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Post by smilelino on Aug 22, 2010 17:19:52 GMT
Thanks for all the last few updates. I really love reading your story.
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Post by sophie on Sept 5, 2010 10:33:42 GMT
Thank you everyone!
Bridget slept soundly that night and awoke to a strange, snuffling sound. She tried to remain asleep but it was no use as there were more snuffles and, as she heard a loud cough, she sighed and opened her eyes to see Declan coughing into a tissue.
“That sounds nasty, Dec,” said Bridget and he retorted, still from behind the tissue, “It’s nothing,” though it sounded more like id’s nubbin.
“You’ve got a cold!” she exclaimed but he shook his head.
“I’m fine,” he said snuffily.
“You’re not!”
“I am! Anyway, we should get dressed; we need to take India swimming.”
“India swimming!” remembered Bridget. “Well, that’s out.”
“No, it’s not!”
“If you’ve got a cold you can’t go swimming, and it sounds really bad. You should stay inside today wrapped up.”
“Yes Mum,” teased Declan, and laughed, which caused a loud coughing fit and Bridget handed him her glass of water.
“Maybe I should stay inside,” he said weakly, after he had drunk several gulps.
“Maybe you should.”
“I should have got changed straight away yesterday,” Declan said ruefully.
“I won’t say I told you so,” said Bridget but she stuck her tongue out and he stuck out his too and they got up for breakfast.
When they went downstairs they saw that India was already up and in her swimming costume, armbands and goggles, holding a bath towel.
“Let’s go swimming!” she yelled and Bridget and Declan looked at each other.
“Sweetie,” said Bridget, bending down as far as she could, “I’m afraid we can’t go swimming today.”
India’s face fell.
“Why?” she cried.
“Daddy’s got a cold. You shouldn’t go swimming when you have a cold.”
“But I really wanted to go swimming!” she cried and dropped the towel.
“India, pick that up and stop being silly. You can’t always have what you want. You can go swimming another time. And what about your poor Daddy?”
India picked up the towel and said, “Sorry,” in a small voice and sloped back to her room, her head drooping a little. Parents never understood, she thought, and wished she was a grown-up so she could take herself swimming.
“It’ll be the death of me,” she said in a deliberately loud voice and Bridget and Declan looked at each other, amused.
“Yes, poor Daddy,” agreed Declan. “I do feel pretty bad. Terrible,” he added weakly.
“Do you?” asked Bridget sympathetically.
“Really bad,” said Declan. “Maybe I should go to Mum’s today.”
Bridget stared at him.
“Why?”
“I don’t want you or Indy catching it,” he said and went and sat down on a sofa.
“It’s only the sniffles!”
“It could become pneumonia!”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” scoffed Bridget.
“I still don’t want you two catching my germs.”
“Dec, it’s just a cold,” said Bridget, sitting by him. “And anyway, you can’t go to your mum’s. She’s visiting her friend, remember?”
“Oh yeah,” said Declan, looking a bit glum, and then he thought of something.
“Hey, I know.”
“What?”
“You could take Indy swimming! That way you’d be out of the house and wouldn’t catch my cold.”
Bridget felt a bit horrified.
“Me take India swimming?” she said weakly.
“She has her heart set on it.”
“I don’t want to take India swimming by myself!” exclaimed Bridget. “Why don’t we wait until next weekend when we can all go together?”
“It’s our anniversary next weekend.”
“Oh yeah!” said Bridget, shocked at herself for forgetting. “Baby brain?” she offered feebly and Declan rolled his eyes but wasn’t annoyed.
“I still don’t want to take India swimming by myself.”
“How come?”
“I’m eight month pregnant!” she exclaimed. “And India’s mischievous enough without adding water to the mix!”
“You’ll be fine.”
“I’ll take up half the pool!”
“How about you go for a bit?” Declan suggested. “And if it’s too much you can come back. It seems better than sitting around here picking up my germs and India sulking. And they’re having free swimming mornings this month so you won’t even be wasting any money.”
“Fine for you to say,” sighed Bridget but she gave in. “All right. I’ll take her. But you should be prepared for us coming back in half an hour.”
Declan helped pull her back off the sofa and Bridget went to India’s room to find her daughter sitting on the bed with one strap of the swimming costume hanging off her shoulder, with her armbands on Teddy.
“What are you doing?
“Playing swimming,” said India glumly. “Teddy can’t swim so he’s wearing armbands.”
“What about you, you can’t swim either. Don’t you need your armbands?”
“I can swim in my game. I can swim the ocean.”
“Well,” said Bridget. “How about you try swimming in the pool? Or would you rather be swimming the ocean with Teddy?”
Her question was drowned out by a loud shriek from India who leapt off the bed and threw herself at her mother and Bridget laughed and held her back a little.
“Be careful, Indy.”
“We’re going swimming, we’re going swimming!” she shouted and picked up the bath towel again and Teddy.
“Okay, but you have to have breakfast first and you have to take the armbands off Teddy. He can’t come swimming and you need your armbands. And you need a different towel.”
“Okay,” said India distractedly, and threw the towel down on the bed, and started jumping around the room, and then jumped all the way to the kitchen, making Declan laugh and call her Kanga.
“But Kanga can’t go swimming,” said India smugly, eating her cornflakes rather messily. “And I can.”
“You’ve still got to keep your armbands on though,” reminded Bridget, finishing her cereal and taking her and India’s bowls to the sink.
“Can we go now?”
“Just let me get changed.”
“Did you know I saved your mummy when she was swimming once?” said Declan when Bridget had gone. India went and sat by him on the sofa.
“When?”
“You know she had a poorly arm?” and India nodded. “And side? After she had her nasty accident?”
“Yes.”
“It was then, when she was sixteen. She was swimming and let go of the side and she wasn’t able to swim properly, so I jumped in and saved her.”
“You’re a hero, Daddy!”
“I don’t know,” he said sheepishly. “But you need to keep your armbands on, okay? And that’s why Mummy needs to take you, in case you get into trouble.”
“Mummy should have been wearing her armbands,” said India critically, and Declan burst into laughter. “Why wasn’t she?”
The swimming bag was packed, India was dressed and she and Bridget headed off, Declan waving to them comfortably from the sofa, the remote in his hand. They drove to the pool in Melbourne, India pressing her face against the window and exclaiming at the bustling city and in no time at all, it seemed, Bridget was pulling up into a space, taking them in and they were ready. Bridget had heard the noises and shouts from the pool before they got there but it still came as a shock as they went through from the changing rooms and out to the pool itself, which sparkled turquoise and brimmed with people. There were families, students, elderly people swimming up and down and, to Bridget’s irritation, some stupid teenage boys who were running and jumping with their legs tucked up into the pool, splashing water everywhere, and she saw a lifeguard blow his whistle and shout, and she suddenly felt rather overwhelmed. Bridget remembered, years ago, walking, or rather wheeled, into the pool after her accident and feeling just as frightened then, imagining everyone laughing at her, the girl with the wonky arm and leg who couldn’t swim properly and it was all she could do not to beg Miranda to turn around and wheel her back. The only reason she hadn’t was the longing to get better and exercise, exercise away the injury and she had felt a hundred times better when she had got into the water. At least she had had a good reason to feel nervous then, she told herself, and looked down. She looked and felt like a beachball, akin to the one in the pool, only her swimming costume was black. But they hadn’t driven all this way to turn back and India was hopping from foot to foot and tugging at her hand in excitement so Bridget walked past the large public pool and to the shallow one, where she saw more families and another pregnant woman which made her feel considerably better.
“I’m swimming!” shouted India when Bridget took her into the water and some heads turned round.
“Shh,” said Bridget, feeling embarrassed, “You know you can’t shout in a public place.”
She had, like last time though, felt much more at ease as soon as she had got into the pool and she laughed at herself a little, wondering why she had felt so nervous. The baby seemed happy too and kicked a little and she played games with Indy and laughed when India tried to sit on a float that someone had left in the water and slid off, looking astonished when she slid off and remained suspended in the water by her armbands.
“Mummy, how do you swim?” India asked.
“Well, you...you...” Bridget had to think. Swimming came naturally to her and she couldn’t remember the exact moment she had learnt to swim properly, only that hazy, long ago day in the sea with Riley, where she had probably only doggypaddled.
India looked expectant.
“You kick your legs out,” she said. “And your arms. You sort of push yourself through the water.”
As she said the words Bridget realised that they sounded even worse than in her head. India still looked nonplussed and she couldn’t think how to explain it. Well, I never wanted to be a swimming teacher she thought defiantly.
“Watch me,” she told her daughter and Bridget moved her arms and legs slowly and carefully through the water.
“Now you try.”
India took off her arm bands and Bridget felt automatically worried, which was stupid, she told herself. They were in the shallow pool with two lifeguards and several other families.
“Go on,” she said encouragingly.
India was a little enthusiastic and splashed out, causing a wave of water to go over the edge and moved closer to her mother, squeaking with excitement.
“That was very good for a first go,” said Bridget, “but you doggypaddled. You have to move your arms out, like a circle.
India tried a few more times, splashing half the water out, but did not improve much and became rather downcast.
“I can’t do it,” she said miserably.
“Of course you can,” said Bridget encouragingly. “That was your very first go and you did so well, I’m so proud of you darling.”
India didn’t feel the same way and looked down, appearing very small to Bridget.
“I’m hungry,” she said. “Can we go?”
Bridget looked at the large clock on the wall.
“The morning session’s nearly over,” she said. “I guess we should. Come on. Oh Indy, cheer up. Sometimes it takes heaps of times to learn to do something.”
They were about to get out of the pool when India suddenly shrieked,
“My armbands!”
“Public place!” reminded Bridget but she got back into the pool and India walked through the water, looking for them and Bridget glanced to her side.
“Indy, they’re here!” she told her and India turned back, but instead of walking, she tried again.
Bridget was about to open her mouth and tell her that the lifeguard was calling, that the morning session was ending, when she stopped, and watched her daughter. India was still splashing incredible amounts of water everywhere but she was moving forwards, and really, really swimming.
“Indy!” cried Bridget, forgetting her public place rule. “That’s it, you’re doing it! Come to me! Swim to me!”
India moved slowly through the water, her face flushed with excitement and then she was in Bridget’s arms and Bridget was laughing and hugging her, oblivious to everything else and it was just her and her girl.
“Oh, Indy. Oh, you clever girl.”
“Excuse me,” said the rather put-out lifeguard whose shoes were soaking from the deluge India had caused. “Didn’t you hear my whistle?” he asked irritably, holding it up as though Bridget didn’t know what it was.
