‘Are you very busy at work?’ Helen asks with vague casualness as she and Kester watch television together.  She offers her left ankle to be massaged and lets her right slip from the cushion on his lap onto his knees. Her gaze is fixed on the screen. ‘Either you need cream on your hands or my feet need cream on before you start. I might as well be rubbed down with sandpaper,’ she complains from the other end of the sofa.

‘I’ll get some in the adverts,’ he mumbles, his attention focussed on the programme too, although his hand does stop moving in the meanwhile.

‘Are you?’

‘Am I what?’

‘Very busy at work.’

Kester drags his eyes away when the scene changes from a taut exchange of dialogue to an aerial view of cars careering through country lanes, and stares at her reproachfully. ‘No, that’s why I’m away from here by half six and you don’t see me again until eight and nine at night. Of course I’m bloody busy. You know I am.’

‘Fine.’ Helen shrugs and goes back to watching the film, although his unusually harsh words bring a slight flush to her cheeks and the sting of tears to her eyes. ‘I think I might feed Alfie and have an early night,’ she decides and hauls herself to sitting by holding onto the back of the sofa as she slides her feet to the floor. ‘I’ve lost track of this.’

‘That’s because you keep talking,’ he mutters, pressing the button on the remote control to raise the volume.

‘It’s the only time we get to talk,’ she says quietly and leaves the room.

Helen squeezes cat food from a foil pouch into a dish and stooping to place it on the floor for a happily purring Alfie, spends a moment or two stroking her hand along his back. ‘You’re getting thin, my little friend,’ she whispers sadly. ‘Thin and old. I wonder how much longer I’m going to have you to talk to.’ A tear drops to spangle his coat and she wipes it away with the next stroke of her hand. ‘I think this baby might be a mistake,’ she admits to her feline confessor. ‘Quite a big one.’

‘Tell me you don’t mean that.’

Kester’s voice startles her and she hurriedly stands up, turning her back to him while she disposes of the pouch in the waste bin and turns on the tap to wash her hands at the sink. ‘I thought you were watching the film.’

‘I’ve got it on pause. I came to say I was sorry for biting your head off. Tell me you didn’t mean that,’ he says again, moving slowly across the room but stopping just short of touching her. ‘Tell me you want this baby as much as I do.’

‘Of course I do.’ Helen says brightly but does not turn round as she soaps her hands.

‘Look at me and tell me why you think it’s a mistake.’  He watches while she rinses her hands and takes a sideways step to the towel rail, again without looking at him. ‘Helen? This is important, I need to know.’  Trying to control the tremor in his voice, he sounds moody and bad-tempered. ‘Why is our baby a mistake?’

‘I said might be, that’s all.’ Red-faced, she stalks past him and into the utility room to collect folded laundry from the basket on top of the tumble drier and when she realises her mistake in letting herself be cornered, takes her time in sorting the ironing from the things can be put straight into the airing cupboard.

‘Talk to me.’

‘Are you sure you’ve got time?’ she levels at him caustically, holding the laundry tight to her chest and glaring for him to move out of the way.

‘I’ve got time,’ he sighs, dropping his gaze and pushing a hand through his hair. ‘I’m sorry, okay. I was being a boor; you didn’t deserve any of that but I’m here now, alright? And I want to know why, why is our baby a mistake? Might be a mistake,’ he corrects.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘Not to me it isn’t. I thought you were looking forward to it same as me.’

‘Oh, that’s easy for you to say!’ Helen fires back. ‘If this baby sees as much of you as I do, it won’t even know it’s got a father!’ Despite her resolve, her mouth quivers and tears spill over. ‘How on earth am I going to cope? How will I manage on my own? I don’t even know anything about babies!’

Kester takes the laundry from her and puts it back in the basket. ‘Come here,’ he says softly and puts his arms around her. ‘You think I know anything about babies?’

‘That won’t matter if you’re never here to do anything, will it!’ she sobs, resisting his hug and trying to pull away.

‘I’ll do my bit.’ He links his fingers behind her back, making it impossible to break free, and looks down at her.

‘When, exactly?’ Helen slaps out her frustration on his chest. ‘Sundays if it’s lucky and the occasional night feed if you’re not too tired? That’s the only time you’re likely to see him...her....it.’ She chokes on another sob. ‘I’m scared, Kester! I’m scared I’m not going to be able to cope!’

‘Of course you’ll be able to cope.’ He cups the back of her head with his hand and presses his lips against her hair. ‘‘It won’t always be like it is now. I’ll be here. We’ll muddle through together.’

‘I don’t want to muddle through!’ Her head comes up so sharply it hits his chin, forcing his teeth into his tongue.

‘Shit!’ His instinctive reaction is to step back and touch his fingers to his mouth to check for blood.

‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry!’ she steeples her hands over her nose and mouth, her eyes wide above them when his fingertips show watery red. ‘I didn’t mean for that to happen, I didn’t, honestly.’

‘Will you calm down?’ he laughs. ‘I know you didn’t.’

She looks on horrified. ‘It’s all over your teeth!’

Kester turns on the tap and scoops water into his mouth with his hands, rinsing and spitting into the Belfast sink. ‘Better?’ he asks, exaggerating his smile. ‘It’ll stop in a minute. They always bleed a lot. Looks worse than what it is.’

‘I really am sorry. Let me see.’

‘Now is not the time for sticking my tongue out at you,’ he refuses with a humorous grimace and a shake of his head and puts his arms around her once more. ‘You were saying something about not wanting to muddle through?’ He nudges her forehead with his nose to make her look at him. ‘You can do this, I know you can.’

