After Forever Ends (51 page)

“I just thought of something,” He told me suddenly as we lie in bed awake.

“What?”

He turned his head to me, “I’ll be thirty in a few days. I met you when I was fifteen. I’ve known you exactly half my life. Fifteen years I’ve know you and we’ve been married for thirteen of them. I’ve been married to you almost half my life.”

“Wow. You’re right.” I let the thought wash over me.

“I’m so lucky,” He caressed my belly, “I’m so bleeding’ lucky.”

But I knew that it was me who was really the lucky one. Any sane woman alive would have fallen for Oliver Dickinson, with his handsome features, his intelligence, his charm, and his affectionate nature. For whatever reason, he’d chosen to stick with me. I refused to question why. I just thanked him and thanked the universe by loving him and his children every day with everything I had.

As far as the children, it was easy to want to knock their heads and even easier to love them all. Nigel and Carolena were only six months apart in age. Racing toward four years old, it seemed that the both of them had it in mind that they ruled the roost. Poor Natalie, at not quite two, was getting the stuffing knocked out of her on a regular basis. They’d run into her and knock her down, steal her toys, and take her snacks away. When she’d get hurt by some other means and cry, however, both of them would hurry to her rescue.

“Oh, Nattie, you bump you head!” Carolena would rub her back.

“Mind the door frame, Nattie,” Nigel would lift her to her feet, “There now! You’re right as rain!”

Then it would go back to constant screaming, constant banging about and utter chaos.

I loved every second of every day.

“She’s my mummy!” Nigel tried to pry Caro off my leg while I cooked, “You let her be!”

“She no you mummy! She you auntie!”

“Mummy!”

“Auntie!”

“Now, you two stop it or I’ll pop you both down for a time out!” I threatened, “I’m as good a mummy to Nigel as I am to you, Carolena, even if I am just an auntie! Now, come on, let’s go wash up…Oh, heavens! What is that on your face, Child?” She looked like a deranged middle aged housewife.

She had the same sparkle in her eyes that Oliver did, “Nigel make me cute, Mummy!”

“Did you paint Caro with my lipstick, Nigel?”

Nigel grinned at me, proudly nodding. He tucked his hand into his pocket and produced my lipstick, putting it into my hand. “Check out Nattie. She’s posh.”

“See me pwetty!” Nattie spun in a circle, holding her skirt out. She had deep purplish, crooked lines all over her. Caro joined her in spinning. A moment later so did Nigel.

I slapped my hand against my forehead and found my camera. What else was I supposed to do? At least he hadn’t painted the baby.

Gryffin, like his sister before him, was an easy going, happy baby. In the looks department, he was the opposite of Carolena. That is not to say that he did not resemble her, which he did in the face to a great extent. It was that where Caro had inherited her father’s dark eyes and my red hair, Gryffin looked like a shrunken Oliver. His hair was the colour of wet earth and his eyes were soft coco brown. Thanks to the other three, he had an uncanny ability to sleep through anything, which is why I was surprised when he would wake up whenever he would hear the elves.

I was not sure whether they had stopped coming by or the simple exhaustion of keeping all the children had me in such a deep sleep at night that I missed them, but it seemed to have been awhile since I’d heard Lord Copse and Lady Folia chattering in the house. Occasionally, I would hear a murmur or two from the trees when I was alone in the garden and I would say hello, but that was all the noise they made. Oliver, Alex and I had never stopped visiting the circle or leaving them sweets, nor had any of the children. Nigel was convinced that they adored peanut butter and would set crackers with it smeared on them out every afternoon. I think the ants got more of it than they did. Still, with as quiet as they had been, so many of the children’s toys went missing so often it was impossible to forget their presence. When the toys didn’t reappear after a day or two, I’d comfort the children by telling them that the boon must have really liked that particular item. “Elves can’t get toys at a store like we can.” I told Nigel once when he’d lost an elephant. “It must be special.”

“Then when we buy toys we need to buy two!” He wailed back at me. “I love my lellyfant!”

One night I awoke to the sound of voices from the nursery, which was straight across from our bedroom. Nigel and Carolena had moved upstairs to take two of the rooms there, so it was only Natalie and Gryffin sleeping downstairs. I knew immediately it was the Lord and the Lady. They were speaking loudly and I could hear them laugh from time to time. I lie in bed listening carefully, trying to gather what they were saying, but I couldn’t make out a single word.