“No,” said Bridget honestly, still laughing. “I’m sorry.”
“The morning session’s over,” he said crossly. “I’ve been blowing this thing for ten minutes...”
Bridget and India ignored him and climbed out of the pool, with the armbands this time, and Bridget kissed her daughter, feeling like the proudest mother in the world, not even caring when India dropped her clothes onto the floor in the changing room and making them wet.
“Half an hour?” asked Declan sarcastically, when they came in. “You’ve been three!”
He hadn’t appeared to have moved at all in the time they had gone and was watching some silly TV show.
“I swam!” shouted India, and ran to her father. “I did, I did!”
“You did?” echosed Declan, looking to Bridget and she grinned and nodded.
“Without her armbands!” she said, feeling rather tearful. “She swam to me!”
“You didn’t!” exclaimed Declan and he hugged India. “You clever girl!”
“Mummy taught me!” said India. “And if she was drowning I could save her too, like you did, Daddy! I don’t need my armbands now!”
“No, you don’t you clever girl,” said Declan, grinning over her head to Bridget. “No, you don’t.”
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Post by Bee on Sept 5, 2010 10:54:40 GMT
haha it took me a moment to realize what armbands were, we call them floaties in Australia haha... very good though Sophie! keep up the good work
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Post by sophie on Sept 7, 2010 9:15:52 GMT
Thanks!
A few days later and Bridget sighed as she studied. She was going to a prenatal class that evening with Declan on her doctor’s orders – well, strong advice. She knew she was being silly and rather foolish but all Bridget could think about were the ones she had attended when she was pregnant with India and how much she had hated them, the looks and whispers when she and Declan had first arrived, and had carried on for several weeks and right up until the end, though they had made friends with a young couple who were twenty and twenty-one who had got their share of whispers too – if they were judged, Bridget had thought, what must they think of her and Declan, three years younger?
“Don’t worry about them,” Declan had said. “Who cares what they think? You never care what anyone thinks!” No, Bridget had thought, but then she had felt ashamed as really that had been a front, at least when she was a teenager. The truth had been that she had cared very deeply about what people had thought of her. She wanted everyone to see her as a tomboy, tough, what she wanted to be and not a wimpy, princess girl. She didn’t want to seem vulnerable and so had held her head up high and ignored all the taunts that she was more like a boy than a girl, had stupid hair and was slowing down the whole team –patently untrue, she knew, as she remembered scoring several goals in practise sessions. It was okay for girls like Rachel to be like that, she’d thought – they were comfortable being girly girls, but Bridget had always felt so false in makeup and whenever she wore a dress she itched to be back in her pants and the truth was that Bridget was frightened of growing up. No one could know. No one could know that she cried sometimes and felt scared and wondered about ever having a boyfriend. That was just Didge’s way, everyone had said, and everyone had to keep thinking it. Bridget had hoped by the time she was having India she’d grown out of caring about all that – she’d had enough stares in the street and didn’t really mind – and yet when she had gone to the prenatal class she realised that part of her still cared, after all. Bridget had hated it. She’d hated what they said and she’s hated caring and she’d hated doing the exercises and feeling stupid whilst everyone sneaked looks at them and knowing that some of them would go home still discussing her. And Bridget hated herself for caring now.
You won’t be the youngest there this time, Rachel had told her. No, true enough she was no longer seventeen, but twenty-four was still pretty young, wasn’t it? They still could be. But it wasn’t shocking anymore, Bridget told herself firmly, and then felt stupidly ashamed again for caring whether it seemed shocking anyway. Who cared? Declan was right. They knew nothing about her, her family, who cared what they thought?
“Are you ready to go?” Declan appeared in the doorway and Bridget gave him a quick smile.
“Yeah, just about.”
India had gone to the vet’s surgery after school and was going to have dinner with Miranda and Steve. Bridget heaved herself up from the desk, picked up her bag and keys and walked with Declan to the car.
“What’s wrong?” he said as he started it up.
“Nothing.”
“You wouldn’t happen to be nervous would you?”
“Of course not!” lied Bridget and she deliberately looked out of the window.
“Really?”
“Yes,” she said sullenly and Declan looked at her but she wouldn’t look back, so he looked away too and they drove in silence for a while.
“Riley’s coming back soon,” said Bridget suddenly and Declan felt a little surprised at the change of topic but said nothing.
“Are you looking forward to seeing him?”
“Yeah,” smiled Bridget. “Well, Indy’s going to be stoked. She’ll be thrilled that he’ll be there for her birthday, but I don’t know if Riley will enjoy it so much. He’s not very good with children and I don’t know he’ll feel about several little girls running around shouting and asking him to play with them.”
Declan laughed.
“But I think Josie and Clara are going to be over the moon most,” said Bridget, thinking out loud. “They’re so happy whenever Ri comes to visit, even if Clara pretends that he’s just like another dad.”
“How is she anyway?”
“Okay, I guess. I haven’t seen her since last week.”
“Maybe she’ll talk to Riley about whatever's going on.”
“I doubt it,” scoffed Bridget and Declan looked a little hurt. Bridget felt guilty and looked at her hands for a moment.
“Sorry,” she said in a small voice.
“It’s okay.”
“I didn’t mean to sound horrible – it’s just that if she’s not telling me she probably won’t tell him.”
Declan bit his lip and then said what he’d tried to keep to himself.
“You really should tell Joanna if she doesn’t tell you soon.”
“Oh Dec, not now.”
Bridget wished that she had never brought Riley up. She’d sooner be talking about pre-natal class. And now she was thinking about Joanna, and the memories threatened to resurface. There was nothing Bridget wanted to think about less, but when she didn’t think of Joanna in that smeared, small, little-girl memory, she thought of her as the recovered, concerned parent of Josie and Clara and Bridget felt guilty and small either way – as though she was keeping some sort of secret herself. Oh, why did her sister have to misbehave and never tell the full story? Like she once did? And why did Declan have to have that way of making her feel incredibly guilty and have those eyes?
“Don’t!” she said again. “Don’t look at me like that!”
“Okay. But it’s just a suggestion.”
Declan didn’t add if it was India to the end of the sentence and Bridget was very grateful and she closed her eyes.
“I know,” she said. “Look..let’s...let’s just concentrate on the class. Let’s not worry about anything else for now.”
“Good, because we’re here. Nearly.”
“What?” Bridget exclaimed, snapping her eyes back open. “Already?”
“You remember it wasn’t very far.”
They turned a corner and arrived at the small community centre where there were already a reasonable number of cars parked in front on the building. Declan parked into a space himself and helped Bridget out. He took the bag and started towards the building but Bridget hung back a little and stared. The building seemed to loom up and appeared extremely ugly and foreboding, so she instead put her hand on a tree beside her, which seemed friendly and comforting.
Declan turned around and saw Bridget hanging back, scuffing the floor with her toe like a child.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” she said, and looked down.
“Come on then.”
Bridget didn’t move and Declan walked to where she stood. It was starting to rain.
“Are you nervous?” he asked in a gentle voice.
“I don’t want to be,” she said angrily. “I shouldn’t be!”
“Why’s it bothering you?”
“They’re all going to look at me!” burst out Bridget and a tear fell down her cheek and she wiped it away roughly.
“They’re not –“
“They are! They will! Just like last time!”
Bridget was aware that she sounding like Josie or Clara but didn’t care and instead sniffled and looked at the ground, where some raindrops were starting to patter.
“No they won’t.”
“They will!”
“So what if they do?” asked Declan reasonably. “Are you, Didge Parker, really going to care what a bunch of bored women think of you?”
“No. I don’t want to care. I know I shouldn’t. But I hated it Dec, I hated it so much. I’d look round and one of them would smirk and make a bitchy comment to one of her friends or husband. Don’t you remember how that made us even more shocking to some of them? We were the only ones unmarried, until the last week.”
“We weren’t. The couple in their twenties weren’t.”
“Oh.” Bridget felt ashamed for not remembering. “They still thought we were so much worse than them though.”
“I thought you liked being different.”
“I do! I just don’t like being judged!”
“They are not going to judge you!” exclaimed Declan. “So what if they do? You were the most judged girl in Erinsborough! You never cared!”
“I know,” said Bridget, feeling annoyed and ashamed with herself. “It’s dumb.”
“It’s going to be fine,” Declan said, taking her hand. “I promise. And I don’t really want to go either.”
“Why?” asked Bridget, staring at him and he went red.
“I feel dumb doing the exercises...”
“You’re not the one lying on the floor!” exclaimed Bridget, but she laughed as well. “You’re not the one having to practise breathing, you just get to sit there and try and relax me!”
“There was that awful childbirth tape...”
“Don’t you dare complain about that,” said Bridget ferociously. “You’re not the one who has to do it. Anyway, you saw Indy being born. I would have thought that would have hardened you to anything!”
Declan looked sheepish and grinned.
“I know. I still don’t want to watch it again though.”
“Sook,” teased Bridget but she grinned too. “I guess we should go in. We’re getting soaked for one thing.”
It was raining pretty hard now and the water was spilling off the leaves of the tree and onto their heads. Declan’s hair was curling up and she smiled to see that way. He smiled too and then took her hand.
“Yeah.”
“You know, your hair nearly looks as curly as mine,” she told him as they walked up the ramp.
“Impossible!”
“It is. Maybe you’ll have to get out the hair straighteners when we get home,” she teased.
“No way. Anyway, they’ve probably died out of lack of use – come on, Didge,” as they reached the door and Bridget slowed.
“I am. There’s nothing to be scared of,” she said to herself and they walked though.
It was a fairly small room filled with about ten couples and an instructor. They looked up when Bridget and Declan came in but it was only in passing curiosity and Bridget sat down, feeling relieved. Some even gave her smiles and though they were still one of the youngest couples, no one remarked on it or seemed to laugh at her and gradually Bridget felt more at ease. The session began.
“All right everyone,” said the woman leading the class, after everyone had been introduced and they had been given a demonstration, “let’s begin. I want all the women to practise the breathing exercises and the partners supporting her.”
It could have been seven years ago, Bridget thought, as she lay back a little. She could have been seventeen again, feeling nervous and out of place, trying to follow the instructions properly whilst everyone else seemed more adept, even those who had never had children before. Bridget could distinctly remember one afternoon, biting a fingernail when no one was looking and Declan had gone to the toilet and suddenly, for a moment, everything dawning on her and it suddenly seemed to hit home that these exercises weren’t just part of the pregnancy, part of ‘taking it day by day’, they were for a good reason and that would be the imminent birth and Bridget had suddenly felt very, very frightened and alone. She had bitten the fingernail so hard it had come away and her finger had stung but it would be nothing, she’d thought, nothing compared to what was coming and she pictured herself alone and in pain and not being able to do it. How could she do it? She was only Bridget Parker and she was only seventeen, not like the older, better women who had all done it before. Then she had begun to feel herself panic. Someone next to her had noticed and lent her some water and when Declan came back he had hurried over when he saw that there was a problem.
