Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes (46 page)

As they sat together with the fields
and towns blurring by the window, Helen realised she had stopped
really
seeing
Marcio since the babies were born. They had
existed like co-workers sharing a punishing shift pattern as they
divided between them the load of nappy changes, feeds and rocking
the twins to sleep.

Soon both babies were fed and the
swaying of the train had rocked them to sleep. They slumbered, each
nestled on a parent, while Helen and Marcio chatted gently about
something and nothing. There was still some constraint between
them, things unsaid, things that would have been better unsaid.

Helen looked down at the tiny face
nestled into her shoulder.
The last time your daddy and I just
sat together was when I was in labour, waiting for you to arrive. I
love you very much, but he’s important to me too. I need to find a
way to fit you all into my life, without losing myself. It won’t be
easy, but I’m going to try.

Turning away from his contemplation of
Helen’s beautiful face, as she dozed on the other side of the
table, Marcio gazed out the window at the familiar landscape. It
seemed he had spent too much time on the train to the south-west
recently.

Should I come clean? Is now the time
for confessions?

He looked back at Helen’s sleeping
form. Her face was peaceful; the strain of recent weeks erased by
sleep and the lulling motion of the train. His heart twisted in his
chest at the sight. It was wonderful to be so close to her again;
he couldn’t bring himself to spoil it.

Chapter
Twenty-One

Maggie took one look at Helen’s careworn
face and clucked her tongue. Turning to Marcio she said in a tone
of voice somewhere between friendly and threatening, “You haven’t
been taking very good care of my daughter!”

The rebuke hurt, but Marcio
acknowledged it was deserved. He had been so caught up in his own
fears and worries, he had failed to see how exhausted Helen was,
never mind appreciating the pressure Daniel was heaping on her. It
cut him to the quick to have let both Helen and Maggie down.

Hanging his head, Marcio said
sheepishly, “I know, Maggie. I’ve failed miserably. I intend to
make it up to her, I promise.”

“Well, you can start now. Helen,
darling, you need some time away from the babies. No time like the
present.”

“All I want right now is to sit with a
cup of tea and let the world stop moving.”

The novelty of being on the train with
Marcio had worn off after an hour or two, and the reality of
travelling with infants had returned. Although the twins had slept
most of the journey, she had still had to face the challenge of
changing a nappy on a tiny swaying table in a smelly toilet
cubicle.

“Of course, darling. But after that, I
want you to go and have a nice long sleep or get outside and fill
your lungs with good Devonian oxygen. Marcio and I will mind the
babies, won’t we?” Her face brooked no denial.

When it seemed Helen might protest,
Maggie linked her arm through her daughter’s and led her to a sofa,
lecturing her in her finest
Mum knows best
voice. “Although
they’re only little, the twins are still a huge responsibility,
smothering you like a heavy cloak. You probably don’t realise
you’re wearing it, but you’ll feel the difference if you just have
an hour or two without them.”

As she sank gratefully into the worn
sofa cushions, Helen realised her mum was right; she hadn’t
actually been more than a few feet away from the twins since they
were discharged from hospital a month ago. In fact, aside from
their short sojourn in intensive care, she hadn’t been away from
them in nearly ten months if she thought about it.

“Thanks, Mum, it would be nice to be
able to take some pictures again. I’ve barely had the camera out
since the birth.”

As she curled into the protective hug
of the sofa, warming her hands on a steaming mug of tea, Helen
looked out the window at the darkening sky.

Marcio’s eyes followed her gaze. “Do
you want to wait until the weather gets better?” His voice was
heavy with concern.

“Not at all. Rays of sun through storm
clouds are one of my favourite things. It’s so dramatic. I’ll be
fine, I’ll take a coat.”

Suddenly eager to be off, Helen drained
her tea and stood up with unexpected vigour.

“If you’re sure. You take it easy,
you’re still recovering.”

“Marcio, I’ll be fine,” she said again,
kissing him on the cheek. She checked on the twins, who were both
still sleeping after the long train journey. “I’ll be back in an
hour.”

