I whooped and grabbed her, pulling her over me as I showered her with kisses, Lena responding no less enthusiastically, laughing and crying happily, as was I. I pulled her down next to me and held her close so I could bite her lip while I squeezed her bum.
“I told you I like making babies with you!” I grinned, and Lena wriggled against me as she smiled back.
“I know you told me it wasn’t possible, baby, but maybe tonight you managed to do the impossible and poked another baby in there tonight, to keep this one company!”
I smiled at that, and squeezed her even closer to me, loving the feel of her so close to me, but unable to stifle a huge yawn.
“Who knows, Princess, maybe you’re right…” I mumbled, exertion, a long day, and too many shots finally catching up with me. The last thing I remember is Lena snuggling up and spooning against me, my hands sliding up to cup her delectable boobs, and the scent of her hair as I sleepily contemplated the fact we were having a baby, and that’s all she wrote until I was woken by my phone ringing, then fumbling and dropping it as the late-morning sunshine lanced into my eyes as I struggled awake.
After some further fumbling and bleary attempts to remember how to answer the damned thing, I finally managed to hit the ‘Answer’ button, hoping I wasn’t being called-in because someone hadn’t turned-up for their shift.
“Hello?” I managed, and a young woman’s voice answered me.
“Hello, is this Darryl Morgan?”
I nodded, although I don’t know why, she couldn’t see me.
“Yes, speaking, who’s calling, please?”
There was a short pause, then:
“My name is Julie, Julie Jameson; I’m told you’ve been looking for me. I think you’re my cousin…”
*
JULIE:
When Mark came home from work, he found the children asleep, tired-out from their day at the boating lake, and Mummy-Anh helping me cook dinner; actually, she’s a superb cook, so it was more or less the other way round. Mark’s eyes lit up; he’s a walking stomach at the best of times, and he likes to spend his spare time at the Morrison house stuffing his face, with Mummy happily feeding him past the point where he should have exploded, so he knew right away that he was getting a special dinner if Mum was cooking it for him.
She, of course, was all over him immediately he walked in, and he lapped it up; Mummy has a special place in her heart for Mark, she always had, and now she’d explained to me what I should have seen all along, I saw their interaction in a whole new light; she actually mothered him, genuinely mothered and loved him, something our own lush of a mother had never bothered to do, and poor Mark was lapping-up and loving every second of it.
While we ate, I could tell Mark was picking up on the fact Mum and I had something to say to him, but he kept his peace; if it was something bad, one of us would have said something long before we sat down, so he waited, opting to enjoy dinner before the pow-wow he knew was coming.
Outwardly, at least, all was fine; Markie was awake, so Mum fed her at table, for once leaving me to eat my dinner in peace, and once we’d cleared up, Mum cocked an eyebrow at me, nodding at Mark. He saw that, and sat up straighter.
“Mark, Julie have something to tell you, please to listen!” she smiled, bouncing Markie on her hip to keep her occupied while Mark and I talked.
“What’s the problem, Tink?” he asked, a small worry-line appearing between his eyebrows. I drew a deep breath; this was it.
“Mark, you remember when I went to that address in Clifton, to look for mum’s family?”
He nodded, so I continued.
“While we were in Bristol, they were here, mum’s sister, Emma… and our cousin Darryl, the man who looks like you; he was here, too. Not ‘here’ here. They found Mummy’s address, they went there, Mummy and Nia met them. Please Mark, there’s more…!”
I could see he was perturbed by this; he’d told me once he wasn’t interested in that side of our family, we had enough family right here, and now I was raking it up again. He fixed me with his eye, pinning me with that raised eyebrow he’d copied so effectively from Mummy, and slowly nodded.
“Okay, Tink, let’s hear it!” he sighed, more resigned than annoyed.
“They left a number; his name’s Darryl Morgan; I found his house but there was no-one in. I want to call him, I just want to get some answers, that’s all, I don’t want them in our lives, I just want to know who we are!”
Mark looked at me for a long moment, then smiled wistfully.