Poor Alf.
The song was a bad choice for a first dance, but he wasn’t to know. Why should he? There was no reason for my new husband to be aware of the feelings this song was stirring inside me. He hadn’t been there two years previously, when I’d first slow-danced to this song with another man.
But I’m aware.
Aware of the nausea; the bilious liquid rising in my throat until I fear for the future of the off-white satin court shoes that are pinching my toes.
Aware of the solid knot in the pit of my stomach.
Aware of the pain in my heart on what should be the happiest day of my life.
The joy of the day has been washed over – no, flooded out – by the actions of my past, as though everything that’s gone before is weighing me down and now I’m sinking, sinking, sinking.
I paint on a smile and force myself to sway along to the music. A ripple of applause fills the room as Alf and I move, and the flashing of a hundred cameras keen to capture our first dance pierces through the darkness of the church hall.
Relief rushes through me as the song comes to an end, replaced by an upbeat disco tune that gets even my sister Vivienne on to the dance floor, toddler balanced on her hip as she spins. The baby responds by releasing a full-on belly laugh of undeniable happiness, and I pull my husband just a fraction closer.
“Mmm, that’s nice.” Alf smiles, squeezing me back tightly. He follows my gaze, to where I’m still watching my elder sister, now twisting and twirling like a ballerina on a music box as the little one clings on to her hand for dear life. “What’re you thinking?”
“Nothing.”
I can’t tell him the truth. Not now, not ever.
“It looks like fun, doesn’t it? Having a little one.” The unsteady toddler excitedly claps along as my brother-in-law Glenn struts his stuff as though he’s cock of the town. “Maybe we should start thinking about having one of our own…we are married now, after all.”
I blink. “A baby?”
“No, a giraffe,” he teases. “Yes, a baby! That’s not such a crazy idea, is it? You’d make a wonderful mother.” He beams, and I know he’s imagining me with a sleeping child cradled in my arms, a perfect Madonna and child scenario. “We could be a proper little family. Just think, if we hit the jackpot right away we could be parents by summertime!”
My knees quiver beneath the lacy layers of my dress, and I tighten my grip on my husband’s arm.
“It might not happen right away.” My voice wavers. “Some couples try for years before getting caught.”
“It won’t take us years,” Alf says, his voice brimming with macho confidence. “I’d put money on it happening fast.”
It had happened fast last time. Too fast.
“Don’t get your hopes up, that’s all. We’ve got plenty of time, we’re only twenty-one!” I strain to keep my voice jovial and light, but Alf’s face looks pained. I feel awful for raining on his parade, especially when none of my reluctance to rush into starting a family is his fault.
“You do want children though, don’t you? I know we’ve not spoken about it much, but that’s what most women want…a husband, a baby or two…”
“I do, I really do. In the future I want us to have a family of our own, and maybe a puppy too. I just think I’d like to enjoy being married for a while first though.” Alf’s face falls, so I hastily add, “But we can always get some baby-making practice in?”
That obviously raises his spirits as he visibly brightens.
“Promises, promises,” he replies with a cheeky wink. “If you want to wait a few months, that’s fine by me. Whatever my beautiful bride wants.” He leans in, placing the softest of kisses on the tip of my nose, and I’m reminded of what a sweet, lovely man he is. “You’ll be a wonderful mother, one of these days,” he repeats.
“Thank you,” I whisper, burying my head into his chest. His heartbeat reverberates against my cheek. “And you’ll be a brilliant father.”
“I’ll do my best, for them and for you. I promise you, Pearl, I’ll never let you down.”
The words are so beautiful that I want to make the same promise back, but I can’t bring myself to speak. I’m not the person Alf thinks I am. By keeping the secrets of two summers ago from him I’ve already let him down.
But I did it to protect him, because it would break his heart if he knew. That’s why he must never find out. He must never know that I am already a mother.
Fir Tree Park’s one of those delightful places that exudes beauty whatever the season, and I know how lucky I am to work here. I’m blessed with the opportunity to appreciate its magnificence all year round; when the muted blanket of fallen leaves coats the weaving paths and walkways in autumn (well worthy of the admiration they get from welly-wearing dog walkers and exuberant toddlers alike) and when the icy layer atop the lake sparkles with winter wonder, pretty enough to adorn any Christmas card. And spring’s pale pink buds of cherry blossom are a welcome vision, cheery and uplifting in the extreme.
But during the summer months there’s something extra special about the park. It’s abuzz with life, more so than at any other point in the year. Once the days become longer crowds come out of hibernation, everyone keen to capitalize on the extra hours of sunlight. The armies of new mums pushing the latest must-have buggies walk with increased purpose and drive, office workers bring
