Hand On Heart: Sequel to Head Over Heels (6 page)

‘It’s not right that he leaves it all to you, though.  She’s his mother, after all.  And she’s not an easy one, either.’

‘I know.  Mark’s going down to London next week to talk to his dad, see what he can do.  Anyway, enough of all this serious stuff.  Look at those two over there; shall we be Shazza and Tracey again?’  She pointed to another couple of unsuspecting men, propping up the bar with a pint each and chatting amiably.

‘No, don’t you dare, one of them is a dad from school!  No, Alex, I’ll never live this down if you do!’

‘Are we there yet?’ Jack griped from the back seat.  ‘I’m bored.’  They were several hours into the long drive to the chateau in France and everyone was ready for a break from the monotony of one motorway after another.  France really was a bloody huge country, even more so when you were crossing it with small children, Grace mused. 

She passed him another biscuit, cascading a torrent of crumbs into the rear foot-well.  Fortunately she didn’t have the kind of husband who was totally obsessed with his car.  Tom wasn’t the sort to make a fuss about a bit of mess that could quite easily be vacuumed up.  Although it might take a full complement of industrial strength car valets to get their car clean when they got back from this holiday.  The biscuit seemed to do the trick for Jack, and he sat happily munching and gazing out of the window as mile upon mile of French countryside whizzed by, before putting his headphones back on and tuning into the film he and Lily had been watching.  

‘Mummy, Lily’s going to sleep,’ Jack piped up.  Grace glanced round to see her daughter dozing off, head lolling as she succumbed to tiredness and boredom. 

‘Bless her,’ she replied.

‘Can I wake her up?’ Jack asked, clearly missing his sister’s company the moment it was no longer available.  ‘I need her to watch the film with me.’

‘No, darling, leave her to sleep.  We’ve still got a long way to go.’

It was still miles to go; they’d only just reached that massively long stretch of motorway that started south of Paris and ended in the Périgord region.  It took them through mile after mile of countryside which was undoubtedly beautiful, but all pretty much indistinguishable and lacking in landmarks.  There was no doubt as to the efficiency of the French AutoRoute system; you could put your foot down – speed cameras and hidden Gendarme patrol cars permitting – and clock up a very healthy average speed.  It was just that it was so unbroken by a landmark of any sort that everything started to look the same, like some kind of very dull and monotonous Groundhog Day.  No wonder there were so many service areas dotted at regular intervals; no one could drive for long in this part of the world without nodding off at the wheel and needing a large shot of caffeine.  Grace was bored stiff, but it would soon be her turn to drive, so she daren’t have a nap; she’d be out cold and Tom would never be able to wake her up.

Grace was glad they had decided not to travel in convoy with the Brookes.  There was nothing worse than following the same car’s rear end for miles, overtaking when they overtook, making sure no one squeezed into the gap between them.  She for one couldn’t concentrate properly on the road if she had to follow someone.  Much better to set their own Sat-Navs and just meet up at the chateau tonight, or en route if they happened to coincide with meal breaks. 

‘I hope this is going to be OK,’ Tom said nervously, referring to the imminent holiday, not the road.  Grace knew he still had some reservations about holidaying with the Brookes family.  The Parrys had never been ones to share their precious family fortnight away with anyone, so this was a first for them all.  Grace wondered too how they really would adapt to living with another family for two whole weeks, even one they knew as well as the Brookes. 

‘Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,’ she replied, trying to convince herself, as much as Tom.  ‘The chateau is huge; we’ll probably only see them for meals and stuff.  And the girls are really up for babysitting.  You never know, we might even get a few evenings out on our own.’  She smiled across at him, and stroked the hand that gripped the gear stick.

