Chocolate Cake for Breakfast (39 page)

By the end of the day we’d discussed postnatal depression, examined a silicone model of the human uterus and placenta, split into teams for put-the-nappy-on-the-teddy-bear competitions and read the book about poo.

‘Ali, I’m sorry,’ I said as we went down the steps.

‘It was fun,’ she said.

‘Man, you need to get out more.’

She laughed and stretched her arms above her head. ‘I’ve been sitting down for too long,’ she said. ‘Walk?’

‘Sounds good.’ Waving to our fellow students as they climbed into their cars, we crossed the road and headed up Moa Street in the late afternoon sunlight. ‘I’ve got some serious catching up to do,’ I said, plucking a dead grass stem and snapping off inch-long sections as we walked. ‘All those girls have spent the last six months shopping for baby stuff on the internet, and I’ve spent the last six months worrying about being pregnant in the first place.’ There had been a spirited discussion on the respective merits of the Phil and Ted’s Explorer versus the Sport at lunchtime, until which point I had been entirely ignorant of the fact that Phil and Ted’s was a brand of stroller. Not just any stroller, either, but the classy ergonomic type that would carry your baby in slumbering comfort over any terrain you might care to attempt. If I’d been asked yesterday I would have guessed that Phil and Ted were a dopey pair who once went on an excellent adventure.

‘Are you feeling okay about it all now?’ Alison asked.

‘Better,’ I said. ‘Still scared, but definitely better.’

‘I think scared is normal.
I’m
scared after all that talk about sleep deprivation and postnatal depression.’

‘It all sounds so serious
.
We haven’t even
considered
what kind of car seat to put the baby into and which brand of mattress protector is rated best by
Consumer
magazine. And then there’s Janet telling us to try to have a shower and get dressed every day, and that it’ll probably take eight hours a day to feed one small baby.’

‘I don’t believe that for a second,’ said Alison firmly. ‘Leah’s got a six-month-old and she’s got plenty of free time.’

My phone beeped, and I pulled it out of my pocket to read the message.
How is anti natel thing? SB doing hair conditioning
treatment been in bthrm 1 hr so far.

I smiled and showed it to Alison. ‘SB?’ she asked.

‘Sione Brown. The little fullback with the long ringlets.’

‘Oh, I know,’ she said. ‘He does have lovely hair. Can you ask what brand of conditioner he uses?’

Pls find out brand of conditioner 4 Alison. Have learnt to put
nappy on teddy bear. Good luck tonight 1 more sleep x

Dove c u 2moro love u x

‘Dove,’ I said, smiling mistily and walking into a tree.

That evening Em made a special goodbye dinner, and Caitlin made, unassisted, a special goodbye chocolate self-saucing pudding so tough you could barely cut it with a spoon.

‘Lovely flavour,’ said Dad tactfully, chiselling a second mouthful off his portion.

‘It’s horrible!’ said Caitlin, and burst into tears.

‘Sweetie, it’s
not
,’ Em said.

‘I wanted it to be perfect,’ she sobbed. ‘I stirred it and stirred it –’ 

‘I think it’s lovely,’ I said.

‘You’re just trying to make me feel better!’ And flinging down her spoon she fled the table.

However, this crisis passed fairly quickly, and the girls and I played Beauty Salons until bedtime. We read two chapters of
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
and they both felt the baby kicking.

I went back downstairs feeling like a model sister, and made Dad and Em a cup of tea each to continue the theme.

‘Aren’t you going round to Sam’s to watch your boyfriend on TV?’ Dad asked.

‘No, I thought I’d hang out with you guys,’ I said. I hated missing Mark’s games – I had a furtive and irrational feeling that he was more likely to get hurt if I wasn’t watching – but sacrifices must be made to soothe a concerned parent.

‘We’re honoured,’ said the concerned parent drily, accepting his tea.

I handed the other mug to Em and sat down beside her on the couch. ‘Em?’

‘Mm?’

‘How long d’you reckon it’ll take him to come round?’

‘Your father? Not long, I wouldn’t think. Have a scorched almond, sweetie.’

I took one, and passed the box to my father. ‘Dad, Mark’s really nice. He’s kind to animals, he helps little old ladies across the road . . .’

‘Good on him,’ Dad said.

‘He gives money to lots of charities. And he gives me the peach Fruit Bursts even though they’re his favourite.’

‘Helen, you talk a lot of drivel,’ said Dad, but he was trying not to smile.

The climax of the antenatal weekend was the real-life birth DVD. It was just as Anita had described, and we watched in appalled silence as a dark purple baby emerged from between its mother’s hairy thighs. As the head crowned, one of the men bolted for the door of the scout hall and threw up.

Janet wrapped up with a few uplifting words on the joys of parenthood, we stacked our beanbags tidily in a corner and made our way thankfully out into the fresh air to say our goodbyes.

‘Thank you for coming to this thing with me,’ I said as we got into the car.

‘You’re welcome,’ Alison said. ‘It was a pleasure.’

‘That might be going a bit far.’

‘It was,’ she insisted. ‘Well, except for Hairy Mary at the end. When are you heading off?’

‘I’ve just got to pick up Murray and my bag, and say goodbye. Do you know if Sam’s home?’

‘He should be. You can drop me off there if you like.’

