Twenty-One

 

May 1988

 

Nico’s hands nestled around the curve of Laurel’s belly, so snugly it was as if that’s what they’d been made for. Her eyes followed the trail of his finger as he ran it along the silvery lines where her skin had stretched. It was bizarre to think about what was really happening in there. It was the stuff sci-fi films were made of, especially when she’d seen and felt it move for the first time. Pregnancy was amazing and terrifying and, if she were being honest, completely and utterly awful. Laurel swallowed against a flash of guilt for even thinking it. She was already fiercely protective of this unseen person who’d be making an appearance in three months’ time, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want it to be over already.

‘I wish I didn’t have to go to work,’ Nico said, resting his head on her chest.

‘Why?’

‘It’s such a nice day out.’ He sat up and looked out the window. Above the concrete estate behind theirs, the sky was a light and hazy blue. ‘Too nice to sit in a van all day.’

For a moment, she was terrified of seeing that look in his eyes - the one that had made his irises a duller shade of brown while he’d been in that awful mood for weeks. But all she saw were the eyes she’d first fallen in love with. Laurel quietly exhaled and let the panic subside. It was a pattern she’d found herself repeating whenever he expressed disappointment or dislike about anything.

Nico looked at her, pulling his mouth up into a smile and setting his dimples in place. ‘I’d rather stay here with you.’

That smile and those dimples had always been her undoing. They took her back to the moment they’d met almost a year ago. It was so clear in her mind that it was like watching it back on the television set in the corner. She remembered feeling like she was falling when she’d looked into his eyes for the very first time and that beautiful, fluttering feeling in her tummy in anticipation of seeing him.

‘I’m not staying in all day,’ she said, filling the space where Nico’s hands had been around her belly with her own. ‘I want to go and look for a pram.’

‘Do you need some money?’

Laurel shook her head. ‘Just looking.’

‘Take some anyway.’ He fished out a wad of notes from his back pocket and peeled a few off. ‘Just in case.’

She hesitated before taking them. The notes were brand new, crisp and uncreased, almost like Nico was. Or at least, seemed to be. The man he’d turned into just before she’d found out she was pregnant had all but disappeared, never to darken their doorway again. It had taken a while but Nico was back. He was no longer moody, he didn’t stay in bed all day and he didn’t say mean things anymore. It was like he’d literally picked himself up, brushed himself off and started again.

He’d got another driving job, this time delivering fruit and vegetables around London and the South-East, and Laurel had found a part-time cashier job at Safeway. Money was flowing and their flat was starting to look like a home again. They’d bought a second-hand sofa, television and a bed. They weren’t anywhere near as nice as the things that had been unceremoniously carted away, especially the sofa with its awful, itchy flowery material, but it was a start. The electric hadn’t cut out since and their fridge had never found itself empty again, but the memory of it all was proving slower to be replaced.

Laurel put the money in the pocket of her T-shirt, hoping that it had come from his job and not another loan. She daren’t ask, not wanting to rock what had been a steady boat.

‘What time do you think you’ll be back?’ he asked, running a hand through his freshly cut hair. He’d accumulated inch after inch of it over the winter and Laurel was glad to see him looking so normal again.

‘I don’t know. Four, maybe.’

‘Let’s go out tonight.’

Laurel pulled a face. ‘I don’t know. I’m not really…’ She looked down at her bulging belly. ‘You know.’

‘You,’ he said, and kissed her on the side of the head, ‘are beautiful.’

‘Sure.’ She huffed, knowing it was about as far from the truth as it was possible to get. Her skin had broken out in the worst case of spots she’d ever had and her ankles were enormously fat.

Nico brought his face close to hers. ‘You’ve never looked more beautiful than you do right now.’

How she loved his smile, especially when it was like this - infectious and wide. But his lips were liars. They weren’t capable of taking back the horrible things he’d said during those long, awful days and nights.

‘Hey.’ He nudged her with his nose. ‘I mean it.’

He seemed so sincere. So earnest. But she wanted to ask him what had happened to him back in those long winter days. The words were on the tip of her tongue, just waiting to leap off and ask how it had happened. If it would happen again. He seemed happy enough right now but it could all end without a moment’s notice, just like it had before. She hadn’t seen the darkness coming. He never referred to it and she had no idea what it was that she’d done to make him say the things he had. She couldn’t relax and tell herself that it wouldn’t happen again. Did he even remember the words he’d spat at her, dripping with scorn and laced with acid? Why couldn’t him telling her that she was beautiful, that he was proud of her - that he loved her - erase the memory of being told she was useless, ugly and stupid?