It was only natural for him to have doubts. Grace had been on plenty of girls’ weekends away with Evie, but spending all that time together, and with partners too, changed the dynamics completely.  Tom and James had known each other for years, but they were very different people.  James was incredibly ‘corporate’, and the complete opposite from her own husband, who was so laid back, sometimes he was almost horizontal.  Underneath James’ brash and business-like exterior, Grace knew there was a warm and gentle man, who adored his wife and daughters, and was without exception extremely generous to friends and family alike.  But you had to crack that outer shell first, and although Tom had had the time over the years to do this, sometimes even now he found James hard work.  Grace knew there had been an incident during their teenage years involving a girl – wasn’t it always? – which had left a rift for a while.  The two men just had very different personalities, and shared history wasn’t always enough to overcome those differences.  This was compounded by the events of the previous year, which sometimes left Tom wondering exactly how he did feel about his friend. Grace was slowly coming to terms with what had happened, now that Evie was starting to get her life back together, but Tom still hadn’t quite forgiven James for hurting Evie so badly.

‘How far down are we on the map?’ Tom asked.  He was a technophobe at heart, and more than a little reluctant to put all his trust in the Sat-Nav alone, even though the car possessed a perfectly serviceable one.  At frequent intervals he would get Grace to put two fingers on the map – which by now was well thumbed and had biscuit crumbs jammed into the spine – one finger to show where they were now, and another to mark their destination.  This was a little tricky at the moment as they still had three pages of map distance to cover before they were anywhere near to the chateau.  Grace thought her darling husband might just self-combust with joy when the two fingers eventually ended up on the same page, hopefully some time later that afternoon, if all went to plan. 

‘We are here,’ Grace said, humouring him and pointing to a spot somewhere on Page 148, ‘and the chateau is here.’  She put her right hand into Page 155, and smiled at him indulgently.  ‘That make you feel better?’

‘Oh, infinitely,’ he laughed.  At least his little foible gave him regular reassurance, other than the road signs, that they were headed in the right direction.  The number of pages between Grace’s fingers was definitely getting fewer, so that must be good.  French roads were weird sometimes; it could be impossible to find a sign for the place you needed, which might only be a few miles down the road, but every so often a huge sign would pop up from nowhere with a big arrow pointing to ‘L’Espagne.’  He just hoped they came off this endless motorway some time before they did actually end up in Spain.

‘Shitting hell, bloody idiot!’ Tom yelled, slamming on both breaks and horn and checking the mirror quickly to make sure no one was about to shunt them from behind.  He gave two fingers of a different sort to the driver of an ancient Citroen which had come up behind them from nowhere in the outside lane, pulled into a space which wasn’t really there right in front of them, and then slowed down suddenly.  Grace glanced round at the twins; phew, one still sleeping and one plugged in.  No worries then that Jack might have added some interesting vocabulary to his repertoire.  Although knowing her son, he’d probably heard it, stored it up and was saving it for a quiet moment in polite company, when he’d quite innocently and very loudly ask Daddy what ‘Shitting hell’ actually meant.

‘You need to be in that lane, by the way.’  Grace jabbed a finger once Tom had calmed down.  ‘The motorway splits up here.’  Tom executed a manoeuver not dissimilar to the Citroen driver, incurring the wrath of the car behind with a loud ‘Beep’.  Oh well, what goes around comes around on these French roads, she thought. 

‘How did you know that?’ he asked.

‘Sat-Nav said so just now,’ she replied.  ‘When you were busy swearing.’

The phone rang.  ‘We’re at the ‘Aire de Mandé Bois’ for lunch,’ came Evie’s voice.  ‘Want to come and find us if you’re not too far behind?’

‘Um, okay, just working out where we are,’ Grace replied.  She knew perfectly well where they were, but looked to Tom for a sign that he was happy to meet up, or otherwise.  He nodded.  ‘Yeah, fine, looks like we’re only five k’s or so behind you, so see you there in a bit.  Make ours two large cappo’s if there’s a big queue please, my lovely!’

