Authors: NC Marshall
I
pull my sunglasses from the top of my head and place them over my eyes. I
squint at the blaring sunshine, tilt my head back and breathe in the warm salty
air. A few yards ahead, I can see Lola, running through the crowds in a
zigzag-shaped line towards the water’s edge. Her arms are raised up as if she’s
soaring. The heat from the sun burns into my bare shoulders and I regret not
applying a higher factor lotion before stepping out into the midday Australian
heat.
We
arrived from the UK in the early hours of the morning. Sydney is our first port
of call for our two-year adventure. I can’t wait. We have wasted no time at
all. When we arrived, we quickly found our hostel, unpacked and headed straight
out to explore the city that we will be calling home for the next few months or
so. Trying to sleep has been a waste of time as we were too excited and raring
to go, our bodies pumping hard with adrenaline.
Lola
reaches the water’s edge and comes to a halt in front of it. She slips off her
sandals and jumps in, walking out until the water hits her knees. I hear her
squeal with childlike delight as the sea lashes up, curling into a small wave,
and soaks the bottom of her shorts.
“We’re
on Bondi Beach, baby!” she shouts towards me.
I
smile back at her and nod, finding it hard to believe that we are here. As I
continue up the beach, I look out further into the Pacific Ocean where
wetsuit-clad surfers take advantage of its great foaming swells, throwing their
bodies into the waves, fearless of the water’s hidden dangers.
The
golden sand is hot. I am grateful to reach a grassed area at the end of the
beach where the shaded ground looks a little cooler. I cross the promenade and
sit down, as Lola waves at me from the shore and starts to make her way up to
join me. There is an outdoor pool nearby, full of children laughing and
playing, enjoying the weekend sunshine. I can see the famous lifeguard hut
ahead of me and beyond it the old pavilion.
Behind
me on the busy grass verge, three young girls dressed in Bohemian style
dresses, relax barefoot on the lawn. One beats lightly on a small bodhran drum,
keeping perfect rhythm while the others sing along to its beat. Their sweet
voices fill the surrounding area, making the vibe of the place feel even more
alive and magical.
Lola
reaches me and falls down in a heap, lying on her side facing me, propping her
head up on her hand. Her face is already starting to tan, and her shorts are still
soaked through from the sea. We grin at each other and begin to laugh. The
unspoken look crosses between us saying that we can’t actually believe we are
here. After the last few months and the stress from uni, it’s a welcome sense
of relief on both our parts.
We
know that at some point we will have to find jobs; hopefully that won’t be too
difficult. We have a lot of experience from the bars we have both worked in to
get through university and Jan, the manageress from the wine bar has given us
fantastic references. For now, though, a few weeks pretending that we are on
holiday can’t hurt.
*
Later
that night, we decide to go to Circular Quay for some food and a few drinks. I
know that our budgets won’t allow us to do this for the duration of our trip,
but we can make an allowance for our first night here.
We
catch a bus from our hostel on the outskirts of the city and make our way to
Sydney Harbour. As we walk across a main road and under a bridge, I can see the
busy ferry terminals, and beyond that the infamous bridge and opera house. The
sun is setting, and there is an exquisite orange glow around the area. I gasp
at its beauty and pinch myself for the hundredth time that day to ensure I’m
not dreaming.
We
take a slow walk past the many busy outdoor restaurants, heading towards the
opera house, laughing as we stop occasionally to take pictures. A busker with a
didgeridoo sits cross-legged on the pavement, and puts up a thumb to pose for a
photo as we pass. Daylight is now dimming, the city lights behind us start to
dazzle as its nightlife begins to come alive.
We
reach the end of the walkway where the opera house looms from the shadows,
looking quite eerie now that the sun has set, and the darkness of the night
ahead quickly draws in. We head in the direction of a bar which is situated
under the eaves of the opera house. It is busy, with a live band playing in the
centre of the outdoor area.
I
luckily manage to find a table that a group of young girls is just leaving.
Lola heads to the bar to get drinks, pushing her way through the many people
standing in its path. I hoist myself onto the tall bar stool and slip off my
sandals, letting them fall to the ground, appreciating the coolness of metal
against my hot and swollen feet. I decide to take my phone out of my bag, ready
to take more photos of the bridge, now directly opposite me. Its dominant
structure is brightly illuminated by hundreds of white lights. The Australian
flags are flying high and proud in the breeze, at the highest point of its
arch.