‘I love you,’ he added. ‘You know that, right?’

His eyes looked safe and trustworthy, and she so desperately wanted them to stay that way. She swallowed against her doubts and summoned a small smile before nodding. He kissed her again and got up from the sofa, picking up his sunglasses. Hidden behind his aviator style lenses and wearing a grin, he looked just like the man she’d met and fallen for.

‘You, me, tonight, the works.’ He grinned before leaving.

When the front door slammed shut behind him, Laurel stayed put on the sofa, feeling adrift in a living room that still felt much too empty. She’d got what she’d wished for. What she’d pleaded for. While Nico had lain in bed for days and weeks on end, Laurel had begged an unknown, unseen god to make him better again. She’d wanted the enigmatic, happy man she’d fallen for, and she’d got him, hadn’t she? Soon, they’d be a family and live out their happily ever after. She only regretted not being clever enough to wish for her memories of that time to have been wiped away too.

 

*

 

‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’ Laurel asked with her eyes clenched shut.

‘Awful.’ George replied. ‘The worst I’ve ever seen.’

‘Oh, God.’

She could almost cry. Laurel pictured a huge patch right at the crown of her head where her hair used to be. Why did pregnancy have to equal hair loss? How would she be able to cover it up, and would it ever grow back?

‘I knew it,’ she said. ‘What am I going to do?’

The sound of George’s laughter made her snap her eyes open and she looked up at his upside down face.

‘I’m kidding,’ he said. ‘Your hair’s fine.’

‘Very flipping funny.’

‘Isn’t it?’ he grinned, massaging her scalp as he rinsed the conditioner out.

Laurel wished she weren’t sitting in this stupid, uncomfortable chair so she could hit him.

‘No, it’s not. I’m going bald.’

She fidgeted, trying to do something about the sharp pain in her lower back. As if losing the hair on her head wasn’t bad enough, her body had decided to grow an excess of it on her upper lip. She was constipated and felt like she was dragging something the weight of a house around in her belly. She could barely even fit into her trainers anymore because her feet were so swollen.

‘I’m telling you,’ she continued. ‘Huge clumps of it fall out when I brush it and even more when I wash it.’

George turned off the tap and wrapped her head in a towel. ‘Lorie, you’re pregnant. It’s completely normal to lose a bit of hair.’

She grimaced, heaving herself to sit up. ‘Is it?’

‘Yes, it is.’ He gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze before coming around from behind the sink and holding his hands out.

Laurel took them and let him pull her up from the chair. Her pelvis groaned under the extra weight of the baby and she waddled over to a leather swivel chair in front of a mirror on the other side of the salon. She groaned as she sat back down. She saw pregnant women around all the time and they always looked happy and healthy and glowing. Why was she struggling so hard?

‘What’s wrong?’ George asked, looking at her through the mirror.

‘Nothing.’ She shook her head, swallowing the tears building in her throat.

‘It’s totally normal to feel like this, Lorie. I promise you.’

‘And how would you know?’ she snapped, rubbing the heels of her hands in her eyes. ‘It’s not like you’ve ever been pregnant yourself, is it?’

‘Because you’re not the first woman with a bun in the oven to come through those doors, that’s why, and you won’t be the last.’

Her brother’s no-nonsense, straight-talking face stared at her through the mirror and the tears she’d just managed to push away threatened to come back again. He was being so nice and she was being awful. She didn’t deserve him.

‘I’ll tell you what though,’ he continued, rubbing her hair a little with the towel.

She met his eyes in the mirror, feeling contrite. ‘What?’

‘You’re the only one I’d ever let get away with having such an attitude.’ He raised his eyebrows and his mouth curled into a smile as he picked up a comb from the table in front of them. ‘You’re doing great and it’s not long to go now. You’re growing a whole other person in there, that’s no easy job. Give yourself a break.’

