Page 25 of Coming Home to Inishbeg Cove

Chapter 16

Sarah

The sink was full of tins, and pots and pans of different sizes, and I was elbow-deep in suds, scrubbing them clean. I had just said goodbye to Greg’s father, Albie, who had joined us for dinner. Greg was dropping him back to Grovetown Nursing Home while I tidied up after dinner.

Albie and Greg had grown close in recent months. I knew Greg enjoyed spending time with his birth father, and through Albie’s stories and memories Greg was able to get a sense of the person his biological mother, Della, had been. We loved hearing her brought to life.

‘That was a lovely afternoon,’ Greg said when he returned home a short while later. ‘Albie said to tell you that he really enjoyed it.’

‘I’m so glad he’s in your life, Greg.’ I reached out and gave his hand a squeeze.

‘Me too. Life has a funny way of finding what we need when we don’t even realise we’re missing it.’

I opened a cupboard, took down a bowl and began to pour myself a large bowl of cornflakes.

‘You’re not still hungry?’ Greg asked. I had just inhaled a sizeable portion of the dinner Greg had made, then had eaten the leftovers too. Thankfully, my morning sickness had recently started to ease, but now my appetite was off the scale. I couldn’t seem to get enough food into me.

‘It’s for the babies,’ I said through a mouthful.

He came over and put his arms around my waist. ‘I can’t wait to see them at the scan tomorrow.’

My heart flipped once more as I thought about my next hospital check-up. I always got anxious before them. I was so nervous, and just wanted everything to be okay with my babies. We were in the hospital for check-ups so frequently that we’d almost worn a path in the road, but all was going well with the pregnancy. I had passed the halfway mark, and I could hardly believe we had got so far without any drama. My check-ups were remarkably routine. Dr McCabe had even begun talking to us about our plans for the birth. It felt as though we had been given a green light: if Dr McCabe thought everything looked good and was talking about delivery dates, then I could allow myself to think about the future. Greg had even started suggesting baby names, but I wasn’t quite there yet. I wouldn’t relax until I was holding my babies in my arms.

‘I just hope she doesn’t weigh me!’ My stomach had grown at an alarming rate and I’d had to give in to the heavenly comfort of maternity clothes with elasticated waistbands several weeks back. I wasn’t sure whether my bump was made up of babies or food.

‘Well, in that case you probably won’t want this,’ he said, walking over to the freezer and producing a tub of ice cream with his logo emblazoned along the side.

‘Rum and raisin?’ I asked, ditching the bowl of cornflakes in the sink.

‘It sure is.’

‘My favourite.’ I sighed, shaking my head, knowing that it was futile even trying to resist it. I couldn’t get enough of it these days. I had warned Greg to stop feeding my habit, but he insisted on keeping a supply of it for me in our freezer. I snatched it out of his hands, salivating before I even opened the lid. ‘You can take the rap with Dr McCabe tomorrow if they need a winch to get me on the scales,’ I warned.

‘I love seeing you getting bigger. It means our twins are both growing away in there,’ Greg said.

I flopped down on the sofa with my ice cream. I lay back against the cushions, and my bump stuck up in front of me, as round as a basketball. It was getting bigger by the day. I hadn’t seen my feet in weeks, and Greg had to pull me out of my chair whenever I needed to get up. One of the twins seemed to be sitting on my bladder, so I was constantly running to the toilet. It was tricky when I was in the post office and there was a queue, but the villagers were very accommodating of my sudden need to dash off to the bathroom.

Greg joined me on the couch. I snuggled in towards him and he placed a hand on my bump, as he usually did when we watched TV in the evenings.

‘How are Trouble 1 and Trouble 2 doing today?’ Greg asked.

‘They’ve been a little quiet, actually,’ I remarked. ‘But wait until I finish this ice cream, it’ll be like Riverdance in a few minutes. By the way, I forgot to mention to you that the festival committee were wondering if you would like to have a stand selling your ice cream this year.’

The Inishbeg Cove Summer Festival was the highlight of the village calendar, rivalled only by the Christmas Eve carol service in St Brigid’s church.

‘Really?’ Greg asked, surprised. ‘That would be amazing.’

‘I thought you’d be happy. It’ll be a nice way of getting word out about the ice-cream parlour. I’ll be on face-painting duty again.’

Greg’s brow furrowed in concern. ‘Do you really think you should do it this year?’

‘Of course – why not?’

‘Well, it might be a bit much with being pregnant and everything.’

‘But I do it every year – who else will do it?’

‘There must be someone else in the village who can paint a few butterflies or tigers, Sarah,’ Greg protested.

‘I know, but I enjoy doing it. I think I get as much out of it as the kids do.’ I loved seeing the happy faces of the village children when I held a mirror up to their transformed faces afterwards.

‘You’re right. I’m sorry for being over-cautious, it’s just for once in my life everything is going right. I’ve never been so happy, and I don’t want anything to go wrong.’

Greg was usually so positive and upbeat; I wasn’t used to seeing this side of him. I guessed he was worried too. Neither of us would relax until our babies were safely here.