Deranged Marriage (51 page)

‘We’ll be right behind you,’ my mother shouted as I waddled down the stairs and waited for Joe to get the car, my car, and bring it to the door.

I screamed in pain as he drove to the hospital, a little too fast I think. All I could think of was my epidural and the end of the pain. It really, really bloody hurt. I always knew it would but believe me the reality is worse. It was more like torture than giving birth. Maybe that’s what happened. Someone had to give birth and so they set a test of goodness, and men were better than women (hard to believe I know), so God said that women would suffer by being the ones to give birth.

Oh dear, madness had revisited.

*

We were in a hospital room, and it was happening. All the emotions of the past nine months had gone as the nurses spoke to me, Joe clutched my hand for dear life, I heard that ‘my party’ were all waiting outside. I knew they would be there for the birth as they had been throughout my pregnancy, although not actually present. The anaesthetist arrived at some point and talked me through the epidural before leaving me again, and later returning to administer it. I had no idea of the time I had been there already but I think it was hours. It felt like hours. I was aware but I was unaware as the labour took hold, then the pain relief set in, then the birth began.

The pain I had felt when the contractions started were indescribable. Terrified, I screamed and I clutched at Joe’s hand and I swore and willed them to leave. I had never known such pain, never. But as soon as the epidural took hold the pain sub-sided and I felt as if I could cope after all. I didn’t have time to think, there were people telling me to push one minute, then not the next and it was all so bloody confusing, and all the time Joe was looking in wonderment at the whole event. Well he would, he never had to bear such agony. I managed to keep my thoughts to myself.

I could feel the sweat, I was exhausted, I didn’t know how long it had been, minutes, hours, days? It felt like days. I looked at Joe and asked him through gritted teeth.

‘Six hours,’ he replied and he kissed my head. And although I wanted to stop, to go to sleep, to have some peace and quiet, that kiss, that little kiss made me one hundred per cent better. I could have run a marathon after that kiss.

‘Push,’ someone commanded and I pushed with all my new found might.

And then I saw it. A head. Gory, but it was a head. Then I pushed some more and time was suspended as was reality because something incredible, amazing, and unbelievable was happening. There was a baby.

‘It’s a boy.’ The first words I heard properly as the baby was handed to me. I looked at him, all covered in blood and I looked at him and I loved him, more than I’d ever loved anyone. Then they took him away and I panicked but people were talking to me all the time, and I heard his first cry. He had a good set of lungs on him.

‘Is he all right?’ I asked.

‘He’s perfect, Hol,’ Joe answered, and I saw the tears in his eyes through the tears in mine. We had done it. The perfect miracle, the best thing ever. And I was feeling so bloody corny.

Eventually, it seemed like hours but it probably wasn’t, I was told that everyone else could come in. Joe held the baby for the first time, then went to call his parents. I didn’t ask him how he felt, because I knew that the moment he saw him, he’d fallen in love too. It was written in his eyes. It had been over six hours but it was worth every bloody minute just to see and cuddle the tiny bundle wrapped in the tiny blanket. I had already forgotten the pain; I had mother’s amnesia.

Everyone rushed in, which made the small room a bit crowded, even more so than my flat had been. Everyone was emotional.

‘I can’t believe you’ve done it,’ Lisa exclaimed, as if I was the only person in the world to do it. But that was how it felt. It didn’t feel like a normal thing that women did everyday, it felt magical and unique.

‘He’s beautiful,’ my mother said as she held her grandson.

‘Looks just like you,’ my father said, although he looked nothing like me, because he was a baby.

‘Are you OK?’ Freddie asked, standing back and peering at the baby over my mother’s shoulders.’

‘I’m fine, perfect in fact.’ Then Imogen held him and so did Jack, and Francesca sort of touched him but declined holding him, just yet. Max had a cuddle as did Lisa and my baby son slept through it, which I hoped was a good sign for the future.

‘My parents will be here first thing in the morning,’ Joe said, on his return. ‘Well done, you were fantastic,’ he added planting a kiss on my forehead. ‘It was gruesome wasn’t it?’