As
I search through the many pockets that I could have put my phone in, I hear a
strong Australian accent and a hand taps me lightly on my shoulder. I put down
my bag and glance up in the direction of the voice.
A
tall, well-built man stands in front of me, with short sandy blond hair which
has a slight curl to it and the brightest, greenest eyes I have ever seen. He
looks around my age. He’s wearing jeans and a white shirt which is casually
unbuttoned at the top, flashing a perfectly tanned, smooth chest.
“Are
these seats taken?” he asks, pointing to the two free stools opposite me.
I
shake my head, feeling like I have lost the ability to speak. Lola returns from
the bar and promptly moves her handbag from the seat opposite her for the guy’s
friend to sit down. Quickly, she has her hand out and introduces herself as he
takes the seat across from her.
I
glance back and see the guy sit down and take a quick sip from his large
bottle. He smiles at me, flashing a perfect row of brilliant white teeth. I
can’t seem to look away. I feel nervous, which is definitely a first for me.
I’m usually confident around guys and can make the first move at the drop of a
hat, but somehow this is different. I take a long drink from the exotic looking
cocktail Lola has put in front of me, praying the alcohol will loosen me up and
give me a little Dutch courage. The man holds out his hand towards me, and I
notice that his wrist is dressed in leather string bracelets. I take his hand
and shake it gently.
“Hi,
I’m Jessica, everyone calls me Jess,” I say timidly. He smiles again, and I
melt. I swear I feel electric pulses running the full length of my arm as he
speaks.
“Nice
to meet you Jess, my name’s Adam.”
The
following day I pack my bag, ready for the Christmas party and our overnight
stay at the golf course hotel. After returning home the previous day, I had
taken the pregnancy test and sure enough, as I’d half expected, it was
positive. I’d spent probably about half an hour in the bathroom, staring at the
digital black letters in front of my eyes literally spelling out the answer to
my question: PREGNANT.
I
assume that my contraceptive pill has somehow failed, allowing me to conceive.
I had been stressed out the past couple of months. I know I had missed one, or
maybe even two tablets during this time, but stupidly I hadn’t thought much of
it. I’m not going to mention anything just yet.
Dan
has worked incredibly hard during the past year. He deserves the chance to
enjoy this party without having any pressures on his mind. I have to try to put
my pregnancy to the back of my head for now, although I know that will be
virtually impossible. I still feel a little on the rough side, but nothing
compared to yesterday, so I hope to have a pleasant time. I could do with a little
relaxation too, after the past few weeks.
Dan
has gone to drop Josh off at Ryan’s place. He and Lola agreed to take him for
the night, and they are going to take him to Mum’s. I know that he will be
spoilt rotten and have an excellent time with Liam; the boys get on really
well.
I
pack the rest of my bag and pop out to pick up Dan’s tux from the dry cleaners.
I had bought myself a new dress. The party has a black tie dress code, and
although I already had loads of suitable outfits, it had been a good excuse to
splash out on a new one. I just hope it still fits.
Dan
returns from Ryan’s and puts our overnight bags into the boot of the car. I
hand him the two suit carriers holding our evening outfits, and he kisses me on
the cheek.
“You
okay, Nat?” he asks with concern in his voice, “You look a little pale today.”
“Oh,
I'm all right,” I reply, “Just the tail end of this stomach bug thing.”
I
feel awful for lying to him, but would much rather just wait until Monday to
take it any further. I have a doctor’s appointment booked first thing Monday
morning just to confirm things.
*
We
arrive at the golf course in just over an hour. The drive has helped relax me a
little, and I’m glad that I’ve come. As we pull up to the glamorous looking hotel
entrance, Dan hands the car keys over to the valet, then the porters arrive to
take our bags up to the room. We walk into the reception area to be greeted by
the company’s director, Dan’s boss.
Phil
Maguire has been Dan’s boss for a lot of years. He’s a short, slightly
overweight man with a full head of white hair. He always looks well groomed,
with immaculate dress sense and an all year round tan due to the amount of
Mediterranean holidays he and his wife Karla take. Who could blame them? They
are very well off, and their kids have now grown up and have families of their
own.
Karla
is standing near the reception desk, talking to another of Dan’s colleagues.
