Post by sophie on Feb 18, 2010 23:49:44 GMT
I was going to save this until after I finished the other one but I feel like putting it up now!
Not sure about the title - was a bit stuck. Might change it later.
He was back, but how could he be? He was dead. He was dead and yet somehow he was back, like she’d always feared.
He was walking towards her, not speaking, just with that horrible grin of his, which made it worse and she tried to run but she couldn't.
“No! No!”
“Bridget!” He said but it wasn’t his voice. “BRIDGET!”
“No...no...” she shook herself awake and found herself in her bed at home, safe, with Declan in concern saying, “Bridget! Didge!”
“Dec,” she said in confusion.
“It was a dream. You were shouting in your sleep.”
“It was just a dream,” she echoed. She put her arms round him for comfort.
“What was it?” He held her and stroked her arms.
“That one I always have,” she said, her voice trembling a little. “The one where Chris has come back.”
“Oh, Didge. He can’t.”
“I know he can’t,” she said irritably. “It doesn’t stop me having nightmares about it. He can’t come back,” she said as well, “but I’m scared to go back to sleep in case he’s in my dreams again.”
“I’ll keep you safe. We’ll talk until morning if you like.”
“What about?” she settled into the crook of his arm.
“Ah, I don’t know. What was your first ambition?”
“My first ambition?”
“It’s three in the morning, Didge. It’s the first thing that came into my head.”
“I wasn’t saying it was stupid. I don’t know. I wanted to play footy for Australia. And when I was really little I wanted to be a mermaid.”
“A mermaid?!”
“I was only little. I saw the movie somewhere and then a foster family I was with once took me to the beach. I remember Riley taking me into the water and I could swim a little bit – well, not swimming really, doggy-paddle – and I thought how amazing it would be to live in the ocean. No one shunting you about.”
“When did that stop?”
“When I realised you couldn’t play footy underwater,” Didge told him and Declan laughed.
“What about you?”
“Nothing in particular...I just wanted to look after Mum. I can’t remember ever not wanting that. And for us to live somewhere where we could be happy.”
“Oh, Dec.”
“Let’s not get soppy,” he said, embarrassed.
“Oh, you’re the soppiest, daggiest man I know!”
“I am not! And keep your voice down – you’ll ruin my street cred!”
“As if you have any!”
“What a loving wife I have!”
“Yes...one who always tells the truth! Hey, stop it!” He was tickling her. “You’re making me laugh too much!”
“If it prevents your jokes I say that’s a good thing.”
“I didn’t make any jokes...all right, all right! Give it a rest.”
He did.
They lay there in silence for a while.
“I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“It doesn’t matter, it’s Sunday tomorrow.”
Sunday. That meant a day of beautiful freedom where they didn’t have to worry about the time and running late and all the things they had to get done.
Sighing happily, she hugged and kissed him. “I love you so much.”
“And I love you too.”
They kissed, made love and fell asleep together.
She was pregnant. Pregnant again. Bridget stared down at the stick that uncaringly told her so with its little blue line. No preparation except for the two minutes...and the sneaking suspicion that had led her to buy the test in the first place.
She sighed. How had this happened? Well, of course she knew how it had happened...but she had thought it had been safe. These things happen....what a saying. People apply it to everything, like from forgetting their bus money to things like this.
She didn’t have to go through with it. She knew that. Maybe she wouldn’t, Bridget thought wildly. It hadn’t been planned, it wasn’t the right time, it wasn’t....maybe I won’t...
But then her mind flipped back to when India was a baby and what a beautiful baby she had been. Sweet and cuddly and so adorable and she forgot for a moment the sleepless nights and constant worry and non-stop crying as she imagined a new child.
“Stop it!” she said to herself. “Don’t romanticise it!”
Because it hadn’t been romantic. There had been days where Indy had been bright red and screaming all day long and all night long and then into the next morning and Bridget had been nearly crying herself, doing her best to calm her down, and when she had, she had started up again in the next five minutes. There had been no sleep that first year – no real, uninterrupted sleep. No relaxing. And there was constant nappy-changing and clothes changing and baby sick and the crying, oh god the crying. And when they get older and won’t go to bed and keep you up then as well. And it had been hard on their financial situation as well – could they really afford another child?
But she couldn’t help it. She had started to want it. Maybe, she thought, maybe we can do it. I’m not alone. I have Declan. We’ll have to find a way to do it. That decided it. That outweighed all cons.