Helen realised the truth of her mother’s
words almost as soon as the house was out of sight. Striding over
the hills, unencumbered by pram or baby bag, she felt an
unimaginable weight drop from her neck and shoulders, like lifting
off a heavy rucksack. She felt as if she could bounce like a baby
deer across the springy hillside grass.

Best not. Knowing my luck I’ll fall in
a rabbit hole and sprain my ankle.

The indigo sky ahead and the hazy sun
behind drew out the latent colours from the winter hedgerow.
Normally a dull brown, they were alive with purples and oranges,
the lighting effect better than any that could be achieved in a
studio. Behind the towering grey clouds a rainbow shone weakly.

Nature is just so dramatic
.
Helen smiled. She loved days like these. The constantly changing
colours made her feel alive and urged her to reach for her camera.
For the first time in weeks she felt something other than tired and
alone.

Around her the grass glowed
emerald-green as it marched in great swathes down the hillside.
Helen stood face-on to the wind, willing it to blow away the fog
clouding her senses, to energise her weary limbs. It dragged tears
from her eyes and made her nose stream like a sick child’s.

Even though she was away from Daniel’s
grasp and on the road to reconciliation with Marcio, Helen still
felt low. The exhaustion from weeks of round-the-clock feeding,
together with the constant fear that she would make a terrible
mistake and one of the twins would be taken from her, pressed her
soul deep down into the ground beneath her feet. The water being
dragged from her eyes by the wind soon became real tears.

And then all her fragile delight was
gone. Even here on the hillside with her precious camera ready to
capture the scene, she felt desolate and desperate. Helen stood
with her camera dangling from numb fingers, the tears threatening
to overwhelm her.

Don’t cry. You have cried enough tears.
Focus, Helen, focus. It will get easier, it will get better.

Helen concentrated on breathing through
the pain, as she had in labour. It was so hard. The world seemed
black, narrowed to a tiny point, and it was so difficult to
think.

Helen turned to face the way she had
come, about to head back to the farmhouse and admit defeat.
I
can’t even be away from the twins for five minutes without falling
apart. I really am pathetic.

As she turned, the sun’s rays shone
from a cloud over to her left, illuminating a hillside just out of
sight. It seemed symbolic somehow, as if joy were someone else’s
always just out of reach, over the horizon.

It has to get better
, Helen told
herself again. Spinning round in a circle, she took in the endless
landscape, the moody sky, the lack of human life.
I have to find
the strength to get through this.
The word
strength
resonated in her mind, and she remembered Dawn’s words from months
before.
Strength will come.
Maybe all she needed to do was
just take one day at a time, put one foot in front of the
other.

Thinking back to Zoe’s last visit,
Helen remembered more of the wise words the health visitor had
imparted to her.

Being a new mum is like learning to
sail a boat. To begin with you need to just sit really still, fight
the seasickness, try not to get thrown overboard. After a while,
that will be easy, and you’ll be able to pull up a sail. Which will
seem hard, but soon that too will be easy. In no time you’ll be
sailing, enjoying the view. There will always be new challenges and
new joys, but in a surprisingly short time you will find yourself
wondering why you ever had to sit still just to avoid falling out
the boat.

Then it felt as if strong studio lights
were being shone on her as, for a brief instant, the sun shone
fully on her tear-streaked face. It was dazzling and seemed to
illuminate something in her heart. Then, as fast as a shutter
click, it was gone. In that tiny moment, though, a spark of hope
landed on the dry tinder of her dreams. She dared not fan it, for
fear of extinguishing the light.

Let it smoulder,
her mind said.
Let it burn.

When she returned to the farmhouse,
Helen’s cheeks had regained some colour and her heart felt lighter.
She hadn’t taken many pictures, content just to walk briskly
swinging her arms, breathing the fresh air and clearing her lungs
of London smog. Much as she loved the city, she couldn’t deny that
the air was sweeter here away from the traffic.

