Chapter 13

Marianne woke up and felt a warm body lying next to her. She smiled to herself, thinking about Chris, and last night. It might be coincidence that an active imagination made for a good photographer and a good lover, but she doubted it. In the three months since Knebworth, he’d shown that imagination many times, and Marianne was more than happy with the results!

She turned over and looked at him, sleeping solidly beside her in the warm morning light filtered through the curtains. Chris wasn’t good looking enough to be a model himself, nor did he take enough obsessive care of his appearance, but he wasn’t ugly, no, by no means.

There was more.

Marianne had fallen for him, head-over-heels fallen in love. She couldn’t believe it. She still regretted hurting Simon, as she knew she had, but really, once she’d spent that night and day with Chris, it was all over.

She just hoped that Chris was feeling the same way. There was something she hadn’t told him, something that was worrying her.

Marianne, the normally assertive, aggressive of the twins, was uncharacteristically reticent with him in some ways. She found she was afraid of voicing her feelings in case they weren’t reciprocated. That would devastate her, she knew, and she was scared of testing it directly. So she used indirect means, testing him in ways that were less of a frontal assault than simply asking, “Chris, do you love me? Are you in love with me?”

The trouble was that Marianne didn’t really trust the answers because they weren’t direct. So, she was on tenterhooks.

Last night was another example. Chris, the courteous man that he was, had picked her up from her house at seven and they’d gone for a meal with Pearl and her current beau. Chris had been attentive to her all night, holding open doors, pulling out her chair, that sort of thing. He’d made sure she had her every need catered for, and then had taken her home and looked after her other, more earthy needs.

Even here, he thought of her pleasure first. He was almost as skilled with his tongue as Simon had been, and considerably more assertive in making sure he got what he wanted – her orgasm. Orgasms, if he had his way – and he did.

But was it love? Politeness in general and thoughtfulness in bed did not mean it was, necessarily. He looked at other women, of course he did – it was his profession – but he never compared others to Marianne.

What did it all mean?

Marianne got up and tiptoed into the bathroom, trying not to wake Chris up. She’d almost finished her morning routine when she doubled over and was noisily sick into the toilet. Again.

She was just about to wipe her face when she heard Chris’ voice from the bedroom calling, “Marianne? Are you okay?”

“Sure Chris, fine. Probably those mussels I ate last night.” She was dissembling, actually Marianne had a pretty good idea what the problem was – she was just denying it to herself.

“You’ve always got to watch out for seafood,” Chris replied, coming naked into the bathroom. He owned little in the way of body modesty, she’d found. He’d never embarrassed her, not that way in any case, but now that she was living with him she’d noticed that he quite happily wandered around his home naked or nearly so. 

Marianne herself was a little more conventional, about that at least. Straightening up, she pulled her robe more tightly around herself and made their early morning drinks. “I think I’ll have tea this morning, it might help settle my stomach,” she called out to Chris, getting a grunt in return. She smiled – Chris wasn’t good in the mornings until he’d had his caffeine, though once running he was full of energy all day long.

He strolled into the kitchen in T-Shirt and shorts, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay, Mari?”

“Yeah, sure. Luckily it’s only come up, not out the other end as well!”

Chris made a face and helped himself to some of Marianne’s toast, untouched on her plate. “What have you got on today?” he asked, “’cos if you’re unwell, perhaps you ought to let it slide?”

“Nah, I’ll be okay,” she replied.

“You’ve been peaky in the mornings of late, though.”

“Maybe I just need to get to bed earlier, or something. Honest, I’m fine, Chris.”

In reality, she was persuading herself more than Chris.

- - - - - - - - - -

Four days later and she was starting to worry. She was now overdue her second period, if only by a couple of days – and she was still feeling sick when she got up.

Saying nothing to Chris, she checked her Pills. No, she hadn’t missed any, so she couldn’t be pregnant, could she?