Her mind still whirled round and round as she carried on to stare at the stick and then with a start she thought, what time is it? She had to get India from school – oh god, suppose she was too late?
She stuffed the test into the bin and left the bathroom. Thank God, half an hour until school ended. Then an hour til Declan got back – would she tell him then? What would he think?
She made herself a cup of coffee and winced as it burnt her mouth but drinking it was something to do. She looked up at the clock and then it really was time to go – she grabbed her keys and a jumper, hurried out, made sure the door was properly shut behind her and then got in her car and drove to India’s school.
The children were just starting to pour out and she was relieved that Mrs Smithson had picked up little Timothy and Jane and was already hurrying them into the car – the big, expensive-looking car. Bridget knew how much she looked down on her for being a young mother and also knew that she would be fifty times worse in her eyes if she was unmarried – then again, she had sunk pretty low when Mrs Smithson had found out she was Ms Parker and not Mrs Napier.
“Untraditional!” she had sniffed.
“Well, I’m not a traditional person,” Bridget had retorted as they had waited for their children.
“Clearly not!” she had sniffed again. “Calling your daughter India! And so young when you had her! My children have proper names and we were married long before we planned them!”
Bridget’s mouth had fallen open but before she could say something witty back the children had come out and unusually named India had run up to her with a story about her day and Bridget had had to listen and get her home.
Now India came out, more slowly than usual and with a large stain down her dress.
“What’s this?!” Bridget exclaimed.
“I fell over during footy,” India said miserably. “And then again at lunchtime.”
“Oh, Indy.”
But she couldn’t be too angry. She had been just the same at India’s age. India was six and a half. Six! How was it possible?
“Lydia said that her little brother screamed all night and she couldn’t sleep. She said she didn’t cry when she was a baby but I bet she did.”
“All babies cry.”
“That’s what I said. I’m glad I don’t have a brother or sister.”
“Oh?” asked Bridget guiltily as she made sure India had put her seatbelt on. “It might be nice.”
“Lydia said her mummy and daddy don’t pay any attention to her anymore.”
“I’m sure they’re just busy with the baby at the moment. They don’t love her any less.”
Bridget added suddenly, “You know me and Daddy wouldn’t love you any less if you had a brother or sister.”
“I still don’t want one,” India announced. “What are we having for dinner?”
Not sure about the title - was a bit stuck. Might change it later.
He was back, but how could he be? He was dead. He was dead and yet somehow he was back, like she’d always feared.
He was walking towards her, not speaking, just with that horrible grin of his, which made it worse and she tried to run but she couldn't.
“No! No!”
“Bridget!” He said but it wasn’t his voice. “BRIDGET!”
“No...no...” she shook herself awake and found herself in her bed at home, safe, with Declan in concern saying, “Bridget! Didge!”
“Dec,” she said in confusion.
“It was a dream. You were shouting in your sleep.”
“It was just a dream,” she echoed. She put her arms round him for comfort.
“What was it?” He held her and stroked her arms.
“That one I always have,” she said, her voice trembling a little. “The one where Chris has come back.”
“Oh, Didge. He can’t.”
“I know he can’t,” she said irritably. “It doesn’t stop me having nightmares about it. He can’t come back,” she said as well, “but I’m scared to go back to sleep in case he’s in my dreams again.”
“I’ll keep you safe. We’ll talk until morning if you like.”
“What about?” she settled into the crook of his arm.
“Ah, I don’t know. What was your first ambition?”
“My first ambition?”
“It’s three in the morning, Didge. It’s the first thing that came into my head.”
“I wasn’t saying it was stupid. I don’t know. I wanted to play footy for Australia. And when I was really little I wanted to be a mermaid.”
“A mermaid?!”
“I was only little. I saw the movie somewhere and then a foster family I was with once took me to the beach. I remember Riley taking me into the water and I could swim a little bit – well, not swimming really, doggy-paddle – and I thought how amazing it would be to live in the ocean. No one shunting you about.”
“When did that stop?”
“When I realised you couldn’t play footy underwater,” Didge told him and Declan laughed.
“What about you?”
“Nothing in particular...I just wanted to look after Mum. I can’t remember ever not wanting that. And for us to live somewhere where we could be happy.”
“Oh, Dec.”
“Let’s not get soppy,” he said, embarrassed.
“Oh, you’re the soppiest, daggiest man I know!”
“I am not! And keep your voice down – you’ll ruin my street cred!”
“As if you have any!”
