curl falling onto his forehead. He starts shaking his head as Ben sets him on his feet. ‘But who will be the mummy, Uncle Gregory?’

  I snort all over the table, as do Josephine and George, but Greg and Ben just smile fondly at the cute little sod. ‘It won’t have a mummy.’ Greg drops to his haunches, getting eye level with my boy.

  Harry frowns. ‘So you’ll have a baby growing in your tummy?’

  ‘Harry Hart, you little beauty!’ Greg laughs. ‘Men can’t have babies growing in their tummies. I’m going to let Uncle Ben explain how we’re going to have a baby.’

  ‘You are?’ Ben blurts, his cheeks flushing crimson, only propelling my laughter into stomach-aching territory.

  I get a filthy look thrown at me from Greg, making me pull up and shrug an apology. ‘C’mon, Ben,’ I pipe up, popping a piece of cake in my mouth and chewing slowly. ‘How do two men have a baby?’

  He rolls his eyes and looks to Greg, accepting his nod of encouragement and joining him on the floor with Harry. ‘There’s a lady. She’s going to help us.’

  ‘What lady?’

  ‘A nice lady.’

  ‘Does she wear matching socks?’

  We’re all snorting again, including Greg and Ben this time. ‘Yes,’ Greg laughs. ‘Yes, Harry, she wears matching socks.’

  ‘Oh good. Then your baby will be perfect like me.’

  I laugh uncontrollably at his matter-of-fact remark. I should tell him not to be so cocky, but how could I possibly do that when I’m the one who’s constantly telling him he’s perfect. When he’s covered in mud after a day in the park, he’s perfect. When he has spaghetti sauce smeared up to his ears, he’s perfect. When he’s surrounded by the horrific mess of his bedroom, he’s perfect.

  ‘Hello!’

  I snap out of my hysterics and musings at the sound of the familiar greeting, followed by Harry dashing out of the kitchen, losing all interest in Greg and Ben’s exciting news. ‘Nan and Pap are here!’ he shouts, disappearing down the corridor.

  ‘Congratulations,’ I say as Gregory and Ben pull themselves from the floor. ‘I’m really happy for you.’

  ‘Wonderful news!’ Josephine sings, taking them both in a bear hug. ‘Such wonderful news!’

  Poor George grunts his happiness before diving back into the cake he’s been waiting all day to eat.

  ‘I’m here, my precious boy!’ Gracie laughs, and I hear the tell-tale sign of colliding bodies from where Harry has made it to her and performed his usual launch at his nan. ‘Oh, I’ve missed you!’

  ‘I’ve missed you, too, Nan.’

  I roll my eyes. She and William took him out for dinner last night. But knowing her fierce adoration of my boy, I can relate. The school days drag painfully.

  ‘Uncle Gregory and Uncle Ben are having a baby!’

  ‘I know,’ Gracie replies, smiling fondly across the room to Greg and Ben as she strides into the room with my boy coiled around her. I’m not surprised she knows. They’ve formed quite a bond in recent years.

  ‘Hello, Gracie,’ I say.

  ‘Miller.’ She smiles, sitting herself at the table. ‘Hi, Mum.’

  ‘Hello, darling. Would you like cake?’

  ‘God, no! My hips are suffering because of your cake.’

  ‘Your hips are just fine.’ William strides in, giving the back of Gracie’s head a distasteful look.

  ‘What do you know?’ she retorts.

  ‘Everything,’ he fires back confidently, making me smile and Gracie scoff. William gives a nod in greeting to everyone, then makes a huge fuss over Harry, waving a Harrods bag under his nose. ‘Look what I’ve got,’ he teases. ‘Mummy called me and said you got a head teacher’s award last week for being helpful to the other children! Well done, you!’

  I chuckle to myself. Yes, that was before he stole all of their socks.

  ‘I did!’ The excitement in Harry’s eyes spikes my own. I know what’s in that bag. ‘Is it for me?’

  ‘Yes, for you.’ Gracie pushes the bag away and gives William a warning look that he notes quickly, backing off. ‘But first, tell me how your day was.’

  ‘Don’t ask!’ Josephine yells, collecting some plates. ‘Odd socks everywhere!’

  Gracie sighs and Harry’s little head starts bobbing up and down in agreement. ‘Five today, Nan.’