“It’s nothing,” Bridget had reassured him with a smile, returning the bottle of water. “I just had a weird moment.”
“Are you sure?” Declan had said, his brow creasing. “Maybe you should get checked out.”
But Bridget had insisted that she was okay and swore that she would go straight to the doctor if she felt like it again and the panic had lessened and eased with his entrance but really had never gone away, and snuck up on her at nights, and then, when India had finally decided to make her entrance at the festival Bridget had felt it again, acutely, before the pain had started, and known it had never really left her, that fear, and she had felt like shouting, I can’t.
“You okay?”asked Declan, looking down and seeing Bridget looking thoughtful.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly and smiled but then quietened down in order to hear the instructor give a reminder of the exercises and then everyone began again and Bridget breathed slowly in and out and couldn’t help feeling foolish, even though everyone else was doing the same. Her eyes wandered across the room and caught those of a girl a few years younger than herself, looking nervous and Bridget gave her an encouraging smile. The girl smiled shyly back. Bridget began to feel that everything was all right. She had been stupid to get so worked up. No one was staring, no one was judging and the exercises were like riding a bike. She had soon remembered all of them and no longer felt quite the scared girl she had been the first time round who’d felt as though she was guessing everything. She was allowing herself to smile when the instructor suddenly waved a DVD case in the air.
“We’ll leave the exercises until next week for now. We’re going to watch the childbirth film.”
Bridget felt Declan stiffen a little as the woman slid the DVD into the slot and the film began. It was like torture. Bridget felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck as the film went on and on, interminably it seemed, and as it progressed she wondered how she had ever done it. At one point she shut her eyes and then finally, mercifully it was over.
“Okay everyone,” said the instructor breezily, who didn’t appear at all affected by the film, in contrast to everyone else who had faces of horror, “we’ll pick it up again the same time next week. Thank you all for coming.”
“I am not doing that,” said Bridget as they walked out of the building and back towards the car. “No, I’m sorry, you’ll have to find someone else.”
“You did it before,” said Declan, still looking and feeling rather nauseated.
“It was a one-off, it was a fluke!” said Bridget, sounding rather hysterical.
“Of course you can do it,” he said, trying to sound supportive but Bridget shook her head and her curls span out manically.
“Oh, what do you know?” she cried. “You’ll never have to do it! You’ll never have to go through it!”
“If I could take the pain for you I would.”
“No, you wouldn’t!” sniffled Bridget. “Who would ever choose to put themselves through that?”
Declan didn’t know what to say and Bridget looked down.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally. “I was a cow then. I’m just scared. I can’t do that again.”
“Yes you can, of course you can. You did it with Indy and you didn’t even have any drugs and you were in a tent.”
Bridget considered this for a moment.
“They’re not lying when they say you forget the pain of childbirth,” she said finally. “But you do remember the panic. I remember how frightened I was. And now I don’t know how to not feel panicked and I don’t know how I did it then or how I’ll do it next time.”
Declan didn’t know what to say again and he looked at his wife, her hair more curled from the rain. Finally he told her, “I know you can. I just do. I know it’s not much good, but I do. And then we’ll have our new child. You can do anything, Didge.”
Bridget smiled at Declan’s clumsy advice, the clumsy advice he had always offered and which had always been perfect. She couldn’t quite believe him but she loved him for it and felt better than before and she walked back round to his side of the car and kissed him, but Declan suddenly seemed distracted.
“What is it?”
“Clara,” he said shortly, seeing her suddenly and frowning. Why would she be out in this part of town at this time? Was it her? he had wondered briefly but there had been no mistaking those brown curls, that face, that younger Didge in looks at least.
“Clara?” echoed Bridget, puzzled, and she turned around as quickly as she could to see her sister and two other girls walking along in the near distance with some cans of coke or other soft drink.
“Clara!” she called and she seemed to stop for a moment but had maybe not heard as her friend pulled at her arm and they disappeared around a corner.
“She must have not seen us,” said Bridget. “What is she doing?”
“She must just be hanging out with her friends.”
“I guess,” said Bridget, feeling troubled.
“Well, if it makes you feel better, I’m happy to drive round and see.”
“Spy?” asked Bridget but she nodded. “All right.”
They drove around but Clara and her friends seemed to have disappeared and Bridget scanned the road desperately and then, to her relief, her eyes rested on a cinema.
“Oh, she’s just gone to see a movie,” she said thankfully.
“On a school night?” asked Declan, unconvinced.
“It’s not too late. Come on, let’s go and pick up Indy. I’ll ask Clara about it when I next see her.”
"Didge -"
"Dec, not now, okay?" said Bridget again, anticipating his answer. She felt tired and wanted to go home and surely Clara was only watching a movie?
“Okay,” said Declan, driving away, not wishing to worry Bridget, yet memories of a supposed movie marathon went through his mind, from many years ago.
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Post by Bee on Sept 7, 2010 9:32:03 GMT
great update Sophie cant wait for more!
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Post by sophie on Sept 9, 2010 12:36:38 GMT
They drove to Miranda and Steve's in silence for most of the way. Bridget looked at Declan and he looked back at her and they gave each other small smiles but left discussing Clara alone, for then at least. When they arrived at the house they came in to see that India was dressed up with fairy wings over her school dress.
"Are you a fairy?" asked Bridget, kissing her after greeting her parents.
"I said she should be a fairy," said Miranda, rolling her eyes. "And I got the wings out specially, but India said she was a witch instead and has been casting spells all evening!"
"Witches are more cool!" said India and she pointed the pink wand at her father and said, "Abracadabra!" in a fierce voice and then looked disappointed when her father didn't do anything.
"Daddy!"
"What?"
"You're not being a frog and I made you into a frog!"
"Well, how was I meant to know that?" asked Declan reasonably and India sighed.
"Was Indy well-behaved?" asked Bridget, leaving Declan and India to discuss the workings of magic.
"She was fine other than insisting that she was a witch and constantly casting spells on us."
Bridget laughed.
"So how was it?" asked Miranda. "Was it like how you remembered it?"
"Kind of. The exercises were still the same and so was that awful childbirth tape."
"Oh?" asked Miranda and Bridget realised what she had said too late but before she could open her mouth to apologise in some way Miranda hurried on and said, "It must have been strange going back."
"It was, in a way. I remembered what to do though."
"That's good," smiled Miranda and then she burst out, "Oh Bridget, it's so exciting! Just a few more weeks!"
"It's crazy," said Bridget, feeling dizzy.
"It's wonderful," beamed Miranda. "Oh, doesn't it seem like yesterday India was born? Seven!" she sighed fondly.
"I know."
Miranda sighed fondly again, just in the way Bridget had imagined her to be about grandchildren when she was younger. Of course, she hadn't had quite same reaction when Bridget had first told her she was pregnant with India but she was with this one. And she would definitely spoil her or him rotten too.
"Do you have any ideas on what she would like for a birthday present?" asked Miranda in a lowered voice.
"I don't know," said Bridget, puzzled. "Maybe a witch's outfit!"
"Do you think she'd like a dress?" asked Miranda hopefully.
"Sorry Mum, Indy's really not girly yet," said Bridget, but didn't add and she probably never will be.
"But it's so sweet, it's pink with little spots –"
"Pink? Yuck!" India overheard and she and Declan came up. "What is it anyway?" she asked curiously.
"Nothing for you to worry about," Bridget told her. "Go on and get your fairy wings off please, we've got to go soon."
"I'm a witch!" said India, affronted, but she hurried off still waving the wand whilst her mother and grandmother laughed at her.
"I spoke to Ri last night," said Miranda suddenly.
"How is he?" Bridget looked forward to her brother coming back.
"Good. He can't wait to see us and said he's trying to find a birthday present for Indy – I expect he'll ring you about it soon."
"That's good," said Bridget but before she could hear any more about the conversation India came running up, dewinged, holding her schoolbag and her shoes shoved onto her feet. Bridget stopped to make her put them on properly and then after a round of farewells they drove home, helped India with her homework and put her to bed. Bridget and Declan spent the rest of their evening tidying and watching television and it was only when they too lay in bed and the house was quiet and still that they reflected on their day and the pre-natal class.
"I don't know if I want to be in the hospital room though," Declan admitted later that night when they were in bed.
"Yes you are, you're holding my hand. Anyway, maybe it won't be in a hospital room. What if it takes after its sister?"
"We're not going to any music festivals!" said Declan, sitting up.
"What if I went into labour at the side of the road?" teased Bridget. "And you had to stop the car and deliver it yourself?"
Declan paled.
"Don't even joke about that," he said weakly.
"It's not a joke Mr Napier, it could happen. And you wouldn't refuse to bring your next child into the world because it's a bit yucky, would you?"
"Of course not, I –"
"I'm teasing," said Bridget and he gave her a light punch.
"That's not funny, Didge. God. God. I don't want to think about having to do that. God."
"Stop saying God!" laughed Bridget and Declan lay back down.
"You know I would if I had to, but still –"
"Yes, I know," said Bridget and she gave him a quick kiss. "I was only mucking about, but I know you would. I can't say I'd like that to happen either."
"Well, it won't. If you feel the slightest twinge we'll go straight to hospital."
"You'll be panicking if I just have Braxton Hicks!"
"I like to be sure," said Declan defensively. "And you can't blame me!"
"No, I don't. God, it's so soon," said Bridget looking at her knees. "God."
"Now you're the one who keeps saying God," pointed out Declan. "You know it'll be fine."
"Yeah," said Bridget and she gave him a small smile.
"Are you doing anything tomorrow?"
"I'm seeing Clara and Josie in the evening," said Bridget. "I don't have any plans for the day – studying, I guess."
"You're going to study your brain right out!" Declan exclaimed and Bridget laughed.
"Was that your excuse for not doing homework?"
"I tried it on Mum," admitted Declan. "And she told me not to be pathetic and get on with it!"
Bridget loved her mother-in-law.
"She was right," she said. "Well, I guess we should get some sleep."
"You can ask Clara about that movie tomorrow too."
"Yeah," said Bridget, feeling slightly uncomfortable – why?, she asked herself, but she knew why really. She really suspected Clara, the more she thought about it and didn't know what to do.
"I suppose so – I will. Goodnight, Dec."