‘I can’t remember,’ I said, and laughed.

After a few minutes of the baby being admired, the nurse told everyone that they should leave.

‘I’d be in trouble for letting so many people in here,’ she chastised, but I didn’t care.

‘They’re family,’ I said. She smiled and left.

‘Have you got a name?’ Freddie asked, as everyone prepared to go. I looked at Joe.

‘Jamie,’ he said, proudly.

‘Jamie?’ my mother asked, a little surprised.

‘We thought about James, but decided that we preferred Jamie,’ I explained.

‘Welcome to the world Jamie,’ I said, as I held him, exhausted. The nurse returned and ushering everyone out, took him from me and placed him in a hospital cot by the bed. He slept on.

‘I need some sleep,’ I said, when the room was empty apart from Joe and myself.

‘I’ll stay, if that’s all right,’ Joe said, uncertainly.

‘Of course it is. You can stay forever.’ I wasn’t sure if the effect of the drugs was still with me, or if it was the euphoria of giving birth.

Joe sat in a chair by the side of the cot, I could see him stroking the baby’s arm as I closed my eyes.

‘Hello, little fellow,’ I heard him say. ‘Although I’m a proud and silly man, I do love your mummy.’

I felt the smile stretching across my face. We would be fine, I knew that now. I also knew that the people who mattered, my grown up friends would always take care of us, and that Joe would always take care of us and I would take care of Jamie.

Chapter Forty-six

Paternity

My fingers trembled as I dialled the number. It didn’t help that I had had to wait hours so that I didn’t call New York in the middle of the night, the wait only heightened my nerves. I wasn’t sure why I was so worked up about the call but I believed it had something to do with the fact that now everything would be finished. Resolved. Finally. No more unanswered questions. The past was really and truly that.

I misdialled because my hands wouldn’t do what my brain was telling them, and I swore. I tried to calm down, using my yoga breaths of pre-pregnancy, but that brought back memories of so much stress it was almost enough to make me hyperventilate. ‘Concentrate,’ I said aloud, as I made my fourth attempt to dial his number.

I hadn’t spoken to him since that last day in the café. Imogen had told him about Jamie, the day he was born. She had then told him when we were taking the test. He offered to pay for it, but I refused. I didn’t need his money. Imogen said that he had been so reasonable, so calm and so concerned, but I didn’t want to hear that for myself. After giving birth I wasn’t strong enough for George.

But now I was. I knew that no one else could deliver the news for me. I was the mother of the child, George had spent months as the potential father, so it was only right that I spoke to him myself. But it was hard.

The thought of talking to him brought back all the memories I had tried so hard to expunge. Not only the ones of the past year but also before that. Memories of our childhood, the one that I had to learn to put behind me, memories of friendship that was no longer there.

Finally, I heard the ring tone.

‘Hello.’ It was her.

‘Julia, it’s Holly.’

‘Hi, hang on.’ She sounded friendly, and I almost liked her for not trying to make small talk with me.

‘Holly.’ His voice still haunted me. Still made me feel sad and happy and confused. I knew at that moment that I would always miss our friendship, our unbelievable, magical friendship.

‘I got the results.’ I twisted the telephone chord around my finger as I tried to stop the nerves. Why was I feeling like this?

‘Holly, tell me.’ He sounded kind, not arrogant, he was commanding me but gently. I wondered how he was feeling, but I couldn’t imagine it.

*

The pause seemed to last for ever, I willed her to get on with it, but I also knew that whatever the outcome, the telephone call wasn’t easy for her. I needed to cut her some slack. I owed her that much. And more. But as I glanced over my shoulder and saw Julia, standing in the doorway, shoulders hunched, lightly chewing her lip, I knew that this wasn’t yet resolved and we all needed it to be. Yeah, Julia had forgiven me and yeah, we were together forever, but if I was going to be the father of Holly’s baby, that was going to affect the rest of our lives. How could I be a father living in New York? Would I back out and let Holly and Joe bring up my son? These are questions that I have asked myself ever since I left London. They are also questions that Julia is asking me constantly.

