Post by sophie on Feb 21, 2010 22:12:52 GMT
An hour or so later she left and Rebecca gave her another hug before she went. She had convinced to eat something as well and she had had some toast and fruit and felt a little better for it. Bridget closed the door behind her and had started to walk down the street when she heard someone call her name.
“Bridget!”
She turned round.
Libby Kennedy was there with a smile. Bridget hoped that she couldn’t tell she had been crying.
“How are you?” Libby asked her former pupil.
“Fine, thanks. Everything’s great.”
“That’s good to hear,” said Libby happily. “What are you doing here anyway? Seeing Rebecca?”
Bridget nodded.
“Lovely. How’re Declan and India?”
“They’re both great.”
“India must be six now, right?” asked Libby.
“Yes.”
“Where does time go?” Libby sighed. “Ben’s sixteen now – a terrible teenager!”
“Really?”
“Ah, he’s not so bad. Just moody now and then and wanting to stay out all hours. You enjoy these years Bridget, they grow up too fast!”
“Yes, they do,” Bridget agreed. She didn’t want to think about India being a teenager.
“Well, lovely to see you. Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?”
“I’d love to Libby, but I have to pick India up from school.”
“All right then. Nice talking to you anyway, even if it was for just a moment.”
“Give my love to Karl and Susan.”
“I will. See you soon Bridget!”
“See you soon.”
She waved goodbye and walked out of the suburb where she used to live.
She hurried over to India’s school and her heart sank when she saw Mrs Smithson standing outside waiting with no Timothy or Jane for her to fuss over yet.
She gave her a small smile and stood a little while away.
“You’re later than usual,” Mrs Smithson remarked.
“I was busy. The children aren’t out yet so it doesn’t matter.”
“What do you do with yourself all day anyway?”
The nosiness of her! Bridget longed to tell her to mind her own business.
“I have a parttime job. I did that this morning and then I went to my mother-in-law’s.”
“I find it surprising when mothers work,” commented Mrs Smithson.
You would thought Bridget angrily.
“Well, what do you do with yourself all day then?” she shot back. “If you don’t have a job?”
“I clean and tidy. I mend things. Our house is spotless,” she said proudly. “How do you keep yours clean?”
Mrs Smithson was irritating Bridget more and more.
“I clean it when I don’t work,” she said evenly. “And so does Declan.”
“It still doesn’t seem right to me,” said Mrs Smithson, staring towards the school. “Both of you working, both of you cleaning.”
“It works for us,” said Bridget shortly and then, thank God, the children were running out. How dare Mrs Smithson judge her and how she lived her life? The house was clean enough, India was happy and healthy and she was clean too...
“India!” moaned Bridget. “Why is there paint all over your dress?!”
“We did painting.”
“I guessed that!” said Bridget irritably. “Why didn’t you wear an overall?”
“I did! I took it off when I finished painting and then I spilt my palette when I went to wash it in the sink.”
“You should have worn it until you had finished washing your things up,” said Bridget in frustration. “Didn’t the teacher have a spare dress?”
“It was the end of the day. You know we have painting at the end of the day.”
“Yes, I know,” said Bridget. Trust India to come out covered in colour when Mrs Smithson was there and trust her to forget her daughter’s timetable when she was questioning her mothering skills too.
“It was an accident Mummy!”
“I know. Just be more careful next time. Come on, let’s go.”
They went home in silence.
“Are you angry with me?” asked India anxiously.
Bridget closed her eyes.
“No, I’m not angry. I’m just thinking about things today.”
“What things?” India asked curiously.
“Grown-up things. Mummy thoughts you don’t need to worry about.”
They got back and Bridget took India’s dress off instantly.
“Get dressed while I put this to wash.”
She soaked the dress, praying the stain would come out and when she turned round she was amazed to see India in her rabbit pyjamas.
“What have you put your pyjamas on for? Do you feel funny?”
“No, I just wanted to wear them.”
“Well it’s not bedtime yet. Here, put these on,” she said and gave her daughter a yellow t-shirt and jeans.