"Night, Didge."
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Post by Bee on Sept 9, 2010 12:57:09 GMT
great update Sophie!!
cant wait for more!
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Post by sophie on Sept 10, 2010 8:43:00 GMT
Thanks!
The next day dragged by. The morning rush came and went, with a frantic hunt for India’s school jumper which almost made her late, and then her coat as the weather was turning, Bridget thought with a shiver. Even when she had got back from dropping her off and sat with a large mug of hot chocolate – a somewhat childish drink, she knew, but one she had always loved, particularly in winter time – she still felt cold and she shivered at the desk. Then it was three o’clock and Bridget was picking up India, who was jabbering about her day. Bridget caught sight of Mrs Smithson, if that was still what she called herself and offered a friendly nod and smile but she seemed to deliberately avoid her eye and concentrated on Jane and Timothy. Bridget hoped she was okay but then India was pulling at her hand and Bridget took her home, waited for Declan and then headed to Joanna’s.
“Hello, Bridget,” said Joanna when she opened the door, and she gave a rather tired smile.
“Hi,” said Bridget and came in, smiling too. “How are you?”
“Oh, fine. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Please,” said Bridget and she followed her to the kitchen.
“What have you been up to?”
“I went to a pre-natal class last night.”
“Oh?” said Joanna and Bridget sensed a slight change in her tone, though her expression remained the same. “I never enjoyed those. I went to just one when I was having Riley and everyone stared.”
“I guess I felt the same with Indy,” said Bridget and it felt strange for a moment, so she changed the subject. “Where are Josie and Clara?”
“Upstairs. They’re in a very funny mood.”
“Funny mood how?” asked Bridget, taking the mug Joanna offered her.
“I don’t know. Josie’s bossing Clara around and Clara is doing what she says, and normally Clara would never do what Josie told her to say and normally Josie doesn’t even try. I reckon there might be something going on but I’m not getting anything out of them – teenagers,” she sighed. “Well, almost, anyway.”
“I’ll see if they say anything,” said Bridget, sipping her tea.
“Well, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” said Joanna. “But I know something’s going on.”
“Maybe.” Bridget smiled and looked down at her cup.
“Riley’s coming back soon?” asked Joanna, bustling around and tidying up.
“Next week,” Bridget told her, and came over to help.
“Don’t worry about helping me, enjoy your tea. How long is he staying for?”
Bridget opened her mouth to answer when suddenly there were thudding noises and Clara appeared at the door, looking cross.
“Hi Bridget,” she muttered and moved towards the biscuit tin but Joanna stopped her.
“Is that any way to greet your sister?” she demanded. “And what are you doing?”
“Josie wants a chocolate biscuit,” she said crossly and Joanna put her hands on her hips in the same way Bridget did when she was annoyed.
“Well, you can tell Josie from me that she is not having any biscuits, chocolate or otherwise, because it is too close to dinner. What are you doing getting biscuits for her anyway? It’s not like you to fetch things for your little sister.”
“I’m being nice! There’s no law against that, is there? You’re always telling me to be nicer to Josie!” snapped Clara and she ran back upstairs. Joanna sighed.
“Well, it doesn’t sound it. Never mind, you can tell me about Riley at dinner.”
“I’ll see if I can make any sense out of her,” said Bridget and she smiled and went up the stairs to Josie’s room which, from the voices, sounded as though both were inside. Bridget gave a small knock, opened the door and couldn’t believe her eyes.
Josie was lying on the bed wearing a face mask, alongside cucumber slices on her eyes and nail polish on her toes, but when Bridget came in she took the cucumber slices off.
“What on earth is going on?” exclaimed Bridget as she saw Clara picking some books off the floor.
“It’s Be Nice to your Little Sister Day,” said Clara in a tone which betrayed the very opposite feeling. “Josie!” she suddenly yelled, “why the hell are you eating the cucumber slices? They’re meant to cool your eyes!”
“I wanted to read my book,” said Josie defensively. “I’m bored of lying here with my eyes closed and it’s a waste not to eat them!”
“It’s a waste of time to make me get two slices of cucumber for your eyes if you were just going to eat them!”
“Not really,” shrugged Josie. “They were still yummy.”
Clara looked ready to throttle her.
“What are you doing with my books?” Josie suddenly exclaimed. “You’re putting them back in the wrong order!”
“I’m putting them back alphabetically, that’s the right order!”
“I do them by colour!”
“Then you’re stupid!” yelled Clara and she threw a book at Josie, who ducked and it hit the wall opposite.
“That’s enough!” said Bridget loudly, stepping between them, and they both had the grace to look ashamed.
“What are you doing? Clara, why are you doing what Josie says? Josie, why are you bossing round Clara?”
“It’s Be Nice –“
“Don’t give me that,” snapped Bridget. “I’m not stupid. There were certainly no Be Nice to your Little Sister days when I was growing up and I would definitely have found out about them if there were and used them to their full advantage. And don’t try and tell me that it’s a new holiday or something. What is going on with you two?”
Josie and Clara looked down.
“Don’t try denying it,” said Bridget, swinging into Mum mode. “Your mum knows something’s up. She’s not stupid either. And this wouldn’t have something to do with that text, would it?”
Clara’s head snapped up.
“You told Bridget?” she screeched at her sister. “You swore you wouldn’t tell! I’m going to kill you!” and she lunged towards Josie, who shrieked, but Bridget grabbed her and got her outside and into her own room.
“Okay,” panted Bridget, sitting by Clara after she thought it was safe to move from the door, who was red in the face but looked a little less murderous.
“What was this text about?”
“But you know,” said Clara in surprise. “Josie told you. Little –“
“Don’t call you sister names,” warned Bridget. “She started to tell me but I don’t know what it actually said.”
Clara’s face relaxed slightly.
“It was nothing,” she said brightly. “It was just Michelle saying I’d left my..my...” she quailed under Bridget’s glare.
“Don’t lie to me. If it was that, do you really think you would let Josie boss you around?”
Donna was right about Josie holding it over Clara’s head. Clara looked very tired.
“Okay,” she said in a small voice. “I’m tired of using all my pocket money to buy her lollies and chocolate milkshakes anyway. Do you promise not to tell Mum?”
“That depends on what it is.”
“Please, Bridget,” begged Clara and Bridget felt a little twinge of guilt. But she had to know.
“Look, if you don’t tell me I will tell your mum you were doing something you shouldn’t have at the sleepover and we both know that’s true. Or you can tell me now and we’ll see. Final offer.”
Clara looked torn and she looked at her knees for a while. Bridget waited.
“We sat outside,” she mumbled. “With some lollies. And Donna saw us.”
“I know that.”
“But we went out. Before that.”
“Out where?” asked Bridget, trying to keep her voice calm.
“Michelle’s cousin’s house. He only lived around the corner. We all said we were fourteen and we all had some of their grog – well, their mum and dad’s. But I only had one sip. It was disgusting.”
“Where were their mum and dad?” asked Bridget incredulously. “And Michelle’s mum and dad?”
“They’d gone out for the evening. Well, Michelle’s went out for an hour.”
“Okay. And then what?”
“And then we had to play some sort of kissing game,” said Clara, her voice wobbling.
“Spin the bottle?”
“No, it was weird. We all had to wear a blindfold and we all had to kiss one of her cousin’s friends. I didn’t really want to. I said I had a boyfriend but they said it didn’t count and I don’t know who I kissed!” wailed Clara. “And everyone said it was just a game and then we left. We went and I was sick in the street! I felt so gross! And then we went and bought some lollies. And then we went back and sat on the porch and then Donna came. And then we went back to bed.”
Clara burst into tears and Bridget sat there in stunned silence. She had no idea what to say. She would never have guessed that it was that. A horrible thought crossed her mind and she asked, “You didn’t go any further than kissing in that game, did you?”
“No!” exclaimed Clara, affronted. “Of course not!”
“Do you promise me?” she demanded. “I won’t be angry.”
“It was only kissing!” cried Clara. “That’s what everyone said! But he stuck his tongue in my mouth – it was gross!”
“And that was all he did?”
“Yes,” sobbed Clara and Bridget knew she was telling the truth. “We didn’t do anything else. I’m an awful person.”
“No, no you’re not,” assured Bridget, and she pulled her into a hug. “You shouldn’t have gone to that house and played that game but I know what it’s like when everyone else wants to do something and you don’t know how to say no.”
“I did want to go to his house,” admitted Clara, rubbing at her eyes. “I didn’t really want to play the game though. I just wanted to feel grown-up. I wanted to do something wrong. I was tired of feeling like I couldn’t control anything – Mum and Dad splitting up, fighting over us, getting in trouble at school – I just wanted to feel like I was doing something I wanted to do for a change. I hate being twelve. Everything is decided for you. But it was horrible,” she said, her voice wobbling again and Bridget soothed her. “And then Michelle texted me saying I can’t believe he stuck his tongue down your throat and you don’t know his name! Sick! I never want to talk to Michelle again. And then Josie went and saw it,” she said bitterly, “and has been making me do stuff for her ever since, and if I don’t she’ll tell Mum and Dad. They’d kill me. Oh Bridget, don’t tell Mum, you can’t!”
“Your mum should know,” said Bridget, still feeling rather shocked and Clara grasped at her.
“Don’t tell Mum! You can’t tell Mum! She’ll get so angry and she’ll tell Dad and if she doesn’t kill me he definitely will! They’d never let me out of the house again!”
“Your mum might be a bit angry but she’ll be more concerned for you. She’d be more upset if she didn’t know.”
“She’ll kill me!” yelped Clara again.
Bridget imagined if it was India and she knew she would be angry, but more angry with Michelle, her cousin and his friends, which was how she felt now. She didn’t feel angry with Clara but she knew that if it was India she probably would be, but it would not last long and that anger would soon give way to comforting her daughter and she believed Joanna would feel the same. Finally she felt that she knew how Miranda and Steve had felt when she had come in dishevelled from the formal. I'm going to be in so much trouble, she’d said glumly to Miranda who had exclaimed and had said, He’ll be thankful you’re all right! But Bridget couldn’t see it. And she supposed she knew – no, she did know, exactly – how Clara had felt it wanting to do something grown-up. It’s not a race, Bridget.
“Sweetheart, your mum does have to know. And she should hear it from you.”
“I can’t tell her,” said Clara hysterically. “She’d never forgive me.”
“She would,” promised Bridget. “Because she knows what it’s like to make a mistake. And I know how it feels to get out of your depth when you want to feel more grown-up.”
