Lies Lies Lies. Adele Parks

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СКАЧАТЬ Simon.

      Millie is perfect.

      We shouldn’t push our luck. I’ve always been a ‘count your blessings’ sort of person. I don’t want an embarrassment of riches, I prefer to scrape under the radar with a sufficiency. Simon and I do not think alike on this. Obviously, he agrees Millie is perfect. For him, it’s her very perfection that’s driving his want to make more babies.

      For the last couple of years, more or less since Millie started pre-school, Simon has been saying we ought to try again. I’ve nodded, smiled, acknowledged his suggestion without entering into any sort of real discussion. I mean, in a way we are trying, at least we’re not avoiding the possibility – we don’t use contraception. However, at our age, with our history, that’s not trying hard enough. We’d have to get some help if we want a second child. I know that. Recently, Simon has significantly upped the ante in terms of his persistence with this idea. He can’t seem to just enjoy what we have.

      Half term is a good example. We took a cottage in Devon because British families have been doing so for generations and, evidently, we lack the necessary imagination to buck the trend. This year we took a chance, selecting a new part of Devon that we hadn’t previously visited. The cottage was dated but well-scrubbed, and whilst the water pressure made showering a slow and disappointing process, there was an open fire, an Aga and a shelf of jigsaws and board games, so we thought the place was perfect. The garden fell away to a footpath that led directly to the beach. I’m always surprised by beaches. They’re never as restful or ideal for contemplation as I imagine. British beaches are noisy places: waves crash, seagulls squawk, the wind scrapes the sand, and children laugh, cry and shriek. It’s best to accept this, embrace it. We’re keen to offer Millie every opportunity that might be presented in an Enid Blyton novel so despite the sometimes iffy weather, we took long walks and endured breezy picnics without admitting to the chill. We went crabbing and scoured rock pools for mini creatures that delighted Millie. We were just a short drive away from a petting farm and a small village packed with pastel-coloured buildings, where every second shop sold fish and chips. Yes, perfect.

      It was hardly a retreat though. The place was too picturesque to remain a secret. Indeed, we’d discovered it because it was featured in a glossy Sunday newspaper supplement. Yet despite the identikit families dressed in Boden, trailing plastic buckets and spades, we managed to carve out some privacy, some time to ourselves. We ignored the crowds and the queues, and we drew a magic circle around us. Naturally, Millie made friends with other children on the beach. She’s confident, open and pretty, just the sort of kid other kids like to befriend, but when the parents of her new acquaintances invited us to join them for a scone at the café or a barbecue in their rental, we declined. We made up excuses, told small lies about already having plans and commitments. I’m not at all like Millie, I’m not confident about making new friends, I never have been. I was never what anyone would have considered a pretty girl. It’s not the worst thing in the world, although some people seem to think it is. As a child, I concentrated on being kind and funny, well informed, with aspirations of being thought of as reasonably clever. It was enough. I got by. I have great friends now but I’m not a fan of making casual, transient relationships on holiday. Why bother? Besides, we were so blissful, just the three of us, we didn’t want or need anyone else. Three is the perfect number. Fun facts: the Pythagoreans thought that the number three was the first true number. Three is the first number that forms a geometrical figure, the triangle. Three is considered the number of harmony, wisdom and understanding. I’ve always thought that three is particularly significant as it’s the number that is most often associated with time: past, present, future; beginning, middle, end; birth, life, death.

      I sigh, glancing around the fertility clinic reception, I really don’t think we need to be here, trying for another baby. It’s like we’re pushing our luck. Being greedy. Asking for trouble. We’re happy as we are.

      Simon squeezes my hand. I think of the last night in the cottage. Millie was exhausted after a week of fresh air and long walks, she almost nodded off at the kitchen table over supper. We got her to bed by 7 p.m. and she was asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. Simon suggested we have a glass of wine in the back garden, make the most of our last night and the privacy that our cottage offered. There was a gas heater, one of those that’s bad for the environment so I demurred, but Simon persuaded me, ‘Just once. Go with it.’

      Let’s just say, the wine (not a glass but two bottles in the end) and the sound of the sea crashing on the beach, the novelty of spending time alone together without other people or even Netflix, had an effect. We made love under the stars and a blanket. It was exciting, daring. The last time we did anything as risky was so long ago I can’t remember when it was exactly. Years and years ago. Afterwards, we lay snuggled up under the slightly scratchy picnic blanket, clinging to one another for warmth, and just allowed ourselves to be. Be relaxed. Be satisfied. Be enough. It was blissful. Until Simon kissed the top of my head and said, ‘Do you know the one and only thing that could make this moment more perfect?’

      ‘A post-coital cigarette?’ I joked. I’ve never been a smoker and Simon gave up when we first started dating. I know he still misses it, even after all this time he craves the nicotine hit. Simon likes hits and highs. I don’t get it at all. I’m not the sort of person who values kicks above health.

      ‘Well, that would be good, but no. I was thinking a baby, asleep in the other room.’

      ‘We have a baby asleep in the other room.’

      ‘We have a little girl,’ he said gently, not unkindly.

      ‘Well, they can’t stay babies for ever.’

      ‘That’s not my point.’

      I felt the warmth of his body along the length of mine and yet I still shivered. ‘You’re serious?’

      ‘I love Millie so much. And you,’ he added swiftly. ‘I can’t bear to think that we’re not giving her everything.’

      ‘We do give her everything we can,’ I pointed out.

      ‘Other than a sibling,’ he countered.

      ‘Yeah but it’s not as though we tried to deny her that, it just hasn’t happened. It’s unlikely ever to because neither of us are getting any younger.’ And conceiving was never something we were good at. I don’t add that. We don’t talk about the horrors we went through to get Millie. It’s generally agreed that the pain of childbirth is forgotten once you hold the baby in your arms. In my case it was also the pain of years of trying to conceive.

      ‘We should make it happen. She’s so gregarious and loving. I can’t bear the idea of her missing out on having a sibling.’

      ‘Having a sibling isn’t always a bonus,’ I argued. ‘You’re not at all close to your sister.’

      ‘No, but you adore yours. I want Millie to have what you and Rose share.’ He turned to me and I saw fire in his eyes. I should have understood then that he wasn’t going to let the matter drop. He’s a very determined man when he wants to be.

      Stubborn, my mum says.

2

       Chapter 2, Simon

      The waiting room was chilly. The air-conditioning was a little too vigorous. It was bright outside so people had risked T-shirts and sun dresses, СКАЧАТЬ