Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes (48 page)

“A new beginning. Just the four of us.”
Helen found she was excited at the idea. “When do we start?”

Maggie couldn’t hide the tears when
Marcio and Helen returned from Bristol to share the news that they
were moving there permanently. She had tried so hard to conceal
from her daughter how much she wanted to be able to see her and the
twins regularly. Now that was going to be possible, she could let
her emotions show.

Her face wet but beaming, she hugged
first Helen then Marcio. “You’ll be sick of the sight of me!”

“Of course not, Mum. You’ll be welcome
whenever you can come. There are three bedrooms, so we’ll have a
bed waiting for you anytime you want to stay. And babysit.” She
threw a mischievous glance at her mother.

“Cheeky!”

“You should see the house mum; Susan’s
made it so cosy since she’s been there. And you can see the garden
from the kitchen window, so when the kids are older I can watch
them play while I prepare dinner.”

Listening to her daughter’s voice
bubbling with enthusiasm, Maggie felt relief wash through her.
Already Helen looked rejuvenated, compared to how she had been when
they all arrived in Devon. It had frightened her, to see how much
her daughter had changed in the short time since the twins were
born. Her gorgeous, lively daughter had become withdrawn and pale.
Now she had a bloom in her cheeks again, and was talking about the
future with joy instead of dread.

Maggie turned to Marcio, who was
telling her more about his new job at the university.
God bless
him and his arrival in Helen’s life.
Maggie couldn’t imagine
what might have happened to Helen, if she had been alone when
Daniel came trying to win her back.
She would have gone to him,
and been lost to me forever.
She shuddered and reached over to
give Marcio a hug.

He looked up, confused, but smiled
warmly at Maggie. It would be good to have her nearby, to support
Helen, and to spend time with her grandchildren.

Marcio felt his pocket vibrating, as
his phone began to ring. Fishing it out of his jeans, he looked at
the number, but all it said was
International
. Shrugging, he
excused himself and headed out the room to answer the phone.

“That was Mum,” Marcio said, when he
came back a few minutes later. “She tried the flat, and was worried
when there was no answer. She wants to meet the babies, wants to
know if we can make it to Barcelona for her birthday, but I said
the twins are still too little to travel yet.”

Helen looked up from where she and
Maggie were sat making plans for moving to Bristol. She could see
the indecision in Marcio’s face, the disappointment, and came to a
quick conclusion. Right now it seemed like anything in the world
was possible.

“We made it all the way to Devon, I’m
sure we can manage the flight to Barcelona. From memory it’s
shorter than the train trip anyway.”

“Flying is a bit different to being on
a train.” Marcio’s voice was full of doubt.

“Don’t you want to go?” Privately Helen
thought Marcio needed to see his family, to show them the twins.
Maybe then he would feel assured that they were his children in
every way that mattered.

“I do, I’m just not sure we’re ready
for that yet.” Marcio thought about trying to get all their luggage
and the twins on a budget airline. He was used to flying with
carry-on luggage and a newspaper tucked under his arm. Looking at
Helen, he wondered how she would cope with the stress of the flight
if the twins screamed for the duration. He’d been on planes when
harassed mothers tried to shush their miserable infants. It was
usually pretty awful for everyone and Helen was still fragile.

“When is your mother’s birthday? Is it
before you start work?”

“End of March and yes, I don’t start
until after Easter. But Helen, it won’t be easy, flying with the
babies. What if they cry all the way?”

“The twins will be ten weeks old,
they’ll be fine.” She looked closely at Marcio’s face, and realised
what was bothering him. Her first reaction was to defend herself
and her ability to cope with the twins. Before she could speak, a
small voice murmured at the back of her mind,
He’s just worried
about you. He doesn’t think you’re going to show him up, he’s just
concerned it will be more than you can handle.

