Page 90 of Wild About You

‘Show baby to Mum,’ I heard someone say.

And there he was. Red-raw, enraged, bellowing into the air, and utterly perfect. Placed on Fi’s chest for a moment, he quietened. I looked at his eyes, the bright blue of a summer sky, looking out at the world. Here he was. Life could begin again. But it would be utterly changed.

They rushed him away to an incubator.

‘He just needs a little bit of oxygen,’ said the doctor as they began to stitch up Fi. ‘He’s in good hands.’

I wanted to grab hold of him and say:Promise me everything will be okay. Promise me. Instead, I stroked Fi’s hair as they sewed her up.

Outside the theatre, stripped of my gown, I sat down on a plastic orange chair. I was still wearing the clothes from the ceremony, and the high heels. It was as though I was suddenly conscious again, and back in my body. My feet were killing me and my shoulders were in knots. Jamie appeared, carrying a paper cup. ‘They said you were out. Drink this. I asked for extra sugar.’

I took a sip. Hot chocolate. ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Although obviously it’s not a patch on Cal’s.’ The joke was a poor one, but he smiled weakly. ‘He can make you a special one when we get home,’ he said. ‘How is everything? Fi?’

‘She’s fine,’ I said. ‘And he’s fine.’ I leaned against him. I didn’t care about being subtle.

He nodded. ‘I saw them bring him past. He was yelling pretty hard.’ He put his arm around me.

‘He’ll see the saplings become adult trees,’ I said. ‘If he grows up at Stonemore.’

Jamie stroked my hair. ‘And I bet he’ll like the sunflowers.’

I laughed croakily. ‘Sunflowers won’t like the acidic soil at Stonemore, or our high winds,’ I chided him. ‘But there’s going to be a whole field sown with meadow buttercups. I know you wanted a blaze of yellow.’

I saw his face twist with emotion. He held me tight to him. Then it was natural to drop a kiss on my head, my forehead, then my lips. And I kissed him back. It was the tenderest, sweetest kiss. After a moment we parted and I nestled into the crook of his neck, defenceless against the tide of emotion that was suddenly threatening to overwhelm me.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have kissed you.’

‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘What happens in maternity stays in maternity.’

By the time Richard arrived, Fi had slept for two hours and was so outwardly calm and happy she claimed to be ‘embarrassed’ she had been so stressed. The baby was to becalled Ross, ‘and I know he will be alright,’ she said, almost defiantly. Richard was less certain; I could see the worry on his face, and as they took their place beside the incubator, I could see he was shaking.

The medics were cautious but said the signs were good. Weighing in at a mighty four and a half pounds, Ross was big for a preemie and all the signs were positive that his early entry into the world wouldn’t affect his long-term health. They were just giving him a ‘little bit of help’.

‘It’s strange,’ I said, as Jamie drove me back to the apartment so we could pack up our things and get Fi’s stuff. ‘I just loved him – little Ross. The moment I saw him. Not like Fi and Richard do, of course. But the urge to protect him was so great.’

‘Yes,’ said Jamie quietly. ‘I felt the same about my nephews.’

I watched his face as he drove. I could see he was carefully building up his defences again. Watching his quiet resolve as he navigated the London streets, I realised that I loved him. I loved this man. Posh boy. Beagle boy. Earl. Whatever. He was just Jamie to me, and I loved him so much I thought my heart might break again. When I started crying, unable to contain it anymore, he put one hand towards me and clasped mine for a moment. ‘Ross and Fi will be okay,’ he said. ‘I know it.’

I nodded, tears streaming down my face. I wanted to tell him everything. How I’d shied away from being near babies. The baby showers I couldn’t attend, or the ones I did,only to end up sitting numb on the tube home afterwards, winded by the pain. I wanted to tell him Stonemore had started to heal me. That I’d found new things to love. That a meadow full of wildflowers told me that my life wasn’t worthless, and I wouldn’t be traceless.

That seeing Ross born had made my heart swell so much it hurt, but that the pain was a kind of beautiful pain. A way in to being that baby’s aunt, an elder of some kind.

I wanted to tell him that I loved him, just so he knew. That I wanted him in every single way it was possible to want a person. That the connection I’d felt with him hadn’t gone away, as much as I’d tried to break the threads binding us. That I hadn’t used him, shaken him off, moved on. What had happened between us would always be there, a tiny shard lodged in my heart. It hurt now, but one day, like the children I’d never had, that shard would shine as bright as a gemstone.

But telling him that would just be for my own sake, wouldn’t it? It would be a selfish thing to do.

So instead, I blew my nose, wiped my eyes, and pulled out the glass vase Jamie had stowed in the glove box, etched with the prize name. ‘Where will you put it?’ I said.

‘On one of the twenty-five mantelpieces at Stonemore,’ he said.

‘As long as I can dust it.’

‘That’s the thing though,’ he said, indicating right and waiting for another car to pass. ‘You won’t be there, will you?’

It was an overnight drive back to Stonemore after we’d dropped Fi’s stuff off at the hospital. Richard was being provided with a bed by a local charity who kept facilities for parents, and wouldn’t accept Jamie’s offer of extending the apartment booking. ‘I’m closer to them here,’ he said. I let myself have an hour with them, holding Fi’s hand and cooing over Ross, but they needed time together as a family. I could always practise being ‘weird obsessive auntie’ once Ross was home. We left them with hugs, kisses and the contents of the hospital gift shop. This included an enormous teddy intended to stand guard over Ross’s incubator, which had to be moved within five minutes due to health and safety concerns.

I convinced Jamie to alter his insurance so we could take it in turns to drive. ‘If you do the whole thing, you’ll end up falling asleep and we’ll plough into the central reservation at 4am.’

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