She waves as she sees us arrive and heads over towards me. She is dressed in a
pure white figure hugging dress and wears jewellery that I’m sure cost an
obscene amount, more than she would ever let on. Her hair is a mass of brown,
bouncy curls.
We
stand talking for a while. I try to keep my attention focused, but can’t help my
mind from straying back to the baby. I nod in all the right places and laugh
when everyone else does, but I miss the best part of the conversation.
I
pull my attention back into focus as Karla tells me all about the new holiday
home that she and Phil have recently purchased on the Italian Riviera. As
always, she is very modest and never brags about the material things that her
husband’s wealth has brought them. Instead, she says that they are merely lucky
and blessed with what they have been given. I have always liked Karla. Although
clearly very wealthy, both she and Phil have always remained very grounded, and
Dan and I look at them as close friends.
As
I peer through into the large room that holds tonight’s dinner event, I can see
that it looks beautiful. The event has been given a theme of ‘winter
wonderland.’ Even just the small part I can see through the partly open doors
resembles a scene from a film, dressed tastefully with fake snow, blue lighting
and delicate ice sculptures. I can feel a smile develop on my face as I once
again start to relax, throwing myself fully into the conversation as more of
Dan’s colleagues join us, eventually beginning to enjoy myself.
A
short while later we head to our room to get ready for the evening. I know what
to expect, as we were kindly given the same suite as we stayed in last year. A
thank you from Phil for yet another year of hard work and dedication from Dan.
The room is huge, with a large four-poster bed and separate living area. The
big windows are draped with old fashioned style swags and full-length curtains,
and the whole area is lavishly dressed. The view looks out onto a large and
beautifully landscaped garden, beyond which lies the golf course.
I
open my bag and start to unpack as Dan sits down on the bed and smiles up at
me, watching me contently, his head tilted to one side. I have no doubt that he
can sense something is wrong. We have been together far too long for me to be
able to pull the wool over his eyes. He pats at the space next to him, inviting
me to join him. I start to walk over, but as I do his mobile phone rings, and
he reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket to answer it. I am quite
relieved if truth is told, as I know that I’m on my way to being busted. He
checks the display and sighs loudly.
“No
rest for the wicked,” he declares, shaking his head as he holds the phone to
his ear. “Hi John,” he says enthusiastically. Either my husband does love his
job or he is a damn good liar.
I
leave him to it. John is one of his partners in the company, who he has worked
with for many years. Although Dan will be seeing him in a couple of hours time
downstairs when the party begins, I know that there are a few things he will
want to discuss now so he doesn’t have to talk business all night long. I take
the opportunity to slip into the bathroom to take a shower. I point to the
bathroom miming my intentions, and Dan nods. I kiss him on the cheek as I pass,
and take a dressing gown from the wardrobe.
The
hot water hits me powerfully. I turn, allowing it to hit my back and wash over
my soapy hair. As I lather up the soap on my body, my hand crosses my stomach
and I let it hover there a few moments. I know that there will be very little
in there at this early stage, but I’m sure I can feel a slight swell beneath my
fingertips. I turn towards the water and move my face into its flow. Maybe a
baby is a good thing. Josh had been the best thing to happen to Dan and me, and
although we had doubted ourselves at first I think we had become pretty good
parents.
Jess
had never had the chance to start a family. She was good with kids and had
doted on Josh and Liam as her nephews. She had loved spending time with the
boys, taking them out and spoiling them. I’m sure she would have been overjoyed
to become a mum, but the time just hadn’t been right for her and Matt. Maybe,
if she was still alive now and they had returned back to a better place in
their relationship, they would have been thinking about children. Now they
won’t ever have the chance to have a family together.
I
suddenly feel very foolish. Here I am, selfishly wondering if a second child is
a good idea, when it’s a blessing. I nod to myself as I turn off the shower and
step out onto the tiled floor.
Yes,
I think to myself, feeling positive
about the future ahead.
We can do this
. I reach for the towel on the
heated rail in front of me. It’s just out of reach, so I move closer to grab
it. My foot hits a wet patch on the tiled floor and slips forwards. I go to
grab the sink, but my other foot moves too, and I miss it. Both my feet slide
up into the air, and I hit the ground with a sickening thud that I assume came
from my own head hitting the hard floor. I am aware of seeing a pool of blood,
which is slowly starting to gather in front of me, just before I pass out.