Over the next few days I make as much effort as I can to try to spend quality time with Gabriel, whereas he does the complete opposite and avoids me whenever he can. The only adult conversation I’ve had in the last couple of days is with my mum. They’re all so pleased to be home, and she said Adrianna hadn’t let Logan out of her sight. Adrianna had decided to drop the case against Asim, since it was Asim himself who brought Logan back to the hotel, just as he’d promised after the death of his mother. I asked Mum if my sister had mentioned the twins, but she said not as yet. Mum knew exactly what was going on, I guess from Danielle, and when I brought the girls up in conversation I couldn’t help noticing the awkwardness in her voice and how quickly she changed the subject. She mentioned she’d like to pop round and had spoken to Dad, who’d suggested tomorrow afternoon. I was dying to see them myself, as it had been ages. She’d missed my babies being born and my birthday, something that had never happened before. But because of the way things were with Gabriel, I asked if she’d mind leaving it until the weekend. I crossed my fingers behind my back, hoping that by then, things between us would have improved.
From the day he moved back home, Gabriel resumed his elevenses but never asked if I’d like to join him, so I just stood in the kitchen sipping my coffee and scrolling through Facebook on my phone. There’s a message from Josh, saying great news about Logan, and I click on a smiley face emoji and press send. Bored, I scroll a little further and a notification pops up on Gabriel’s art page, where he receives likes and reviews from his clients. It’s only on the odd occasion he looks on Facebook, so seeing a new comment has been left I click on his page and begin reading. It’s a rant from Julia, saying that she’d paid in advance for her daughter Lucy’s portrait and hadn’t heard a word from Gabriel; weeks later, she’s still waiting for the illusive painting.
I frown, as clearly there must be some confusion here. Surely he’s finished her portrait by now? Knowing he keeps all his artwork and equipment in the pantry, I decide to go and check. I pull open the door to the pantry and turn on the dim wall light, then step between pads of paper and bottles of different coloured acrylic paints. I can’t help but smile seeing the old colour charts Gabriel used to work from, and littering the floor beneath my feet are sheets of paper he’d imported from China, covered by invisible raised squares only detectable by touch. His easel is at the back behind everything and is leaning against the wall covered in a paint-speckled dustsheet. I stretch and pull it off with my hand, then just stand and stare at a painting that still needs so much work, a painting that’s no different from the last time I saw it. No wonder the woman’s complaining. What the hell’s Gabriel playing at?
I walk into the conservatory and see him staring out of the window. Larry’s joined him, and is lying down resting on his lap. I know this is his quiet time, his time for reflection, but I’ve got to say something.
“Gabriel,” I blurt out.
He doesn’t turn but raises his hand to silence me. I stride towards him and pick Larry off his lap.
“Sorry, but this won’t wait.”
He gets to his feet, slamming his glass down on the small wooden coffee table.
“Nothing’s that important it can’t wait for half an hour,” he says, shooting me an unfavourable stare.
“Remember Julia?”
He looks at me and frowns.
“Lucy, her daughter?” I add. “Now do you remember?”
His frown dwindles and he nods. “What about them?”
“Why not look at your Facebook page and see for yourself? Because she’s left you one hell of a review and I don’t blame her. I looked in the pantry and saw the painting for myself.”
“Does that really surprise me?”
I shrug my shoulders. “The review?”
“No, you, nosing around. There’s nothing sacred around here, not since meeting your family anyway, what with your dad coming round and hacking his way through my garden.”
“That’s not fair,” I butt in. “You asked him to come over and give you a hand.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Okay, let’s say I forget about your dad, that doesn’t excuse your sister hacking her way through my clothes, and then to top it off, there’s you with your nose stuck firmly into my business.”
I run my fingers through my hair. “Gabriel, take it however you want, but there’s a lady out there who’s paid for something a good few weeks ago; the least you could do is finish the painting.”
“I’m going out and taking Larry,” he says, edging past me.
Hearing his name, Larry’s tail starts wagging and, not needing much persuasion, he follows Gabriel into the kitchen. I hear the usual jangle of his lead and the front door slam shut.