India looked a bit sulky but she did so.
“Can I watch some TV?”
“Just for an hour.”
She went down and watched it too, to take her mind off things. She watched rabbits talk and hop about and travel to the moon and India chuckled and sang the theme tune.
Suddenly Declan’s key turned in the lock and she was amazed and looked at the clock. He wasn’t even early – these children’s TV shows had dissolved the hour in no time, which is amazing, as they had bored Bridget beyond belief.
“Daddy!” shrieked India and she ran up to the door but Bridget sat still staring at the screen as the credits rolled.
She heard Declan and India laughing and then he came in carrying her.
“Hey Didge!” he said happily and swallowing, she stood up and turned off the television.
“Hey,” she said.
She knew she had to tell him then and not put it off any longer.
“India,” she said, “go up to your room and play in there until dinner, okay?”
“I want to stay down here and play with you and Daddy!”
“We need to have grown-up talk. It’s not interesting for little girls.”
“But-“
“Now!” said Bridget irritably and then feeling guilty she said, “Go on,” in a softer tone.
India ran upstairs and shut her door very hard.
“Grown-up talk?” asked Declan, frowning and sitting down.
“Declan,” said Bridget, feeling very nervous, “I’m pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” he echoed weakly and felt glad to be sitting down.
He sank back into the cushions.
“Yes.”
They stared at each other for a few minutes.
“Well, would you please say something!” snapped Bridget.
“I...I...are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“But how could this have happened? We’ve always been so careful since India.”
“I know,” she said heavily and sat down on the cushion next to him. “I remember being ill one morning about six weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it then but I was sick. It must have been then. I know it was then.”
“Oh,” he said. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I went to the doctor’s this morning.”
“Oh,” he said again.
“How do you feel?” she asked nervously.
“I don’t know. It’s a shock.”
“You’re telling me.”
“How do you feel?”
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “All mixed up to be honest, but Rebecca said it was normal –“
“Wait, what?” Declan said sharply. “You’ve told Mum? You told Mum before me?!”
“I felt scared,” Bridget confessed. “I didn’t know what to think and I was so confused, I’m still confused...”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have been there.”
“I was going to tell you last night but you were so tired!”
“Then why not tell me now?” he snapped and jumped up.
Bridget jumped up too.
“I am telling you now!”
“You could have waited to tell Mum,” he said angrily, feeling hurt.
“I didn’t know you would have reacted,” said Bridge, feeling hurt as well. “Talking to your mum always helps.”
“Shouldn’t we go to each other?”
“Well it’s not like you had the best reaction last time!”
“That was different!” Declan shouted. “You know that was different! I was a tool I know, and if I could turn back the clock I’d never say all those things but it was different! We were only seventeen!”
“You were eighteen!”
“I was still so young – we were only schoolkids!”
They glared at each other and then a small voice came from the top of the stairs,
“Are you fighting?”
“No, darling,” said Bridget, calming down. “We’re not angry with each other. Everything’s okay. Go back to playing.”
She disappeared back into her room.
“I’m sorry, Dec,” said Bridget softly. “Please don’t be angry. It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, it’s just that I wanted her to give me some advice. And I didn’t know how you’d feel about it all.”
“I know,” said Declan heavily. “I’m not angry. I’m just in shock. I’d never feel angry with you about this.”
“What do you think about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think everything will be all right?” asked Bridget, her eyes welling up.
“Of course it will,” said Declan, putting his arm round her. “We made it work last time and we were only teenagers.”
“How are we going to afford it?” sobbed Bridget.
“I don’t know, but we will. I’ll work more shifts, we can maybe have a car boot sale...”
“That won’t cover it!”
“We’ll find a way,” he said to her. “I promise. And we’re going to have a new baby. Indy will have a little brother or sister –she’ll love it!”
“No she won’t,” said Bridget miserably. “She told me she didn’t want one.”
“Well, she’ll get used to it. I’m sure she’ll love it once she gets used to the idea,” said Declan doubtfully.
“I hope.”
“Well if anything it’ll help teach her to share,” Declan said and Bridget laughed.