Suddenly, Gryffin began to gurgle. A moment later he let out a giggle that woke Oliver.

“Is the baby laughing?” Oliver sat up and scratched his head, “What’s happening?”

“Shhhh, listen…” Their voices came again. Oliver nodded, leaning toward the door. Gryffin squealed with giggles. A second later Natalie laughed, too. We could hear her shifting in her bed, “No, tha’s OK,” She said aloud in a sleepy voice, “I tell him tomonnow. T’ank you. Nigh’ now.”

Oliver and I lay there smiling and listened for a while before the voices stopped. There was a crack as if someone had stepped hard on one of the floorboards and the baby was quiet again.

“Should we check on them?” Oliver whispered, “We’re up.”

I shook my head. “No, they’re sleeping,” I yawned and curled my body around my husband’s. “They’re happy and fine. Like me.”

Oliver rubbed my back. After a few moments we were both asleep.

The next morning I found something in my son’s crib. It was a small purple elephant.

“Well, there you go,” I said out loud though no one was in the room, “They must have realised it meant more to you than it did to them, Nige.”

My sister came to visit us that summer. It had been nearly three years since I’d last seen her in person. She’d finished with university, which she had attended more for fun than to pursue a career. Lucy had spent the last few years gallivanting around the United Kingdom, hopping from party to party, and when she’d graduated she really had no idea of what she wanted to do with her life. She’d ended up in Glasgow with a boyfriend who was none to kind to her, although she didn't tell any of us that until after they'd split up. If any of us had known, particularly the twins, I am quite certain the lad would have ended up with broken legs, lying in a pool of blood on a dark road some place. Still, she'd made it through somehow and remained in that city, not in a very savoury neighbourhood, now living in a rented flat with four other girls. She worked in an advertising office as an assistant for a woman she despised. She’d been through a series of short term boyfriends since her split. She was burned out on her life and tired of the scene.

“I don’t want to drink and smoke anymore,” She told me over the phone one night, “I don’t want to discover every boy who’s interested in me is a scumbag. My flatmates are sluts and slobs. This street I live on stinks! It smells like something died in the gully! A few nights ago a girl was raped a block away from my flat. I don’t want to be here, Silvia! I have to make a change before it‘s too late, but I don‘t have any money!”

“You can come here, Lu,” I told her. My heart ached for my sister.

“Do you have space?”

“For my sister, yes! We’ll make space!”

“Will I be imposing?” She gulped the words, but sounded hopeful, as if somebody had just switched on a torch in a dark room and she could faintly see a door out.

“Lucy Cotton! Imposing? Good Lord, what are you talking about? It’s no imposition!”

“Well, maybe I’ll stay a week or two then?” I could hear a tissue rub across the receiver. Lucy cried easier than me and that was saying something.

“You can stay as long as you like.” I promised, “You always have a home with us.”

“Oh, Sil! Home! Do you know how long it's been since I've really had a home?”

She rang me the following evening to tell me that she’d booked a ticket on a train.

“I’m so happy!” I squealed, literally jumping up and down, “The Cotton sisters teamed up with the Dickinson boys once again! Oh, Lucy, I hope nobody gets hurt! “

She laughed, “It’ll be too much fun! It’ll be sick! “

I ran out into the garden where the twins were standing the moment I got off the phone, “Lucy will be here on Saturday!” I shouted as I skipped crossed the lawn, “She’s really coming this time!”

“Sweet Little Lucy Cotton!” Alexander grinned, “I haven’t seen her in donkey’s years!”

“That’s excellent, Love!” Oliver shaded his eyes from the setting sun, “Little Lucy Cotton here with us in the wood once again! We’ll have to do something special!”

“I’m going to buy her chocolate,” Alex nodded in agreement with himself.

“Well, aren’t you thoughtful?” Oliver patronisingly observed.

“Goddamn right I am! She loves that crap!”

Oliver was on call at hospital on the day she came, so it was Alex and I who dropped the children off with Ana and went to get her at the rail stop. We were quite early so we grabbed a bite and had a nice chat in a pub down the road. Alex was in good spirits that day. He reminded me of the old Alex; engaging, funny and bright. It was great spending the afternoon with my best friend. Funny how we had been living in the same house and I had still missed his company.