Helen stood up and went to Marcio,
putting her arms around his neck. “
I’ll
be fine. You’ll be
there with me, and I can feed them for the whole flight if needs
be, to keep them happy. Let’s do this; let us go away as a family.
Your mum needs to see the babies, and I’m sure your sisters can’t
wait. Tell her we’d love to come.”

Marcio held her tight and breathed in
the scent of her hair. “You’re amazing.”

She laughed. “Not at all. I fully
expect to have several child-free days, while your family hog the
babies. I’m looking forward to it already.”

As they all laughed a thought crept
into Helen’s mind. There were still a few weeks until the planned
trip to Spain. It might just be possible to find another way to
make them all feel like a family. Another way to convince Marcio
that he was the twins’ father now and that they were all intending
to stay in his life. It was an audacious plan, but sometimes life
insisted that you learn how to be brave.

Later that evening, when Marcio had gone
upstairs to get the twins ready for bed, Helen dug out the number
she had surreptitiously copied from his mobile. Grabbing the phone
from its cradle she dialled and waited nervously, her pulse rushing
in her ears. The phone clicked.

“Hola?”

Helen took a deep breath.

“Benita? It's Helen. I need your
help.”

Chapter
Twenty-Three

“Oh god, Helen, I’m so sorry.”

Helen was too tired to understand what
Marcio meant. It was all she could do to push the double-buggy
after Marcio and their over-full trolley, praying none of the
suitcases fell off as they wove their way through customs.

When they reached the arrivals lounge
she understood the cause of his apology. From the chorus of
greeting as they came through the doors it seemed his whole family
had turned out to meet them. Helen looked on sleepily as one person
after another greeted Marcio, cooed over the babies, then came over
to kiss her too. Marcio gave her an apologetic grimace and pushed
through the bodies to give her a hug. His body felt comforting
against hers, but all she wanted was to sit down and maybe drink
some tea.

The flight had been uneventful, but
Marcio was right, there was a big difference between travelling to
Devon and flying to Spain. The hours sitting in the airport,
breathing artificial air, trying to care for the twins, was more
exhausting than the flight. Helen stretched her neck left and
right; feeding in the cramped seats on the plane had been
challenging too.
Next time we find the money not to fly
budget.

She barely remembered the drive out to
the vineyard, or how she made it to her bed when she got there.
Someone brought her the twins for a feed but, after that, all was
silence. For the first time Helen truly appreciated the wonder of a
big family.

In the morning it was the same. The
twins were spoilt for choice of which Auntie would change their
nappies, bathe them, burp them. The only thing Helen had to do was
keep the milk coming, and rest.

Taking an opportunity when Marcio was
being proud parent in the other room, Benita came over to Helen and
said quietly, “It took some doing at such short notice, but it’s
all arranged.”

Helen felt a flock of butterflies take
flight in her stomach. She looked deeply into Benita’s eyes, trying
to read the thoughts hidden in their dark depths.

“What does everyone think?” Her brows
contracted and the butterflies reared up, leaving her dizzy with
worry.

Benita took Helen’s hands and held
them, smiling warmly at her.

“They think it’s wonderful. Some shock,
yes, some natural concerns. Ultimately the choice is his. If he is
happy, so are they.”

“And so am I.” Helen took a deep
breath. Everything would be fine, it had to be. It was too late
now.

“Ahem.”

Marcio’s mother cleared her throat to
get her family’s attention. There were five or six family members
gathered for breakfast in the cluttered kitchen and the babble of
voices was loud.
Too loud,
Helen decided. Although she had
slept well since they arrived, her head was still muggy from too
many thoughts jostling for attention. She looked around through
heavy eyelids and marvelled, not for the first time, at how like
her own family home the vineyard felt. As she became aware of
Marcio’s mother’s voice, Helen’s heart thudded painfully in her
chest, almost drowning out the words.

“Marci, Uncle Enric is coming to the
party this evening, I need you to go and pick him up from Hotel
Arts later.”

Marcio looked up at his mother in
surprise. “Why on earth is he staying there? Or coming to your
party for that matter? You haven’t spoken to him in years.”