“When are we going to tell her anyway?” asked Declan.
“I don’t know,” said Bridget. “Soon, I guess.”
“Bridget!”
She turned round.
Libby Kennedy was there with a smile. Bridget hoped that she couldn’t tell she had been crying.
“How are you?” Libby asked her former pupil.
“Fine, thanks. Everything’s great.”
“That’s good to hear,” said Libby happily. “What are you doing here anyway? Seeing Rebecca?”
Bridget nodded.
“Lovely. How’re Declan and India?”
“They’re both great.”
“India must be six now, right?” asked Libby.
“Yes.”
“Where does time go?” Libby sighed. “Ben’s sixteen now – a terrible teenager!”
“Really?”
“Ah, he’s not so bad. Just moody now and then and wanting to stay out all hours. You enjoy these years Bridget, they grow up too fast!”
“Yes, they do,” Bridget agreed. She didn’t want to think about India being a teenager.
“Well, lovely to see you. Would you like to come in for a cup of tea?”
“I’d love to Libby, but I have to pick India up from school.”
“All right then. Nice talking to you anyway, even if it was for just a moment.”
“Give my love to Karl and Susan.”
“I will. See you soon Bridget!”
“See you soon.”
She waved goodbye and walked out of the suburb where she used to live.
She hurried over to India’s school and her heart sank when she saw Mrs Smithson standing outside waiting with no Timothy or Jane for her to fuss over yet.
She gave her a small smile and stood a little while away.
“You’re later than usual,” Mrs Smithson remarked.
“I was busy. The children aren’t out yet so it doesn’t matter.”
“What do you do with yourself all day anyway?”
The nosiness of her! Bridget longed to tell her to mind her own business.
“I have a parttime job. I did that this morning and then I went to my mother-in-law’s.”
“I find it surprising when mothers work,” commented Mrs Smithson.
You would thought Bridget angrily.
“Well, what do you do with yourself all day then?” she shot back. “If you don’t have a job?”
“I clean and tidy. I mend things. Our house is spotless,” she said proudly. “How do you keep yours clean?”
Mrs Smithson was irritating Bridget more and more.
“I clean it when I don’t work,” she said evenly. “And so does Declan.”
“It still doesn’t seem right to me,” said Mrs Smithson, staring towards the school. “Both of you working, both of you cleaning.”
“It works for us,” said Bridget shortly and then, thank God, the children were running out. How dare Mrs Smithson judge her and how she lived her life? The house was clean enough, India was happy and healthy and she was clean too...
“India!” moaned Bridget. “Why is there paint all over your dress?!”
“We did painting.”
“I guessed that!” said Bridget irritably. “Why didn’t you wear an overall?”
“I did! I took it off when I finished painting and then I spilt my palette when I went to wash it in the sink.”
“You should have worn it until you had finished washing your things up,” said Bridget in frustration. “Didn’t the teacher have a spare dress?”
“It was the end of the day. You know we have painting at the end of the day.”
“Yes, I know,” said Bridget. Trust India to come out covered in colour when Mrs Smithson was there and trust her to forget her daughter’s timetable when she was questioning her mothering skills too.
“It was an accident Mummy!”
“I know. Just be more careful next time. Come on, let’s go.”
They went home in silence.
“Are you angry with me?” asked India anxiously.
Bridget closed her eyes.
“No, I’m not angry. I’m just thinking about things today.”
“What things?” India asked curiously.
“Grown-up things. Mummy thoughts you don’t need to worry about.”
They got back and Bridget took India’s dress off instantly.
“Get dressed while I put this to wash.”
She soaked the dress, praying the stain would come out and when she turned round she was amazed to see India in her rabbit pyjamas.
“What have you put your pyjamas on for? Do you feel funny?”
“No, I just wanted to wear them.”
“Well it’s not bedtime yet. Here, put these on,” she said and gave her daughter a yellow t-shirt and jeans.
India looked a bit sulky but she did so.
“Can I watch some TV?”
“Just for an hour.”