It was easier said than done. The problem was, that she somehow felt like she was doing it all wrong. According to her mum, she should be positively glowing by now. Alice had appointed herself as some kind of pregnancy guide about what to expect. Each week, they’d speak on the phone and Laurel would be told that by now, she should be feeling less sick, or less tired, or that her hair was supposed to be growing at warp speed. She should start feeling joyful. And every week, she’d get off the phone and wonder what the hell was wrong with her. The doctor said that everything was fine, she was healthy, and the baby was too. So why was she feeling so awful? How could she feel so protective over this unborn baby already, but a complete lack of excitement about what was happening? When exactly had anxiety taken over?

At first, it had been exciting. Nico had bounced off the walls about becoming a dad and was back to his old self. He’d come up with endless ideas and plans about everything from baby names to colour schemes for the nursery in the fantasy house they’d move into at some unspecified date in the future. And all the while, Laurel was terrified of the way their lives would soon change.

Thank god there was nobody else in the salon apart from them because it meant she didn’t have to pretend. She didn’t have to plaster a smile on her face when random women went to rub her belly, telling her how excited she must be when she was, in fact, terrified that it was about to burst out of her body like the scrawny thing in Alien. On the upside, she didn’t have to fill herself with bravado when confronted by those who thought her being pregnant, unmarried and still a teenager were sins, payable only by a lengthy, painful trip to hell either.

‘Nico still doing okay?’ George asked, flashing her a quick look of concern.

Laurel nodded. He was. He was still working, still happy, still Nico.

‘And the money stuff?’

‘He’s spending way too much time in the bookies again but it’s fine.’

George sighed but said nothing more. Laurel was grateful for his concern. Ever since telling him she was pregnant, he’d become fiercely protective of her. No, that wasn’t right. George had always been protective, but it had been kicked into overdrive since the day he’d turned up on her doorstep. She hated that he’d seen all that. That she’d made him so worried. But it had brought them closer than they’d ever been before. She knew he’d always be there and for that she was eternally grateful.

‘He’s really excited about the baby,’ Laurel added. ‘He can’t stop buying stuff for it.’

‘Better baby stuff than cans of olives.’ George smirked.

Two months ago, Nico had decided that he wanted to import food from Greece to sell in London. He’d predicted that he’d be drowned in orders and make a killing, so he’d bought stock upfront. Their hallway had been filled with stacks of cans and jars, shoulder high, but he wasn’t as inundated with customers as he’d thought. In the end he’d had to slash the prices to get them sold and, thankfully, decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. Lately, he’d taken to coming home with new bibs, Babygros and armfuls of baby wipes instead. Like George said, far better to spend their money on the baby than anything else.

Laurel laid a hand on her bump. The baby. It hadn’t even been born yet but it already had more things than her and Nico combined. It was already so loved, and she felt a pang of guilt for being so negative about her pregnancy all the time.

‘Don’t you want to have kids some day?’ she asked.

‘No,’ George replied without looking up.

‘But how can you be sure?’

‘Lorie, I’m gay.’

‘So? You could always adopt or something.’

He pulled a batch of hair between his forefinger and middle finger before snipping away at the ends.

‘I can’t even walk down the street holding Dennis’ hand, let alone ever get married or adopt.’

‘Would you want to marry him?’ Laurel asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise. He’d only been seeing Dennis for a matter of weeks.

‘God, no.’ He grinned. ‘But that’s not the point. I just don’t see how I could ever have what you have. People would probably collapse with hysteria in the streets if all that ever happened.’

His voice was light and the complete opposite to the heaviness in Laurel’s heart. George had left his whole life behind to start again in the promised land of love and opportunity. At least he’d found one.

His salon didn’t look like much, but he had big plans. He didn’t want to be just another small salon offering cheap haircuts. He wanted to enter competitions and build a reputation that would match any in Kensington or the West End. He predicted that Hackney would be the next Big Thing, a prediction Laurel couldn’t see ever coming true, but she knew he’d succeed. The salon was kitted out with second-hand fittings and a peeling linoleum floor, but George’s friendliness and wit combined with his talent meant that it was getting busier and busier by the day, which was why he’d scheduled her in for an appointment after hours.

‘Do you think things will ever change?’ Laurel asked.

George shrugged. ‘Doubtful. But you know me, I’ll have fun regardless. Always do.’

Moving to London had given him the opportunity to make a name for himself. Love, it seemed was a little further behind. Dennis was nice enough, but George didn’t have that glow about him to suggest he’d fallen for him. And besides, his reaction when Laurel had asked whether he’d ever want to marry Dennis had been clear enough.

