I open the door of the oven to check the lamb casserole and take a long breath, inhaling the minty aroma. If anything can get Gabriel in a better mood, this meal can, thanks to my Great Aunt Dorothy, as this lamb casserole was a secret recipe of hers and one I won’t be giving away readily.
I glance up at the wall clock. Gabriel’s been in the conservatory for over an hour and a half. He did ask me not to disturb him, but if we don’t eat soon, the girls will be awake, which means us talking will be out of the window.
As I give the casserole a quick stir, I’m in two minds about whether to see if he’s clearing his paints away. I spot my mobile phone on the top of the microwave, pick it up and glance down at the screen; no messages. I’m itching to text Adrianna and see how things are going with Danielle. I type ANY NEWS?, insert a baby-face emoji and press send.
With no Adrianna and the girls asleep, for now it’s just the two of us. I brush my hands down the front of my jeans and check my make-up in the mirrored blade of a knife.
I hear the doorbell ring and glance towards the screen on the baby monitor. Harper’s still sound asleep, but Iris-Mae is stretching her arms above her blanket. The doorbell rings again and I dash into the hall, bumping into Gabriel.
“It’s probably one of those fucking salespeople,” he huffs. He leans against the bannister, rolling his eyes. “You’d think they’d see the sign; it’s big enough.”
I think back to the broken old door and the small post-it note warning people off, but when I moved in Gabriel bought a wall plaque and screwed it to the brickwork at the front of the house to ward off unwanted guests.
The doorbell rings for a third time, and now whoever it is has woken both of the girls.
“I’ll run upstairs, and you can get rid of whoever it is,” I say.
His lips tilt into a mischievous smile.
“And don’t go inviting them in,” I add, prodding my fingers into his chest.
“As if,” he says, winking.
He can’t see me grinning as I run up the stairs. If cold callers don’t read the plaque, as far as Gabriel’s concerned it’s game on. He doesn’t just leave them standing on the doorstep; he invites them in, gives them cups of tea and a plate of biscuits, then sits mesmerised and listens to their rehearsed spiel. I’ve known it to go on for an hour or more sometimes. On the odd occasion, I’ve walked in and seen Gabriel being handed the contract to sign, squinting at the small print and mulling over the terms and conditions. Then I’ve watched him get to his feet, point to the door and tell them to fuck off. I think the most iconic sales pitch of all was from a little bald bloke called Clifford with a forced posh accent; we still joke about him today. Clifford was convinced he’d sold Gabriel a villa worth half a million pounds in St Lucia. Four hours the two of them sat huddled around the dining table, and when I walked in they were discussing wall tiles for one of the three en suites. Clifford didn’t take too well to being kicked out; it was amazing how quickly he lost that posh accent and stood dabbing at his sweaty round face with a white cotton handkerchief. I think he was the first salesperson I’ve ever seen lost for words as he stepped outside and Gabriel slammed the door on him. Gabriel just thinks if they can’t be arsed to read the plaque and choose to waste our time, then he’s quite happy to return the favour.
As I reach the milk machine, a hand presses down on my shoulder. I turn, tilting my head.
“Didn’t take you long to get rid of them.”
He bites on his lip, quite a serious expression on his face.
“What?” I shrug.
“Josh and Michelle.”
“What about them?”
“They’re downstairs, in the hall.”
I frown. “What are they doing here?”
“According to Josh, you invited them round. He said something about a double celebration.”
“Shit,” I blurt out, “I’d forgotten it’s his birthday.”
“I’ll leave it with you, then, to go down and un-invite them.”
The milk machine beeps, and I lift the baby bottle, screw the lid on tightly and shake.
“Slightly awkward … what do you want me to say?”
“I really don’t care, Natasha, but this is supposed to be our night to talk. Do what you have to do to get rid of them. It’s about time you put us first.”
He reaches towards me and wraps his fingers around the bottle to take it from me. I roll my shoulders and grip it even tighter.
“How can I? Look what he’s doing for Adrianna. How will it look if I tell them to go?”
His hand falls to his side. “Here we go again.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s always fucking Adrianna, always her feelings, and now you’re even going to put Josh before me. Then you wonder why I’m slightly pissed off.”
“We haven’t got time for this; just take Harper downstairs and give her a bottle.”