“What happened?” asked Clara curiously, staring up at Bridget with tear-streaked eyes and looking very young. Bridget bit her lip but she didn’t want to lie to Clara – especially not now.
“I...I went to a dance with an older boy. We were kissing on the dance floor and my dad saw us and went off his brain. I was so angry that I left the dance with the boy and we went to a hotel. He wanted to take it further and I didn’t.”
“Sex?” asked Clara bluntly.
“He wanted to but I changed my mind. He got angry and he chased me.”
“He didn’t make you, did he?” asked Clara in a small voice.
“No,” said Bridget in a reassuring voice. “He fell over and he hit his head. He died. It was a terrible time.”
Clara looked stunned this time but she took Bridget’s hand and squeezed it.
“It wasn’t like that,” she assured her. “At the party, I mean. We only kissed. Everyone was there.”
“They shouldn’t have made you though,” said Bridget furiously. “That was wrong of them, very, very wrong. You’re only twelve for one thing.”
“Nearly thirteen. Everyone else was doing it too.”
“That’s not the point.” Bridget sighed and held off the words, one day you’ll understand.
They sat in silence for a little while.
“How was your movie anyway?” asked Bridget brightly, trying to lighten the atmosphere and Clara looked confused.
“What movie?”
“Last night.”
“I didn’t go and see a movie last night. You must have seen someone else.”
The last sentence confirmed Clara’s lie and Bridget’s heart sunk. She should have listened to Declan. She should have listened to her gut.
“Oh Clara, I know I saw you. It was after my pre-natal class and Declan saw you too.”
“Declan hates me,” she mumbled.
“Declan does not hate you!” Bridget snapped. “Come on, Clara. You can tell me. You told me about the party, didn’t you? I already know you’re lying.”
Clara looked down.
“I’ll sit here all night if I have to,” warned Bridget.
“I said I was going to Jess’s for a study evening,” Clara said finally. “But we just went and drank some cola. We wanted to see a movie – or something – but we didn’t have enough money. Jess sneaked some cigarettes from her sister’s bag and we smoked them in the bushes. And then I caught a bus home. I was going to go and say hello but Jess said we’d be in trouble. I’m sorry,” she finished in a small voice.
Finally she had the full story. Bridget exhaled. She’d felt so in control before, getting the truth from Clara, and now she felt at a loss again. She felt that Joanna should know but she didn’t want to be the one to tell her. Bridget did not feel equipped for information like this. She felt terribly sorry for Clara and also slightly frustrated, and she tried to think of what she could say.
“I’m sorry,” said Clara again.
“It’s okay,” said Bridget. “It was wrong of you but it’s okay. We’ve all done something like that before – lying about studying, I mean. But Clara, I really think your mum should know.”
“You can’t tell her!”
“You should tell her. Clara if....if you don’t tell her by this time next week I’ll tell her.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” said Clara angrily, getting defensive again. “You wouldn't.”
“You’d be surprised at what I’d do.”
“You can’t!” she cried again. “Oh, I hate you!”
That stung a little but Bridget knew she didn’t really mean it as she fell down on the bed.
“You can hate me if you want,” Bridget told her and put a hand on her back. “But that won’t change anything. No one will hate you if you tell them, I promise. They might be angry at first but they’ll be more angry at the situation than at you. They love you. I love you.”
Clara gave a large sniffle and buried her face in the pillow and Bridget sat there a little longer but she did not look up so she got back up and went to Josie’s room. She found her sister peeling the face mask off.
“I never picked you for blackmail, Josie,” said Bridget, sitting on the bed.
“It wasn’t blackmail!” exclaimed Josie, hurt.
“Making your sister fulfil your every command by threatening to release some information – hm, sounds like blackmail to me.”
Josie sat down on the bed beside Bridget looking sad. Bridget put her arm around her.
“Clara leaves me out of everything,” she told her. “Everything. We used to tell each other stuff all the time. Now she gets mad if I ask her stuff and she went off at me the other day when I didn’t knock and walked in on her dressing. Now when I ask her about stuff she tells me to go away and play because I’m too young to understand and she’s sick of a little sister tagging along. I had to look at her phone. I had to know what she was doing. And then I knew Mum would kill her so I thought I’d let her know what it was like to get bossed around and see how she liked it, for a change. And I thought maybe she’d say sorry but she just got more mad at me.”
“People don’t like being blackmailed,” said Bridget honestly and Josie bristled.
“People don’t like being left out of things and told that they’re boring little kids!”
“I know,” said Bridget hastily and then she smiled. “A face mask, cucumber slices and nail polish?”
“I wanted to feel grown-up too,” said Josie defensively. “And in movies whenever they relax they go to a spa and do that. Well, it was boring. I don’t feel any different and neither does my skin.”
Bridget burst out laughing.
“Stop blackmailing your sister though, okay?” she said, getting serious.
Josie looked down.
“Oh, all right. It’s no fun having Clara hate me anyway.”
“Good girl. Go and wash your face,” Bridget told her. “I think dinner’s ready soon. And if you ever feel left out, Josie, you know you can always call me.”
“Okay,” said Josie happily and Bridget smiled, but her good mood was short-lived as Joanna called them down and Clara came out of her room. She gave Bridget a pleading look and when Bridget shook her head she looked furious and stamped downstairs leaving Bridget to know that this would definitely be not as easy to solve and that Clara would not admit anything without a fight.
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Post by Bee on Sept 10, 2010 9:08:17 GMT
God Clara is a little trouble maker!!
cant wait for more Sophie!
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Post by sophie on Sept 13, 2010 9:19:18 GMT
Thanks!
Clara was looking red-eyed and cross by the time Bridget and Josie reached the table.
“Are you all right, darling?” asked Joanna, catching her eye as she handed out the plates and Clara mumbled, “Fine,” as she took hers and started digging into her pasta.
Joanna raised her eyebrows and looked to Bridget who gave her a small smile and shrug, feeling guilty. But she really thought Clara should be the one to tell Joanna, not her, and she had promised Clara a week. Bridget tried not think about what would happen if Clara left it.
“Bridget?”
“Hm?” she said, blinking.
“You looked a little lost there,” said Joanna with a nervous giggle. “Did you want a glass of water?”
“Oh, no thank you, I’m fine.”
They settled down to eat.
“Are you two girls all right?” asked Joanna, looking to Josie and Clara and they sighed.
“Fine, Mum.”
“I hope you sorted it out,” she said again, looking suspicious.
“Yes, Mum,” they said together and Joanna sighed but let it go.
“So, Riley’s back next week,” she said to Bridget in a deliberately cheery voice. “How long for?”
“Three weeks. He’s coming to India’s birthday party and to catch up and then he’s going to try and see us again after I’ve had the baby.”
“Well,” smiled Joanna. “That’s not long, is it?”
“A month,” said Bridget, feeling slightly shocked at how short it sounded. “And a half.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said. “Isn’t, it girls?”
“Do you want a girl or a boy?” asked Josie but Bridget’s mind was on other things. Having the baby had seemed so far away, something in the distant future and now here it was, almost, at the end of next month. No time at all. Bridget sat in shock for a moment and then registered Josie’s question. Josie was looking at her expectantly.
“Oh...I don’t mind.”
“You don’t want a boy this time?”
“I’m happy with either,” said Bridget and Josie looked pleased at that.
“They all thought I would be a boy. I’m glad I wasn’t.”
“I don’t mind which I have,” repeated Bridget and the baby gave a kick, as though to say, I’m coming. Joanna caught sight of her daughter – if she was allowed to call her that – looking rather alarmed and she hastily changed the subject, wondering what was upsetting her.
“Anyway, India must be so excited about her birthday. She’s going to be seven, isn’t she?”
Joanna only asked for the sake of conversation. She knew. She remembered like it was yesterday those conversations with Bridget seven years before, trying to make her listen about how hard it would be. And how could she ever forget Bridget’s response – tears in her eyes, a red face – stay away from me! You’re not my mother! And it had all been ruined, she had thought bitterly. But she had only wanted Bridget to have a happy life.
“Yes, she’s going to be seven,” said Bridget, twirling some spaghetti around her fork. “And excited is an understatement. She’s worked out how many days it is and is crossing them off on her calendar and when I wake her up the first thing she tells me is how many days she has left. She’s not happy at the moment because it’s more than a week.”
Joanna laughed.
“Doesn’t it all seem so much longer as a child?”
“It does,” agreed Bridget. “And then it all goes by so much quicker when you’re older.”
“Is she having a party?”
“Yes, some of her friends are coming round for the day. That should be fun. Several hyper six and seven-year-olds racing around the house filled with sugar. I don’t think Riley really knows what he’s let himself in for.”
Joanna laughed again.
“India’s so excited,” said Bridget fondly and she smiled. “She can’t wait to see Ri.”
“I expect you girls are too,” said Joanna, looking to Josie and Clara. “I know you’ve missed him.”
Josie gave a wide smile but Clara only a half-hearted one and she stared at her plate.
“Clara?” asked Joanna softly and reached out. “What is it?”
Clara gave a loud sniff and didn’t answer.
“What’s going on?” asked Joanna, more firmly. “Josie? Bridget?”
Clara looked up and pushed her chair back loudly.
“Stop it!” she bawled. “There’s nothing going on, stop bossing me around!”
“Clara Hale!”
“Leave me alone!” she shouted and ran from the table.
“Clara! Clara, don’t be so rude, come back this minute!” but she had already gone.
It was suitably awkward and even Josie didn’t giggle. Bridget was trying to think of what to say when she was saved by Joanna saying again in a falsely bright voice, “India’s party sounds lovely. I hope she enjoys it and doesn’t give you and Declan too much of a hard time. Or Riley.”
“You can come, if you like,” Bridget suddenly found herself offering, out of the blue. “I mean, it’ll probably be quite boring – we’re just going to play party games and have some cake, nothing fancy – but I’m sure India would love it. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
Joanna looked surprised and happy and rather speechless for a moment.
“That would be lovely.”
“We’re going to Dad’s,” broke in Josie. “Me and Clara are, anyway.”
“Oh,” said Joanna. “Well, we’ll see.”
Bridget suddenly felt tactless. How could she have forgotten Josie and Clara visited their dad on the weekend?
“You can still come over and see us and Indy,” she told Josie. “It was only a suggestion anyway.”
“We’ll see,” replied Joanna. “Thanks, Bridget.”
She looked over at Clara’s half-empty plate. “I suppose I should put that in the oven.”
“I should probably head off,” said Bridget apologetically. “Here, let me help you clear up.”
“It’s okay, Josie can do it –“
“Mum!”
“Yes, you can, and so can Clara, when she calms down. Don’t worry about it, Bridget.”