She found her family all sat together.
The twins were awake and, it seemed, had both just consumed a large
bottle of formula. Helen felt a small pang, until the twins sensed
her arrival and both started mewing for mummy. Feeling an answering
let-down sensation, Helen swiftly sat and allowed Maggie to hand
her both of the twins to be latched on.

It was lovely, to have people to help,
to bring her a footstall and a mug of tea. The seasickness was
fading and she felt almost strong enough to haul up the sail.

Curled up next to Marcio on her squashy
family sofa, Helen looked at silent baby monitor on the table, and
let out a sigh. Her parents sat in their armchairs, reading their
books, while she and Marcio enjoyed a rare child-free cuddle. The
room was warm in a way their flat never seemed to be, and the walls
sat sturdy around her. She felt able to relax for the first time
since leaving hospital. She hadn’t realised how much the thought
that Daniel might appear and demand the babies had permeated her
mind. It was only now, when she knew they were safe, that she was
aware of the fear.
Now I know they’re safe
. Even if Daniel
found out where she was, and made the journey down, he would still
have to deal with her father, Marcio, and of course Dylan the goat.
Mum had been true to her word and had tethered him near the front
gate.

When her phone began to ring, the room
went silent. Helen was expecting Daniel to call, as he’d said he
would come round to the flat that day, and he would want to know
where she and the twins were. Looking at the phone vibrating on the
table, his name in neon letters, she wondered if she would have the
courage to answer it.

Marcio squeezed her hand, “do you want
me to talk to him?”

“No,” she said firmly, “I have to do
this.”

She picked up the phone and walked into
the kitchen where the signal was best, and where she could be
alone.

“Hello?”

“Helen, where the hell are you?” All
pretence at charm had vanished from his voice.

“Away.”

“That’s obvious. I’m standing outside
your flat and there’s no-one home. How dare you? You knew I was
coming round today. This is not helping you, Helen.”

Helen’s hands shook and her stomach
lurched. She hated confrontation and, even though he was hundreds
of miles away, hearing his ire pouring into her ear was making her
legs wobble.

Pull yourself together, Helen. He can’t
hurt you. It’s just words. Be strong.

Sitting carefully in the same chair she
had curled up in months ago, on first leaving Daniel, Helen
concentrated on everything that had happened since.
He has made
you feel weak for too long. You are stronger than this.

Focusing on the fact that she was
currently safe from his machinations, Helen poured all her emotion
into the anger simmering beneath the fear. Through the phone held
to her ear Helen could make out Daniel’s breathing. She could
almost hear him trying to remain calm.

“When will you be back?” The deliberate
pronunciation of the words conveyed how tightly Daniel was holding
on to his temper. Instead of scaring her, it made Helen smile. It
felt good, to have the upper hand for once.

“I’m not sure, really. Is it important?
What’s the urgency?” She allowed her words to come out slowly,
knowing it would infuriate Daniel. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I
was taking the twins,” she continued breezily, not sounding at all
sorry, “But really, it isn’t any of your concern.” She held the
phone away from her ear, waiting for the explosion.

“What do you mean? Of course it’s my
concern, they’re my children. Do you want me to contact social
services, tell them you have kidnapped my son and daughter?”

The icy menace in his voice made Helen
shiver, but she forced herself to remain calm, to keep her voice
relaxed. “How can I kidnap my own children?”

The calmness, more than anything,
seemed to get through to Daniel. She heard him draw breath. He
clearly wasn’t about to give up without a fight.

“I have a right to see my children.”
His voice was almost petulant.

“Actually, you don’t. Not without my
say so. And I don’t say so.”

“I’m their father, I have rights.”

Helen could almost imagine Daniel
stamping his foot. He wasn’t used to people contradicting him. She
wondered if anyone ever did?
Maybe I should have tried it
sooner, instead of tip-toeing around him like an idiot.

“I’m sure you have
some
rights,”
she said soothingly, as one might talk to a small child demanding
ice cream. “But as we’re not married, have never been married, were
not a couple when the children were born and I was, and still am,
living with someone else, I’d say those rights are fairly
minimal.”