“What a loving wife I have!”
“Yes...one who always tells the truth! Hey, stop it!” He was tickling her. “You’re making me laugh too much!”
“If it prevents your jokes I say that’s a good thing.”
“I didn’t make any jokes...all right, all right! Give it a rest.”
He did.
They lay there in silence for a while.
“I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“It doesn’t matter, it’s Sunday tomorrow.”
Sunday. That meant a day of beautiful freedom where they didn’t have to worry about the time and running late and all the things they had to get done.
Sighing happily, she hugged and kissed him. “I love you so much.”
“And I love you too.”
They kissed, made love and fell asleep together.
She was pregnant. Pregnant again. Bridget stared down at the stick that uncaringly told her so with its little blue line. No preparation except for the two minutes...and the sneaking suspicion that had led her to buy the test in the first place.
She sighed. How had this happened? Well, of course she knew how it had happened...but she had thought it had been safe. These things happen....what a saying. People apply it to everything, like from forgetting their bus money to things like this.
She didn’t have to go through with it. She knew that. Maybe she wouldn’t, Bridget thought wildly. It hadn’t been planned, it wasn’t the right time, it wasn’t....maybe I won’t...
But then her mind flipped back to when India was a baby and what a beautiful baby she had been. Sweet and cuddly and so adorable and she forgot for a moment the sleepless nights and constant worry and non-stop crying as she imagined a new child.
“Stop it!” she said to herself. “Don’t romanticise it!”
Because it hadn’t been romantic. There had been days where Indy had been bright red and screaming all day long and all night long and then into the next morning and Bridget had been nearly crying herself, doing her best to calm her down, and when she had, she had started up again in the next five minutes. There had been no sleep that first year – no real, uninterrupted sleep. No relaxing. And there was constant nappy-changing and clothes changing and baby sick and the crying, oh god the crying. And when they get older and won’t go to bed and keep you up then as well. And it had been hard on their financial situation as well – could they really afford another child?
But she couldn’t help it. She had started to want it. Maybe, she thought, maybe we can do it. I’m not alone. I have Declan. We’ll have to find a way to do it. That decided it. That outweighed all cons.
Her mind still whirled round and round as she carried on to stare at the stick and then with a start she thought, what time is it? She had to get India from school – oh god, suppose she was too late?
She stuffed the test into the bin and left the bathroom. Thank God, half an hour until school ended. Then an hour til Declan got back – would she tell him then? What would he think?
She made herself a cup of coffee and winced as it burnt her mouth but drinking it was something to do. She looked up at the clock and then it really was time to go – she grabbed her keys and a jumper, hurried out, made sure the door was properly shut behind her and then got in her car and drove to India’s school.
The children were just starting to pour out and she was relieved that Mrs Smithson had picked up little Timothy and Jane and was already hurrying them into the car – the big, expensive-looking car. Bridget knew how much she looked down on her for being a young mother and also knew that she would be fifty times worse in her eyes if she was unmarried – then again, she had sunk pretty low when Mrs Smithson had found out she was Ms Parker and not Mrs Napier.
“Untraditional!” she had sniffed.
“Well, I’m not a traditional person,” Bridget had retorted as they had waited for their children.
“Clearly not!” she had sniffed again. “Calling your daughter India! And so young when you had her! My children have proper names and we were married long before we planned them!”
Bridget’s mouth had fallen open but before she could say something witty back the children had come out and unusually named India had run up to her with a story about her day and Bridget had had to listen and get her home.
Now India came out, more slowly than usual and with a large stain down her dress.
“What’s this?!” Bridget exclaimed.
“I fell over during footy,” India said miserably. “And then again at lunchtime.”
“Oh, Indy.”
But she couldn’t be too angry. She had been just the same at India’s age. India was six and a half. Six! How was it possible?
“Lydia said that her little brother screamed all night and she couldn’t sleep. She said she didn’t cry when she was a baby but I bet she did.”
“All babies cry.”
“That’s what I said. I’m glad I don’t have a brother or sister.”
“Oh?” asked Bridget guiltily as she made sure India had put her seatbelt on. “It might be nice.”
“Lydia said her mummy and daddy don’t pay any attention to her anymore.”
“I’m sure they’re just busy with the baby at the moment. They don’t love her any less.”
Bridget added suddenly, “You know me and Daddy wouldn’t love you any less if you had a brother or sister.”
“I still don’t want one,” India announced. “What are we having for dinner?”