He doesn’t argue, and bends over and takes her out of her Moses basket. I smile to myself when I see the small freckle on her eyebrow and realise he’s picked up Iris-Mae, but I decide not to say anything.
I throw on a better pair of jeans and a clean jumper, and after filling the second bottle of milk for Harper I make my way downstairs to join the others. I find them in the lounge, with Gabriel standing next to the fireplace talking to Josh, while Michelle is sitting on the settee cooing over Iris-Mae, the bottle of milk in her hand.
“I smelt it as soon as I walked in,” Josh announces, sniffing loudly.
“Smelt what?” I ask, my eyebrows drawing together.
“My favourite, your Great Aunt Dorothy’s lamb casserole.”
“Shit!” I mutter under my breath. The bloody thing’s probably cremated by now.
I hurry towards Gabriel and hold out Harper for him to take, but he crosses his arms and looks down.
Josh steps forward.
“Give her here; I haven’t had a cuddle yet.”
With an orange oven glove in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other, I scrape a thick gloopy skin off the top of the casserole; fortunately, it still looks edible. Passing through the dining room, I throw two extra placemats on the table, change the knives and forks I had already laid for our better set and take two more glasses from the sideboard.
I can feel my cheeks flush as I hurry back into the lounge.
“She’s beautiful, Natasha.” Michelle sweeps her dark hair off her face, her eyes meeting mine before returning to Iris-Mae.
My gaze follows and I see that she’s lying quietly, her tiny pink lips puckering then straightening as she sucks milk from her teat. She looks so comfortable in Michelle’s arms, and Harper seems more than content with Josh. He told me he didn’t want children, yet watching his body language I can’t help but smile seeing her small blonde tufts sticking out between his open fingers as he gently cups her head. I notice how softly the back of his hand runs along her cheek. I stare for a moment longer; he’s just so natural. This is how I thought Gabriel would be, a wonderful dad; he was so supportive during all those months of chemotherapy, and he’s always been behind me regarding the surrogacy. Whatever the issue, he’s always had my back.
I look towards the fireplace where he’s standing quite detached from the rest of us; when he does pass me the odd glance his eyes seem dead. I can’t stand it, and I swallow hard, trying to make the pain he’s causing me disappear.
From what Josh was saying when I walked back into the lounge, it seems his business in Florida is thriving. I think of our meagre existence, and bet Josh and Michelle don’t have to scrimp and save. As my eyes wander over their clothes, I can see they don’t have any money worries. When Michelle sits back on the settee and starts to engage in conversation, I can’t deny that she’s a looker, with her clear tanned skin and the darkest brown hair that falls in beautiful waves down her back, but her eyes have lost their sparkle. They used to tempt you to look into them, but now instead of being vibrant and alive, they look weary. She looks tired older, drawn for the sake of a better word, or is it just me nit picking, but no I don’t think so. While I’m lost in my thoughts, Josh gets to his feet and lays Harper down in her bouncy chair, then joins Gabriel by the fireplace with his back to the chimney breast. I jump at the spare seat on the settee, and before Josh can even consider sitting back down, I sink down on the cushion next to Michelle.
Josh searches through his jacket pocket, a large grin on his face.
“How do you fancy smoking one of these bad boys?” he says, passing Gabriel a large cigar wrapped in cellophane.
“Bloody hell, it’s been years.” Gabriel inhales as he runs the thick Cuban cigar beneath his nose.
“Welcome to parenthood.” Josh beams and pats Gabriel on the back.
Gabriel hasn’t smoked in a while, and, unlike Josh, has a mind of his own. I anticipate him declining the cigar so am shocked when he lifts his arm and pats Josh on the back, they head towards the door.
“Gabriel,” I call after him.
He just raises his hand.
“Natasha, don’t worry,” his voice trails behind him, “we’ll smoke them outside.”
That wasn’t what I was getting at; why couldn’t he have just said no? I hate the smell of cigarettes, but cigars are a real stomach turner. I shudder at the thought of holding or kissing him, but then the way things are between us at the moment, do I have to worry?
I offer to open a bottle of wine, but Michelle says she doesn’t fancy alcohol and would prefer a cup of tea. I leave the door between the kitchen and dining room ajar so I can still talk to her.