A week after that, and still there’d been no ‘show’. Marianne was feeling a tiny bit better that morning, but still wasn’t hungry. She was worried, and Chris had noticed her lack of appetite and closed, tense body language.

“Mari, are you sure you’re all right?”

He asked her this with such an open expression of love and concern that Marianne felt she had to say something.

“I don’t really know, Chris. I – I’m on the Pill, but I’m late.”

Chris sat back in his chair, face now blank. He visibly pulled himself together, and asked, “You think this is why you’ve not been well in the mornings this past few days?”

“Uh-huh. Probably.” She felt tears starting to form, and her throat became tight. “I’m s – sorry, Chris, I – ”

“Shhhh, Mari, love. How long before we can find out for sure?”

“I – I don’t know. Chris, I’m on the Pill. I can’t be pregnant, can I?”

“They’re not foolproof, Mari. Not completely.”

“I know.” She burst into full-blown tears, and Chris came around the table to comfort her. For a few minutes she sobbed into his chest as he held her, rocking her gently.

“If I am pregnant, what am I going to do?” she wailed.

“Keep the baby, of course, love,” Chris told her. She looked at him in surprise.

“You want me to have it?”

“Of course! Why, you weren’t thinking of…?”

“Abortion? I just thought you wouldn’t want…”

“No! No! Er, well, I guess it’s actually your choice, Mari. But- look, I’ll stand by you, I’m not leaving you or anything.”

“So you want me to have it.”

He sat on the edge of the table, looking down at a very frightened Marianne.

“If you don’t want to keep the baby, Marianne, there’s another way,” he reminded her quietly. “Adoption. I haven’t told you this, lover, but I’m adopted. Mum lost two babies and then they told her she could never carry to term. She and Dad adopted me when I was only a very small baby.”

“I didn’t know, Chris. You and she actually seem to look somewhat alike.”

“I know, isn’t it funny? Pure coincidence. But I’d rather you kept any baby of ours so that we can bring it up together.”

Marianne gave him a smile of blinding joy. She stood, pulled him to his feet and jumped on him, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing him with butterfly soft, swift, sweet kisses all over his face.

He began to walk out of the kitchen, and she asked him, “Where are you taking me? Unhand me this moment, sir!”

“Aaarrrrgh, Oi be a pirate, and you be moi booty!” he growled, and Mari threw her head back, laughing with him as he entered the living room. He reached the couch and laid her down, carefully, kneeling on the floor beside her.

“Mari, I want you to know that I’ve been thinking about saying this before. I love you. I really do, and there’s no getting around it, I’m going to be with you, baby or no baby. This hasn’t changed a thing, except to make me say it out loud sooner rather than later.”

She smiled happily back at him. She lifted her head and supported it on one hand as she lay there and basked in the joy each had found.

“I knew I loved you, Chris. I was afraid to say so, because you’re right, it was quick – and yet it wasn’t really, was it? We’ve known each other quite a while now, after all.”

“I guess so. But you didn’t answer my question, did you? How long before we can find out for sure if I’m going to be a daddy?”

“You’re excited, aren’t you? I wouldn’t have guessed that,” she replied. “I guess the best answer is to call the doctor and find out. Um, my doctor is still Dr. James, over near Mum’s.”

“Or there’s the Family Planning clinic,” Chris reminded her. “More discreet, perhaps?”

“Yeah, better. I think I want to know exactly what’s happening before I tell Mum and Cari.”

A day later, and she had it confirmed. She was going to be a mother.

At the table over supper that night, in a small, slightly tremulous voice she asked her boyfriend “Chris, are you sure you want this baby?” 

He smiled at her reassuringly. “Certain, Mari. Don’t even think about it, please?”

“Well. It’s a lot of responsibility, Chris. It’ll interfere with my modelling, too. Then there’s your work, there’s a lot to think about.”