“Don’t ask questions; just do as you
are told!”

Marcio grinned; his mother hadn’t used
that tone with him in years. Obviously being a parent himself now
didn’t stop him being treated like a child. Shrugging, he decided
if it made his mother happy it was a small price to pay to drive
into the city. Besides, he could pick up his email in the internet
café en-route.

“Make sure you dress smart,” his mother
said sternly. “You know Uncle Enric is a stickler for a tie!”

“You want me to wear a shirt and tie
just to collect old Enric? You are joking?”

“I do not joke, not about such things.
You will wear a tie, you will be on time, that is my wish.”

“Well, mother, if that is your wish,
then that is my command,” and he bowed, ducking as she threw a
bread roll across the table which narrowly missed his head.

Arriving at the Hotel Arts, Marcio went
to reception and explained he was there to collect his Uncle
Enric.

The lady behind the desk gave him a
look he couldn’t quite interpret, and said, “Certainly, sir, this
way.”

Intrigued, he followed the receptionist
as she led him out of the hotel and down to the beach. He wondered
what on earth the old codger was doing on the beach in March.

He noticed that there was a group of
people gathered on the sand, obviously for some special occasion.
The receptionist was leading him towards the group.
What on
earth is going on?

Marcio saw the pram first; a giant old
fashioned thing, decked with ribbons. His pulse began to beat time
loudly in his ears. Standing next to the pram was his whole family,
dressed in their best outfits, with long coats to protect against
the chill breeze. Even Spain wasn’t warm in March, although the
weather was sunny and mild enough.

Marcio felt a lump come to his throat.
The last time he’d seen his family smiling fondly at him like that,
it was about thirty seconds before his whole life collapsed like a
sandcastle washed by the tide. The rushing in his ears became
drowned out by the waves on the beach as he walked slowly towards
the gathered people.

His eyes scanned the crowd and alighted
on his mother, standing in the centre of the group. She was
smiling. As if her approval was the key, Marcio felt his mind clear
and his limbs cease to quiver. Walking more briskly he headed to
where she was standing. She kissed him on both cheeks and held him
close.

“My son. This is still your choice, and
we support any decision you make. Here.” She passed him a note. It
was from Helen.

Darling Marcio

If you don’t want to do this, I won’t
mind. I wanted to show you how much you mean to me and how I want
you to be Jasmine and James’ Daddy. If you are happy to go through
with it, take your place at the altar and I will meet you
there.

Love Helen

Marcio swallowed a lump in his throat
and ignored the prickling at the corners of his eyes. He read the
note again, but there was no thinking to be done. His mind was
clear.

Looking up, he saw a table behind the
group of people, and made his way towards it, head high. He noticed
that Helen’s parents were there too, as was Simon. Behind the
throng, holding hands, he spied Ben and Sharni, and next to them
stood Dawn and John, tanned, also holding hands.

How did she plan all of this without
my knowledge?
Scanning the crowd again, he realised Benita was
missing.
So that’s it! My darling sister has been busy.

Following his instructions, Marcio went
to stand by the table, trying not to dwell on the last time he had
done what he was told and turned up at the altar. He stood staring
out to sea, ignoring the hubbub of conversation behind him. The sun
broke through the cloudy sky overhead and its rays warmed him
through his jacket. He inhaled the scent of the sea and tuned his
senses into the rush-rush of the waves lapping the sand.

There was a hush in the group and
Marcio turned his attention away from the dark blue waves to look
behind him.

There was Helen, radiant in a simple
sea-green gown that clung to her curves and made him think
unchristian thoughts. Their family had formed two groups, allowing
a path between them, for Helen to approach the altar.

Across the space, Marcio could see
Helen staring at him, trying to read his mind. Her face was rosy
from the wind and, he guessed, from the emotions that must be
churning within her. He longed to run across the sand and pull her
close. Instead he remained in position, reaching towards her with
his eyes.