Twenty-Three

 

November 1988

 

The heavy scent of Mr Sheen furniture polish lingered in the air of the Papoulis’ living room. The gleaming mahogany coffee table was barely visible under a large and elaborately detailed doily. A plate of neatly arranged biscuits, baklava and custard filo pastry tarts sat in the centre. Laurel was just about to reach over and take one when Seph’s tiny foot kicked against her thigh. One look at her daughter as she lay on the sturdy sofa took the thought of food right out of her mind.

Laurel’s heart almost burst wide open as she ran a finger across Seph’s forehead, tracing a line over her delicate eyebrow. Over the last ten weeks, she’d spent hours staring at her daughter’s face, and yet every time felt like the first. The memories of feeling heavy, ugly and uncomfortable during her pregnancy now seemed absurd. If she’d have known she was making something this beautiful, this precious, this amazing at the time, she’d never have complained, not even once. Little Persephone was worth it.

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like coffee?’ Maria Papoulis asked.

Laurel blinked, looking up at her. She’d been so entranced by Seph that she hadn’t even heard her coming back into the living room. ‘No, thanks.’

Maria smiled as she perched on the sofa, already looking ready for her rounds later on. Her face was full of make-up and her dark hair was plumped and stiff with hairspray. The women of the neighbourhood didn’t seem to be growing tired of their Avon supplier if the number of paper bags in the corner waiting for delivery was anything to go by.

Maria took a sip of her steaming coffee before looking at Seph with pride in her eyes. ‘She’s so beautiful.’

Laurel smiled. ‘She is, isn’t she?’

‘Ten weeks old, already. Baby needs to be baptised.’ The dreamy look fell from her face and she threw Laurel a no-nonsense expression. ‘And soon. It’s an important tradition. Nico was baptised at eight days old.’

All Laurel could do was nod. Laurel had never even considered the ritual but, since Maria and Stelios referred to Seph as baby instead of her name because it was deemed to be bad luck, it seemed there would be no choice. Laurel knew that Nico’s parents were religious and part of the Greek Orthodox Church, but all seemed like such a strange concept. As far as she was concerned, Seph’s soul was already pure - how could it not be? There was no need for an elaborate ceremony, but it was an argument that Maria and Stelios weren’t prepared to listen to. And that wasn’t the only thing they had firm views about. 

Laurel had already been warned never to wash Seph’s clothes at night due to an old superstition, and Nico’s parents had made no secret of their disappointment about their first grandchild not being named after them, as was tradition. She’d had no idea that simply choosing a name could cause so much trouble, but she’d had her heart set on Persephone – the daughter of Zeus and Demeter, beautiful, innocent and strong. Besides Persephone Papoulis had a beautiful ring to it. Thankfully, Nico had agreed and she was glad he’d defended the choice. 

It was another thing that Laurel had been hugely unprepared for – having to defend the choices she and Nico made. There was so pressure from both sets of parents about everything from baptisms to godparents and moving back to the place she’d once been so eager to get away from. Everything was apparently now up for discussion and everyone had an opinion.

Across the road, her childhood bedroom had been transformed into a nursery. The walls had been repapered, a new carpet fitted and a brand-new cot installed in anticipation that she’d change her mind and move back. Meanwhile, on this side of Alfred Close, Maria and Stelios were piling on the pressure for Nico to propose and legitimise their tiny family unit.

‘I’ll call the priest first thing in the morning and see if they can squeeze something in.’ Maria said. ‘It’ll be difficult to get things organised so quickly, but at least we can use the restaurant for the party afterwards. If only you’d stay longer, we wouldn’t have to rush.’

Seph began to whimper and Laurel scooped her up, grateful for the distraction. ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

If it were up to her, she would stay longer. In fact, if she were honest, the pressure to move back home was one she could easily imagine bowing to. Since giving birth, she’d felt a strong urge to come back. She missed her parents and Kim, who she hoped would open the door to her when she called round tomorrow. London seemed like another world away and she didn’t miss it, not one bit. The only thing she would miss if she left was George.

Laurel planted a kiss on top of Seph’s downy head and breathed in her heavenly smell. Where the hell was Nico? He’d gone to see his dad at work but should’ve been back ages ago. As usual, he’d left her to face the gauntlet alone.

