Narrow Escape (16 page)

“Oh, what time was he born?” I didn't really have a clear idea of what the time was now, I was so bone-tired it could have been the next day for all I knew.

“Eleven fifty-two.” Chris read Finley's tiny plastic bracelet.

“Well, he got his own birthday then,” I said. When both of them gave me a quizzical look I laughed. “Eight more minutes and he'd have been sharing one with his Uncle Sam.”

Amelia groaned. “Sam's birthday, oh I forgot.”

“I think, under the circumstances, he'll forgive you,” I said.

As it was so very late, the hospital only gave us another ten minutes before throwing us all out again. I gave Chris a ride home.

“Where are you staying?” he said.

“I hadn't considered staying,” I said. “It's Sam's birthday tomorrow or um … today.”

Chris nodded. “You could stay at ours, you know.”

I thought about it for a moment and studied him, he was nearly as pale as Amelia had been. “I don't think you need to be worrying about a house guest,” I said.

He nodded gratefully.

“Look, how many people are coming down tomorrow?” I navigated around one of the seemingly hundreds of tiny roundabouts that make up modern Cardiff.

Chris yawned hugely as he tried to calculate. “Erm, my mum and step-dad and your mum and dad.”

That was a lot of people trying to hug a new baby. I thought back to my first born. All I'd wanted was for everyone to go away so that I could study my new arrival and take in every detail. “I think that's enough for one visit don't you?” I said.

Chris nodded, he really was seconds away from falling fast asleep.

“I think I'm going to head for home,” I said. “The roads will be very quiet and I can make it by …” I checked the clock glowing in the dashboard, oh dear, it was later than I'd thought, “… dawn. We'll all come down next weekend. That will give you a chance to get both of them home and settle down a bit.”

Chris didn't respond. Turning to look at him I could see that his head had fallen against the window, his mouth had dropped open and as I grinned at him he gave a gentle snore.

After dropping Chris at home I headed for the motorway. I kept yawning and it did occur to me that this was probably a really stupid idea. I decided I'd drive until I couldn't drive any more then I would pull over and take a nap in the car.

Another stupid idea, that evening nearly had one generation arriving and one leaving. Driving down the empty M50 towards Tewkesbury I fell asleep and it was only providence that woke me just before I hit the central barriers. Shaking and filled with adrenaline I pulled off the road at the next services, killed the engine and lights and, after dropping my seat back, was asleep within seconds.

When I awoke, dry-mouthed, gluey-eyed, and completely disoriented it was just after eight o'clock, so much for making it home by dawn. I called Geoff and then wandered into the services in the hope of finding a decent coffee. I staggered into the toilets and caught sight of myself in the mirrors. My hair looked as though someone had back-combed half a beehive and then lost interest. There were bags beneath my eyes that any big supermarket would have been proud of and, just to put the cherry on the top of the cake, where I'd been sleeping against the seat, the piping had driven deep grooves into my cheeks and forehead. With my smeared make-up and crumpled clothes I looked crazed; it was no wonder that I'd been getting some funny looks.

After five minutes communion with a cold tap and some paper towels I felt awake and looked almost human again. I treated myself to one of those weird chewy toothbrush thingies that they have in the machines in the toilets and with a large coffee in hand, I found a place to sit and enjoy waking up.

By the bottom of the cup I was feeling quite fantastic. I decided that I was completely fine and could easily manage the rest of the drive home. I stood up and stretched, yes I was one hundred per cent again.

I was just about to head back to the car when I felt a hesitant tap on my shoulder. I turned to face a young lady who was looking at me with concern.

“Erm are you all right?” she asked with a smile.

“Yes?” The word emerged, drawn out and slightly questioning.

“Are you sure?” she said. Taking my arm she gently pulled me back down onto the seat, I was so confused I didn't bother to resist.

“Yes.” The word was still drawn out but I tried to inject some positivity into it.

“We have a first aider on site if you'd like to see him.”

Great, the only time I get decent customer service and it's for something I don't want, typical.