The kitchen bench and stovetop at Sam’s flat were entirely covered with dirty dishes, and the overflow was creeping across the table. A roasting dish was wedged across the sink, half full of scummy greyish water and with beads of congealed fat floating on top. Standards, it seemed, had fallen to a new low.

We found Sam in the lounge, perusing a tractor manual as thick as a phone book. ‘Hey,’ he said, looking up as we appeared in the doorway. ‘Learnt all there is to know about having babies?’

‘Pretty much,’ I said. ‘Are you going to clean the kitchen, or just burn it down and start again?’

‘That’s up to Dylan. It’s his turn to sort it out.’ He stood up, stretched and yawned. ‘So you’re off to Auckland?’

‘Yep,’ I said. ‘Hey, guys, thanks for putting up with me the last few months.’

‘Yeah, it was really tough,’ said Sam. ‘Don’t be a dick, Hel.’

I went and kissed his cheek, and he hugged me. ‘He’s lucky to have you, okay?’ he said.

‘Thanks.’

‘I mean it. You’re great. I heard a guy in the supermarket the other day tell his mate that the hot pregnant vet fixed his dog.’

‘That may be the nicest compliment I’ve ever had,’ I said.

‘Believe it,’ said Alison sternly.

‘I will,’ I said, hugging her in turn. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. Drive safe. See you soon.’

‘Do you want to watch
Mamma Mia
?’ Bel asked, flinging open the front door as I came up the path.

‘No thanks, munchkin,’ I said. ‘I need to get going.’ It was three o’clock already, which meant that even if I left this instant, and even if nobody else in the country happened to be using the Southern Motorway this afternoon, it would be after five by the time I got to Mark’s. Precious time that could have been spent with him had already been frittered away watching Hairy Mary give birth, and the thought of any further delay was, frankly, unbearable.

‘Get going to where?’ Bel asked.

‘Mark’s house.’

‘Can’t you go after we watch it?’

I bent and kissed the top of her head. ‘No.’

‘
Please?
’

I shook my head, and she burst into tears. ‘Helen won’t watch my movie with me,’ she wailed, preceding me into the kitchen.

‘Well, she doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to,’ said Dad, lifting his head from the newspaper crossword.

‘Drink, sweetie?’ Em asked.

‘No, thanks.’

Caitlin, who was doing a jigsaw puzzle on the floor, looked up and said brightly, ‘Can we make fudge now?’

‘No.’

‘You said you’d make fudge with me! Weeks ago, and you never have!’

‘Caitlin,’ I said, ‘I have made biscuits and cupcakes and kites and read that
dire
Pony Club book –’ 

‘You
said
you’d make fudge.’

‘Well then, I lied,’ I said, and went upstairs for my bag.

Murray was asleep in the middle of the fold-out bed, visible only as a small bulge beneath the duvet. I scooped him up and dropped him into his carry cage, and he glared at me through the bars with fixed unblinking hatred. Both my sisters followed me into the room to stand one on either side of the door, drooping with sorrow and disappointment.

Ignoring the lot of them I stripped the bed and folded it away. Then I gathered up the bed linen, slung my bag across one shoulder and picked up Murray’s cage in the other hand. ‘Right, are you coming down to say goodbye?’

‘My arm is broken,’ Bel said, a tear trickling down each cheek.

‘Why aren’t you nice to me?’

Caitlin lifted great wet eyes to my face. ‘We don’t want you to go,’ she whispered.

Man
, they were good. ‘Oh, munchkins,’ I said, putting everything back down and holding my arms out. Both girls ran at me and clung. ‘I’ll come back and see you really soon. And you’re going to come to Auckland to stay, remember?’

‘For the night?’ Bel asked, her voice muffled against my neck.

‘Yep. And we’ll go out for tea, and stay up late, and play on the flying fox in the park down the road.’

‘And make fudge?’ said Caitlin hopefully.

‘Yes.’

In a touching demonstration of family solidarity, all four of them accompanied me to the car. ‘Well,’ said Dad, lifting Murray’s cage into the passenger seat and closing the door, ‘be good. Have fun. Is that horrible animal going to make that noise all the way there?’

‘It doesn’t matter; I’ll just turn up the radio.’

‘Just as long as you don’t drive off the road.’

‘I won’t,’ I promised.

‘Good. Oh well, come back if it all turns pear-shaped.’

I hugged him. At least he’d said ‘if’, not ‘when’.

‘Tim! Of course it won’t!’ Em said, kissing me tenderly. ‘Everything’s going to be
fine
.’ She stepped back and looked at me, and reached out to pull down the neckline of my top by an inch. ‘Better. Okay, sweetie, go knock him dead.’

37

MOVING IN WITH MARK WAS THE BEST THING I
’
D EVER
done. He had the first two days free, thanks to the following weekend’s bye, and the weather was nasty enough to hibernate indoors with a clear conscience. We went to bed early and got up late and lived on cereal and pancakes, leaving the dishes in the sink. We did nothing even slightly productive. It was lovely.

‘We should have done this months ago,’ he said on Tuesday night, coming out of the bathroom and stretching himself out full length on the bed beside me.

I squirmed closer and rubbed my cheek against his shoulder. ‘Yep.’

We were silent for a little while, and then I said, ‘You know how in romantic movies they do those montage scenes of couples wandering around hand in hand and staring into each other’s eyes and watching the sun set over the sea from the end of a wharf?’