  ‘Five?’ Gracie sounds shocked, which is understandable. We’ve had one or two pairs, but five is a record and it’s shaken my poor little boy’s world to the core.

  ‘Yes, five.’ Harry removes himself from Gracie’s lap and puffs his little chest out in exasperation, but he says no more. He doesn’t need to. Now everyone is here, he wants proof that five isn’
t going to increase. George and I stand, joining William, Greg, and Ben, and we all lift our trousers, revealing our socks for inspection. I really don’t need to be in the line-up – my boy knows he can depend on his daddy – but I comply anyway, just for the sake of it. Plus, I adore his concentrating face when he does this.

  I feel William peek out of the corner of his eye to me and I chance a glance, although I know I won’t like what I see. He’ll have that tired look on his face.

  ‘He’s a kid. Humour him,’ I whisper, ignoring William’s sardonic puff of laughter. I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking that this little quirk has nothing to do with him being a kid and everything to do with him being my kid. ‘It’s just the socks,’ I assure him.

  My little man walks slowly down the line, pursing his lips, like he’s bracing himself for the worst. I know for sure William, Greg, Ben, and I will never let him down, but old George is always a loose cannon. ‘Nice choice, George!’ Harry sings, dropping to his knees to get a closer look.

  I can virtually hear George’s chest pumping up with pride. ‘Thank you, Harry. Nana Josephine treated me.’

  The relief that swoops through me is palpable, and I can sense William’s, too. We both look down to George’s ankles. He has on a pair of thick navy woollen things. They’re vile, but a matching pair so they pass. I look over to Josephine, finding her smiling proudly, and mentally thank her and her forceful ways with the old boy, because the exposure of George’s aged feet is not a pleasurable sight when Harry makes him remove his socks. I shudder.

  ‘Nice?’ William asks under his breath, nudging me with his elbow. ‘We have silk and George’s monstrosities get all the praise?’

  I chuckle and drop my trousers, now the examination is over, watching as Harry jumps up to his granddad. ‘Can I have my present now, Pap?’

  William looks to Gracie for permission, who nods her consent. He steps forward and takes a seat, placing Harry next to him. He immediately tries to snatch the bag from William.

  ‘Hey!’ he scolds, pulling it away and giving Harry warning eyes. ‘Where have those manners gone?’

  ‘Sorry, Pappy.’ Harry’s tail goes right between his legs.

  ‘Better. You know, there’s only one man in this world who I’ll allow Nanny to love more than me.’

  ‘Me,’ Harry states without delay. ‘But you really don’t have a choice in the matter.’

  I can’t help it. I burst into fits of laughter, much to William’s disgust, holding my stomach and wiping at my instantly wet eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ I laugh, knowing I need to rein it in before he swings at me.

  ‘It freaks me out, I swear,’ William grumbles, shaking his head in despair and dodging Gracie’s hand when it flies out to smack his shoulder.

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘Well, c’mon!’ he argues, clucking Harry’s cheek affectionately. ‘How is it possible?’

  ‘He’s perfect,’ I jump in, wiping the crumbs polluting Harry’s fingers away with a wet cloth.

  ‘Thank you, Daddy.’

  ‘Most welcome.’ I want to scoop him up and squeeze him in my thing, but I resist. ‘We need to get going.’

  ‘Let me open this,’ he says, rummaging through the gift bag and pulling out what we all know is in there. ‘Look!’

  His excitement over a pair of socks is way past unreasonable. I know that, yet I’ll never find the rationale to remedy it. ‘Wow!’ I join him in his excitement and take the pair when they’re thrust at me. ‘Very smart.’

  ‘They have horses on them!’ He snatches them back and holds them to his chest. ‘They match my shirt! Ooooh, this is just too cool!’

  I’m beaming. Gracie is beaming. Every damn person in this room is beaming. Don’t anyone ever tell me that my boy isn’t fucking perfect.

  Lifts. There are three of them staring at me. My unreasonable mind believes they are arguing between themselves as to who gets to feel me shaking inside, like it’s the highlight of their miserable day. The middle one wins. The doors slide open and my heart rate cranks up twenty gears. But I refuse to let my boy see it. This part of me I never want to burden him with. Never let your child see your fear. Everyone knows that.