She went down and watched it too, to take her mind off things. She watched rabbits talk and hop about and travel to the moon and India chuckled and sang the theme tune.
Suddenly Declan’s key turned in the lock and she was amazed and looked at the clock. He wasn’t even early – these children’s TV shows had dissolved the hour in no time, which is amazing, as they had bored Bridget beyond belief.
“Daddy!” shrieked India and she ran up to the door but Bridget sat still staring at the screen as the credits rolled.
She heard Declan and India laughing and then he came in carrying her.
“Hey Didge!” he said happily and swallowing, she stood up and turned off the television.
“Hey,” she said.
She knew she had to tell him then and not put it off any longer.
“India,” she said, “go up to your room and play in there until dinner, okay?”
“I want to stay down here and play with you and Daddy!”
“We need to have grown-up talk. It’s not interesting for little girls.”
“But-“
“Now!” said Bridget irritably and then feeling guilty she said, “Go on,” in a softer tone.
India ran upstairs and shut her door very hard.
“Grown-up talk?” asked Declan, frowning and sitting down.
“Declan,” said Bridget, feeling very nervous, “I’m pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” he echoed weakly and felt glad to be sitting down.
He sank back into the cushions.
“Yes.”
They stared at each other for a few minutes.
“Well, would you please say something!” snapped Bridget.
“I...I...are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“But how could this have happened? We’ve always been so careful since India.”
“I know,” she said heavily and sat down on the cushion next to him. “I remember being ill one morning about six weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it then but I was sick. It must have been then. I know it was then.”
“Oh,” he said. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I went to the doctor’s this morning.”
“Oh,” he said again.
“How do you feel?” she asked nervously.
“I don’t know. It’s a shock.”
“You’re telling me.”
“How do you feel?”
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “All mixed up to be honest, but Rebecca said it was normal –“
“Wait, what?” Declan said sharply. “You’ve told Mum? You told Mum before me?!”
“I felt scared,” Bridget confessed. “I didn’t know what to think and I was so confused, I’m still confused...”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have been there.”
“I was going to tell you last night but you were so tired!”
“Then why not tell me now?” he snapped and jumped up.
Bridget jumped up too.
“I am telling you now!”
“You could have waited to tell Mum,” he said angrily, feeling hurt.
“I didn’t know you would have reacted,” said Bridge, feeling hurt as well. “Talking to your mum always helps.”
“Shouldn’t we go to each other?”
“Well it’s not like you had the best reaction last time!”
“That was different!” Declan shouted. “You know that was different! I was a tool I know, and if I could turn back the clock I’d never say all those things but it was different! We were only seventeen!”
“You were eighteen!”
“I was still so young – we were only schoolkids!”
They glared at each other and then a small voice came from the top of the stairs,
“Are you fighting?”
“No, darling,” said Bridget, calming down. “We’re not angry with each other. Everything’s okay. Go back to playing.”
She disappeared back into her room.
“I’m sorry, Dec,” said Bridget softly. “Please don’t be angry. It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, it’s just that I wanted her to give me some advice. And I didn’t know how you’d feel about it all.”
“I know,” said Declan heavily. “I’m not angry. I’m just in shock. I’d never feel angry with you about this.”
“What do you think about it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think everything will be all right?” asked Bridget, her eyes welling up.
“Of course it will,” said Declan, putting his arm round her. “We made it work last time and we were only teenagers.”
“How are we going to afford it?” sobbed Bridget.
“I don’t know, but we will. I’ll work more shifts, we can maybe have a car boot sale...”
“That won’t cover it!”
“We’ll find a way,” he said to her. “I promise. And we’re going to have a new baby. Indy will have a little brother or sister –she’ll love it!”
“No she won’t,” said Bridget miserably. “She told me she didn’t want one.”
“Well, she’ll get used to it. I’m sure she’ll love it once she gets used to the idea,” said Declan doubtfully.
“I hope.”
“Well if anything it’ll help teach her to share,” Declan said and Bridget laughed.
“When are we going to tell her anyway?” asked Declan.
“I don’t know,” said Bridget. “Soon, I guess.”