Every time I saw my sister since I’d left her at Bennington, she’d amazed me with how she’d transform herself. The only thing we had in common physically was our red hair, although Lucy’s was a tamer shade to my fiery auburn. Lucy was taller than me and as a young girl, she had a body narrow as a ruler. No hips on that girl, small, perky breasts, a tiny little bum. She had a lovely face with a button for a nose and a smile that stole the hearts of men. And she was cute with how she carried herself, too, skipping about like she hadn’t a care in the world. But when she felt like changing the way she appeared, she may as well have been a magician. Lucy could go gothic one night to a club looking like a vampire and be dressed in a ball gown the next looking like a film star. The last time I had seen my sister was when Carolena was born. She’d still had her straightened then. It was cut as high as her chin in a symmetrical bob, a la Victoria Beckham, and it gave her a rather hard appearance. She’d been wearing false eyelashes and a lot of make up at the time and she’d looked lovely, but as if she was trying too hard to achieve something she was not.

I was not prepared for the woman who stepped off the train that afternoon. Her hair had grown to her shoulders. It bounced as she walked, silky strawberry strips of curly locks all around her face. Her makeup was light and natural and accented her dark eyes. She’d developed hips, noticeable, noticeable, and I thought to myself that her perky breasts had filled out and were particularly round under her clingy blue t-shirt.

“Silvia! Oliver!” She waved her arms wildly as she toward us.

Alexander’s mouth was slightly ajar.

I caught my sister. We danced in a circle, “Lucy! Lucy! Let me have a look at you! Oh, it’s so good to see you! I missed you so much!”

“Silvia! Oh, I’ve missed you, too, Sissy!” She turned and threw her arms around Alex, “Oliver! You look so handsome!”

“Alexander!” He corrected. He kissed her cheek, “How are you, Munchkin?”

“Alex!” Her cheeks were pink as he set her down, “I mixed you two up!”

“It’s our job, you know? Embarrassing those who can’t tell us apart! If we could have made a living at it we would’ve!” He took a step back and looked her up and down, “Look at you, Lucy! You’re a right grown and beautiful woman! CFMS, too, Munchie!”

She laughed nervously, “CFMS? Do you think so?”

“Oh, aye!”

“What’s CFMS?” I asked, feeling very much out of the loop.

“They’re Come Fuck Me Shoes,” My sister said naturally as if she was explaining Inc behind a company name. She lifted a foot to show me her high heeled boots, but her attention was more on Alexander, “Not so much a munchkin anymore, yeah?” She held out her arms and did a little turn so he could have a better look.

I was not sure what was going on. Was Alexander flirting with my sister and had she just said ‘come and get it’ without using those words? And did the idea of that strike me as interesting, humorous or hit me with a pang of horror? I looked back and forth between them and I’m not sure, but I think I was laughing.

“Well, we need to get going,” I said suddenly, “Do you have all your bags, Sissy?”

Alexander carried the bags off the platform while my sister and I chatted away about what she’d been up to. While I’d been having babies and chasing children, stealing opportunities to make love to my husband, she’d been romanced by a boy from Blackpool, who’d taken her virginity and talked her into moving to Glasgow with him, then broken her heart with his inability to commit. “He really wanted me all for himself,” She explained, “My needs meant nothing to him, but I couldn't ever please him. In the end, it just didn't work out and he ran off with one of my good friends. Cow can have him. Best of luck to them both!”

She continued on to tell us that the betrayal was intensely painful, even if she didn't like to admit it, and after several months of pining and heavy drinking with her friends, she’d met a man from France who was much older than her. He’d whisked her off and seduced her on holiday in Spain. He showered her for almost a year with expensive gifts and showed her amazing sexual experiences, but a few months back he had left her to return to an ex-lover.

It kind of threw her for a loop. She was still talking about it as we drove home, “I didn’t think he’d ever marry me or anything. Bloody hell, I wouldn’t have married him even if he’d asked! And I knew that he had unresolved issues with her,” Lucy was speaking so openly it shocked me. My sister tended to keep personal things personal, even from me, but especially from the twins, “But I don’t understand why he left me to go back to her, either. She’s older than him, even, she’s a cow, and she’s not that pretty. Sort of scary looking, really. I don’t mean to be conceited, but why would he want some bone nosed old woman when he could have had me?”