She stood up from the sofa, using having to pacify Seph as an excuse to move around a little. This was the longest she’d ever been in the Papoulis’ house and it was beginning to feel claustrophobic. The layout was exactly the same as her parents’ house but it felt completely different. The chintzy sofas were huge and old fashioned, the swagged curtains heavy and the dark floor to ceiling wall unit overbearing. Maybe that was why Nico always seemed to get so tense when he visited. The change in him was almost instant whenever he did. He’d become agitated, angry and dismissive, just like he’d been over Christmas. It was a thought that made her heart race, and not in a good way, especially because of what had come afterwards.

Seph started to cry, as if she could pick up on the fear quickening in Laurel’s body, and Maria stood up, holding her hands out. ‘Come here, come to Yiayia. Come to Grandma.’

Laurel let her pluck Seph’s warm body from hers, even though it felt like a limb being removed. She folded her arms across her chest and looked out of the window. A sky full of ugly, dark-bellied clouds covered the cul-de-sac, and she stared at her parents’ house across the road. Her mum would be back from work by now. Had she ever worried about the same things Laurel did? Laurel had tried to come up with plausible excuses and reasons for Nico’s weird behaviour, but had found none. All she knew was that something wasn’t right. She turned to look at Maria. Could she ask her? They weren’t particularly close but Laurel had to speak to someone, and Maria probably knew Nico better than anyone.

‘Mrs Papoulis?’

‘Yes, dear?’

Laurel bit the inside of her cheek. ‘When you first had Nico, did you ever notice…did you ever feel like…’ She fidgeted with the sleeve of her jumper and as Maria looked back at her, nerves took over. She swallowed the words back down. ‘Never mind.’

Maria smiled warmly, as if she could tell what was on Laurel’s mind. ‘It takes time. Babies are a big adjustment. You can’t expect to get everything right straight away. You’re only young.’

Laurel shook her head, about to explain that she’d misunderstood. She’d wanted to ask if Maria had ever noticed anything off with Stelios after Nico was born, but what was the point? Nico could do no wrong in the eyes of his parents. Even when they’d all crammed around the table at Christmas and he’d found fault with everything - from the turkey his dad had slaved over to the mince pies her mum had made and the quality of wine - his parents hadn’t said a word. Then again, neither had her family. He’d been grumpy and miserable and they’d all been too polite for their own good, keeping quiet instead of rightly telling him to shut up. Maria would probably never imagine that Laurel wasn’t the one who was struggling with being a new parent. It was Nico.

Seph began crying again as the sound of tyres screeched outside. Laurel turned to see Nico’s battered Sierra come to a halt outside. The bonnet was dented and blue, in contrast to the maroon paintwork everywhere else. The wheel arches were covered in rust and only one window worked. It had chugged along the motorway, sounding as if it would choke and die on them at any minute. It was a miracle it had managed to get them here in one piece. The memory of the Ford Escort Nico had wooed her with on that drive to follow the moon felt like it happened a century ago.

Laurel turned to take a still screaming Seph from Maria’s arms. ‘Here, I’ll take her. She’s probably hungry.’

Maria nodded. ‘I’ll put the kettle on so you can warm her up a bottle.’

Laurel turned back to the window. Rain had begun to fall, dotting the tarmac with dark splotches. She looked at Nico through the glass, comforting Seph as best as she could. What mood was he in? Judging by the way he slammed the car door behind him, it didn’t look good.

‘Ssssh,’ Laurel cooed, looking down into Seph’s red face.

Her tiny hands were balled into fists and Laurel’s heart felt like it was crumbling into dust. The sound of her daughter crying was one she couldn’t ever imagine getting used to. She sat on the sofa, laying Seph on her knees so she could rifle through the nappy bag on the floor for a bottle.

She looked up at Nico when he came in, glaring at him. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you for ages.’

‘Don’t start.’ He drooped onto the sofa next to her and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

‘Your mum’s been on at me about priests and baptisms all afternoon, I could really have used your help. I don’t know what to say about that stuff.’

‘Yeah, well, neither do I.’

Laurel’s eyes smarted as her fingers found the bottle and she clenched her jaws together to hold the tears inside. Nico had been so happy when Seph was born that he’d cried. Seeing him standing by the bed, holding Seph with tears running down his face had almost been enough to make her forgive him for that awful night in George’s salon. Even now, the memory of it still made her feel sick. Nico had insisted he’d only been making a joke and hadn’t meant anything by it but things had been stilted between him and George ever since. Still, her heart had melted in those moments after Seph had been born, and it had continued to do so for approximately one week afterwards before petrifying again as the happy, doting Nico began giving way to this god-awful, grumpy version instead.

