Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes (8 page)

“Of being a father, I
mean?”

His face said clearly that the
idea was preposterous. That nothing had ever scared him in his
life.

Maybe it hasn’t,
she
thought
, certainly I’ve never known him show weakness of any
kind.

Daniel seemed to swell visibly,
his face as cold and hard as the granite work top Helen was
gripping for support.

He drew breath but, before he
could speak, Helen quickly carried on, hoping that by preventing
his utterance she could erase the words entirely. She could see
they were not going to be words easily unsaid.

“Because it terrifies me.” The
words came in a rush. “Being a parent, growing a little person
inside here,” she rubbed her stomach protectively, “knowing that
this person will need me and love me and always be a part of my
life.”

She realised immediately that
this was the wrong thing to have said.

“I. Need. You.” He spat the
words out and they were stripped of all emotion. He could have been
speaking of his car or coffee machine. Suddenly it seemed as if
something snapped inside Daniel and a torrent of words came
spilling out unstoppable. He paced the room, looking anywhere but
at Helen, his arms flailing as he spoke.

“There is no room in this place
for a squalling brat, taking up all your time and energy, keeping
me awake. How can you host a dinner party when you’re fat as a
house bumping into the furniture, or with a snotty child on your
hip? How dare you even think it? I have worked too hard, for too
long, for you to try and ruin it in this way.”

He paused, panting. Helen could
feel his eyes raking across her as she slumped forward, arms still
gripping the breakfast bar for support. She pictured what he could
see, what she had seen herself an hour before, gazing in the
bathroom mirror: her face drawn and grey, exhaustion emphasising
the dark circles under her eyes. She knew it would disgust him. As
if in confirmation, Daniel drew breath and delivered his
verdict.

“My Wife,” and Helen heard the
capital letter, “should be elegant, attractive, entertaining. An
asset.”

She looked up mutely into his
anger but he no longer saw her. Instead he was staring blankly at
an internal image she could neither see nor emulate.

“I want a hostess, a companion;
someone who will support me in my career. Not,” he glared back at
her wan face, the rising nausea turning her skin a sickly hue, “not
someone who will whine and vomit for months, growing huge and
cumbersome, and who will then produce something that, too, will
whine and vomit, as well as consume her every waking moment.”

Helen thought distractedly
that, in a way, Daniel’s words were a compliment. That she had
fulfilled his exacting requirements enough for them to be engaged
was quite an achievement. Part of her laughed at the thought, with
a bitterness that burned the throat. Was he aware of what he was
about to lose? He had made his position clear; he was forcing her
to choose. Well, that was an easy choice to make.

“I’m not having an abortion.”
The words followed on from her train of thought and she didn’t stop
to soften them or make them less confrontational.

There was an awful pause as
Daniel stood immobile in the centre of the kitchen, the last of the
light fading from the skylights above his head. He was surrounded
by spotlights that appeared to shine brighter as the light receded
outside. For a moment there was silence, and then he spoke.

“You will do what you are told,
or you will get out.”

Helen looked at him standing
there, arms hanging loosely by his sides, face harsh and
unyielding. There was no sign of the man she loved anywhere in his
uncompromising frame. His eyes were hooded, staring just over her
shoulder at the Monet print on the wall behind her.

Helen’s brain ran through
response after response, trying to settle on the words that would
defuse the situation, would bring back
her
Daniel. Nothing
seemed to fit. Her only thought was,
when he calms down, he’ll
feel differently
. The notion gave her strength.

Yes, he’ll come round, when
he’s had a chance to think things through. He loves me. I surprised
him, that’s all. He wants to marry me, I know he does. He set the
date, pushed things along. He chose my dress, for heaven’s sake.
When he’s calmed down he’ll see that a baby will only bring us
closer, make us happier. It won’t affect his career.

Part of her thought that maybe
he should realise that babies always come first before money or
work, but the thought was quiet and easily ignored.

For now, he needs space; I must
give him time to adjust. I shocked him, that’s all.

She stood in silence and left
the room. In the bedroom she gathered up things for an overnight
stay, took her phone, her handbag, her laptop. As she headed for
the exit she took her camera out of the hall cupboard. She waited
in the hallway for thirty seconds, wondering if he would call her
back. Then she left the apartment, resisting the urge to slam the
door.

When the lift deposited her in
the lobby she could see it wasn’t quite dark outside, despite the
late hour. The air was warm but Helen shivered, wondering what she
was going to do now. She didn’t really have a friend close enough
that she could turn up unannounced on their doorstep at nearly
midnight looking for a bed. Her parents lived in Devon and her
brother was in Dubai.

On impulse she decided to phone
the small boutique hotel near Earl’s Court, where her parents
stayed when they came to visit, to see if they had a room. She was
relieved beyond measure when the response was
Yes, they’d had a
last minute cancellation
.

If the night porter thought it
strange that she was calling at such a late hour, he didn’t let
on.

Hanging up the phone, Helen
realised with a stab of fear that she didn’t have enough cash for a
cab. Even though the hotel was near an underground station she
didn’t relish travelling by Tube so late on a Friday night.

I guess there are lots of
things I’m going to have to learn to do by myself. It’s not like I
had the money for a cab as a student.

Lifting her chin, Helen fixed
her eyes straight ahead and walked briskly to the nearest
underground station. As she took the familiar route along Fleet
Street, deserted at this late hour, Helen tried to think
rationally.

Money; how is that going to
work?

It was too late to regret
letting Daniel persuade her to leave her job, even if it was true
that he
couldn’t date a member of staff, particularly not one so
much junior to him
.

She ground her teeth as she
thought back to the conversation. At the time she had been so swept
away by the idea that he wanted to date her at all, she hadn’t
thought through the implications of his request. And even if she
kept her business head on enough to protect herself, she no longer
felt smug negotiating a decent wage from him.

