Page 116 of The Last Train Home
‘Me and baby-no-name,’ Abbie laughs back at me. ‘I’m working on the no-name bit, though, I promise.’
‘You’re going to be a great team,’ I say. ‘Whatever you call her.’
‘We’re going to have to be,’ Abbie says. ‘Mum and Dad need to work every day, so it’s only going to be me and baby-no-name at home for the next three weeks until their summer holidays start. And I really don’t want to bother my parents in the middle of the night, given that they have to get up at six a.m. every day.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘Do what every other single mother does. Get up and do the nappies and feeds on my own every night. And then I’ll go for walks to the park or the coffee shop, when I’m able to move properly. It might take a few days, though, before Ican do all this by myself, with these stitches. You should see the line they cut through my stomach. Did you know they have to cut through muscle to get to the uterus? I mean, of course they did, but it didn’t occur to me that’s what would happen. I can barely move. I’m sucking down paracetamol like they’re Smarties.’
‘How are you going to get up in the middle of the night and run around doing nappies and feeds then, if you’re in pain and can’t move?’
‘Really, reallyslowly,’ Abbie says thoughtfully. ‘I remind myself that single mothers do this, day in, day out. And I am a single mother now.’
‘But you don’t have to do it on your own.’
‘What else am I going to do? I can’t bother my parents all through the night every time she wakes up and cries for a feed or a change, or because she’s got wind or whatever else is going on in that little body of hers. They’ll be useless at work the next day. They’re not spring chickens any more. I’m just going to have to dig deep and get on with it. It’s only for a few weeks, until my stitches hurt less.’
I look at the baby in my arms, sleeping soundly again. Her lips are puckered, as if waiting for a kiss. Teddy’s slipped his hand into the baby’s and his mouth makes an excited O-shape as the baby’s hand clasps his. Everything hurts inside again.
I drag my eyes away from the baby and look at Abbie, smiling at the scene in front of her.
‘Stay with me,’ I say quietly. ‘Stay with us.’
‘What?’
I clearly haven’t thought this through, but I persevere regardless. ‘Stay with us. We have a spare room that you can both sleep in. I’ll hear her cry. I’m a father, I’m trained to hearbabies cry,’ I joke. ‘I’ll get up and down in the night and help lift her to you for feeds. I work from home, so it’s not like I’m going to be late for work if I’m tired. We can do it for a couple of weeks, until your stitches start healing and your parents begin the school summer holidays.’
Abbie looks unsure. But she’s not saying no. So I go in for the kill.
‘We still have Teddy’s bottle steriliser and his crib and bedding in the loft; and all his little white babygrows and vests, and hats and scratch mitts. I can wash it all tonight. And I can run out tomorrow morning after I’ve dropped Teddy at pre-school and before the hospital lets you go, and I can grab things you still need, so we’re ready: new mattress for the crib, bottles, extra nappies or … whatever you don’t have.’
Abbie’s thinking, while Teddy moans that he wants to miss pre-school and go shopping for the baby again.
‘And you won’t be able to drive for a few weeks,’ I continue. ‘Because of the surgery, so during the day when your parents are at work I’ll be there to ferry you around, if you need to go somewhere and can’t walk it.’
I’m pretty certain I’ve got her now. I look at Teddy. His face is beyond excited. ‘Is the baby coming home with us?’ he asks.
‘I don’t know,’ I say truthfully. ‘Abbie, there’s no stress. Really. It takes the pressure off your parents and means you don’t have to risk ripping your stitches open, hauling yourself in and out of bed, trying to get to the baby before she wakes your parents each night.’
She nods, unconvinced. She’s looking from Teddy to me. ‘But it’s weird,’ she says. ‘Isn’t it?’
‘It’s weird if you make it weird.’
She rolls her eyes and then smiles. ‘I don’t know.’
‘I can change nappies, I can hand her to you to feed and, if you’re too tired, I’ll grab a bottle and feed her while you sleep.’
‘I can change nappies too,’ Teddy volunteers. I give him a wink.Well done, son. ‘And I can help feed her a bottle, if someone shows me how.’Yes, Teddy. Nice one.
Abbie’s smiling. ‘Tom …’
‘What?’ I say.
She’s shaking her head, but she’s still smiling at the same time.
‘I’ll be there to help when you most need it,’ I continue. ‘Let me help. Let us help.’
‘You’re ridiculous,’ Abbie says, but laughter fills her face and at this point I’d be surprised if she says no.
