‘You had a car crash? Well, I squeezed a human out of my vagina last month.Thatwas hardly fun.’
‘I know. I was there. You nearly broke my hand.’ For a girl, she has a freakishly strong grip. ‘And I thought it was a particularly nice touch when you yelled you’d decided you never wanted to try fisting.’
‘It. Was. The.Drugs!’
‘The ones they wouldn’t give me, you mean.’ As I mutter, I slide my legs out of bed and make my way into the nursery.
‘I wonder if we can get Lisa to swap our son for sweet baby William.’
‘I heard that,’ she grumbles as I make my way into the adjoining room. ‘And if you remember,’ she calls louder, ‘he cried in your arms, too.’
But that day is a vague memory to me, though I still recall most distinctly the weight of the child laid in the crook of my arm. A plan devised by my beautiful Miranda, enlisting the help of the paramedic that saved me on the roadside, before delivering William later that day.
Just amazing.
As for my recovery, I’m one of the lucky ones. I’ve no memory of the accident itself, which is surely a blessing, and the after effects have been few. I tire a little more easily, and when I’m tired, I find my stutter returns.Which is apparently adorable. I suffer the odd headache and my leg sometimes aches. But the most life altering aspect of the whole experience is that I’m sometimes overcome by a strangeness, an overwhelming of feelings, which comes from being utterly loved.
‘Come here, you.’ I lean into the crib, lifting my son onto my chest, where he quietens almost immediately. ‘You know I didn’t mean it.’ I press my lips to his fair downy head. ‘I wouldn’t swap my Thomas for a hundred babies or more.’ He’s named for my father, and at the insistence of Miranda. The pair are inordinately fond of each other. I can’t say the same for my father-in-law, though Miranda’s mother is a delightful woman. And the kind of grandmother who will drop everything just for baby cuddles.
‘Is that because you’d have to get out of bed ninety-nine times more?’
I turn at the sound of her soft voice, sleep deprivation now put to one side for us both. Despite both struggling to get out of bed, and despite the promises we continually make about alternating the early morning ritual, it just hasn’t worked out that way. When he’s up, so are we. We’re both so enamoured by our little bundle of screams. And this has become our favourite part of the day.
Our morning love-in.
As she crosses the space between us, her hips swaying unconsciously, she twists the wild tangle of her hair to one side.
‘Morning, lovely baby.’ Up onto her toes, she kisses his head, taking a deep inhale of his sweet, musky head. ‘Mummy loves you.’ Then it’s my turn as she tilts her chin offering me her lips. ‘Morning, lovely Batman.’ As I lower my head to hers, her hand connects to my rump with a slap. ‘I love you. And as much as I love seeing you in your novelty boxers, I can’t wait until you can sleep naked again.’
‘I can sleep naked now,’ I protest. ‘I just can’t sleep naked with you.’
‘You’d better not be sleeping naked with anyone else,’ she purrs, pulling the elastic of my boxer shorts away from my waist.
‘Whatareyou doing?’
‘Just making sure it’s all good under the hood. The Batcave hood. You know, for next month,’ she adds meaningfully.
‘You know it works. Yesterday you—’
‘Ah-ah, not in front of the child!’ she singsongs. ‘Mum’s coming over later this morning. Maybe we can sneak off for a little afternoon delight.’
‘Will hasn’t given us the go ahead yet,’ I remind her.
Four weeks. Two more to go.
Not that I’m counting or anything. Not that I have it marked on the calendar of my phone. Nor have I asked Miranda’s mother to babysit that afternoon. And I certainly haven’t booked a suite at the Dorchester to mark the occasion.
Or have I ...
I’ll never tell.
‘Do you think this is how he gets his kicks?’ I chuckle at her thoughtful expression.
‘I wouldn’t like to ask. He’d only charge me three hundred pounds just to have the conversation.’
‘Want to break the rules a little?’ she purrs. ‘I’m game if you are.’
‘You’re a temptress.’ I dip my head as though to kiss her, changing course at the last minute to press my lips to her neck. ‘And a rebel.’