‘Hi honey, had a good day?’ Tom asked as he walked through the front door.  Grace was kneeling on the living room floor in front of the twins’ bouncy chairs, a bottle in each hand, and a baby attached, with limpet-like suction, to the end of each bottle.  He kissed her on the cheek and bent down to kiss his babies’ downy heads.  At the sight of another doting adult, two pairs of tiny arms and legs began to waggle furiously, which in turn set their baby chairs bouncing, but only momentarily dislodged lips from teats, before they decided that quite clearly food was their first priority, and Daddy came second.  Despite their one-track minds when it came to feeding time, their bright little eyes followed Daddy’s every movement around the room.

‘And how are my little darlings today?  Have you been good children for Mummy?’  Then to Grace: ‘Here love, let me take one and give your arms a rest.’  He unclipped little Jack and scooped him from the seat and into his arms, expertly keeping bottle engaged with mouth as Jack’s deep blue eyes bore into him, a veiled threat as to the volume of yell that he could produce at a moment’s notice, should his supply of food cease even for one second.

‘Oh, that’s good, thank you,’ Grace replied, shaking out her left arm.  ‘Gives me cramp, it does, sitting like this, but there isn’t any other way I’ve found of doing it!’  She unclipped Lily and scooped her up into her lap, as she took a seat on the sofa with a sigh.

‘Ahhh, just how do people with triplets manage?  Feed one with their feet?  I suppose we’d have had to get some help, so thank you up there, whoever you are, for providing us with only one child per parent.’

‘How have they been?  Have you managed to get out at all?  Have you eaten even?’  Tom knew just how hard Grace was working to look after the twins.  It really was a case of taking it one day at a time, and sometimes the long days felt like an exercise in basic survival techniques.  He quite often felt like he had the easier option, out at work all day and only around in the evening, for some lovely cuddles, a nappy change or two and tucking up in bed.  And at least now he wasn’t falling asleep at his desk anymore
–
at eleven weeks, the twins were just about sleeping through from very late evening to around five thirty or six, which he and Grace considered a ‘whole night’s sleep’.  They knew they were lucky to be getting that; they’d heard some real horror stories from friends about sleepless nights that went on for years.  How did they cope?  He looked down fondly at his little man.  Sleep or no sleep, I wouldn’t swap parenthood for the world, he thought.  He was looking forward to being around more when term ended in a few weeks.  Grace needed the help, but not only that, he missed them desperately when he was at work all day.

Grace knew she was coping pretty well with the twins, but she had no benchmark to compare to, and having two babies at once was definitely a baptism of fire.  As a complete novice, the proof that she was doing the right things had to be that the twins were healthy, and growing fast.  At each weigh-in at the baby clinic they both seemed to have gained the right amount of weight, and she hadn’t yet been glared at by the scary health visitor for being an inadequate mother.  She was pretty proud of the fact that she’d managed not to leave them at the shops or on the drive in their car seats, or like one of her friends had done, almost folded a baby up with the buggy.  Friends from their antenatal group, who had only spawned one child, marvelled at how she coped, but then coping was the only option, what alternative was there? 

Life was frenetic, but Grace was still trying to cherish every moment, chaotic as it might be.  She didn’t want to come to her senses in three or four years’ time and realise that, not only was the twins’ babyhood all over, but she hadn’t enjoyed or remembered any of it.  She hoped to be able to look back at the baby photos with fond memories, remembering how happy they had been that day, or what they had done, instead of noticing just how frazzled she looked.  It was highly likely that she and Tom wouldn’t have any more children
–
they had their instant family, one boy, one girl, which was perfect. They’d talked about it at length and both of them felt their family was complete as it was.  They wanted to devote all their time and energy to the twins, and at the moment, they certainly required lots of time and every ounce of energy they possessed.  Grace had heard that things got easier with twins, once they were able to play together, and without wishing their early days away, she looked forward to the time when that would happen.