“If you’re sure,” replied Bridget doubtfully but she piled the plates anyway and took them to the sink.
“Leave it, honestly. Let me help get your things together,” said Joanna and she and Bridget went into the hall, leaving Josie to gather up the cutlery.
“Do you know what’s upset Clara?” she asked in a low voice and Bridget felt terribly guilty.
“Oh, Bridget. You do know.”
“I think Clara should talk to you about it,” said Bridget eventually. “That’s what I told her.”
“Can’t you tell me?” asked Joanna desperately. “Please, Bridget.”
“Not right now,” said Bridget, looking down. “I’m sorry. I really think you should talk to Clara.”
Joanna looked rather angry and frustrated for a moment but then she sighed.
“I suppose she made you promise not to say anything.”
“She didn’t make me promise, exactly, she’s just upset. I really think she should be the one to tell you – but don’t worry, nothing awful’s happened.”
Joanna looked down as well.
“All right,” she said finally. “I’ll let it be, for now. Have you got everything?”
“I think so.”
“I’ll let you get on then,” said Joanna, hugging her slightly and called, “Josie, Clara! Bridget’s going now!”
The kitchen door opened and Josie hurried out, holding a tea towel. She gave Bridget a quick hug.
“Bye, Josie,” said Bridget, giving her a kiss on the top of her head. “Go easy on Clara, okay?”
“I’ll try,” sighed Josie and she wrinkled her nose, making Bridget laugh. “But no promises, she can be so grouchy!”
“Do it for me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Clara!” called Joanna from the foot of the stairs. “Clara, Bridget’s going now!”
There was no response.
“Clara Hale, come down this minute!”
“It’s fine,” said Bridget quickly. “She’s upset –“
“She’s being rude –“
Clara ended their conversation by coming down the stairs, still sniffling.
“Bye,” she mumbled, and when she went to hug Bridget she hissed, “Don’t tell!”
Bridget whispered back, “You tell her then!” and Clara pulled herself away, looking cross and upset again.
Joanna looked at all three of her daughters.
“Does anyone want to tell me what’s going on?”
“I have homework,” said Clara hastily and Josie joined in and said, “Yeah, so do I. Bye, Bridget.”
They hurtled back upstairs and Joanna shook her head. “Bridget, can you really not tell me?”
Bridget felt awkward but shook her head.
“All right. Good night then.”
“Goodnight.”
When Bridget left she looked up to the window to wave goodbye to her sisters, as was their way, but this time it was only Josie sitting there and who waved. Bridget waved sadly back and stared up, in the hopes that her other sister would appear, but she didn’t, so Bridget, feeling rather morose, got into her car and drove away.
“She what?” asked Declan, his mouth agape. Bridget had told him the whole story. “And you didn’t tell Joanna? Why not?!”
“She asked me not to!”
“She’s a scared twelve-year-old!” Declan exclaimed. “She just doesn’t want to get grounded!”
Bridget went and sat on the bed.
“She was so upset, Dec. She wasn’t ready for me to go barging in telling Joanna everything. And I really, really think Joanna should hear it from her.”
“Don’t you think Joanna should know as soon as possible? What if it was Indy? Suppose she went and told Clara she had done the exact same thing and Clara kept it from you, how would you feel?”
“Upset,” confessed Bridget. “But I’d understand. And I would much rather hear it from India.”
“I’d much rather hear as soon as possible,” commented Declan. “So that I could go and kill those boys. Imagine our daughter doing that.”
“Stop being so judgmental,” snapped Bridget, feeling cross. “She’s just a kid and she was talked into it. She wanted to do something grown-up, you know how that feels.”
“I wasn’t being judgmental!” exclaimed Declan. “I’m upset for her and I’m upset for her mum and I think she should know! And you should tell Joanna so she can make sure Clara’s okay, as well as grounding her for the unseeable future.”
“She’s trusting me.”
“She’d forgive you, Didge.”
“Would she? Rebecca didn’t betray my trust when I told her I was pregnant,” said Bridget quietly. “And I don’t know how I’d have felt if she’d gone and snapped that promise.”
Declan looked as though he didn’t know what to say for a moment and sat beside her on the bed. “Look,” he said finally. “This is no way the same, is it? Clara’s twelve years old. She hasn’t come to you with a secret like that and she’s a lot younger than you were too. It’s not pregnancy, thank God.”
“It’s still a secret which she’s not ready to tell her mum about. I’ve told her if she doesn’t tell Joanna in a week I will. Hopefully she will.”
“What if she doesn’t? You’ll definitely tell Joanna?”
“I guess.” Bridget felt uncomfortable. “I hope it doesn’t come to that. But I’ve told exactly what I’d do. I’m not going to go march round and tell Joanna now when she’s not prepared for it.”
Declan sighed and got into the bed.
“It’s your decision,” he told her. “I just hope Clara does tell her.”
“I’m giving her a chance.” Bridget got into bed as well.
They were quiet for a moment and then Declan changed the subject.
“Is there anything else going on with them? Besides Josie’s blackmail?”
“No, we didn’t really talk about much else. Oh,” remembered Bridget. “I..sort of invited Joanna to Indy’s birthday party. Is that okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”
“Why did you invite her?” asked Declan incredulously.
“India would love it if she came,” said Bridget defensively. “And I guess I just kind of blurted it out. I was telling her about India’s birthday party and Clara had run away from the table and then I just thought it would be polite. If it’s a problem Joanna’ll understand. I’m sorry.”
“It’s Indy’s birthday,” said Declan heavily. “It’s up to her. I don’t have a problem with her coming.”
Bridget gave him a kiss.
“She might not be able to come, anyway,” she said. “I totally forgot that Josie and Clara see their dad on weekends and she might not come without them. I really put my foot in it.”
“No you didn’t.”
“I really should have thought. If they can’t make it Josie and Clara should come over anyway,” said Bridget firmly.
“If Clara hasn’t told Joanna and isn’t grounded indefinitely, you mean.”
“I hope Joanna’s not too hard on her,” said Bridget. “I know she shouldn’t have lied about everything, but she is sorry now. And I think she got caught up into something she couldn’t handle – at the party, I mean. But I think Joanna will understand all that – I don’t know how she’ll react about the smoking, though.”
“If you don’t think she’ll react too badly, why haven’t you told her?” Declan couldn’t help asking again.
“Because it should come from Clara, not me. She’s kept too many secrets lately and I don’t want to be the one to tell Joanna about what’s been going on. She should. She’s her daughter. They’ve had too many arguments about not telling each other the truth lately.”
Declan didn’t really know what to say to that.
“Joanna won’t be happy though, will she?”
“No. Clara’s pretty worried about what her dad will say too – he seems a lot more strict.”
“Do they get on?”
“I’ve only met him once and heard a couple of things about him. Well, they clearly love each other very much but he’s a lot stricter than Joanna and he and Clara have been fighting a lot lately. But she really misses him.”
“And so she’s scared of what he’ll say?”
“I think it’s more Joanna’s reaction,” said Bridget thoughtfully, leaning towards him, “that’s she’s worried about. She’s used to her dad shouting at her and being angry with her but not her mum. She kept asking about what Joanna would say and how she’d ‘never forgive her’. Clara can pretend she doesn’t care all she likes but I know she does. I think she’s scared of letting her down, even if she won’t admit it to herself.”
“I don’t blame her,” said Declan and Bridget had that thought again that he knew Clara better than she, emotionally at least, in a way she never could.
“Oh, I hope she tells her,” said Bridget, letting out a sigh. “I really don’t want to have to tell Joanna. Clara’s so frightened Joanna will be disappointed and angry and she would, but not for long. It’s nowhere near something Joanna would never forgive her for. She’s more upset with herself than her parents would be, I think.” Clara’s a Hale girl, she added silently to herself.
“Of course they’ll be angry” said Declan suddenly, snapping her out of the daydream. “I mean, I would be at first, but not for very long. Can’t Clara see that?”
“She’s twelve,” said Bridget sadly. “And she’s muddled up. I imagined Mum and Dad killing me when I told them I was pregnant and they didn’t. I’m so glad it was me who told them and Rebecca and Elle didn’t.”
“I hope she tells her,” said Declan. “And soon.”
“Me too.”
There was a silence and then Declan said, “I can’t believe Josie was blackmailing Clara. Our two had better never do that.”
“That’s siblings for you. She was worse than Mickey was to us.”
Declan laughed a little.
“Well, I guess I know how Clara feels on that front.”
“I think you know how she feels on lots of things. You have a lot in common.”
“I suppose,” said Declan, after thinking about that for a moment. “But I never partook in kissing games.”
“I’d have been surprised if you did. Goodnight, anyway.”
“Goodnight.”
“And Didge?”
“Yeah?”
“She’ll be right.” Declan took her hand and squeezed it.
“I know,” said Bridget gratefully, but it was a long time before she herself could sleep.
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Post by Bee on Sept 13, 2010 13:22:33 GMT
Great update sophie (: cant wait for more!!
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Post by sophie on Sept 14, 2010 21:51:03 GMT
Thanks!
On Friday night Bridget sat down with India to write birthday party invitations. She had not spoken to Clara for the rest of the week and didn’t know if she had told Joanna. She assumed not. She had spoken to Josie the night before but Clara wouldn’t come to the phone.
“She’s being foul,” Josie had complained. “Mum nearly grounded her.”
Bridget hoped Clara would tell Joanna over the next few days and wondered what Riley would say about it all. She wondered if she would have to tell Joanna. Her stomach clenched.
“Where’s the purple pen?”
“Hm?” Bridget was jolted out of her worry by her daughter, who was looking up inquisitively.
“Do you have my purple pen?” she asked again. “I want to write the invitations in purple.”
“Oh...” Bridget looked around her and saw it lying on the other side of the desk. “It’s here.”
“Thanks!” India reached up for it but Bridget held it up for a moment.
“Now remember, you can invite ten people,” she said firmly. “Who do you want to invite?”
“Emily, Lydia, Ally, Amy, Katie, Jess and Diana,” rattled off India. “And Jamie.”
“Just Jamie?” echoed Bridget. “You don’t want any more boys?”
“No!”
“Are you sure?” asked Declan, coming in and standing next to them, resting his arms on the desk.
“Yes,” said India firmly, reaching for the pen again. Bridget gave it to her. “I only like Jamie. Other boys smell.”
Declan and Bridget started laughing.
“What about your daddy?” asked Bridget, still smiling. “Does he smell?”
“He doesn’t count, he’s Daddy. I don’t want any more boys to come!”
