Wallaker's Discovery
By S. Faith, © 2014
Words: 63,000 (in nine chapters and an epilogue)
Rating: T / PG-13
Summary, Disclaimer, Notes: See Chapter 1.
Chapter 8
Fri, 20 December 2013 (con't)
"I'm worried about Mabel and all of those boys," confided Scott, later that night.
She laughed. "Don't worry for Mabel," she said. "Worry for the boys. She'll have them all playing Hellvanians with her in no time at all, pint-sized dictator that she is."
Bridget had not been wrong. The children got along right from the start. Billy adored having some slightly older and more knowledgeable boys around; Fred loved having someone he could treat like a younger brother; Matt liked thinking of himself as an older brother twice over; both of his sons were intrigued by the thought of having a younger sister, even if a girl child was a bit of an unknown. And she did have his sons wrapped around her finger from the start, assigning a family of field mice to Fred, and "fuckoons" (raccoons) to Matt.
"The bunnieth are mine," she said decidedly. "And Billy can have the duckth if he wants to play."
Billy looked quite torn for a moment; he apparently had never really liked playing with the Sylvanians with his sister, but if Matt and Fred were going to play… "Okay," he said, giving her a big grin.
Afterwards, they invited Mabel to play Xbox, but she didn't want to; instead, she went and perched on her mother's knee. "Mummy," she said quite seriously, "I like havin' more brudders, but how about a sister now?"
"Oh, honey, the ship has quite sailed on that one," she said, holding her little girl close, kissing her on the head. "But I think you'll find that having three times the brother will more than make up for it."
"I s'pose," she said with a sigh. "They don't have hair for plaits, though."
"You have a point," said Bridget, "but you know, if you had a sister, you'd have to share the Hellvanians with her."
Mabel looked horrified, then she jumped down and ran over to the Xbox. "I wanna play!"
Mon-Tues, 23-24 December 2013
Getting extra presents for Billy and Mabel—and Bridget, of course—meant that the days before Christmas had been extra hectic, but given the time crunch, he thought he did all right: a Sylvanian Barn Owl Family for Mabel and a new Xbox game for Billy. For Bridget, he hadn't even had to go to a shop; he immediately thought of his mother's favourite necklace, an antique locket; it was one Sarah had once begged to have, and one he'd never thought had been right to give her.
He would leave the photos up to her. He didn't wish to presume to put in pictures of his children with hers, or even of himself; while they had come so far, so fast, they hadn't even been a couple a month. It had barely been a fortnight.
The six of them arrived to Capthorpe House on Monday, the 23rd, to give them time to settle in before the holiday itself. Bridget's mother, Pam, had already planned on a holiday with her friend Una and the retirement community in which they lived, though Scott had had a very pleasant chat with Pam on the telephone; Bridget reported back that afterwards, her mother was more giggly and girlish than she had been in years.
Sean, Cassandra and the boys had arrived earlier that same day. Introductions between the children—to integrate Mabel and Billy with Jeff, George, and Arthur—were made by Matt and Fred in the manner of a UN delegation. In the end, there was nothing to fret over; before long, they were going on scavenger hunts in teams of three and four (Mabel wanted to stay with Billy), looking for items around the house based on lists that Sean and Scott compiled for them. Mabel soon became known as the good luck charm.
The next morning, Christmas Eve day, Scott found himself practically cornered in the kitchen by his brother as he waited for the coffee to finish brewing. "Finally have you alone," Sean said. "Wanted to say, well done, you."
Scott chuckled. "Thanks."
"I know who she was," he said, "but if I'm to be honest, despite everything, I was really quite terrified she was going to be a Sarah clone."
"You sound like my boys," he said with a grin.
"She brings out the best in you, being so warm and spontaneous," said Sean. "And the kids love her. Maybe she missed her calling as a teacher."
"I'm glad you approve," he said. "I hope Cassandra does, too, what with me springing them on all of you at the last minute."
"It really wasn't a bother," said Sean, "and yes, Cassandra finds Bridget quite likeable. She's looking forward to getting to know her better."
"I'm glad to hear it."
