Page 90 of Gideon
“Just you and me anddefinitelynot Gus. He’s too little,” she says slightly scornfully.
“He’s too little at the moment,” I say firmly. “But when he’s older he’ll come too because families do things together.”
“Like you and Uncle Milo?” she asks.
“Of course,” I say with absolute certainty, and I want to smile at the thought of me ever saying that and meaning it, but I do. Eli and the children have taught me a new version of family, and it’s one I treasure and cling to.
“And you’ll watch over me while I’m asleep?” she whispers.
I nod and kiss her forehead, inhaling the scent of bubble gum from her shampoo. It’s supposed to cure tangles, but I’m afraid the manufacturers have never come up against anything like my children’s hair.
“Hetty, I will watch over you for the rest of your life,” I say very firmly. It’s a promise I intend to keep for as long as I have breath in my body.
ELI
I wake in a tangle of sheets and sunshine. Stretching, I feel the breeze from the open window wash over me and listen to the melodic clanking and tinkle of the rigging from the boats moored on the river outside.
I turn on my side, pulling the sheets around me, and look out through the French doors that lead out onto a small balcony which looks over the River Fowey. It’s summer, so the river is busy. Large yachts jostle for space between small boats, and little dinghies zip across the river, hanging around the big destroyer that moored yesterday like small children bugging their older siblings at parties.
I sigh contentedly because I fucking love this house. We lived for a while in the cottage atChi an Morwhen we first got together, enjoying the respite from the cameras that seemed to follow us everywhere at that point. I’d initially made moves to find a flat so we could date at a slight distance but Gid had put his foot down, and really I didn’t want to do that either. I loved being with him – chatting, laughing at our own private jokes, and just being us together. Anything else would have been conforming to what society might expect, and it has to be said that this is not and never has been one of Gid’s strong points.
He’d refused to hide me from sight until the furore had blown away. Instead, he’d determinedly taken my hand whenever we were out and doggedly told every interviewer how good I was for him. I’m not sure of that because he’s done the same for me. In his utter refusal to see any limits for me, he’d encouraged me to go back to college so I could become a paramedic, and four years later that’s what I’m doing, and I’m loving it. I love the adrenaline rush of being first on the scene.
Carol, my partner on the bus, is a spiky, very sarcastic Cornish woman with jet-black hair and a huge family. We’d taken to each other instantly, which had been enhanced by the fact that she and Gideon took one look at each other and recognised a kindred spirit. As such, she’s often at our house, sparring with him in the kitchen.
After a few months at the cottage, Gideon declared his intention to buy a house locally. It was the start of a turbulent time for us, as I was determined to play an equal role in buying a place. The only problem was that my money would never have bought even a room in the size of the house that Gideon could afford. Gid went along with me for a while, displaying a patience that would amaze anyone who didn’t really know him.
He viewed tiny house after tiny house, giving each one a chance before we had to dismiss them, mainly because the press would practically be in our front room if we moved in. The turning point came when we found this place. It’s an old, five-bedroom house right on the banks of the River Fowey, and we’d fallen in love with it at first glance, loving the large sun-filled rooms that seemed to move with the lights from the water speckling the ceilings and walls.
I still remember when Gid had turned to me and said that this was the one, and I had to get over my pride. The row that followed had been loud, as had the sex afterwards, and looking back probably neither should have taken place in the prospective house, but luckily our estate agent had scarpered when the raised voices started.
Afterwards we lay together under the window of what is now our bedroom and he hugged me close, whispering about what I gave him. Things that he could never say thank you enough for. And I realised what a twat I was being.
So we bought it. I insist on my wages being put towards the bills, and he humours me, even though those bills are a tiny blip in what he earns. That’s true even now. Yes, he lost work and jobs in the ensuing months of his coming out, but he gained so much more. He branched back into the theatre and had a two-year stint on Asa Jacobs’s show that led on to so many other diverse and interesting roles.
Lately, though, he’s scaled even those back, preferring to narrate audiobooks. He installed a studio at the bottom of the garden and most days find him pottering around in there. He’s happy and it fairly shines out of him these days.
As if reminding me of one of the reasons for this joy, the monitor on the bedside table warbles into action, and I lie for a few minutes listening to the sound of the baby cooing and babbling away to himself happily. When the noise becomes louder I take my cue and slide out of bed. Paying a quick visit to the bathroom, I clean my teeth, run a cursory hand through my hair, and pull on shorts and a T-shirt.
When I round the nursery door, Gus is there, sitting up and prodding a stuffed bear rather dubiously. When he sees me, his smile explodes across his face, and he wiggles, putting his hands up. “Up,” he demands, which is actually the only word he knows apart from “no.” He’s definitely been brought up in a house filled with Gideon’s personality.
I lift him up, feeling his little weight settle against me. I press a kiss into his blond curls, inhaling the scent of baby powder and shampoo.
“Alright,cariad?” I say. “Good sleep?”
My son gives me a gummy smile, his olive-green eyes creased in happiness.
I change his nappy and dress him in shorts and a t-shirt, nibbling on toes and making him give his little chuckle. I stroke my fingers down his soft cheek, marvelling once again at the gift we’ve been given.
When we’d first discussed surrogacy, I’d been very dubious. The surrogate laws in the UK give parental rights to the mother and her partner if she changes her mind, which had spelt disaster to me. I’d therefore been very wary. However, Gid had no doubts whatsoever, and as I got to know our surrogate I realised how right he was. She was lovely, and we intend to tell the children all about her when the time comes. She gave us a great gift and I’ll never stop being grateful to her. The handover of parental rights had been smooth with each child, and I think it was only then that I took a full breath.
Once Gus is dressed, we wander down to the kitchen which lies in a pool of sunny stillness. Knowing where Gid’s gone without him even having to leave me a note, I amble down the garden with Gus to where a wooden jetty lies. The water sparkles today like it’s been fractured into a thousand shiny pieces, and Gus and I settle ourselves down on the lawn so he can have a look around.
He won’t crawl and for some reason travels everywhere on his arse which Niall says he definitely inherited from Gideon, given that he tends to look at life through his arse.
I smile at the thought and look up as I hear thephut phutof the outboard motor approaching. The bright yellow dinghy zips across the river coming toward us. Gideon sits at the back steering, while at the front our terrier dog stands dressed in his orange life jacket, barking shrilly as if instructing Gid on how to moor the boat. My husband steers one-handed, his other hand moored firmly around the waist of Hetty.
I grin at the sight of father and daughter as the boat comes to a neat stop. With Gus on my hip, I take the rope he flings me and hold on as the dog jumps neatly out and starts to jump around me, his little tail coiled scorpion-like along his back. We got him from a local farm as a puppy, and this tendency to jump to great heights had led to him being named Tigger.