“Well, it’s your birthday,” Declan said, raising his eyebrows at Bridget. “I just feel sorry for Jamie. I wouldn’t want to be the only boy at a girl’s birthday party.”
“You’re a boy,” commented India. “And it’s my birthday.”
“I know,” said Declan, but India got up suddenly.
“I want my green pen and I left it in my room.”
She ran out and Declan sat in her vacated chair.
“Poor Jamie,” he remarked. “The kid’s going to be mobbed.”
“Well, it is her birthday party as she keeps saying,” said Bridget. “She can invite who she likes and Jamie can always hide out with you if the girls get too much for him. Oh,” she said, suddenly remembering something and a crease appeared on her brow.
“What is it?”
“India went to Timothy and Jane’s birthday party,” she said guiltily. “It’ll look awful if we don’t invite them back.”
“I guess,” sighed Declan. “But it’s up to Indy, really. It is her birthday.”
“India,” called Bridget, as she ran back into the sitting room with her found pen. “Do you like Timothy and Jane?”
“I guess.”
“Would you like them to come to your party?”
“I guess,” said India suspiciously.
Bridget pulled her towards her so that her hair tickled Bridget’s nose slightly.
“You don’t have to invite them if you don’t want to,” she assured her. “Only because you went to their party but they don’t have to come. It’s your birthday, sweetheart.”
“I don’t mind if they come.”
“Good,” said Bridget in relief. “That’s some male company for Jamie too. India, would you like it if Joanna came?”
Her face split into a wide grin.
“Yeah!”
“She might,” said Bridget, even more relieved. “If she has time. Do you want to start writing them now so we can hand them out on Monday? Make sure they’re in your best writing.”
The invitations were painstakingly written – along with illustrations of various animals – and Bridget and Declan put her to bed.
“I wonder if Clara and Joanna will be okay by Indy’s birthday,” said Bridget when she and Declan were in bed themselves.
“Oh, stop worrying,” Declan told her. “Relax a bit. Have you forgotten what it is tomorrow?”
She gave him a shove.
“Of course not. As if I’d forget our anniversary!”
“I can’t believe it will be seven years tomorrow,” said Declan and when Bridget looked over at him she saw he was smiling to himself, which made her smile back.
“Me neither. It feels like yesterday.”
“I know that this time seven years ago I did not expect to be married the next day,” commented Declan, lying back and grinning.
“Me neither!”
“I remember that day really well too,” he told her. “Your mum was pleased with me and said I gave good relationship advice – I couldn’t believe it.”
“You do give good relationship advice! Not that I’ve ever gone to you for any – when I was in another relationship you just told me to ‘drop him’.”
“I think that was good relationship advice,” said Declan defensively and Bridget laughed.
“Thank you, though,” she said, more seriously. “For talking Mum round. I remember being really upset that day – I thought they’d never work it out, and I thought I’d accepted it, and then realised that I really hadn’t.”
“I don’t know if I really talked her round,” said Declan sheepishly. “She just sort of asked me what to do out of the blue and I suggested grovelling. That’s always made you and Mum less angry if you’re annoyed with me.”
Bridget laughed again.
“It worked though,” she said, kissing him. “And they’ve never really had problems since – not big ones, anyway. And it’s so ironic, in a way.”
“What is?”
“I had an icecream that day, because I felt so down, and I remember so clearly walking along, eating it and thinking about how I would never, ever get married. Not if it meant that.”
“We’re not your mum and dad though.”
“I know – that’s not really how I saw it that day. I just remember thinking that marriage did something to relationships and not in a good way. Of course, I was wrong. I don’t regret our marriage for a second.”
“Good!”
“Either way, you said something right to Mum.”
“Funny too, because I distinctly remember saying that I would never understand your parents. I still don’t,” he added honestly and luckily Bridget giggled.
“Oh, me neither. I love Mum and Dad but I don’t think I’ll ever understand them. Parents, eh?” she sighed.
“Oh, who’d be them?” teased Declan and stuck his tongue out.
“Definitely not me,” said Bridget sarcastically. “But definitely less hardcore than them. We’re not too bad, are we? On the strictness front.”
“Nah, course not, though you might have to ask me that again in ten years time when Indy’s sixteen.”
“Indy sixteen!” exclaimed Bridget. “Oh, don’t say that. And in two weeks she’ll be seven. My little girl!”
“Now you’re sounding like your mum,” teased Declan and she gave him a shove.
“Stop it. And seven years ago exactly we didn’t even know she was India. Doesn’t that seem crazy?”
“I know I didn’t think of myself as a dad that day. Or our wedding day,” and he squeezed her hand.
“No. We were just us.” Bridget smiled a little sadly. “Well, anyway, I guess we should get some sleep. It really will be the anniversary in the morning!”
“One thing’s the same as it was seven years ago.”
“Oh yes?”
“You were having a baby then too.”
“I was, wasn’t I?” Bridget smiled. “Goodnight.”
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Post by Bee on Sept 15, 2010 8:56:20 GMT
Lovely update Sophie (: cant wait for more!!
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Post by mellochino on Sept 15, 2010 12:17:53 GMT
I've finally caught up with everything! Great updates Sophie =)
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Post by sophie on Sept 15, 2010 12:20:08 GMT
When Bridget woke up the next morning she heard a soft, rushing moment. She wondered, sleepily, what it was, but felt too comfortable to open her eyes.
"Didge...are you awake?"
"I am now," she said sleepily and opened her eyes to see Declan grinning at her.
"Happy Anniversary!"
"Oh, Happy Anniversary!" she exclaimed and woke up properly, feeling very happy, and hugged and kissed him. Over Declan's shoulder she looked out of the window and discovered the source of the rushing noises.
"It's raining!" she cried sadly.
"I know."
"And we were going to have a picnic and everything," said Bridget sadly.
"That's what you get for marrying in June," said Declan, trying to cheer Bridget up. "It rained when we got married, remember?"
"Of course I do!" How could she forget? The car breaking down, the storm coming and having to shelter in the church where kind Molly had asked, "No room at the inn, hey?" and she had smiled, confused, but understood now.
"Of course I remember," she said softly and grinned and kissed him again.
"Rain can't ruin things," said Declan firmly. "Including breakfast in bed."
"You didn't!" she exclaimed, leaning forwards to see the evidence of the tray.
"Of course I did, it's our anniversary and you're my wife."
"Let's eat it then," said Bridget, grinning, and she got the tray.
They munched in silence for a while, listening to the rain patter on the windowpane and Bridget looked across to Declan occasionally and smiled. She never really thought about herself as being married which was odd in a way, she supposed. Especially as she remembered their wedding day as clear as anything, and how strange and perfect it had all been.
"What do you want to do today then?" asked Declan, breaking her out of the memory. "As we can't have our picnic."
Bridget thought back to previous celebrations. On their first anniversary she had wanted to go back to the church and see if Molly and the priest were still there, and show off India, but their parents had surprised them with a voucher for a weekend away, which of course they had accepted and thoroughly enjoyed. The second year India had been nearly two and ill with the flu, so the anniversary had been spent looking after their grouchy toddler – the only romantic part being a candlelit meal in the evening when Rebecca was able to look after her. Steve and Miranda had been away. The third year they had saved up to go away again, the fourth year it was Declan's turn to be ill, the fifth year they'd gone camping and last year they had gone for a day out in some nearby countryside and then to a restaurant in the evening whilst Indy had been babysat. They had briefly considered going away somewhere this year too but hadn't been able to afford it with the baby coming, and so had decided on a picnic in the countryside. Somehow they had never gone back to the church again.
"I want to go back to the church," said Bridget. "We never have," she added sadly.
"Do you think we'd be able to find it again?" asked Declan. "We found it when we were lost."
"It was on the way back from the Northern Plains Airfield. Don't worry, I remember."
"Fine, but I'm blaming you if we get lost again."
"We found it when we were lost the first time, remember?" teased Bridget and he sighed.
"Oh, very clever. Come on, then."
"On our anniversary morning?" asked Bridget and she pulled him back again.
It was still raining when they were up and dressed and heading to the car, India running behind, twirling her umbrella in the air.
"You didn't really need to put it up now," Bridget told her, as she got her into the car. "The car's only two minutes from the house."
"I like my umbrella!"
They started driving and it rained harder and Bridget watched in the mirror India's hand inching nearer and nearer to the packed lunch where there were chocolate biscuits. She had just touched the bag when Bridget snapped, "India Napier!" making both Declan and her daughter jump.
"Jeez, Didge, not whilst I'm driving!"
"Your daughter was after some chocolate biscuits," said Bridget. "And if you eat them now you won't have them for your lunch. And do you want a repeat of Easter Sunday?"
India paled and drew her hand back. Declan laughed.
"What?"
"I'm remembering you," he told Bridget, "with that bag of lollies just before we got in the car, telling me to save you from yourself – and then a second later you said it was too late."
Bridget laughed as well.
"Well, I was eight months pregnant. You're a lot more hungry then. I should be the one snaffling the biscuits."
They drove on for a while, towards the airfield, but it was hard to remember where exactly they had stopped the car before, especially in the rain. India got bored and started whining and Declan got cross.
"That's enough of that, young lady. Didge, it's nearly lunchtime. I really don't remember where we stopped last time and it's not like there's anyone else around to ask."
"Look, give me the map. We can't be too far off from it. It was off a main road."
Declan pulled over.
"Why are you stopping?"
"We're going round in circles!"
"Stop being so pessimistic and hand over the map."
"Women and directions," muttered Declan. Bridget heard and gave him a smack.
"Ow!"
"Stop being so sexist. I don't see you with a clear idea of where we're headed either."
"But I didn't know the first time," protested Declan. "We were lost, Bridget, and it was along a country lane!"
He sighed and opened the door and got out.
"I remember you throwing a hissy fit last time too," mumbled Bridget but she got out of the car as well and let out India.
Declan stretched and sighed and looked out at the stormy weather.
"This is the same too," he said, as Bridget came and joined him. "It really doesn't feel as if it was seven years ago."
"No."
Bridget glanced over to their daughter to see her wandering away from the car.
"India Napier, where do you think you're going?"
"Exploring."
"You're not exploring by yourself."
Bridget went to join her and Declan stayed by the car. A tree had fallen to the ground from some storm and its leaves were spilling over the ground. India jumped over them gracefully and Bridget stepped over, still holding her hand.
"This is pretty, Mummy. It's like a fairy tale."
"Do you really think so?"
"Yes. It's all quiet and there's heaps of trees and things. I bet no one lives here except fairies." India stopped for a moment and squinted.
"Mummy, what's that? That building?"