He’s not exactly going to pay
me wages now, is he?

Her savings weren’t going to
last long and she’d be damned if she was going to take from the
joint account.

By the time she reached the
hotel Helen was shivering. She explained to the night porter, in as
clear and unwavering voice as she could manage, that Daniel was
away and she had returned to the apartment after a night out to
find the power off. She’d rather the night porter thought her a
pampered princess who couldn’t manage without electricity for one
night, rather than a jilted fiancé with a baby on the way.

She was shown to a tiny box
room on the third floor, with a small window over-looking a wall.
It wasn’t the usual serene room her parents had, but she was beyond
caring. Dumping her bag by the door, she stumbled towards the
single bed. Helen let her body fall forwards, until she was lying
down, and then she wept.

Chapter
Six

“Twenty-four hours since I found
out I’m going to be a parent and look at me, I already look like
shit. Like I haven’t slept in weeks.” Her words echoed loudly in
the silent room.

Helen tried to smile at the
waxen image in the mirror but it threatened to breach the
protective barrier she’d built, so she turned away. A quick glance
at the phone, permanently in her hand, revealed there were still no
messages or missed calls.

She perched on the edge of the
bed and looked at the morning sun painting streaks across the red
bricks outside the window. She had an hour until she had to check
out and as yet no plan had formed in her weary mind.

I suppose I could ring
Sharni.

The thought was quickly
dismissed. Deep down she knew what her photography friends thought
of Daniel and she wasn’t ready yet to tell any of them they were
right. There was still time for him to prove them wrong.

“He just needs time,” she said
aloud, trying to fill the silence. She knew what option was left to
her but was reluctant to take it; it was too stereotypical in such
circumstances. Every damsel in distress who found herself pregnant
and alone turned up on the parental doorstep and a strong streak of
stubborn pride made her hesitate to act that role.
Where else
can I go?
Her flat was let for six weeks more at least on the
current lease and she couldn’t afford the mortgage without the
income from rent anyway, not until she found work.

Her mouth went dry. The thought
nagging most at her mind, more than Daniel’s injustice, was
Where am I going to find work?
She could hardly go back to
the firm where she met Daniel and the City was such an incestuous
place. Anywhere she went they would whisper about her.

I might still win the
competition
, she thought, trying to be optimistic. She laughed
bitterly at the idea that £500 would last her long in London.

I don’t want to leave the city.
Even without my new photography friends, London’s my home. It has
been for nearly a decade.

Thinking about where she grew
up made Helen smiled wryly. If she thought they would whisper about
her in the Square Mile that was nothing to what the neighbours
would say if she returned south with a bump and no partner.
Besides, even though she loved Devon, she was a city girl at heart.
That was why they had planned a trip to Hong Kong for their
honeymoon, rather than a beach break.

Oh god, the wedding. What
are we going to do?
Helen shuddered. She couldn’t bear to think
about that now. The wedding was only weeks away, everything
organised, invites sent, the works.

I don’t want to be the jilted
bride, to have my big day taken away from me.

As she thought the words, Helen
realised it wasn’t really
her
day. Daniel had completely
thrown himself into all the arrangements; she had thought it sweet,
knowing as she did that most men had a walk-on part only. Now, in
light of his behaviour the night before, she wondered if his
involvement had been controlling rather than endearing. Not just
choosing the dress but dictating the guest list, the gift list,
even the music they would dance their first dance to.

What man cares about that?

A sense of clarity descended on
Helen’s sleep-starved brain. Although the room was hazy, her
thoughts seemed sharper than they had been in months. She began to
realise that maybe the photography group were right about Daniel.
The longer she sat with the silent phone in her lap, staring at the
sun moving across the wall outside, the harder it was to believe
that he did truly love her.

All along I’ve been smug that
my man was so deeply in love with me that he came with me to taste
the cake, to choose my flowers. But his performance last night --
that wasn’t about love. I’d done something without his blessing,
albeit something I had no say in, and he hated it. As if I got
pregnant just to spite him!

Helen stood up and tried to
pace in the tiny room, her body quivering with energy.

Who does he think he is, trying
to run my life? Am I just one of his business deals, something he
needs to control down to the smallest detail?

The thought made her feel
hollow, as if the life they had lived for the last few years was a
sham. She sat down again, the fizzing energy burning itself out as
quickly as it came, leaving her with the weakness she had come to
associate with being pregnant.

As she sat slumped in defeat,
hollowness gave way to numbness. She flopped back and stared at the
ceiling, feeling more lost than she could remember feeling before.
She had always had a purpose, a drive to live life. Had Daniel
stolen that from her?

I’ll be damned if he
has
.

The words flared in her mind as
Helen fought back the wave of self-pity threatening to consume her.
Focusing on the anger, Helen pushed away the loneliness and loss. A
steely taste filled her mouth. As she took first one deep breath
and then another, Helen felt resolve creep through her. Sitting
back up, she found she no longer wanted to sob. She didn’t even
want him to call. If he thought she was going to sacrifice her baby
for his grand design he had carefully selected the wrong woman.

Wouldn’t he just hate that?

A taut smile dragged at her
salt-tight cheeks. Now Helen felt that going to her mother’s was
not running away but rather a strategic retreat to formulate a new
plan of action. She picked up her phone and selected the familiar
number, breathing slowly as she waited for her mother to
answer.

“Maggie speaking.”

“Mum? It’s Helen.”

“Darling, how lovely to hear
from you. How are the wedding plans going? Your father and I are so
looking forward to coming to town.”

“Ah,” Helen hesitated, she’d
forgotten about her mother’s endless enthusiasm. “There might not
be a wedding. Something has happened.”