After a few minutes I walk back to the lounge with a tray of tea. Iris-Mae has fallen asleep in Michelle’s arms, and very gently I slip my arms beneath her and settle her down next to Harper in her bouncy chair. I notice Michelle looking round the room as she spoons sugar into her cup.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” she pipes up, “where are you hiding them?”
I frown.
“You know, those beautiful portraits Gabriel painted of you. They weren’t hanging in the hall.” She looks down, chuckling into her hand. “I guess you opted for the bedroom.”
I smile and shake my head.
“Gabriel chose to store them in the loft. It’s Mr. Pooch’s picture we have hanging above our bed.”
She looks at me straight-faced. “Why?”
“Mr. Pooch was a lovely cat, and Gabriel…” I shrug. “Well, he misses her; to be honest we both do.”
“No, I meant your pictures; they were beautiful, something to be seen, not hidden away.”
I can’t help smiling. I’m sitting here with my ex’s wife, and we’re chatting like the best of friends. I guess that’s how cancer’s affected me; it’s made me re-evaluate everything in my life and has put a new perspective on things. Things that were important at the time just aren’t important any more.
“Why don’t you have a word with Gabriel, get him to go up in the loft and bring the paintings down?” Michelle suggests. “They should be hung up in here, where they belong.”
“He won’t have them anywhere in the house; if I’d let him have his way, they’d have been thrown out with the rubbish.”
Michelle raises her eyebrows.
I take a long breath. “In his eyes, they’re a bad omen. He can’t even bring himself to look at the Monet-inspired painting, which is probably my favourite.”
Michelle picks up her cup from its saucer.
“I suppose that makes sense.” I watch her eyes disappear into her cup as she takes a sip of tea, though I’m sure it’s just her way of not having to say any more.
The Poppies portrait Gabriel painted me into is beautiful, but it does haunt me; I thought I was dying that day. In my mind I picture those vibrant red flowers and the small dark house lost somewhere in the distance; they were the last things I remember.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how are things?”
“If you mean my health, then I’m good, thanks. I’ve got a couple more hospital appointments coming up, but they’re nothing to worry about, just routine.”
“And how’s Gabriel settling in to being a daddy to twins?” she adds.
I edge along the cushion and take her hand.
“Look, please don’t say anything to Josh, but things between us aren’t good...”
Gabriel clears the plates and brings a second bottle of wine to the table. He pops the cork and glances down at Josh, who passes him his glass, dabs his face with a serviette and then unbuttons and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. Josh reaches past Michelle to pick up her empty glass, and his arm brushes against hers. If I’m not mistaken I see her flinch and her arms seem to stiffen against her sides, but one thing I know I’m not mistaken about is the almost non-existent eye contact between them. Josh has looked her way a couple of times; I noticed him staring towards her when we first sat down to eat, but the only other time I can recall was when Gabriel raised his glass and toasted to mine and Josh’s birthdays. Sitting looking at them both it’s almost like I’m looking at a mirror image of Gabriel and me; guess most people probably wouldn’t notice such an insignificance, but I’m very in tune with my own feelings and own flawed relationship. I lean back on two legs of my chair, gazing at them on the other side of the table, but I really don’t have to look very hard to pick up on their negative body language.
Michelle glances behind her as Iris-Mae lets out a couple of snorts in her sleep. She turns back to the table, smiling.
“Tash, they really are so sweet.”
I return her smile.
“You’re so lucky that Adrianna agreed to help. I mean, it’s ideal having your sister as a surrogate. It must cut out a lot of the complications, and, I imagine, it cuts down on costs as well?”
I nod. “It certainly does.”
Money isn’t really something I want to discuss with Josh or Michelle, so I don’t elaborate further. I still feel bad thinking how much of Gabriel’s savings went on the surrogacy and Danielle’s IVF; I don’t think we had a lot of change from twenty-five thousand, and he had been saving that for years. All those trips he took to London when he’d sit in Regent’s Park at the weekends, painting, not to mention all the clients who visited his house, yet in a matter of months he’d spent almost every penny he had. Every time I brought it up, he just said that you can’t put a price on life.
A couple of years ago Danielle had two failed attempts of IVF, and we thought it would take Adrianna a while to get pregnant, so we didn’t get our hopes up. Therefore, it was a hell of a shock when after one treatment her test came back positive. It was great in some ways, but there was still so much uncertainty surrounding my ongoing treatment and prognosis. But it gave me something to fight for.