Helen’s thin veneer of self-control cracks again. ‘But I’m not Lynn! I’m not anyone who can make it look like falling off a log. This is our baby and I’m not even sure I can look after it!  You say ‘muddle through’ like it should be some achievement. I have never muddled through anything in my life!’

‘Calm down, alright?’ Kester holds her closer in the hope he can eventually give some reassurance.

‘Stop telling me to calm down!’

‘Listen to me. Your heart’s thumping like a sledgehammer, think what that’s doing to Junior and take a few deep breaths.’ He gently strokes her hair until her panic subsides ‘Let’s get a hold on this,’ he says quietly but firmly. ‘You’re scared, I’m scared, but whatever happens, we’ve got no choice but to cope the best way we can. I know you like everything to be well thought-out and organised, I appreciate that. And I don’t know quite where we’d be if you weren’t the sort to plan everything down to the last detail, what with the house and everything, but there’s no oddsing the fact you’ll have to let some of that go. Babies don’t fit into schedules, not yours and not mine but I WILL be here. You haven’t got to face anything on your own.’

‘How can you say that? You’re so busy at work I hardly ever see you these days. I know you’re going to say you can’t turn work away but you being on hand a couple of hours in the evening will be no use to me at all once the baby arrives.  It’s me who’s going to be here all day every day trying to cope with something totally outside my field of experience!’

Kester begins to laugh. ‘Only you,’ he says, holding her face between his hands and grinning. ‘Would use words like field of experience when it comes to looking after a baby.’

‘Please don’t laugh at me. I don’t think you truly realise how I feel.’  A lone tear trickles down Helen’s cheek.

‘Not having a plan has thrown you,’ he says simply and plants a kiss on her forehead when she looks taken aback. ‘My super-human, methodical and organised Helen can’t make a list, can’t plan for every eventuality because she doesn’t know what they are. There’s going to be this tiny human being relying on her and there won’t be time to think things through and decide on the best plan of action. And that matters because she likes to be in control. It’s all got to be instinct and she’s not sure she’s got any.’

Helen lays her head against his chest and cries, not the hysterical sobs of earlier but the quieter weeping of relief, knowing that he does understand.

Kester rests his cheek on top of her head and crosses his arms at her back, rocking her gently until with a sharply drawn in breath and a long sigh, her crying stops.

‘I wish to God you’d told me all this was going on in your head. I’m going to be here, physically here. I’m giving myself paternity leave. One of us is going to be able to work out what to do, surely? I’ve always said I’d do my bit. I was never going to throw you in at the deep end. This is our baby, not yours. I want to be part of it all and I haven’t got a bloody clue how to look after one either.’

‘You’ll be here? You’ve never said a word about being here all the time!  All this worry has been for nothing!’ She swings from passive calm to resentment in the blink of an eye.

‘I wanted to be certain everything was settled my end before I said anything.’ He keeps his voice soft and even, refusing to let things escalate into an argument. ‘I was definitely cutting the overtime no matter what but I’ve been working towards taking some real time off, I’ve set another guy on and was waiting to see how he panned out. If he’d been useless, that would’ve been that but he’s slotted right in. It was no good me telling you until I was sure.’

‘And you’re sure now?’ she asks archly, the vein at the side of her neck throbbing visibly.

‘As sure as I can be.’ He makes a shushing sound and the rocking begins again. ‘Dougie’s all set to do what I normally do. I’ve been showing him the ropes. That’s what’s been making me so late home.  I’ll still have to be at the end of a phone in case there’s a problem but I don’t envisage there being any. He’s a bloody good plumber and Ginny ‘s volunteered to give him a hand with paperwork and so on if he gets stuck.’

‘I wish you’d said something, anything....’

‘Maybe I should have done but I hadn’t realised you were getting so screwed up about it. I didn’t want you relying on something that might not have happened. That would’ve been worse, don’t you think?’

‘I suppose so,’ she agrees on another sigh.

‘Aren’t you the teeniest bit happy about me being home when the time comes?’

‘Of course I am.’

‘And you’ll put up with the long hours for the time being?’

‘Are you really so busy?’ she puts the question tentatively.

‘I am...’ He senses a reason for her asking. ‘Have I missed the point again; is it now you’d rather have me home in case you get a flap on?’

‘I never flap!’

‘What was all that, then?’ he chuckles.

‘A flap.’  Helen lowers her eyes and a smile flickers briefly.

‘I can be home early if that’s what you want.’

‘I was thinking more along the lines of having a few days away. It’ll be our last chance to take a holiday on our own.’

‘You mean....’ A beaming smile lights Kester’s face and he closes his eyes and tips his head back as though not quite believing what he has heard. ‘Like a honeymoon?’

Helen giggles. ‘Not sure we can call it that now...but ...yes.’

‘Yes..Yes...a million times, yes!’ Full of enthusiasm, he hugs her closer. ‘Let’s get something booked before you change your mind.’

‘I won’t change my mind. If you’re positive it can be done, I’ll have a look round on the internet and jot down a few ideas for when you get home from work tomorrow.’

‘How did I know you were going to say that?’ He grins and rubs his nose against hers.  ‘We’re not going to be able to do this much longer,’ he quips, looking down to where her stomach is preventing him holding her as close as he would like. ‘Unless I grow longer arms.’

‘Oh, don’t,’ she groans ‘I feel like a whale now.’

‘Rubbish! You look beautiful. That’s my baby in there and I can’t tell you how that makes me feel. I think I love you now more than..I ...ever...have....done,’ His words slow and a look of wonder widens his eyes.

‘You felt that, didn’t you?’

Kester makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. ‘Hello Junior.’

Fox Hollow, Upper Milliwick

Chapter Forty-nine