"She especially adores that Mabel. What a charmer. Really, it's so nice to have a little girl around again after so many boys. Been a long time since Miranda was small."
Scott thought of his niece, who would be up for Christmas proper, and grinned.
Sean continued, "And now. If I don't bring up some coffee soon…"
"Ditto," said Scott.
Later that afternoon, Scott overheard Billy talking to Arthur, the cousin who was closest to him in age:
"We played our Summer Concert here," Billy said, as the pair of boys stood looking out through the French windows. "There was a stage over there." He pointed to the terrace. "It's really different with all the snow."
"Maybe we can go out and make snow angels!" said Arthur excitedly.
Within short order the seven children were whipped up into a frenzy about going out to play in the snow. Bridget had had the foresight to bring the children's snow gear—and her own—and within short order the lot of them were out in the garden, throwing snowballs, making snow sculptures and forming legions of snow angels.
"That," declared Billy once they were inside sipping cocoa, "was way better than sledging."
Before they went to bed that night, Scott also overheard Arthur say to Billy that he thought his mum was cool.
Christmas, 2013
Christmas morning was really all about the children. With the start of a new job, last year's festivities had been very subdued, with only the boys and Sarah in his flat. This year, with the boat pushed out in the form of the decorated tree and garlanded family home, the big Christmas dinner underway, and surrounded by his brother, sister-in-law, Bridget, and so many children running around with paper crowns and noisemakers… Scott had not realised quite how much he had missed the traditional holiday celebrations.
After finishing the gift exchange and polishing off coffee and breakfast, Bridget called to her children; she had a strange expression, not hesitant, but almost somewhat sombre. "Come, let's give your granny and grandpa a Christmas call."
It took him but a moment for Scott to realise exactly whom they were calling, and knew why it might be a difficult call to make. "Maybe you can use the library for a little privacy," he said, "away from the racket of the boys playing with their new toys, complaining that they can't use the new Xbox games yet."
"Good idea, yes," she said, still looking scattered.
"Come, I'll show you, maybe… keep them occupied while you place the call." Maybe a little moral support, too, he thought, though he did not wish to intrude upon a private conversation with her mother-in-law.
She nodded. "I'd really like that," she said.
To keep them occupied, he asked Mabel and Billy if they were having a nice holiday break so far, kept them engaged in conversation about Father Christmas, but kept his attention focused on Bridget too, listening for cues in her half of the conversation: "Happy Christmas," she said. "Yes, thinking of you too. Having a good Christmas? Oh, really? You're all on the same holiday? Oh, then maybe Mum mentioned…. Yes. I wasn't sure how to…" Here he could hear emotion thickening her voice. "Yes, very happy. Thank you. I think you'd like him." Pause. "And I think he'd like him, too."
She then cleared her throat, and when she spoke again her voice was clearer and brighter: "So Billy and Mabel want to say hello and happy Christmas." He recognised a cue when he heard one, and he herded the children towards them. Billy took the phone first.
"Hi, Granny Elaine!" he said brightly. "Yeah, we're out at Mr Wallaker's house, and it's snowing and there's kids to play with here an' everything!"
Scott looked to Bridget, who was discreetly daubing tears from under her eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.
She nodded. "I know Mark's parents want me to be happy," she said. "It was still hard, the thought of telling them."
He reached out, took her hand, then pulled her into his arms for a warm hug. "Like you said. They want you to be happy." He brought his hand up to her hair. "I know you must miss him still, especially at Christmas. That's okay. I'd never begrudge you your memories, or try to unseat him from his place in your heart."
At this she began sobbing. Billy and Mabel looked to them in confusion; he merely gestured that it was time to give Mabel the mobile. "Hi, it's Mabel!" she said happily upon taking it. "Thaliva got a new dress!"
"Mostly, I'm fine," Bridget said in a quiet tone. "Then, every once in a while…"
"It's okay," he said again.
"Not as bad as it used to be," she said, tightening her arms around him. "That felt like a wave against my shins compared to the tsunamis that used to hit me." She sniffed. "I'm so glad you understand."