I glance past Michelle at my babies sleeping, and honestly believe that they had a hand in saving my life.
“We’ll be heading back to the States in the next week or so,” Josh says, stunning me out of my thoughts. “We’ve just finalised a couple of contracts, by far the biggest we’ve taken on.”
“You’ve taken on too much,” Michelle interrupts. “The company isn’t big enough; you should have waited, and gone through all the figures and data with my dad.”
Josh takes a large gulp from his glass. “But I spoke to my dad. Are you forgetting that he used to own the company? When I discussed it with him he could see there was a lot of work, but said he couldn’t see a problem. In today’s market he thought we should jump at new business, since it’s the only way he can see the company being able to expand.”
“You listen to everyone else but never to me. If you mess this up, it’s Savannah’s future you’ll be jeopardising.”
Gabriel holds his hands up. “Hey, no domestics please. This is supposed to be Josh and Natasha’s birthday celebration.” He tilts his head and looks at me. “I think these differences need putting aside and discussing later, don’t you agree, Natasha?”
My eyes narrow, but I give no response.
As we move from the dining room into the lounge, there’s no disputing there’s an atmosphere, but we manage to hold it together and are civil during drinks. Gabriel takes up his favourite position in front of the fireplace, while Josh sits in the easy chair for a short time before joining Gabriel. I slip the baby mats out from behind the settee, and when the girls wake up I lay them down. Michelle and I crouch over them and watch as they stretch and kick.
I notice Michelle’s nose begin to twitch. Iris-Mae isn’t smelling so fresh, but with them being so small and wriggly and Michelle worried she’ll catch them with her nail extensions, I get the job of changing the nappies while Michelle runs upstairs to prepare two bottles.
When Harper has been fed, Michelle reaches down into her handbag and checks her phone.
“It’s mum; she’s text me to say she’s having problems with Savannah, says she keeps asking for me and won’t go to sleep.”
“Whose fault’s that?” Josh mutters, rolling his eyes. “If you didn’t insist on her sleeping with us every night, she’d probably settle for your mum, and we’d actually get a night out together now and again.”
Michelle leans forward and hands Iris-Mae to me.
“Okay, Josh, you’ve made your point, but that’s not helping my mum right now, is it? I think it’s best you drop me home.” She turns towards Gabriel. “I’m sorry we’ve got to rush off, but it can’t be helped.”
Michelle finishes her glass of wine and gets to her feet. I feel my stomach tighten, as I know that the moment they leave, Gabriel’s going to want to sit down and talk, and I’ve got a terrible feeling I won’t like what he has to say. Everything was so great between us, it hardly bears thinking about that maybe he’s just not cut out to be a dad. Where does that leave us?
After a hug from Josh and a kiss on the cheek from Michelle, I close the door and turn the key. My steps towards the lounge are apprehensive, and I’m quite expecting Gabriel to be sitting in the easy chair with his legs crossed, waiting for me. When I walk in, I see him kneeling on the carpet attaching Larry’s lead to his collar.
“I thought he was asleep upstairs in our spare room.”
“He was,” Gabriel says. “I fancied a walk, so brought him down. Maybe a bit of fresh air will clear my head. Why not get the girls settled while I’m out?”
“Gabriel, have you seen the time? It’s almost eleven; when do you ever walk Larry this late at night?” I look towards Iris-Mae, who’s still waiting for her feed. “I was kind of hoping you’d give me a hand.” I smile. “You could always feed Iris-Mae while I go and clean the bottles and refill the steriliser.”
“I think where feeds are concerned, it’s probably best I leave that to you.” He looks down at his shoes, scuffing his heels on the carpet. “Anyway, I can’t go disappointing Larry.”
Iris-Mae took a while to feed; I think having to wait for her milk meant she ended up full of wind, and even the colic drops took time to work. It was 11:40 p.m. before I eventually settled them both for the night.
I’m sitting holding a cup of hot chocolate in my hands and balancing a couple of malted milk biscuits on my knee. I turn upon hearing the key turn in the back door and a jangle from the brass nametag attached to Larry’s collar. I make out the sound of running water and gather Gabriel’s filling Larry’s bowl. I hear footsteps in the kitchen followed by creaking in the dining room. An arm makes its way between the door I’d left ajar, and I see Gabriel’s hand searching for the light switch.