I inhale and push my hands into the deep pockets of my cardigan. I’d been hoping to have a bath, an hour to myself, a bit of me time. With the girls being as demanding as they are at the moment, my definition of pampering is a face wipe to clean yesterday’s make-up off and running a brush through my hair; if I do manage to make it to a mirror it’s a bonus. When I got up this morning and sat on the bed staring at my reflection, I don’t know why but I felt like making an effort, sprucing myself up, adding maybe a touch more make-up than usual, slipping into a nice dress, my hope being to get Gabriel in the mood. Then I’m thinking a home-cooked meal, a couple of glasses of wine, and to end the day, a nice film, his choice. I lean my arm against the doorframe and chew at my lips. My plan was to ask him to watch the girls to give me a break, and it would have given him some time on his own with them which I know he needs, but that was before he got on his high horse and took off.
Well over an hour has passed by the time he walks back in, and to say I’m stressed is an understatement. Harper refused to drink her milk, and I’ve walked round the house with her in my arms until I’m almost dizzy. When I did finally manage to settle her back down in her Moses basket, I wanted some peace, but didn’t even make it to the kettle to make myself a drink before Iris-Mae started screaming at the top of her lungs.
Gabriel unhooks Larry’s lead and walks into the kitchen. I’m standing with my hands over the sink, screwing a teat onto the bottle. Iris-Mae’s screams are getting louder and louder. I brought both Moses baskets downstairs earlier and set them up in the lounge, so God knows how long Harper will stay asleep. Gabriel doesn’t say a word to me. Wearing his socks, he trudges past to the dining room with a sulky expression on his face.
“Here!” I blurt out as he walks back into the kitchen, bending to pick his shoes up off the mat. “You can feed Iris-Mae! It’s about time you did something around here for a change.”
He drops both his shoes and his eyes widen as I thrust the bottle into his hand.
“I need a break,” I tell him. “I’m going upstairs to take a shower.”
I don’t turn back to see his reaction, and just head upstairs. Once the bathroom door’s closed and the shower’s on, the sound of running water blocks out Iris-Mae’s cries. I undress and wrap myself in a towel, and sit on the side of the bath. My eyes follow the discoloured line of grout around the wall tiles. I thought Gabriel moving back in would mean we had a chance to get back on track. My gaze moves to my clothes clumped together on the bathmat. I guess it’s more me trying to convince myself than actual reality. Thinking about it, Gabriel hasn’t even attempted to bond with the twins; maybe it’s because he’s not their dad, but then I have my doubts, thinking of happier times. I can picture his face the first time he held them; I thought he’d never stop smiling. He was so proud and seemed so happy being a dad. ‘My little girls,’ he’d said while squeezing my hand. I’m tying myself in knots trying to psychoanalyse things.
I get back to my feet and drop the towel, then step under the warm running water. I know what I need to do for all our sakes. I’ll stop here for another couple of days, which will give Mum and Dad time to sort a room out for us, but then I’m gone from here. As for Gabriel, he can get on with his life, without me and all of my baggage.
The break from the girls has been nice, and the way I feel today I certainly needed it. I’m not in any particular rush to get back downstairs, but then I can’t help wondering what I’ll find when I do. Has Gabriel attempted to feed Iris? Or is he propped against the settee staring at the TV? I unlock the bathroom door, open it and listen. I can’t hear crying, so, feeling slightly more relaxed, I make my way across the landing and into my bedroom. Peering out of the window, I towel-dry my hair.
Although I know what I have to do, it doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier and I swallow hard; it doesn’t stop me loving him. Don’t cry, Tash, I tell myself as I slip my arms into my fluffy pink dressing gown.
All is quiet as I make my way back down the stairs and I can hear myself breathing hard due to my unease. I glance along the hall and notice that the lounge door’s open. I’m no longer looking where I’m going but am staring at my feet, and I don’t glance up until I pass through the doorway. My eyes rise and then widen at what I see through my tears.
“Gabriel,” I attempt to call out, though not even a whisper passes my lips.
He’s half sitting, half lying back on the settee, both Iris-Mae and Harper wrapped up in his arms, almost lost against the broadness of his chest. It isn’t the babies’ cries that I hear but Gabriel’s sobs, holding their tiny faces against his own. I can’t be sure if he hears me as I walk over and kneel at his side on the carpet, though I’m sure my elbow brushes his leg as I place my arms on the cushion beside him.
“You do love them…” I sob, wiping my eyes.