She didn't say anything more, just gave me a look that said, ‘I think you look like cack and I don't want you having a heart attack on my nice polished floor.'

I managed to get my wits about me. “Thank you,” I said. “I had a very late night and I had a sleep in the car I don't think I've quite woken up yet.”

She straightened up obviously relieved to find that I could actually speak in full sentences. “Oh, I'm so sorry,” she said. “You just looked really pale and unwell.”

“No, no really it's fine.” I stood up again. “I always look like this, even in summer I only manage to attain a dirty white colour. See me in a cold winter and I am actually pale blue.” I clamped my teeth together; it seemed the only way to stop myself from babbling like a complete loony.

She laughed and then looked embarrassed. “I'm really very sorry.”

Oh it's awful when you try to do something nice for someone and they don't need help, it makes you feel a right fool. It's like asking a chubby woman when her baby's due (I've done that) or offering your seat to someone who takes the whole thing as an insult (I've done that too). I decided to throw her a line.

“Really, I do appreciate it, I know I look half dead at the moment and it was incredibly sweet of you to check up on me.”

She nodded, gave me a slightly sickly smile and, cheeks flaming, walked away.

I watched her go and felt guilty. For a moment I wondered if I could bring on a faint or something just to make her feel better. Looking around I realised that one of those ‘non crowds' had started to grow. People weren't exactly gathered but they were definitely looking and listening. It was time to go.

I finally staggered back into the boat at about eleven o'clock and after wrapping myself in a quilt, collapsed face first on to the sofa with a groan.

Handing my phone to Geoff and Sam so that they could see the pictures of the new family member, I didn't see the world again until about three o'clock in the afternoon.

I awoke to Charlie's face, very close to mine. I pulled back with a little yelp.

“Hi, Momma Bear,” she said, “I brought you a cup of tea.

Telling myself that it was just a nice gesture and I was NOT to immediately assume the worst about my middle child. I took it with a smile. “Bleugh, good morning.”

She hovered, watching me drink the tea. “Well, it's good afternoon really,” she said. “How was the baby, was it all terrible? I'm never going to have one.”

The tea was the perfect temperature and I gulped it down. I stared sadly into my empty cup and, deciding to push my luck slightly, I held it out to her in the hope that she might refill it.

She took the mug with a big smile and said, “Another?”

I nodded. Maybe I should have listened to those little alarm bells that were beginning to ring in my head. I didn't, I was obviously still too full of the memories, both good and bad, of my grandson's birth. “It was …” I hesitated; I didn't want to put her off completely, she already had enough negative views about pregnancy, “… complicated. Amelia was running a very high temperature and in the end they had to intervene.”

Charlie shuddered. “Did they have to … you know, cut …?”

I nodded. “Better out than in really applies in this case.”

She handed me my new mug of tea. “I saw the pictures,” she said. “He looks quite cute, for a baby.”

I laughed, Charlie has never been and would never be the hearts and flowers pink child. She's never dreamed of a big white wedding and has never been interested in home-making. Even talking about this baby was making her squirm.

“Well,” I said, “I think humans have probably the least cute babies on the planet.”

Charlie shook her head. “No, birds have the ugliest babies.”

I had to agree with that. “I think it's the lack of fur that makes them a little odd looking but they soon become cute, at six months he'll be totally adorable.”

“Kittens are cuter,” she said.

I nodded. “But they grow up into great damn cats. I'm not keen on anything that grows up to be a murdering psycho.”

“But kittens are so cute.” Charlie pushed.

There were those alarm bells again.

“So are puppies,” I said.

Charlie waved a blasé hand. “Kittens are much cuter than puppies.”

Alarm bells getting louder.

“We're not getting a kitten,” I said.

“No, we don't need to get a kitten,” she laughed.

“I should think not, it would be mayhem in here, Mortimer would eat it and it would just be a flaming nightmare …” I was going to go on and list all the reasons why having a kitten would be just plain stupid when she cut across me.