“I told you, I’ll be there with you, Mari. We’ll see it through together, and look after little one. But mainly we’re going to love one another, and our child, and get on with whatever life throws at us. Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Is that what you’ll say if I ask you to marry me, sweetheart?”

That question hung in the air for a moment. Then Marianne squealed with delight and grabbed Chris, shouting, “Yes, yes, yes!”

A moment later and she calmed down enough to ask, “Are you sure you want to be saddled with me, Chris?”

“You’re a fine looking filly, Mari – of course I’m sure!”

Marianne gave Chris a predatory look. She took his hand and led him out of the room, telling him, “I know just the way to celebrate this, my love…”

She pulled him towards his bedroom, laughing. Laughing with her, he allowed himself to be dragged there before suddenly attacking his laughing girlfriend, picking her up and putting her over his shoulder.

Smack!

“Ow! Put me down you beast!” Marianne cried, putting a hand over her forehead (not that he could see that). “You fiend, what are your intentions?”

“Very dis-honourable, wench! I’m going to have my wicked way with you!” he told her, acting it up for all it was worth. He dropped Marianne on the bed and landed astride her, looking down with a fierce scowl.

“Oh, sir, please no! Oh, the shame, the indignity!”

“’Tis no use begging young miss – tonight you’ll be ravished! If you’re nice to me, I’ll bet you’ll enjoy it!” he growled. Marianne saw the laughter in his eyes, laughter she was sure matched her own.

“Oh, no! Please!” she cried again, but Chris silenced her with a kiss, and they stopped their play-acting as the kiss became passionate, all-consuming.

“Enough, Chris. Please, make love to me?” she asked him, quietly.

Chris was only too happy to comply with such a polite request.

- - - - - - - - - -

Marianne was deliriously happy. Of course, the sickness the morning after brought her back to earth with a bump. She was bent, head down over the toilet, losing what little breakfast she’d managed to get down.

“How long does this last?” asked Chris with a worried expression.

Marianne looked up through tear-filled eyes. “The doctor said it usually finished after three months. I’m still early – so I’d guess another month or so of this.”

“There must be something we can do about this, love?”

“Eat little and often. Have something, anything, first thing when I wake up. Eat lots of fruit and vegetables, and take in plenty of fluid. That’s what they said at the clinic.” She straightened up on her knees. “I think that’s it for now. I need to make myself presentable if we’re going to go over and tell my family.”

“And my Mum, too!”

- - - - - - - - - -

Tina Simmons was looking at Chris like a bug that needed to be squashed, preferably in some painful manner.

She returned her baleful gaze onto her daughter. “I just knew this would happen sooner or later, Marianne.” Then, to Chris, she asked, “Well? Are you going to do the right thing by my daughter?”

“Mum!”

“Be quiet Marianne! I asked your boyfriend here a question!”

Her mother was obviously upset. This wasn’t the way it was meant to go.

“Mother, please let me speak?” she asked with an asperity she didn’t really intend. It seemed to work, though, as Tina stopped, sat down on her chair in the living room where they’d all gathered and waved a hand in assent.

“Mum, yes, I’m pregnant. I’m going to have the baby, and Chris is going to stick with me. We haven’t talked about marriage as yet so don’t push about that, please. But we’re staying together. Isn’t that right, Chris?”

“Definitely. Mrs Simmons, Marianne and I care a lot about one another. I don’t know how this happened, but we think it’s a good thing. An unexpected one, and with bad timing, but we’re looking forward to having a baby of our own to bring up.”

Marianne could see her mother was struggling. If this happened to people of her generation, it wasn’t good – if it was her grandmother’s generation, the girl could be sent to a mental home! It was true times had changed, but there were still real social and practical problems.

She couldn’t tease her Mum any longer. She glanced at Chris, and could see he was struggling to hold it in, too.

“Mum, we know what we’re doing. I don’t want a rushed ceremony, anyway,” she finished with a smile.