‘Well, I took them into Purbrook today to meet Evie for a coffee.  Boy, that was a barrel of laughs.  I got the double buggy stuck in two shop doors and Lily puked on my cake, then Jack decided to fill his nappy, very loudly and wetly, when he was sitting on Evie’s lap.  She was brilliant, though.  It didn’t leak, thank God.  Can you just imagine if it had!  All over Evie’s lovely clothes.  I know it’s been ages since she had kids in nappies but she helped with feeding and held one of them all the time for me.  Think we might get her round here next time though.  It might just be a bit easier.  Hey, I’ve been super-organised today, there’s even a lasagne in the oven.  Not homemade though.  Ocado delivered it and I’ve managed to find the time to stick it in the oven.’

Tom chuckled.  How brilliant she was, his fabulous wife, and she still had her sense of humour.  She was Superwoman at the moment.  Well, she always was, but even more so now.  Shattered Superwoman, he knew that, but the best mother the twins could possibly have.  He smiled as he watched her gazing down at their now dozing daughter, her eyes brimming with love.  Having taken her fill, Lily was nodding off on the bottle, a small trickle of milk escaping from the corner of her little rosebud mouth.  She was going to be a beauty, that one, just like her mother.  Grace hauled her up into a sitting position and she shuddered as an almighty burp erupted from the depths of her tiny frame.  They both laughed.

‘Anyway, I’ve got some good news.  I didn’t want to phone you, I wanted to tell you in person.’

Grace perked up, her eyes wide.  ‘You got it?  You got the job?’

‘Yes!  I did!  Worcester here I come!’

‘Oh wow, babe, that’s fantastic news.  I knew you’d do it.  Who wouldn’t want my lovely, clever husband to run their school, eh?  Best decision they’ve ever made.’  She leaned across to him and planted a huge kiss on his cheek.  ‘Here, Lily, kiss your clever Daddy.’  But Lily was fast asleep now, and couldn’t care less where Daddy’s career was heading, as long as it gave him enough income to continue buying her favourite formula milk.

‘It’s brilliant, darling, really it is.  Hey, I think we’ve still got something sparkly in the wine rack from the days before babies, I’ll shove it in the freezer quick.  It’s only Cava I think but we have to celebrate once these two have gone to bed.’ 

Grace would miss having Tom at Cropley School when she returned to work, but his moving on at some point had only been a matter of time and the right opportunity coming along.  His career was on a steep upwards path and the move into private education would give them considerably more income and a better standard of living.  He had promised her a cleaner if the job came off.  That would be an absolute lifesaver at the moment, she thought, looking around the room at the piles of laundry on every available surface.

Two hours later and the pair of lovebirds were snoring on the sofa, empty pasta bowls and half-empty glasses of Cava abandoned on the coffee table.  They’d managed just a few celebratory sips of alcohol each before the need for sleep had overcome them both.

Tom stirred and nudged his wife.  ‘Come on love, bed.  I’d love to say I’d whisk you off upstairs for a night of unbridled passion to celebrate, but I just don’t have the energy, sorry.’

‘S’OK,’ muttered Grace.  ‘Tired.  Bed.  Now.  Sleep.  Party animals, aren’t we?’

‘Welcome to parenthood, my love.’

‘Right, everyone out,’ Tom announced, as they pulled into the service station.    Jack unplugged himself from his headphones and gave Lily a shove.

‘Hmppphh,’ Lily moaned sleepily, before coming to and giving her brother an equally hard shove.  ‘Mummy, Jack just hit me,’ she said in an indignant, whiny voice, hoping Grace wouldn’t notice that she had responded in kind.

‘You two…’ Tom began, his voice rising.  He didn’t need to say any more for them to know he meant business.  Grace spied on them in the vanity mirror, as each stuck their tongue out at the other.  She knew they loved each other really, but sibling spats were inevitable, no matter how close they were.

The service station was chaotic, with cars parked everywhere and their occupants spilling out onto the grass verges, but they could see James and Evie up ahead, leaning against their car, keeping a look out for them.  Imogen and Anastasia were nearby, propping up a lamp post and looking bored, as though the idea of being on holiday with, let alone being related to, their parents was a fate worse than hell itself.  Looking after two five-year-olds was exhausting, Grace thought, but at least at that age they didn’t come with attitude. 