He nods. “Of course I do, but it’s not as simple as that.” He puffs out a long breath. “I could easily bring the girls up as my own.”
I reach across the cushion and place my hand on his thigh. His entire body is shaking.
“Okay, so what’s stopping you?”
“Have you ever stopped to think? You’re in remission for five years and yes, everything should work out okay, but…” He shakes his head. “What if...?”
“What if…?” I frown.
“You get up each morning and take a couple of tablets and they manage to hide the symptoms of your menopause, but as for the cancer, if that were to come back, then what? That’s something there’s no hiding from.”
“But, Gabriel,” I say, looking up into his eyes, “it was me that had to live with the cancer, and yes, sometimes I get scared.”
Reaching down between us, I squeeze his hands.
“But unfortunately, there are no certainties in life. Not for you, not for me, not for anyone. But surely, however much time we do have, living it together as a couple is what’s important?”
His lips pull taut. “Of course it’s important, but then you know what happened last time you refused to have treatment.” He lowers his head so that I’m unable to meet his eyes. “I can’t live today knowing that tomorrow I could lose everything. I could lose you all.”
I sit up straighter. “No, Gabriel; even if you lost me, you’d still have our daughters.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Natasha, your memory is short, but I remember exactly what you said to Adrianna; I don’t think I’ll ever forget.”
I run my hands through my hair and try to think back.
“You’re picking snippets out of a conversation I can’t even begin to remember.”
He shuffles awkwardly, sits forwards and passes Harper to me. Taking her in my arms, I get up off my knees and sit at his side. Now one of his hands is free, so I hold it.
“You said if anything were to happen to you, your sister would bring them up.” He shakes his head. “I’m supposed to be your partner, but there was no mention of me.”
“It was probably something I said without thinking, something you’ve read far too much into.”
A smile takes to his lips as he glances down at Harper. I see the look in his eyes and watch the way he runs his fingers back and forth across her cheek.
“What do you expect?” He leans forward, placing a kiss on her head. “Not being their biological father, where would that leave me?”
“Is this why you’re acting this way?”
He looks into my eyes. “I’ve got two beautiful little girls that I want to bond with.” He half smiles. “And you, Natasha, a beautiful woman I want to love, but the way you’ve made me feel, I’m afraid of doing either.”
My breath falters. “Gabriel, it’s not just you who’s scared.” I rest my head against his shoulder and gaze up into his watery blue eyes. “It’s not just you who could lose everything. You have no idea what it’s like to wake up each morning knowing you have cancer. I’ve done that and I’ve struggled, but with your help, your support, I’ve fought it. My life, it’s back, it’s back to live, but how can I live it when everything that matters to me, everything I love most is breaking down, crumbling around me?”
As I’m speaking I feel Gabriel’s body crumple against mine and I snuggle up against his side. Neither of us speaks, the only sound being the shallow breaths taken by our babies as they sleep.
I was meaning to walk into the lounge this afternoon and tell him we were over, that I was moving out and going back home to live with Mum and Dad, but seeing his glazed eyes, his tears and the way he sat so comfortably with the twins wrapped up in his arms, everything’s changed. I can feel the spark between us coming back. I’m only resting my head against his shoulder, yet I can already feel myself heating up inside. What we had hasn’t gone, it just seems that life managed to get in the way.
Iris-Mae wakes up, which makes Harper stir. Gabriel seems quite sheepish and I’m not sure what to say. The atmosphere between us isn’t uncomfortable, at least not like it’s been of late, but it’s strange, and if any wrong words were spoken now it would be like taking a step backwards, so at the moment avoidance seems the better option.
For the last hour Gabriel’s been sitting on the carpet. Harper’s fallen asleep on her changing mat while Iris lies cooing on hers, going cross-eyed as she watches her hands play before her face.
“I need to pop out,” he suddenly pipes up, turning towards the settee.
I glance up from the pages of a magazine I’m reading and see him pulling at the frayed hem of his jeans.
“These old things.” He laughs, shaking his head. “They’ve either shrunk, or I’ve grown a few inches.”
I glance towards his ankles and smile to myself. When I first saw him walking around in the jeans I wondered if he had dug out a pair of his dad’s, but thought it best I didn’t say anything. He said after going to town he might nip to his Aunt’s for a drink. For the first time in a long while it felt nice being able to talk with no cross words, and Gabriel seemed to have dropped the sarcasm.