‘We’re going to Heaven this weekend,’ George said, grinning through the mirror. ‘You know, that club I told you about down near Charing Cross?’

She nodded, even though she was just as out of touch with nightlife in London as she’d been before moving here. As the baby moved beneath her skin, she reminded herself that it would all be worth it in the end, and listened to George’s enthusiasm about clubbing.

After two cups of tea and endless chatter, there was a knock on the glass door just as George took the protective gown from her shoulders. Nico had arrived to pick her up, saving her from a long bus journey home. George opened the door, nodding a hello at Nico, who gruffly nodded back. They’d never been the best of friends to begin with, but from the moment George had moved to London, things had become even more strained. George had wasted no time in telling her that Nico was unreliable and she should leave him. She’d thought about it too, until she’d found out she was pregnant. And on Nico’s part, she was sure that he felt embarrassed at having been seen by her brother in such an incapable state.

Laurel turned in the swivel chair as he walked over and twisted her head to the side, showing off her hair. ‘What do you think?’

‘Yeah, nice,’ Nico replied, shoving his hands into his pockets.

It was only a deep condition and trim, but it felt like she’d been given a new lease on life.

She smiled at her brother. ‘Thanks, George.’

What on earth would she do without him? He’d become her knight in shining armour in more ways than he could ever imagine.

‘Anytime.’ He smiled, helping her up from the chair.

Laurel put a hand to the small of her back and gestured to her bag on the floor, prompting Nico to pick it up and give it to her. She went to open her purse but George shooed her away.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said. ‘You need every penny for the baby.’

‘But I’ve taken up your whole evening.’

‘So? You’re my sister, I’d never take money from you and you know it. Besides, the night is young. I’m meeting up with Dennis for a drink afterwards.’

‘If you’re sure?’ she replied, putting the purse back in her bag. She took the hug George swept her up in to mean that he was.

‘You can join us, if you want. Den’s been dying to see you and the bump.’

‘Thanks but it’s getting on a bit,’ Nico said, jiggling the van keys in his hand, avoiding George’s eyes.

‘It’s barely nine o’clock. Besides, it’d do her some good to relax and have a bit of fun before the baby comes.’

Laurel sighed inwardly as she slung her bag onto her shoulder. Both men were protective and both mistrusted the other. It almost always resulted in a pissing war about who knew best.

‘I’d like to go for a drink,’ she said, reminding them that she was still there. ‘Just for one.’

It had been an age since they’d been out together, mainly because she was exhausted after her shifts at work and fell asleep on the sofa.

‘The pub’s only down the road,’ George said, and she felt Nico bristle beside her. ‘It’s a nice crowd, too.’

‘Full of faggots and fairies you mean?’ Nico sniffed. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Nico!’ Laurel glared at him with horror.

‘What?’ he replied with apparent innocence. ‘They are, aren’t they? I don’t want to sit in a pub full of poofs.’

She glanced at her brother, who raised his eyebrow as far up as she’d ever seen it go. London was a cosmopolitan place with people of all shapes and sizes and colours and sexual preferences, but she knew how conscious George was about what he called “queer bashing”. And this was so much worse. Nico was her boyfriend, the father of her unborn baby. He would be family soon. How could he say something like that? She shook her head, stunned, not quite knowing what to say.

‘It’s alright, Lorie,’ George said, as if Nico hadn’t just insulted him in the worst possible way. ‘We’ll catch up another time.’

She glanced at her brother as Nico walked towards the door.

‘I’m sorry,’ she mouthed, and George replied with a shrug and a look on his face that told her he wasn’t in the least bit surprised. But she was.

Nico always changed the subject whenever Dennis came up in conversation, but she’d assumed that he just wasn’t interested. She’d never put it down to anything else. She desperately wanted to do or say something to take it back, but George kept his back to her as he swept her hair off the floor.

‘Love you,’ she called, hovering by the door.

George raised a hand, but didn’t turn around. Laurel’s heart cracked with the hurt she knew must be festering inside. She looked through the window at Nico as he hopped into his van. How well did she really know the man she was about to tie herself to for the rest of the life? She would never have imagined he could be capable of saying something like that. And she’d never felt so ashamed.