“Cos we've already got one ” Charlie gave me a great big smile and dropped a rather surprised looking handful of black fur onto my chest. “Hoorah!”

Well, the little ball of fluff wasn't nearly as surprised as I was and with a yelp I grabbed it and deposited it rather suddenly onto the sofa beside me. At least, I tried to. As my hand gently closed around the tiny body the kitten panicked and dug every claw and most of its teeth into my hand.

I screamed.

The kitten gave a squeaky hiss and bit down harder.

Charlie screamed.

Gritting my teeth, I tried to lever the fuzzy little pin cushion from my fingers. All I managed to do was transfer it to my other hand.

To this day, I have no idea why I did what I did next. I can only assume that I managed to confuse kittens with parrots. I decided that, to calm everything down, I would stick my kitten covered hand under the quilt in the hope that sudden darkness would calm it down.

It didn't.

Plunged into a warm darkness I can only assume that the little fur-ball thought that it was being eaten and, letting go of my hand, it attached itself to my naked thigh and then proceeded to claw and bite its way up my bare leg heading for my stomach.

Well, that was MUCH more painful than my hand so, with another scream, I leapt out from beneath the cover and proceeded to do the ‘shake this attached furry thing off my stomach and out from under my T-shirt' dance.

I didn't want to slap it away but I was certainly getting close to doing so. The kitten was making squeaky little growling noises, the poor thing was obviously terrified. Weighing in at what looked about three ounces, this cat was a fighter and it wasn't going to be eaten by this big pink thing without giving as good as it got.

“WILL YOU STAND STILL!” Charlie grabbed the kitten as I lifted my T shirt.

“Getitoff getitoff GETITOFF!” I bellowed at her.

“I'm trying to,” she shouted back at me.

The screaming and shouting had obviously roused Mortimer from where he had been happily chomping on a bone outside. He burst through the front doors of the boat and promptly leapt up Charlie's leg attempting to get at the growling ball of fluff in her hands.

Knocked over by the force of the jump Charlie dropped the kitten.

Wide-eyed, spitting, growling and screaming, all claws outstretched I watched the poor thing fall straight towards Mortimer's open mouth.

“Oh my GOD!” I screamed and made a valiant grab for the falling cat.

I missed.

Charlie, flat on her back on the sofa watched the kitten's descent and covered her eyes.

The kitten had had enough. With a beautiful natural elegance it turned in mid-air and landed paws first on Mortimer's face. Claws and teeth were immediately attached and all I managed to see was Mortimer's big golden eyes widen in pain.

The dog screamed and took off down the boat with the kitten impaled on his nose and eyebrows. He looked as though he'd just been attacked by that face-hugging thing from the film
Alien
.

As he ran, the dog attempted to wipe the kitten off on the wall, he failed. Eventually he stopped and beat his face against the floor in an attempt to knock it off. When this also failed he spun in circles. However, the more frenzied the dog became the harder the kitten held on.

Charlie got to him first; I was only half a step behind.

She grabbed the kitten and I grabbed the dog. Holding his head still I managed to give her enough time to detach the frantic little animal from his face. She took the spitting, swearing kitten to the other end of the boat and attempted to calm it down. I was left trying to stem the flow of blood from the multiple punctures around poor Mort's eyes and nose.

Eventually peace was restored, although it took a very long time to calm everybody down.

Mortimer, sore and punctured, took himself off to sulk in Sam's bedroom. He didn't even come out for food.

“What the hell possessed you to get a damn cat?” I cornered Charlie in her boat after dinner.

“I didn't
get
him, he was given to me,” she said.

The kitten looked up at me from where it had been asleep on her lap. Narrowing its eyes it hissed and slowly stretched, fluffing itself up to twice its size. It was still very small and fluffy but the vehemence with which it yowled surprised me and I took a step back. This had not been the best start to a human/animal relationship. “Who gave him to you?” I watched as the little ball of fluff yawned showing me its long teeth and then stretched, all claws out. Yep, this animal definitely did not like me. I can't say I blamed it.