He wasn't sure he could fully understand; after all, he had never lost a love as she had, had never even had a love like that before meeting her. In fact, he couldn't help the small pang of jealousy at seeing her so affected by the memory of her husband; he supposed he should have felt more threatened that he could never have the whole of her heart. After all, he was only human. But her understandably strong attachments to the past, to the father of her children, didn't make him doubt what she felt for him; he had never felt so loved before, so absolutely, in so short a time. He accepted that it was part and parcel of loving her.
"Mummeeeee, Granny Pam wants to talk to you!"
It was Billy again—they must have said their piece to both paternal grandparents, and to Pam Jones as well, and Mabel had vacated the room—so she drew away, sniffed again, swept at any errant tears she might have missed before, then took the mobile.
"Mr Wallaker," said Billy with a surprising amount of discretion, "is Mummy crying because of Daddy?"
He thought for a moment, then nodded. "Because it's Christmas," he said. "And she's thinking of the happy times in the past with your father. She's okay though."
Billy nodded. "I know she is," he said with great confidence. "She's got you now."
Mon, 30 December 2013
As the week at Capthorpe House wound to a close, Scott felt a bit wistful about the thought of all of them parting ways. It had been a great week with very little conflict (aside from the likes of who ate the last of the Christmas sugar biscuits), especially when he considered those family Christmases with Sarah and the frequent excess of spirits. Going back to the flat with only his own sons was going to seem far too quiet and empty.
After the first night back to the flat, with the boys tucked away in bed, Scott entered his bedroom; everything seemed all too quiet and still. He missed Bridget a lot, more than he would have expected already in so short a time.
His pocket began to vibrate, and for a moment he was baffled until he realised it was the new mobile from Bridget, one to match her own. He took it out, looked at its face, then pushed the button to answer the call. The display told him it was Bridget. Bridget had programmed her mobile into his list of contacts, and the boys (Billy included) had helped him get the rest of his contacts in. The ones he wanted to keep, anyhow.
"I'm never going to get used to this," he said by way of greeting.
She chuckled softly. "Everyone tucked in for the night?"
"Mm-hmm," he said. "Same there?"
"Yep," she said. Then she sighed. "Mabel asked where you were, why you weren't there to give her a kiss good night. Told her you needed to be at home with your own kids. She said she missed having a kiss good night." After a pause, she added, "I missed my kiss good night, too."
"I know," he said. "I was just thinking of you. How lonely it is—having a difficult time readjusting after such a lovely holiday. The boys told me they missed you, too. And Billy and Mabel…." He cleared his throat. "The boys wanted to play their new Xbox games with Billy. Maybe we could bring them over tomorrow, make a day of it?"
"Sure, but… you're just back. Aren't the boys going to be seeing their mother?"
He thought back to the phone call they'd had with her, when she had finally called two days too late (and far too late in the day) to wish them a happy holiday. The boys as always took it in stride. "Remember, she's not back until New Years Day," he reminded. "To be honest, while they love their mother, they're a bit relieved about not having to preen for lunch at an overpriced restaurant."
"Okay, then," she said. "We can get pizzas and ice cream and…"
"That doesn't sound very healthy," he said in a mock-teasing voice.
"You're not a sport teacher right now," she teased back.
"In that case," he said, "I'll bring the Coke."
In the morning, at breakfast, he decided to have a little fun at his boys' expense.
"By the way," he said between bites of toast, "don't think for a moment that I have forgotten about your homework assignments." They made noises of protest, subdued groans at the reminder of their responsibilities in another week. "I know, I know, I'm practically a dictator," he continued. "However, since your break's supposed to be a break… I think it's all right to have a little fun first."
When he told the boys over breakfast that they'd be going to Bridget's to play Xbox with Billy, they couldn't get through their meal fast enough to get their favourite games together to prepare to go. He chuckled and said, "Well, I was thinking after lunch, boys. Calm down. You still have a few chores to take care of from last night. Unpack your bags from the holiday, sort out your laundry for Martha."
In unison they sighed like prospective martyrs, but complied.
As they took care of their tasks, his new mobile vibrated; however, this time it was not a call. It appeared to be a text message, and it was from Bridget.
Billy & Mabel bouncing off walls at news of visit. When will you & boys be here?
He grinned then typed a laboriously slow response: Have boys doing laundry chores. Don't want them getting too spoilt.
Taskmaster! :D OK, just ping when you leave, she replied. Will see you then. Xx
After a moment, he saw that she was typing again before a new message popped up: BTW, you should get faster with practise. Texting, I mean. Other areas have no reason to speed up.
He suspected that she was being obliquely naughty, and could only smile in amusement. There was something quite thrilling about communicating this way. He responded, Practise makes perfect.
Will hold you to that. Xx Bye xx
By the time the boys were finished with their tasks, Scott was the one chomping at the bit to go, so he verified they had the things they wanted to bring before popping a quick text to Bridget—Ping was all it said—then they all headed out for her house in Chalk Farm.
"But first," said Scott, "I promised to bring refreshments. Coke."
Matt and Fred were obviously pleased, but also looked a bit concerned, and he asked them why. "You never let us drink Coke before," explained Matt.
Fred grinned. "I like Bridget."
"Yeah," said Matt. "Face it, Dad, you're sunk in love." This was said with an air of approval, and for that Scott was very glad.
Tues, 31 December 2013
After a day of Coke, pizza, crisps and chocolate, the Xbox and the old Monopoly game dragged out of the game cupboard, one thing became very clear to Scott: with his boys now in a dead sleep from the exhaustion and the excitement of the day (alongside Billy and Mabel, practically a pile of children, blankets, and pillows in front of the television), it seemed unlikely they would be returning to the flat for the night.
"I don't mind if they stay over," said Bridget, then amended, "If you all stay over."
He grinned, then nodded. "Very kind of you to remember to add me to the invitation."
With a smile playing upon her lips, she reached and playfully tapped his upper arm with her knuckles. Quietly they crept upstairs to wash up for bed, then without words returned to where the children were in order to camp out on the sofa; it seemed logical, reasonable to be close to the children and not two floors away. It was a wide sofa, so they were able to spoon together in the dark, pillow under their heads, a blanket to keep them warm.
It was one of the more contented night's sleep he'd had in a while, and when he woke in the morning it was to find Mabel standing there beside the sofa, bedraggled and in need of a hairbrush, looking at him.
"Morning," he said to her, propping himself up on an elbow.
She smiled. "Mornin', Mr Wolkda."
"Been up long?" he asked. She shook her head. He looked to his watch—seven in the morning—and inwardly groaned a little. "Well. I suppose the boys will be up before too long. Want to come help make some breakfast?"
She grinned. "Maybe pancakth?"
He chuckled. "Let's see if we can make pancakes."
Gingerly he extricated himself from the sofa so as not to wake Bridget, and together he and Mabel went to the kitchen in search of pancake ingredients. Mabel went directly to the pantry, where there was a container of pancake mix waiting; it only required the addition of water or milk. "Well," he said. "That makes it easy."
Next awake was Matt, who came bleary-eyed into the kitchen area. "Hey, Mabe-ster," he said, patting her on the head; she beamed a smile up at him. "Hey, Dad," he said. "Smells good."
Scott suspected that the smell of pancakes brought him from slumber; it wouldn't have been the first time. "Did you sleep all right?"
"Yup," he said.
"Matt," said Mabel with the enthusiasm and tenacity only a child can have first thing in the morning after they've been promised something, "can you fix the Hellvanian car tyre for me now like you said yesterday?"
"How about after breakfast?" Matt said. "If you want to go get it now, though—"
He had barely finished the suggestion when she was already running away to shoot up the stairs. Both Wallakers could only laugh; Scott saw the lingering fond smile playing on Matt's lips, and said, "I'm glad you are getting along with them."
Matt seemed to understand his father meant Bridget's kids. "They're cool," he said. "I kind of like having a little sister around. That's what it feels like, anyway. And Billy's pretty cool for a little kid."
Scott fought the urge to chuckle, but he supposed for a child approaching his thirteenth birthday, the distinction of a seven-year-old as a little kid helped feel him a bit more grown up. "I hope you like Bridget being around, too," Scott said, pouring the next round of pancakes into the pan.
"Oh, definitely," he said. "It feels like when we're together, we're kind of a family. Though—" He chuckled. "—anything but normal."
Hearing this pained Scott two-fold: that Bridget had been right about boarding school denying them the warmth and fun of family life at home; that perhaps they thought less of Sarah, who, while not perfect, was still their mother.
"She's pretty fond of you two, too," he said. He used the spatula to gauge whether the pancakes needed to be flipped. "You know," he said, "Bridget might be fond of you, but she has no intention of replacing your mother."
"I know," Matt said, though he looked a bit glum given his smiles and giggles of a few minutes ago. Scott asked him what was wrong. "It's nothing."
"Matt, you can be honest with me. I can take it. You're not a baby anymore."
"I love Sarah," Matt began, then amended, "my mum, and I'm sure she tries her best, but… Bridget knows all the names of all of Mabel's toys—and Mabel has about a thousand Sylvanians!—and I just can't imagine Sarah knowing that sort of thing about me. Sarah always has her cook do boiled egg and soldiers for me, even though I've told her scads of times that I don't like boiled egg. But Bridget already knows I'd rather have them scrambled and dry."
Scott began to flip the pancakes, thinking of what it was he could say to this. He had a vague notion of what style of eggs his sons preferred, but to be honest, he had spent more time away from his sons' lives than in it. Sarah, however, did not have that excuse.
"I'm sorry for that," began Scott. "I don't know what—"
"I found de car!"
Mabel's timely return meant he wasn't pressed to finish his reply to Matt, which was good, because he didn't know exactly what he'd say, anyway. Billy and Fred also began to stir, probably at the smell of the pancakes, possibly at Mabel's shriek; Scott suspected that Bridget would soon follow suit.
"Take a seat," said Scott, "and I'll start serving."
At hearing that, the two recumbent boys popped up and ran over to join Mabel and Matt at the table. He spied Bridget's arm come up and over the edge of the blanket, heard her ask, "Put on the coffee?"
"You know I don't know how to work that thing," he joked; she had one of those fancy Nespresso machines, and the old cafetière was more his speed.
Slowly she rose; she ran her hand back over her hair then walked sleepily towards the kitchen. "I'll bring you into the twenty-first century yet," she said, patting his shoulder as he doled out the first batch. "One coffee pod, add water in the back. Easy peasy. See?" She pecked a kiss onto the tip of his nose, prepped the coffee, then took a seat. The children were stuffing forkfuls of pancake into their mouths. "So. Where are my pancakes?"
"Afraid you'll need to wait for these to come off," he said. "Just about there."
Within very short order they all had their fill of pancakes, orange juice and coffee (the latter for the adults, anyway); Bridget said it was only fair that Billy and Fred clear the table and she and Matt would load the dishwasher.
"What about Mabel?" asked Billy.
"She helped me to make the pancakes," reminded Scott, giving Mabel a wink.
"And den you'll fix de car?" Mabel asked Matt.
"Of course I will," Matt said.
"And den play Hellvanians?"
"Only if we're not going home straight away."
"Come on, Mabel," said Scott. "I think we'll not be going straight away. We can get everything set up while they finish in here."
"Okay!"
Mabel bounded over to where her toys were gathered in the corner of the play area; shortly after, after Fred and Billy finished their task, they came over to fire up the Xbox.
"Let me get de car!" said Mabel suddenly.
Scott remembered seeing how close to completely coming apart the car had been, and he said, "I'll get it. Maybe I can take a look at it."
"No!" she said, offering her best pout. "Matt's gonna do it."
"Okay, that's fine," he said, "but I'll get the car."
As he drew closer to the kitchen to retrieve the car that Mabel had brought down, he realised that Bridget and Matt were having a conversation as they stood by the sink. He suspected that with the noise of the Xbox, he never would have known it was happening unless he'd drawn closer like he had… and he suspected that she wanted to talk to him, almost a teenager, without others around. He didn't intent to eavesdrop, but he listened anyway.
"—every mum is a bit different," she was saying. "New mums—and dads, even—don't exactly get a manual when they have a baby… there's so much information and advice out there, some of it conflicts with others, and you don't always know the exact right way to do things, but you try your best. And I'm sure she's doing her best."
Matt said something too quietly for Scott to hear, but he caught the context in Bridget's reply. "Just because your mum does something differently than I do with Billy and Mabel doesn't mean she loves you any less. That would be like saying that… because I turn up late every day for the school run means I love them less than the mums who turn up freakishly early. Which is ridiculous, isn't it?"
Matt chuckled as he nodded; Bridget patted his shoulder.
"Maybe," Matt said tentatively, "maybe it's 'cause we went away to school so early. She didn't get a lot of practise being a mum. And… well, Dad was away, and…."
"I know." She patted his shoulder again. "And?"
"It kind of felt like she was relieved not to have us around."
"Oh, I'm sure that's not true," said Bridget.
"I don't want to be away at school," Matt confessed, with the air of a heavy burden being lifted. "The other boys can be so mean. They don't bother me so much anymore, and I watch out for Fred as much as I can, but… I don't want to go back there." He sighed. "I wish I could stay here with Dad and you guys."
His first instinct was to burst into the conversation, demand to know what had been happening to Fred, but he knew that would not have at all been productive, would have shattered Matt's trust. Instead, he backed away with the car before either could take notice. Whatever concern had prompted her to speak to Matt like that—possibly she had overheard Matt's earlier complaint, maybe she hadn't been sleeping at all—he was very glad she had done it. Her actions told him, too, that she was doing it out of pure concern for his son, and not to score points with him.
He returned to where Mabel was with the car in hand. "Are you sure I can't—"
"Matt will do it. Matt! Matt!"
"Patience," called back Bridget. "He's not quite done in here."
Now Scott had heard Matt's true, unhappy thoughts voiced, he could think of nothing else. Especially he started to think that the boys really could stay with him, go to Billy's school; surely Martin could work his children into the appropriate classes.
Why stop there? he thought. Why not just…
But surely that was too much, living together already. They hadn't been together a month. And where? Neither her house nor his flat was large enough to accommodate them all…
"Penny for your thoughts?"
It was Bridget, who'd returned from the kitchen; Matt was nearly finished, at this point, at fixing the car, which was not truly broken, only disassembled.
"It's nothing," he said. He didn't want to keep it from her, but also didn't want to scare her with the very idea. He had to consider it more.
"You've been sitting ten minutes in silence."
"It's really nothing," he said, then regretted his sharp tone. "I just want to enjoy the rest of the afternoon."
She looked uneasy, but nodded, settling in beside him. The uneasy expression, he realised, was the information she had gained during her conversation with Matt; she couldn't reveal it without betraying his confidence. He had his arm around her shoulder, and gently he squeezed his hand, holding her tightly to him, then kissed her on the temple.
"Suppose I ought to jaunt home for some clean clothes for the boys," he said quietly. "Maybe we could make a day of it. Go sledging, or ice skating, or… climbing trees in Hampstead Heath. Wear your best thong." He swatted her bottom, and playfully she swatted him back. "Then we could pick up treats for New Year's Eve."
She gasped. "Oh my God, that's tonight."
"You hadn't made plans, had you?" he teased.
"Last month I thought I'd go out drinking with Talitha and Jude," she said. "But staying in with you and the children is far more appealing."
…
By a quarter to midnight, all four children were fast asleep on the sofa. Scott could only look over them and chuckle softly to himself. They'd tried so hard to keep awake.
"Mabel will be so disappointed," Bridget whispered, looking to her daughter.
"We could wake them just before midnight, then put them properly to sleep," suggested Scott.
"There's the sofa bed, upstairs. Matt and Fred can use that."
He found himself and his lower back wishing he'd known about the sofa bed the night before, but he grinned and nodded.
With a plan in place and five minutes to go, they gently shook the children awake. They sprung to life as if recharged, counting the minutes down on the clock on the wall until the top of the hour.
As the clock approached midnight, Scott came close to her, figured he would indulge in a chaste kiss at the top of the hour. As it ticked ever closer, she held up her finger in a 'wait' gesture, reached down, then flipped open her locket necklace to reveal to him a photo from the Christmas holiday, a photo of all of them, together. He looked back to her, and she was smiling in a very satisfied fashion.
That she'd put their photo in there touched his heart, and he leaned in to give her that kiss, a little less chaste than he'd originally intended. They drew apart with smiles on both their faces, then turned to the kids; the younger boys were pulling faces, while Matt smiled, and Mabel looked pleased. "All right," said Scott. "Time to march up to bed."
"Where are we sleeping?" asked Fred.
"It's upstairs," said Scott. "But first, get your bags. Clean your teeth, brush your hair, put on your pyjamas. Meanwhile, we'll fix it up for you."
"Billy, Mabel, upstairs you go," said Bridget. "Will be up as soon as we're done fixing the sofa bed for them."
On the ground floor, he pulled out the sofa bed while she got out the linens and pillows. "Brilliant foresight on your part," Bridget said with an armful, "packing the boys' bags."
"What can I say? I'm psychic," he said, winking.
They made up the bed; being older, Matt and Fred were perfectly capable of getting themselves ready, so Bridget suggested he join her upstairs to make sure Billy and Mabel weren't destroying the bedroom in the quest for their pyjamas. "You can say goodnight, too," said Bridget. "Mabel will insist, anyway."
Miraculously, Mabel and Billy were already washed up, in their pyjamas, and already in their respective beds. Bridget stepped up onto the second rung of the ladder, combed back Billy's hair with her fingers, and then kissed him goodnight. "Happy new year, Billy."
"Happy new year, Mum," he said.
Bridget stepped down, and Scott stepped up to say goodnight. "Happy 2014, Billster." He ruffled Billy's hair affectionately, which made Billy giggle.
"Happy new year, Mr Wallaker," Billy said. "Good night."
Bridget had sat beside Mabel, had pulled the sheet up to her chin, her doll tucked in beside her. "You nice and comfy? Saliva too?" Mabel nodded twice. "All right. Night, night, baby princess." She kissed her daughter, smoothed down her hair. "Happy new year."
Scott bent too to say good night, then decided since it was too far down, he'd just sit beside her. "Goodnight, Mabel; goodnight, Saliva," he said, then bent and pecked a kiss on the doll's then Mabel's forehead, as he'd done every night in the country, and what Mabel now expected. The kiss made her giggle, as it had always done.
"Night, Mr Wolkda."
Bridget switched the light off, triggering the night light on, before pulling the door shut most of the way. "Two down," said Scott, "two to go."
Unsurprisingly, Matt and Fred had found the sofa bed, and had put themselves under the covers; they sat there waiting.
"Hey, great job," said Scott, walking close enough to run his hand over each of his son's hair. "Sleep tight. We'll be just upstairs if you need a thing. All right?"
They nodded.
"Happy new year, and good night," he said.
Bridget, on the other hand sat down next to Fred as he dropped back to his pillow. She pulled the sheets up, then bent to peck him on the cheek. As often as he'd seen her do it with them, it took him aback how fluidly natural, how maternal, this action was towards children who were not even her own. "Goodnight, Fredster."
He grinned. "Night, Bridgster."
She popped up then went around to the other side of the bed to do the same for Matt. Scott would have expected Matt would think he was too old for a kiss goodnight, but he seemed to really like this little ritual. "Night, Mattster." She pecked his cheek, too.
"Night," said Matt drowsily.
"Happy new year," she added, and with that the two of them went back upstairs to her room. She closed the door, engaged the lock, for which he was grateful; he really wanted to take her into his arms and not worry about interruption.
And take her into his arms he did, kissing her with increasing passion, walking her to the bed, divesting her of her clothes, worshiping her body as she so richly deserved; when they were through, satiated and cuddling on the bed, he felt like the year was beginning on all the right notes.
Instead of dozing as he would have expected, though, he could tell by the way her nails grazed his chest that she was in no danger of falling asleep soon. "It was nice today, wasn't it?" she asked at last. "Just all of us, together, having fun?"
"Mm, yes," he said.
"It seems the boys are really fond of Mabel and Billy," she continued. "Are they?"
"I think you know they are very fond of Billy and Mabel," he said, "and of you. The opposite is also blatantly true." He raised up a bit to see if he could see her features. "Bridget, what's on your mind?" As he asked it, he knew. Her conversation with Matt was weighing heavily on her mind, and she was sounding him out. "You know I accidentally overheard some of the conversation you were having with Matt today. Thank you for that."
"Oh," she said. "Why did you let me dangle all day?"
"I didn't want Matt to know I'd heard… even as I'm glad to have heard it. That was eye-opening."
"Yes…" she said slowly. "Matt is a bit reluctant to open up, so I had to show him I was willing to listen and not judge. Not that you would, but it's different, I think, not confiding in the one person he wants most to impress and please. The reluctance is just… something I'm familiar with."
"Familiar with?"
She was quiet. "Mark. He went to boarding school. Made me promise never to send our children away."
He stroked her hair, kissed her forehead.
"The nightmares he used to have," she continued. "Oh, they broke my heart."
"I'm sorry," he said, holding her close.
"What about you?" she asked.
"Me? What about me?"
"Were you happy there, away at school? Do you have nightmares about it?"
Had he been? He decided that no, 'happy' was probably not the best word to describe his school years; it was just something he'd had to do, something he had brazened out. The distance of time had blurred the bad experiences from his memories and highlighted the good, but he knew that his generation, what he experienced was meant to toughen him up as a man. He wondered if he wanted that for his own boys. He wondered if he had ever even given it a second thought. Maybe he should have.
"Not about that, not anymore," he answered; the atrocities he'd seen in Afghanistan had superseded anything the school could have inflicted on him.
It was as if she read his mind. "Of course not. Sorry." She reached up and kissed the tip of his chin.
"And no," he said. "I can't say I was ever happy to be away at school. But it was what it was, an accepted part of life; I never expected not to go away."
"I can't even imagine," she said.
"What about your childhood? What was that like?"
She smiled up at him. "It was how I think childhood should be like. Playing. Having fun with friends. Going to school, sleeping in my own bed. Palling around with my dad—I was always such a daddy's girl, and God do I miss him—and rebelling against my mum. But having my parents' support whenever I needed it. They were always there. I didn't have to suppress it. Didn't have to pretend I didn't need help. They always knew."
"Hmm," he said. "Wanted to ask your opinion on something."
"Oh?"
"Mm-hm," he said. "Considering pulling the boys from their school, putting them with—"
"Oh my God, really?!" she squealed, bouncing up, turning to look at him.
"Yes."
"What about Sarah? Will she let you?"
"If I told her I was pulling them out of school to live with her, I'm sure she'd object," he said. "Since I'm not, I doubt she'll care. And anyway, I'm paying for their schooling. As far as I am concerned, I have the deciding vote."
"Oh, please, more than consider it. The thought of Billy and Mabel enjoying your affection when your own boys cannot… it's more than I can bear." She leaned down to kiss him. "Please do it," she said between kisses. "Please."
"Mm, I'll think about it," he said; as she slipped over him, straddled his hips, he added, "though you make a convincing argument."
Neither said a peep to the children about the possibility of Matt and Fred switching schools, as it would have been imprudent and cruel to raise hopes unnecessarily. Talking to Sarah was one thing, but he couldn't well take them out of their school without securing a place in a new one.
With the children engaged in a board game, first Scott slipped away to ring up Sarah to ask if they could meet, then, when a date and time was established, Bridget slipped away to ring up Rebecca to see if she could watch the children during that time.
"Though I wonder if catching her just after she's returned from her holiday is the best idea; not likely to be in the best mood," Scott said confidentially as the children were occupied stowing the game away; he was teasing, though, and it showed in his smile.
"Tomorrow for lunch," she reiterated. "I'm sure it'll be fine, right?"
He nodded. He wasn't worried about her answer. He was more worried about how Sarah would treat Bridget. After all, he hadn't forgotten her comment at the Sports Day.