He’d only been gone five minutes before I picked up my phone to call Darcy. I’m confused and feel I need advice. It would normally be Adrianna, but I guess she’s no longer an option. I spend the next twenty minutes with my feet up on the settee, bending Darcy’s ear. I must have told her everything there is to tell about Gabriel and the problems we’ve been having. By the time I’d finished and taken a long breath, she sounded quite amused, and when I asked why, she said she felt more like an agony aunt than my cousin.
“Okay, Darcy, if you were me, what would you do?”
I’m met by her silence, which lasts a good while.
“You say the spark’s still there, that there’s still something between you.”
I glance down at the empty cushion beside me and think of earlier.
“Yeah, I think there is.”
“Well, in that case, why not take him back to when you first met, make him remember why he fell in love with you?”
Now she has me thinking. “Darcy, you’re a star,” I call down the mouthpiece, and then think again. How will that be possible with the twins?
I lean my head back against the cushion and stare up at the ceiling.
“Darcy, I’ve got an idea, one I think could work, but for me to be able to do what I have in mind I need a favour.”
“Anything,” she says, “if you think it would help.”
“Would you have the girls, just for the night?”
Darcy said she’d be happy to have them. She said as soon as I hung up she’d get in the car and drive over. I asked her to keep it to herself and not tell any of the family. I didn’t want word getting to Adrianna that the girls weren’t here at home with me.
I’m packing the black and white baby bag, checking and double-checking there’s nothing I’ve forgotten. Darcy is outside fitting the baby seats into her car. It feels kind of strange when, half an hour later, I’m standing at the end of the drive, waving them off. On the way back into the house, I pull the ‘No callers’ sign off the wall and replace it with a post-it note which I stick to the glass-fronted porch. I step back onto the grass and can’t help but smile as I read ‘Round the back’. I close the front door and turn the key, which I leave in the lock.
“Sorted,” I mutter. I’ve left him no other option.
I make my way into the pantry, carefully remove Lucy’s paintings, and drag the wooden easel into the conservatory and place it centrally, allowing autumn’s afternoon sun to stream through the window, lending its light to the large sheet of art paper I have placed in readiness. Our first meeting, re-enacted as well as I can. I really can’t wait to see the look on Gabriel’s face when he comes home. But even more so, I can’t wait until he sees me. I’m back in the pantry and have already found his brushes in the brown satchel and am now sorting through bottles and tubs of paints. I load as many as I think he’ll need into a brown paper bag and then, scooping my hands beneath it, carry it over to the easel and line the bottles and tubs up on the coffee table, doing the same with the brushes. I stand back and smile. Everything’s just as I want it; now for myself.
Darcy, bless her, had hung up all my clothes and stacked the shoe boxes on top of one other in the wardrobe.
“Little black dress,” I say to myself as I sort through all my clothes.
Luckily the small orange stain from the rusty hinge on the back gate doesn’t leave me searching for long. I slip it off the hanger and lay it out on my bed, then sit in front of the dressing table mirror and pick out my professional cosmetics from the cheaper products that I wear every day. It takes a few minutes, but I find the exact eyeshadow I wore the first time we met and the same pink blusher. I even manage to find the same lipstick and smile at my reflection as I apply it to my lips. My smile lingers as I glance at my face; then seeing my hair, I frown.
I know my blonde hair extensions, the ones I wore to Aunt Doris’s sixtieth birthday party, are somewhere, and I pull open the top drawer of the dressing table and search amongst costume jewellery, notepads and pens, many without lids. Near the back, in a clear plastic bag, are my extensions in waves. Leaving the bag where it is, I pull them out and gently run my wide-tooth comb through their length so as not to disturb the waves. Happy with how they look, I part my hair and clip them securely underneath. I’m no hairdresser and can’t really get a good view of the back of my head, but I’m sure Gabriel won’t notice if they’re not perfect.
I’ve got no intention of cooking this evening, so I guess that’s everything done. As I walk out of the bedroom I turn around. I’d almost forgotten my false eyelashes.
I stand up straight, push out my chest and take one final glance at myself in the mirror.
“Looks like this is it tonight, girl, make or break,” I say with a wry smile.