  Why the fuck does the therapist’s office have to be on the eighth floor? I can’t make his little legs climb that many stairs and his little ego won’t allow me to carry him. So I’m stuck with the poxy lift, and I have been since Olivia insisted on us coming here. My mood plummets.

  I feel a little hand flexing in mine, snapping me out of my trance. Shit, I’m hurting him. ‘You OK, Daddy?’ His navy eyes climb my body until they’re locked with mine. They’re full of concern, and I immediately detest myself for spiking any worry from him.

  ‘Fine and dandy, sweet boy.’ I force myself to step forward, mentally shouting a mantra of encouraging words as we breach the threshold of the horror box.

  Focus on Harry. Focus on Harry. Concentrate on my sweet boy.

  ‘Would you like to take the stairs?’

  His question shocks me. He’s never asked before. ‘Why would I want to do that?’

  His little shoulders shrug. ‘I don’t know. Maybe you don’t like lifts today.’

  I feel like a fool. My five-year-old boy is trying to help me. Have my days of hiding this god-awful fear finally come to an end? Has he figured me out? ‘We’ll take the lift,’ I affirm, reaching over and smacking the button for floor eight, probably harder than is necessary. I’m determined to beat this demon.

  The doors close and Harry’s little hand starts squeezing mine. I look down, finding him studying me carefully. ‘What are you thinking?’ I ask, however much I really don’t want to know.

  He smiles at me. ‘I’m thinking you look very dashing today, Daddy. Mummy will like this one.’

  ‘Mummy prefers me in lazy clothes,’ I remind him, laughing to myself when he tuts his disapproval. I dread to think how many suits I’ve bought over the years, all beautiful, yet she still takes a tatty pair of jeans any day of the week.

  The lift dings and the doors open onto the reception area of the therapist’s office. ‘Here we are!’ He darts out, pulling me with him. My heartbeat returns to normal quickly and I soon find myself hauled across the room to the receptionist’s desk. ‘Hello!’ Harry chirps.

  My boy could bring a smile to the face of the world’s most miserable person, I’m sure. And the therapist’s receptionist is the world’s most miserable person. She’s formidable, yet unleashes smiles to my boy like there’s no tomorrow. ‘Harry Hart! What a pleasure!’

  ‘How are you, Anne?’

  ‘All the better for seeing you. Would you like to take a seat?’

  ‘Certainly. Come on, Dad.’

  I’m led to two spare seats, but I’m not graced with an adoring smile from Anne as I nod my greeting. Her cheerful persona slips away the second her stare moves from Harry to me. ‘Mr Hart,’ she practically growls, leaving no room for further conversation when she focuses on her computer screen and starts tapping at the keyboard. She looks like a Russian weightlifter and behaves like a bulldog. I don’t like her.

  Pulling the legs of my trousers up, I take a seat next to Harry and spend some time absorbing our surroundings. It’s relatively quiet, as it always is when we’re here at the end of the day. Our only company is a nervous lady, known as Wendy, who refuses to look anyone in the eye, not even Harry when he’s persistently tried to chat with her. He’s given up now, and refers to her as Weird Wendy.

  ‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ Harry tells me, wandering over to the kids’ corner, where Lego bricks are all packed neatly away. That will soon change. I relax back in my chair and watch him tip the box over and scatter them everywhere, passing a quick glance to Weird Wendy when Anne barks an order for her to proceed into the doctor’s office.

  She scurries off quickly, leaving me and my boy the only occupants of the waiting area, Anne aside.

  I close my eyes and see sapphires everywhere – bright, brilliant, beautiful sapp
hires and wild blonde locks. It’s a beauty that’s so raw and pure, it defies me ever being blessed by it. But she is mine. And every fucked-up little piece of me belongs to her. I accept that wholeheartedly now. I smile, hearing the click of Lego bricks from across the room. And so is he.

  ‘Mr Hart?’

  I jump in my chair at the sound of an impatient voice, my eyes flying open to find Anne towering above my seated form. I stand quickly, not liking feeling so vulnerable under her narrowed eyes. ‘Yes?’

  ‘She’s ready for you.’ She sniffs and stalks away, snatching her handbag up from behind her desk and disappearing into a waiting lift.

  I shudder, then seek out Harry, finding him at the door, his hand resting on the handle waiting to enter. ‘Hurry, Daddy! We’ll be late.’