Everything serves as a reminder of how I messed up. Holly, sitting at the end of the phone, sick with nerves, Joe. How must he be feeling? Julia, biting the skin off her lip and me, well, I felt pretty churned up. But then I deserved it. I had done all this, it was all me. It takes two, they say, that’s what Julia says when I have my worst moments of guilt. And I still do. They’re pretty black. I almost want to deny myself the happiness I feel just to give into the guilt, but I don’t, I don’t because Julia won’t let me. As I feel the tension in my shoulders I glance at her again and I know exactly what I want Holly to say.

Up until now I have had mixed feelings. At first, when I found out she was pregnant I wanted to be the father, but then I also wanted to marry Holly. When I got back to New York I began to feel confused. Part of me felt that I would love to be a father, but I knew that I wanted to be a father with Julia. Part of me felt even more guilt for acknowledging that but I had no idea what I would do. Until now. Now I know, for the first time exactly what I want.

‘Holly,’ I prompt again, gently.

‘Sorry,’ she says, but still I have to wait.

‘It’s OK.’ It is OK, although I can’t figure out if the delay is a good or a bad thing.

‘Joe’s the father,’ she blurts, finally.

I feel myself go hot, then I feel cold. Then an immense feeling of relief washes through me. However much I sound like a bastard, I am pleased. More than pleased, I am overjoyed and I am sure Holly is too. I put my hand over the receiver because there is a wonderful woman who needs to be put out of her misery.

‘It’s Joe’s,’ I call across to her and I see her break into a smile. Then I smile.

‘Holly, are you still there?’

‘Yes, George.’

‘You must be over the moon.’ I say this with genuine feelings of warmth.

‘I am.’ She giggles. ‘I’m so happy George, I really am. So is Joe.’

‘I’m happy too. Holly you deserve to be a family at last, after everything...’

‘Past George, let’s leave it there.’

‘I really wish you all the best for the future.’ I know I sound distant but the news means I can at last gain some distance from my guilt, from the past, from everything.

‘I do too. For you and Julia I mean.’ She sounds equally formal. Like a stranger almost.

But that is what had to happen. I had to sever all ties. Not just because of the guilt, but also because you can’t always carry the past into the future. Sometimes you have to let go.

‘Bye George, take care.’

‘You take care too.’

I know, as I put down the phone, that I will never speak to her again. I will grieve for our friendship at some point, but for now I will go to the woman I love and think about our future, and our future baby and our happiness. It might sound selfish but it’s not. It’s right.

*

I feel so relieved as I put down the phone. I didn’t know how he would react but he reacted the way I wanted him too. I didn’t want him to be the father of course, but I didn’t want him to be disappointed, although I don’t know why. Probably I will never make anyone fully understand the extent of our friendship, I cannot even voice it to myself, but suffice to say I wanted him to be as pleased with the result as I was. Or not quite as pleased as I was, because I was really, utterly, amazingly pleased, but I wanted him to think that it was the right result.

Because, undoubtedly it was.

I turn away from the last conversation I will ever have with my best friend and I stop.

He is standing in the doorway. His hair is a little long because he hasn’t had time for a cut, he is wearing a black polo-neck shirt with flecks of baby sick, his gorgeous legs are clad in a tight, scruffy pair of jeans, and his feet are bare. And in his arms is my son, our son, Jamie. And I see him bend down and plant a kiss on his tiny little head and I feel an overwhelming surge of love, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I smile through my tears, because I can’t help them.

It was time to say goodbye to my childhood once and for all, because that was gone, past. Another childhood was beginning and that was the only thing that mattered.

If you enjoyed
Deranged Marriage
by Faith Bleasdale, you might be interested in
Living It Up, Living it Down
by Norma Curtis, also published by Endeavour Press.

Extract from
Living It Up, Licing It Down
by Norma Curtis