‘The kettle’s on,’ Maria said, coming back into the living room. She looked at Nico sitting on the sofa and put her hands on her hips. ‘Oh, you’re back. I was just talking to Laurel about the baptism and –’

‘For God’s sake, can’t I have five minutes of peace?’ Nico snapped and glared at her.

For a few seconds the only sound in the house was Seph’s laboured screaming. Laurel watched Maria’s face. First, it registered with shock before switching to a look that Laurel had been given herself many times over the years when she’d stepped over a line. But instead of putting him in his place, Maria simply took the bottle from Laurel’s hand and threw Nico a look that said she’d heard it all before and couldn’t be bothered to listen.

‘There was no need to be so rude, Nico,’ Laurel said once Maria had gone back into the kitchen. She nestled Seph in her arms, rocking her as she continued to wail. ‘She’s your mum.’

Nine weeks. It had been nine weeks since she’d last seen a glimpse of anything resembling happiness in Nico. She knew he was tired, they both were. She’d anticipated sleepless nights but the reality had been a sharp shock. It wasn’t just tiredness, it was exhaustion. Her eyes burned, her limbs ached and her head felt like it was filled with cotton wool. It was a whole other level of tiredness and even though she was the one getting up for night feeds, she knew Nico must feel the same. But still. Did he have to be like this? Did he have to act as if she and their daughter were nothing but inconveniences in his life?

Not for the first time, Laurel wished she could just get up and walk away. Wouldn’t it all be so much easier if she could? She had Seph, someone to pour her love into and have it returned. Did she really need a constantly grumpy boyfriend too? Yes, it was hard, but she ached with love for Seph. She’d never give her up for anything, not in a billion years. But Nico? Her heart had ached for him too, once. She’d been so mad for him, so consumed by him. It was strange and sad to realise that even with all that, they would probably never last. She was prepared to be a single mum if push came to shove.

‘Listen, maybe -’

‘I said, can I just have five fucking minutes!’ Nico shouted and whacked the arm of the sofa with his hand.

Laurel flinched and, for a split second, Seph stopped crying before starting up again even louder than before.

‘And can’t you shut that fucking thing up? It never stops!’

Laurel’s heart pounded so hard it felt as if it were trying to leap out from her chest. She stared at Nico with wide eyes with her pulse thudding loudly in her ears.

‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ she hissed at him. Fear sickened her stomach as she got up from the sofa, holding Seph closely to her chest. ‘That thing is your daughter.’

‘What’s going on?’ Maria barged back into the living room, looking at the two of them.

‘Ask him,’ she replied, nodding towards Nico.

Rain lashed against the window as she looked at him sitting there with his hand balled into a fist on the arm of the sofa and his eyes clenched shut. She turned to Maria, waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, something inside Laurel snapped.

‘I’ve had enough of this,’ she said, and grabbed the nappy bag. 

The muscles in his jaw twitched over and over again. She didn’t know what his problem was. She’d been about to suggest taking Seph over the road to put her to sleep, all so he could have his five precious minutes to himself and he’d almost bitten her head off. She didn’t know why he was so angry and full of hate, and as she hoisted the nappy bag onto her shoulder, she found that she didn’t care. All she cared about was Seph, and she wasn’t about to let her be exposed to the way Nico was acting. She held her daughter close to her chest as tears stung her eyes.

‘I don’t know what’s going on with you, Nico, but if you’re going to be like this then just go to hell and leave us alone.’

Anger was shaking her insides and propelling her towards the front door but she fought against it. Part of her hoped he’d do or say something to show he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant to say what he had, or how he’d said it, but he didn’t move an inch. He didn’t even open his eyes and Laurel had to swallow down the rage trying to fight its way up her throat and out of her mouth. She looked across at Maria. Why wouldn’t she stand up to him? Why did she let him rage around like a bull after a red rag without consequence?

Seph didn’t deserve this, and neither did Laurel. She didn’t need to be with someone who acted this way, someone whose mood dictated her life, someone who insulted everyone around them. She didn’t need to be with someone who could walk into a room and vanquish every bit of life from it with a withering look. She didn’t need it or want it, and she didn’t need or want him.

Laurel cupped Seph’s head with her hand and walked out into the rain, slamming the door behind her.