James – Thirty-Six Weeks
Only a few more weeks…
I can barely contain myself.
Her mother is still working hard to get Charlotte to buy some new clothes… Michael and I watch the conversation with the fascination of a couple of popcorn-popping movie addicts.
Mitch, her arms folded, one toe tapping… “… After all, Christmas is coming, and you will want something nice to wear, won’t you?”
“I suppose.”
“And, you’ll want James and Michael to see you at your best, don’t you? For Christmas?”
“Cara might have been born by then.”
“Even if she has, you won’t go back to your original size overnight. You’re not a bicycle tire.”
“I suppose.”
“So…” Mitch spins on me, a searing whirlwind of maternal authority. “So, James and Michael can come too, can’t they.”
Michael rises from his seat as though rocket-propelled… “Gotta finish the drainage in the stable yard…” … and is gone.
Damn!
Mitch’s smile zeros in on me…
“I have some work to do…”
“But you said at breakfast you were going to have a quiet day…”
Bank up the fire…
My armchair…
A good book…
Maybe a brandy…
Mitch dangles the car keys at me. “I’ll sit in the back. Jenny needs all the space she can get right now.
Shoe-horning Charlotte into the front seat of the car, I drive us to Mitch’s intended destination; a department store with a large range of designer maternity wear and eye-watering prices.
“Don’t worry, James,” she murmurs. “It’s just the one dress, so she has something decent to wear over the holiday.”
“I’m paying for this, then?”
She dimples, so beautifully. “But you must be so tired of seeing her in leggings and tee-shirts?”
True…
She doesn’t wait for me to actually reply. “Good. Then you can stay with her in the fitting room and tell her she looks beautiful while I go and pick out dresses for her to try.”
Oh, joy…
*****
Two hours and a score of outfits later, I’m losing the will to live.
Charlotte examines herself in the mirror, side on, with disfavour. In fact, the dress looks fabulous on her. Mitch’s eye for design doesn’t stop at painting, and the gown displays beautifully my scowling lovely, emphasising her height and her much-expanded bosom, but draping smoothly over her extravagant midriff.
She turns, scrutinizing herself from the other side, then eyes me. “Do I look fat?”
“You look pregnant.”
She grimaces. “Yes, but do I look fat?”
“You look pregnant.”
“I do look fat.”
If that lip sticks out any further, I’ll use it as a bookshelf…
I slide my arms around her, which isn’t as easy as it once was, kissing the top of her head. “No. You look pregnant. And lovely as ever with it.”
“But I’ve gone all… There’s so much of me.” Her words end on a wail.
“Well, what did you expect? Apply some basic engineering principles.”
She stills in my embrace, looking up into my face. “Engineering principles? What are you talking about, Master?”
“If you want to carry extra passengers, you have to increase the payload, expand the stores and the catering facilities, and install extra seating.”
And she finally bursts out laughing, slapping me on the chest. “‘Course you do. I’m being silly, aren’t I?”
“Very silly.” And I plant a kiss on her forehead. “Charlotte, you look wonderful. Do you like the dress? If you do, you’ll be wearing it for Christmas dinner.”
“Yes, I do.” Her eyes are merry and bright. “Master, I’m sorry…”
Then as she shifts in my arms and I realise her intent… “Don’t kneel, for God’s sake. I’d need a block and tackle to get you back on your feet, and I doubt they supply them in the ladies-wear department.”
And again, she bursts out laughing.
That’s my Jade-Eyes…
“Let’s get you out of this and tell your mother she can call back the expeditionary forces. How about tea and cakes now?”
And her arm hooked into mine, we’re still laughing and joking as we step back into the main store…
… and I all but walk into Georgie… My daughter, tall, slimly built, dark-haired and dark-eyed like me.
Her eyes widen, her hands coming up as we almost bounce into each other. “Whoa! Dad…” She frowns. “What on earth are you doing here?”
Then she seems to realize Charlotte is with me. “Who…?” And her eyes drop to my Jade’s protruding belly.
Now what?
Tell it as it is…
“Charlotte, this is my daughter, Georgie. Georgie, this is Charlotte. My wife.”
Georgie’s mouth opens and closes. “Your wife? But…”
Charlotte offers her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Georgie. James has spoken so much about you.”
Georgie doesn’t take the hand, instead simply staring at Charlotte’s stomach. “But… she’s just a kid. And she’s pregnant…”
“Aren’t you going to congratulate me? And Charlotte?”
Georgie’s face twists to anger. “What are you playing at, Dad?” Speaking as though she’s not there, she jerks a thumb at Charlotte. “She’s younger than I am. Don’t you think you’re a bit long in the tooth to be seducing children?”
Charlotte hisses, “I am not a child.”
Can I rescue this?
“Georgie, aren’t you just a little bit pleased for me? That I have a successful marriage. That I’m going to be a father again. That you’re going to have a sister…”
“I’ve no idea what you thinking you’re doing, Dad. This is… is…”
I lean in close to my daughter, whispering into her ear. “Licet felix est.” She glares at me… “And whether you like it or not, I am happy. Charlotte is my wife and Cara in there,” I eye-point downwards… “… is your sister.”
Georgie spits the words. “She’s no sister of mine.” And turning on her heel, she disappears into the milling crowds.
Charlotte’s eyes are glossy. “Master, I’m so sorry. I…”
“Forget it, Charlotte. We all make our own choices. Georgie has made hers.”
Mitch reappears, arms piled high. “Right, Shoes.”
*****