Bridget stopped too and looked and wondered, and then she knew and her heart turned over.
"Declan!" she cried, looking back to where her husband was. He started towards them. "Dec, hurry!"
"What is it?" he panted, catching them up. "It's not a snake or something?"
"No, it's the church. It's our church," said Bridget joyfully.
"Are you sure?" he asked doubtfully. "The road looks different."
"Of course I'm sure. It looks different because that tree's fallen and grown right over. I know it's our church."
"How?"
"There's that stone cross on top of it, can you see?"
"Yes, but lots of churches have that."
"Trust me," she said, smiling and looking up at him. "I know it's ours."
India let go of Bridget's hand and they let her run ahead, watching her leap over puddles and branches. It was starting to rain again.
"We'll get soaked. She already is."
"Oh, it doesn't matter. Isn't it just like before? Oh," said Bridget and she stopped and gave a nervous smile.
"What?"
"I had Braxton Hicks again." Bridget put a hand to her stomach.
"You're sure?" asked Declan anxiously, stopping, worried that Bridget's suggestion of going into labour at the side of the road would become reality, but she smiled and wiped some water off his forehead.
"Of course I am. I'd know if it was more. You can trust me on that too."
They walked on and caught up with India, who was jumping around the porch of the church.
"Indy, don't do that inside, the priest might not like it."
"Why?"
"It's a church."
"So?"
"Some people might find it disrespectful."
"I don't mind," came a voice and Bridget and Declan jumped. A young man was smiling in greeting and couldn't be much older than they were.
"Hello," said Bridget, feeling a little embarrassed. "Do you work here?"
He laughed.
"I should think so, I'm the priest."
"Oh," said Bridget in confusion and disappointment. "But you're not..."
He looked at her expectantly.
"You're not the priest who married us," she said sadly.
"Reverend Draper? He worked here for nearly thirty years."
"That's him."
"He left," the new priest told them. "There was a mission abroad and he went on it."
"Oh," said Bridget and she felt very sad, but tried not to show it. Stupid, she said to herself. It was seven years ago and yet somehow she had imagined it the same, all the same – Molly at the organ, the friendly priest who was willing to listen to their young teenage selves and treat them seriously. It felt like a terrible shame.
"I'm not that much of a disappointment, am I?" asked the new priest with an anxious smile and Bridget managed a smile and shook her head.
"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to seem rude. It's just...Reverend Draper married us seven years ago, when we were having her –" she gestured with her head towards India - "and it's our anniversary. We wanted to say hello. We haven't been back since."
"Oh. I'm sorry. Well, congratulations," he said with a friendly smile but Bridget could tell he was sizing them up. Not that she blamed him.
"Thank you. What's your name?" she asked. "I'm sorry, I should have asked before."
"It's fine. It's James. I'm out here on my lunch break but you're welcome to look inside. It hasn't changed much, or so they tell me."
"I'm sorry," consoled Declan, putting his arm round her.
"It's okay. I should have thought that he might have gone."
Bridget looked down; feeling sad and Declan opened the door.
They walked down the aisle, hand in hand, like all the years before, and James was right, Bridget thought. It nearly looked the same – the only marked difference was that a smart piano stood near the organ where Molly had practised. They sat in a pew like before and Bridget rested her head on Declan's shoulder.
"I'm still glad we came," she told him. "It feels right, even if it is different now."
"Me too," he told her, and he watched India run around the pews, but she stopped quite quickly and sat down near her parents, staring at the pictures all around her and the high ceiling.
"It's a funny place," she said.
"India!" said Bridget, shocked.
"What?" protested India. "I don't think it's bad, just different."
"I suppose you're right," said Bridget, thinking it over. She felt comfortable again and it felt good to be inside from the rain echoing on the window. She took Declan's hand and felt the baby kick.
The side door opened and someone came in. Bridget sat up, guiltily, her answer prepared as to why they were in the church when she stopped because she knew who the woman was. The woman knew too and she stopped in the doorway for a moment, and then walked over with the beginnings of a smile on her face.
"No," she said softly. "Bridget and Declan?"
"You remembered our names!" exclaimed Bridget, and felt happiness surge through her. "Molly!"
"And you remember mine!" she said, grinning. "My goodness, I can't believe you've come back. How many years has it been?"
"You remember us?" said Declan.
"Remember? Of course I remember, the two of you standing inside like Mary and Joseph and looking as lost as them too. I don't think you really got the joke, though."
"We do now," said Bridget, embarrassed for herself back then.
"How could I forget that? It all seemed so strange; I left to get my music and when I came back a girl and boy were standing there looking nervous but happy. I never expected that I was going to play music for your wedding."
"We didn't even expect there to be a wedding," admitted Bridget. "Not that day, at least. It's our anniversary."
"I always hoped you'd come back. I always wondered what had happened to you, and your baby. You were due so soon and now you are again, I see."
"Here's my baby," said Bridget, blushing slightly. "India, darling, come here. Oh, you don't need to be scared," as, for a rare moment in her life, India felt shy and hid behind Declan.
"Indy, this is Molly. She helped us get married just before you were born."
"India?" echoed Molly, trying it out. "That's a name you don't hear every day."
"No, it's not very traditional," agreed Bridget. "I think getting married here was one of the only traditional things we did."
"It didn't seem traditional to me – most people who get married here I know, they've grown up with this church and most are in their late twenties. You two were so young."
"I know," agreed Bridget. "It just felt so right that day."
"And now look at you. And you've had your baby and having another. Do you have any more children?"
"No," said Bridget. "Only Indy."
"I'm seven soon," announced India. "In two weeks!"
"That's a good age," smiled Molly kindly. "My goodness, you were due soon, weren't you?"
"She came early, but yes, I was."
"When is your new one due?"
"The end of July."
"Well," smiled Molly, taking Bridget's hands. "I'm so pleased for you. I had a good feeling about you both – I know that sounds clichéd. I did, though. I told you he was a keeper," and she smiled at Declan, who smiled back, feeling embarrassed and pleased.
"So tell me what happened to you all," asked Molly, sitting next to them. "You and your friends. And what did your parents say?"
"They were okay," said Bridget, but she still felt a slight stab of shame, still feeling a little selfish for back then. She didn't dwell on it though and instead she and Declan launched into the tale of what had happened to Donna, Ringo, Zeke and Sunny.
"That Donna girl was funny," laughed Molly. "And Zeke's married and a father too! Well, I'm so happy for you all. And I'm so happy you're having a new child too."
They sat with Molly for a while longer and India announced that she was hungry, leading Bridget and Declan to realise that they had left their lunch in the car. Declan offered to run back and get it but Molly shared some of her food and even found chocolate biscuits to India's delight.
"I suppose we had better be leaving," sighed Bridget eventually. "It's still raining and we have a way to drive."
Declan and India started towards the door and Molly suddenly took Bridget's hands.
"I'm glad you weren't proud like me," she said.
"I don't know if I was proud," Bridget told her. "I was just unsure. But I still have my ideals, I know. I do want to be a doctor."
"I never really tried hard at school," Molly said sadly. "And I've always regretted that too. Well, good luck with it all Bridget. And your new baby."
"Thank you," said Bridget. "I'm sorry we never came back before," she added.
"I always hoped you would. You don't have to apologise, darling."
Bridget caught up with her husband and daughter and waved to Molly, her wedding ring glinting in the sudden light.
The rain started again when they got back to the car and drummed harder and harder on the roof. India fell asleep stretched out on the back seat, her head resting on the bag of the uneaten lunch, her legs by the forgotten umbrella, and they managed a few wrong turns on the way back, so it was late by the time they got back and the water was falling in a sheen.
"Okay, it wasn't raining this hard when we got married," grimaced Declan, carrying India inside.
"Shush, you'll wake her."
"I won't," said Declan but he whispered and carried her through to her bedroom and laid her gently on the bed.
"I'm so glad we found the church," sighed Bridget happily, sitting on the sofa. "And Molly."
Declan kissed her and went to cook dinner and even though he managed to burn it and India was cross and sleepy throughout, Bridget felt thoroughly happy and peaceful. They put India to bed who for once went without a fuss and then went to their own room, lay on the bed and exchanged their presents.
"Didge, that's...that's amazing!" exclaimed Declan, unwrapping his. It was a new watch with a black leather strap.
"Your old one broke. I saved up. I knew you wanted one," said Bridget shyly and he leant over and kissed her.
"Go on, open yours!" he said, excited as a child and Bridget grinned and deftly unwrapped her present to find a beautiful silver bracelet.
"Dec, that's beautiful" she said softly, staring at it and he got it out and put it on her wrist.
"I know it's girly and you don't wear much jewellery, but..."
"Thank you," she said again, her heart swelling, and she kissed him. She didn't know what else to say.
"I still can't believe it was seven years ago," said Bridget and Declan threw a pillow at her.
"Stop it, you're making me feel old."
"Seven years," said Bridget, ignoring his groan. "Since we got married in that little country church, wearing those funny op shop clothes with Zeke and Sunny and Donna and Ringo."
"You looked stunning in that dress. Maybe Indy can wear it some day."
"She'd have to be eight months pregnant."
"Maybe not then," said Declan quickly and Bridget laughed and then sighed.
"And Mum and Dad were so angry – or at least, Mum was – so we hid out in here and had our honeymoon," and she smiled and looked sad.
"What?" asked Declan, noticing her expression. "I know the cruise ship thing was a bit daggy, but –"
"No, it's not that. I think I'll always feel guilty for not inviting them to the church."
"You can't turn back the clock," said Declan awkwardly. "You're sorry now and it was all spontaneous."
"I know. But still."
"They've forgiven you," said Declan. "But I know what you mean."
"Hey," said Bridget fondly.
"What?"
"You're still the best husband ever."
Declan laughed fondly at her.
"And you're the best wife ever, Bridget Parker."
"Even if I'm cranky still?"
"Even if then," he said, and they kissed again and turned out the light.
Bridget woke up later that night to see Declan still asleep, the moonlight playing on his bare chest. She felt thirsty and slipped off quietly to get a glass of water. As she sipped it she looked up at the full moon and thought about things. One of her very best decisions, she thought, marrying Declan, and she was glad she had listened to Molly. Would they have married anyway, even if she hadn't asked that day? Maybe. And would they have married if it hadn't been for India? people had asked, but Bridget had felt sure about that, them staying together at least. She wished she felt so sure about other things and thought about Molly's latest words: I never really tried hard in school...I've always regretted that too....Good luck. Bridget finished her water but looked up at the sky, twirling her wedding ring. Yes, she thought silently. That advice is as precious as the other.
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