Marianne’s mother stood with hands on hips for a moment as the last statement sank in. “You… you tease!” she grabbed her daughter and gave her a kiss, then stood back with a delighted smile of her own. “I thought you’d decided not to get married at all!”

“Yes, Mum, I worked that out! Of course we’re getting married.”

“Mrs Simmons, I’d have asked Marianne to marry me anyway,” Chris put in, bringing an even brighter smile to Marianne’s lips. Caroline looked on, as delighted as the rest of her family. Chris continued, “It would have taken longer, but I’m pretty sure we’d have got there anyway. I know how I feel about Marianne, and I was pretty sure she felt the same way.”

Marianne took her fiancé by the hand. “Oh, yes, I do, Chris.” She told him, gazing into his eyes.

Caroline laughed. “It might be time for us to leave the two lovebirds alone, Mum!” she joked.

“We’ll have to get cracking on organising this wedding, Marianne,” Tina said, eagerly. “There’s a lot to do and not much time to do it in.”

“Er, Mum? I’m not going to rush down the aisle.”

Marianne’s mother paused while she took in Marianne’s meaning.

“You’ll be getting married before the little one’s born, surely?”

“I don’t think so, Mum. I have a choice – I can rush it all, which I don’t want, or I can waddle down to my future husband, which I really don’t want to do, or I can wait until next summer, have my baby and get back into shape, and actually fit into a nice dress and have the wedding I always wanted,” she answered. “In this day and age, is it really going to matter that much?”

“Well, I, er –”

“Besides, I want to get married in St. Anne’s. They have a long waiting list. I might have to wait until late summer anyway, even if we book it straight away!”

St. Anne’s, also known as Church-in-the-Vale, was a popular, pretty and much sought after wedding venue. Marianne loved the quiet little church, and had wanted to be married there since being a bridesmaid, aged nine.

“If you’re sure, Marianne? You don’t think a baby crying will put a cramp on your perfect wedding?”

Marianne replied with complete sincerity, “I think it’ll be the best way of showing what we mean to each other, Mum.”

- - - - - - - - - -

Telling Chris’ mother was comparatively easy. Linda was thrilled to hear that her son was getting married, if a little concerned about the instant family. She pulled him to one side, just once.

“Just tell me you’re certain you’re doing this for the right reasons, Chris. Or at least, if it’s just because of the baby, tell me you’ll see out the course. Otherwise it’s not fair, to Marianne or the child, to make them think one thing and then leave them after a year or two.”

Chris was able to reassure his mother, “Don’t worry, Mum. All this has meant is that it’s happening earlier. Both of us are pretty certain we’d have ended up at the altar together anyway – just later.”

Linda joined in with Tina, gleefully organising their children’s lives for the foreseeable future.

- - - - - - - - - -

Caroline, meanwhile, after initially bubbling with enthusiasm for her twin’s news and joining in the discussions about who would do what, turned quiet once more. Marianne didn’t notice, but her mother did.

Since the return from Knebworth she’d watched her daughter first grow in confidence and then shrink within herself. The effects were physical, too – Caroline had lost appetite, she had dark circles under her eyes, skilfully concealed by the makeup she’d learned to apply but discernible to her mother’s practiced eye. Her hair was brittle, lifeless, cheeks a little sunken – in short, Caroline wasn’t well. She got up for work, apparently fine, came home and insisted all was well – but she didn’t go out at all anymore.

One morning, over breakfast, she asked her daughter the direct question.

“Caroline, what’s really the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t feed me that line. I’m your mother, I know you much better. You’re losing weight, not sleeping, and you haven’t been out, even with the girls from work, for ages. Tell me?”

“No, Mum, it’s nothing. I’m fine, honest. Look, I have to get to work.”

“You don’t have to leave for work for another quarter of an hour, Caroline.”

“I – I’ve got to get in early this morning,” Caroline replied desperately, “I’ll see you tonight, Mum!” she finished as she grabbed her bag and practically ran out of the door.

- - - - - - - - - -