“Don’t turn the light off,” I call out.
“I thought you’d have gone to bed,” he mutters, pushing the door back against the wall.
“I waited up purposely. You said you wanted to talk, remember?”
His eyes don’t meet mine and he looks down at the floor.
“Do you think there’s any point?” He doesn’t give me time to answer. “Because I don’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, I’d have to be blind not to see that you don’t need me; you’ve made that more than clear over the last couple of weeks. You’ve got everything you want now, your babies, your sister. I think this a good time for me to bow out, leave you to it.”
Getting to my feet, I spill chocolate on my jeans and drop both biscuits.
“Go? Go where?” The back of my throat is burning and my eyes are starting to sting. “What about us?” I think of our baby girls sleeping upstairs. “Gabriel, what about our family?”
He shakes his head. “What family? There is no us any more.”
“What do you mean, no us? Of course there is.”
“Our elevenses, that special you and me time, somewhere along the line we’ve even managed to lose that. So come on, Natasha, tell me, what of us is left?”
I glance into his light-blue eyes, but am lost as to what to say.
“I rang Jase earlier; he’ll probably be arriving in the next half an hour. I’ve already packed a bag, and as for the rest of my things, I’ll come back to collect them in the next couple of weeks.”
“I thought taking Larry for a walk would have cleared your head, given you time to think.”
“It did; in fact all I did was think about us for an hour and a half.”
He glances down, flexing his feet.
“Walking did wonders for me, and then…” He pauses.
“Then what?” I prompt.
“And then I came home.”
It’s as if time is standing still. I’m looking up with my mouth open, waiting for him to walk over and tell me this is all a big joke. But when I glance up, the love in his eyes has gone. I leap forwards, literally throwing myself into his arms, but he holds me back. I keep pushing myself against him, desperately wanting his arms around me. I can’t leave things like this.
“Natasha, don’t, it’s hard enough for me to walk away, please don’t make it harder. Just let me go.”
Shivers run from my feet up to my head. I feel rooted to the spot as he walks away from me and up the stairs. I’m staring at the clock, but I don’t see what time it is. The catch on the front door clicks, and the next moment Jase’s head appears round the lounge door. He doesn’t say a word and just gives me a half-smile, though I’m too dumbstruck to return the gesture.
Gabriel comes back downstairs with the straps of a black rucksack over his shoulders and carrying a small suitcase. I want to beg, but nothing comes out of my mouth, not even the tiniest squeak. I sniff and wipe beneath my eyes with my fingers as tears start running down the sides of my nose. Taking small steps towards the hall, I see the bright headlights of Jase’s car growing fainter and fainter as they reverse, leaving me in an unlit hallway and all alone.
I want my mum. I want her arms around me, and for her to hold me like she did when I was a little girl, always there to wipe away my tears. But she’s miles away from my troubles, and with far more urgent issues of her own.
I don’t even remember making my way upstairs. My head hurts, and I squeeze my eyes together, rubbing my forehead with the back of my hand. I need to talk to someone, but it’s well after midnight so not a great time to disturb Adrianna. But there’s no one else. I glance at my phone and my finger hovers over the keypad. I sink down on the top step, staring through the wooden spokes of the bannister. My emotions win over more rational thoughts, and I type a short message asking her to ring me. I sit hunched with my arms around my knees while I wait for a response.
It’s only about five minutes before my phone rings, though it seems like I’m sitting here for ages, with only my thoughts and tears for company. I answer it quickly so as not to disturb either one of the twins.
“Tash?” It’s Danielle’s voice I hear.
I roll my eyes; doesn’t Adrianna ever answer her phone? Danielle tells me she’s in hospital and that things are happening very slowly, so she’s been given a pessary to see if her waters will break.
“Adrianna has popped down to the café for a coffee to help keep her awake,” Danielle says light-heartedly.
“When she comes back, I’m being taken to the delivery suite; the nurse said she would hook me up to a drip to get things moving.” Her voice drops. “Is everything okay with you?”
“No, anything but. Gabriel has packed his things and left me.” I swallow back my tears.
“Where’s he gone?” I’m expecting to hear shock in her voice, or a short silence because she’s not sure what she should say, but there’s nothing.
Then the midwives arrive and Danielle tells me she needs to go and hangs up.