Five Unforgivable Things. Vivien Brown
We’d be good parents. And I’d know for sure this time that Dan wasn’t just saying he wanted it. That he really did. As much as, or maybe even more than, I did.
‘Hold back on the magnolia, then.’ I looked around the room, slowly, the morning light flooding in through the window and throwing a long bright beam across the floor at our feet, tiny dust motes dancing in the air, a thin strand of lacy cobweb dangling high up in the corner. ‘Maybe lemon, so it will work for a boy or a girl. And, actually, I do quite like Pooh Bear …’
‘You mean it?’ Dan turned my face to his and gazed into my eyes, a look of sheer joy on his face as I nodded.
And that’s how we did it, just like that, made a momentous life-changing decision in minutes, over a big tin of emulsion that never did get opened.
***
I knew getting pregnant could take time. There was nothing unusual in having to wait a few months, maybe a year, before things clicked. I’d read enough magazine articles and agony aunt problem pages to know that. Not many couples get lucky in the first month they try. But I’d been there before, managed it without even trying at all, and while taking the pill as well. What did that say about my fertility levels? And Dan’s? So, I half expected a quick result.
‘What are you grinning at?’ Linda said at work one morning. ‘You look like the cat that got the cream. The whole jug, in fact!’
I was a day late. Only one, but I was normally pretty regular, so I had already convinced myself this was it.
‘You’ll know soon enough,’ I said, refusing to explain.
‘Ooh, now I’m intrigued.’
We were opening up our adjacent tills, ready for the onslaught of customers that always greeted us first thing on a Monday, so there was no more time to talk, or for her to start guessing. If she did, I knew it wouldn’t take her long. There are only so many happy secrets it’s possible for a woman to have.
By the time we stopped for lunch, it was too late. There was no secret, and no baby. I was bleeding.
‘Never mind,’ said Dan, when I got home and told him the news. ‘It’s early days. Put your feet up and I’ll cook tonight. And if you’re really good I might even make you a hot water bottle.’
‘If I’m good?’
‘Well, you know what I mean. No crying, or worrying about it. We’ve got plenty of time, and having a few more practice goes at it could actually be quite fun. Practice makes perfect, after all! Now, what do you fancy to eat? Fish fingers or chicken pie? I think there’s one in the freezer somewhere.’
‘Fish please. It’s good for baby-making. I’m sure I read that somewhere.’
‘Really? Maybe it’s time we read up on all this stuff, eh? Get our facts straight. You know, loose underpants and cold showers, and timing things with a thermometer and all that. Give ourselves the best chance. We’ll get a book out of the library.’
Typical Dan. Methodical, organised, a planner through and through. I suppose that was the accountant in him. Left to me, we’d be taking things as they came, letting nature take its unpredictable course, leaping into an early bed a bit more often and just enjoying the ride.
‘Okay. No harm in that, I suppose. And can I have carrots with my fish fingers?’
‘Carrots? I thought they were for helping you to see in the dark.’
‘Well, I’m going to need to do that too, aren’t I? If we’re planning on doing a lot of under- the-covers baby-factory stuff, I would like to see what it is I’m getting hold of!’
‘How about we just leave the light on?’
‘Or get a torch? I used to have one to read in bed when I was a kid. You know, all sneaky, under the blankets when I was meant to be asleep. Dad used to do his nut when he caught me. ‘You’ve got school in the morning,’ he’d say. He even took the batteries away once!’
‘Ah, but we don’t have to be sneaky, do we? We’re in our own home now and we can leave the lights on all night if we want to. In fact, we can do whatever we like. Even things that involve batteries, if you fancy it! And, besides, I don’t want to be the one holding the torch. I rather like having both hands free for …’I giggled as he grabbed me, one jumper-covered breast neatly cupped in each of his open palms.
‘Not tonight, Josephine! I’m bleeding, remember?’ I pushed him off, pulling his face down towards me for a kiss. ‘Now, go on, get out in that kitchen and make me that hot water bottle you promised me. Oh, and chips. Got to have chips with fish fingers.’
‘Yes, your Majesty. Whatever you say, your Majesty.’ He backed away, bowing and laughing at the same time. ‘Your wish is my command.’
***
Dan looked funny in boxer shorts, his legs pale and spindly. I’d bought him some plain white ones, a pack of six, and deliberately a size too big, to be on the safe side, and he’d come home with a bright-red pair with little Mickey Mouse faces all over them, which he was now modelling in front of the bedroom mirror. I marvelled at how our tastes could be so different at times.
‘How can I take this whole thing seriously if I have to look at those monstrosities every time you take your trousers off?’ I said, bundling up all his old bottom-hugging clingy y-fronts and chucking them in the bin.
‘I won’t be wearing them every time, will I? In fact, if you don’t like them, I’ll keep them for my day off.’
‘Day off?’
‘You’ve bought six pairs. Monday to Saturday, right? I’ll wear the Mickeys on Sundays. So, no sex on Sundays, okay? My day of rest.’
‘Dan, that’s not how it’s done. We’re not supposed to make love every night. Not even six out of seven. We’re not machines. It still needs to be fun, not some sort of chore. And sperm has to build up its strength a bit, over a few days, if you want it at its best.’
‘I know how it feels!’
‘Dan, we’ve hardly started. Anyway, it’s quality that counts, not quantity.’
‘You’ve been reading the book.’
‘Of course I have.’
‘You’d better draw up a timetable, then. Make sure I don’t accidentally get an erection on the wrong day!’
‘Now you’re just being stupid. But I am going to start taking my temperature every day, and when that tells us the time’s right, you’d better be ready. All guns blazing.’
‘I’ve only got one gun, sweetheart.’
‘One’s all we need. So long as the bullets you’re firing aren’t blanks.’
‘Not likely, is it? We’ve made a baby once, so things must be in working order.’
‘True. So, do you fancy a trial run?’
‘Now, you mean?’
‘Well, not if you have something better to do. Like mow the lawn or clean the oven, or something.’
‘Well, come to think of it, there was that silver tankard I’ve been promising myself I’d polish …’
‘Dan!’
‘Oh, all right then. Seeing as you’ve asked so nicely. I dare say the silverware can wait.’
‘But you’re still wearing the Mickeys. Didn’t you say no sex when you’re …’
‘Oh, don’t you worry. That’s easily solved. I’ll take them off. Let’s be honest, it’s a lot easier naked, isn’t it?’ And, with that, he pushed me down onto the bed and wriggled me out of my jeans, and we tried really, really hard to make a baby.