It was all up front with little ones; if they had a gripe then they dealt with it there and then instead of letting things fester and sulking about it.  Whatever had happened to Evie’s two young, sweet daughters?  Was it just the inevitable march of puberty that snatched away charming, delightful creatures and replaced them with aliens?  It was so unfair after all the effort you had to put in during the early years.  She supposed they’d got all that to look forward to in a few years’ time, but for now Grace was unable to imagine her two (generally) adorable children ever skulking around like that. 

‘We might as well have lunch here,’ Grace said, although where the twins would put any more food, she wasn’t quite sure.  Until Lily had nodded off, it felt as if the pair of them hadn’t stopped stuffing their faces since they’d disembarked from the Eurotunnel.  And not with anything healthy, unfortunately.  It had been a constant stream of carbs and sugar, as they seemed to be the best substances for keeping boredom at bay.  Maybe Grace should force-feed them some fruit at this stop.

‘How’s it going guys?  Nearly there,’ James joked lamely, as the Parry family strolled across to them, stretching their aching limbs.  He looked bleary eyed.  It was probably still a good two hundred and fifty kilometres to go.  ‘’Bout time I let my lovely missus take the strain of the wheel for a bit, me thinks.’ 

Evie handed Tom and Grace a still steaming cappuccino each, a couple of baguettes and a packet of sandwiches for the twins.

‘Well, this is nice, isn’t it?’ Evie breezed.  ‘Whoever would have thought we’d have our first French meal together standing in a service station car park?’  The men made a few Francophobic jokes about bad car park design, bad French driving.  And then as they took their first sip, bad coffee.

‘What do you have to do to get a decent coffee round here?’ James hooted.  ‘Shag a Barista?  Must be an open market for Starbucks, surely?  Why haven’t they conquered France yet, goodness knows no one else has ever had trouble conquering this country, have they?  Now, there’s a business opportunity for someone.’

Close by there was the rev of an engine followed by: ‘Wahoo!’  The four adults swung round.  A bright green VW Camper Van screeched past, so close to them that Tom instinctively flung his free arm out across the two women.  A few metres further on, it pulled to an abrupt halt, and a young Frenchman leapt from the passenger seat.  He ran across to the group, kissed Evie hard on the cheek and ran back to his companion in the van before they shot off again.  He waved out of the window to Evie with a ‘Ah, comme j’adore les filles anglaises!’

‘Cheeky bloody sod!  What the hell was all that about?  Do you know him, Evie?’

‘Um, ah, no, of course I don’t!’ she began, still in shock.  ‘Never seen him in my life!’  She wasn’t sure if she should feel abused, violated even, that a complete stranger should do that to her – after all, you wouldn’t get away with that back home, would you?  But nor could she help the strange feeling of elation that crept over her, alongside the deep crimson blush of excitement that was starting to work its way up her body and was setting her neck on fire.  After all, he wasn’t some dirty old Frenchman with a stripy tee shirt, beret and string of onions, this was a prime specimen of French youth and vitality, and for some reason he had chosen her to kiss, out of all the women he could have picked.  It was all harmless fun, wasn’t it?  And that thing about loving English girls – how did he know she was English?  Did she just
look
English?   She was no girl, either, but she certainly felt like one at the moment.  She tried to contain the glint in her eye as she glanced across at her two daughters to gauge their reaction; both were tapping away on their iPhones and didn’t look as though it had bothered them too much.  Either that or they’d photographed their mother’s embarrassment for posterity, and the whole thing was now doing the rounds of Facebook and Instagram and getting ‘Likes’ galore.

Grace thought Evie looked like she had quite enjoyed it. Evie was wondering if the man made a habit of that sort of behaviour, or had he simply seen her and been struck by her rare beauty and done the most daring thing he’d ever done.  Yeah, right, chances of that were pretty slim. 
Get real
, she thought to herself.

James was still indignant and ranting and so hadn’t noticed the coy blush on his wife’s cheeks: