Paper Chains Page 8

  ‘No, sweetheart, Ethan is too young to eat bread yet, he’s just a tiny baby, see?’

  Hannah felt confident, almost smug. I’ve done all this before, she thought to herself. I know what you do with a baby now. Look at me, stopping at the shops on the way home from the hospital! When we came home with Gracie I didn’t even leave the house for two weeks straight. I went into hibernation mode and cried all day long. I’m going to do so much better this time round, I can feel it!

  Liam returned to work within a week of her arriving home from the hospital. She kissed him goodbye at the front door on his first day back at work and wondered whether or not she was going to get the chance to take a shower today. All this week Hannah had done her best to maintain her confident demeanour. She refused to let Liam help out during the night; even when he offered to deal with Gracie’s nightmares while she fed Ethan, she ushered him back to bed. ‘No, no, I’ll have to manage it all when you’re back at work; you’ll be getting up at six, so you’ll need a full night’s sleep. I can take a nap during the day some time.’

  Why had she said that? Gracie didn’t sleep during the day any more, and they had only put her into preschool one day a week, so regardless of how well Ethan slept, she wasn’t going to get a chance to rest. Why was she trying so hard to be this perfect wife, when she should have just accepted his help? Liam was a great guy; he wouldn’t care if she told him she was struggling.

  She pulled back the blind a little and watched his car reverse out of the driveway. For some reason, despite the fact that there were two tiny children, fast asleep in the bedrooms down the hall, she felt immediately overcome by an overwhelming feeling of loneliness. It was a warm summer day, but the house seemed cold and empty. Run after him, she thought. Run out there and tell him you’re not ready for him to go back to work. Tell him you need a couple more weeks. Tell him you’re afraid. Tell him you don’t think you know how you’re going to cope, how anyone copes.

  ‘Oh don’t be silly,’ she muttered crossly. How ridiculous would she look? Flying out to the car in her nighty.

  Five minutes after Liam left, she undressed, ready to hop straight into the shower. Her hand was on the tap when she heard Ethan cry out from his bassinette. She hesitated; if he had only waited a few more seconds, she would have been cocooned in the gushing water, unable to hear his cries, able to enjoy the shower, blissfully unaware that he had woken. Maybe she should just take a quick shower anyway? Pretend she hadn’t actually heard him? Hannah! I can’t believe you just thought that. He’s a nine-day-old baby; he needs to be picked up when he cries! She slipped her nighty back on and hurried guiltily down the hall to scoop him up.

  By five o’clock that evening, Hannah still hadn’t found an opportunity to take a shower. Dishes were piling up in the sink. She hadn’t got Gracie out of her pyjamas. She hadn’t even thought about dinner. Ethan fed every three hours. Each feed took an hour and he wouldn’t sleep for more than half an hour in between. The remainder of the time he simply screamed, constantly. Every time she attempted to get Gracie out of her pyjamas and into some clothes, she squealed and ran away from her. Hannah couldn’t seem to figure out how other mothers did it. And some of them had more children than her. To them, two children must seem like a breeze. Bloody hell!

  Liam would be home around seven. The next two hours stretched out in front of her, lonely and achingly long. So much for her plan to have everything under control by the time he got home.

  A knock at the door shook her out of her thoughts and she panicked as she looked down at herself. Her crumpled nighty had sticky honey stains down the front. Her hair was a frizzy mess. Who on earth was at the door? She sprinted down the hall and pulled off the nighty, throwing a summer dress over her head. Then she tried to smooth her hair a little, before making it back to the front door in time to open it as the visitor knocked again.

  An old friend of her mother’s stood on the front porch, beaming at her. She wore Dunlop volleys, neat slacks and a floral patterned blouse. ‘Hello, love, not a bad time I hope?’

  Hannah shook her head. ‘No, of course not, Rita!’

  ‘Look at you, all dressed and everything! Goodness, when I came home from the hospital with my second, I didn’t make it out of my dressing gown for weeks! You must be doing so well! You always were a strong young thing though, weren’t you!’ Rita said brightly as she stepped into the house. ‘Anyway, I won’t keep you,’ she continued. ‘Just wanted to drop this off for you. Although by the look of you I bet you’ve already got dinner all sorted, haven’t you?’ And Rita held out two Tupperware containers. ‘The big one is chicken cacciatore and the smaller one is just a salad to have with it. I thought you could always freeze the chicken and use it another time if you don’t need it tonight.’

  Hannah took the two containers, one still warm from its freshly cooked contents, and felt a wave of relief and a rush of gratitude for her mum’s old tennis friend Rita. Her mother had stopped bothering to call Rita or make any effort towards maintaining their friendship when their tennis club had disbanded some fifteen years previously, but Rita didn’t seem to mind, still continuing to phone and visit, right up until the day her mother had died. Hannah didn’t speak to Rita often these days, but she had kindly looked after Gracie for them on the night that Ethan was born, so it was good to see her again so soon.

  Ethan began to cry from down the hall and Hannah tried not to groan out loud. He had been asleep for just twenty minutes this time. Surely the kid was tired by now?! ‘Oh, let me get out of your way,’ said Rita immediately, backing hurriedly out of the door. ‘Don’t want to interrupt your schedule. Sounds hungry, poor little mite!’ she said with a chuckle.

  ‘You don’t need to . . .’ began Hannah, a touch of desperation in her voice.

  ‘No, no, I mustn’t impose.’

  Gracie appeared from the hallway and announced happily, ‘Ethan’s crying, Mummy.’ Hannah cringed at the sight of her still in her pyjamas, but Rita exclaimed, ‘And look at this one, already bathed and ready for bed! My, you are doing well, Hannah! Anne would have been so proud of you. All right, I’ll get going, leave you to it.’

  Hannah barely had the chance to call out a thank you for the food before Rita had pulled the door shut behind her. ‘I guess I’ll never know what Anne would have thought of how well I’m doing – or not doing as is the case,’ she muttered to herself, thinking of her mother and how much she was senselessly missing out on by not being a part of their lives any longer.

  Right, not the time to think about that just now. Rita had given her a chance to turn this whole day around. Resisting the urge to chase Rita out the front door and ask her to stay and keep her company until Liam came home, she hurried into the kitchen and put down the containers on the bench. Ignoring Ethan’s screams for a few minutes, she pulled a casserole dish out of the cupboard and stood considering the food. Would it be weird to pretend that she had been the one to cook this meal? No, of course not. If she had found the time, she might just have cooked this exact dish. And she didn’t want Liam to think she wasn’t coping. She ignored the feeling of guilt at taking credit for someone else’s cooking and instead felt proud of herself. Look at this, dinner all ready and waiting for him! Oops, forgot about Ethan! And she rushed out of the kitchen to pick him up and feed him, even though he’d fed just two hours before.

  When Ethan was finally content and back in his bassinette, she checked the time. Crap, Liam will be home in just forty minutes, she realised. A strange nervous feeling was building in her body from the toes up, like blocks being stacked, one on top of another. Why on earth was she feeling like this? She should be desperate to see him! But instead she was feeling anxious. Dinner was sorted now, but she still didn’t have enough done. She sat down on the couch and tried to breathe deeply, tried to calm herself down. Stop this! You’re being silly. You know what Liam would want you to do right now? He’d want you to put your feet up an
d get some rest. He’d want you to relax and look forward to seeing him. He wouldn’t care if the entire house was trashed; he just wants to see you and your two beautiful children.

  But the feeling wouldn’t go away. She found herself breathing faster and faster as she looked around at the house. There’s too much, she thought. Too much to do. Can’t possibly do it all before he gets home. Her breath quickened further. Look at the clothes on the couch, they need sorting. I still haven’t showered, I haven’t brushed my hair. There’s all those dishes in the sink, I need to empty the dishwasher so I can pack it. Her chest heaved up and down. She began to gasp for air. Gracie appeared in front of her. ‘Mummy, I’m hungry,’ she said, seemingly unaware of the fact that her mother was hyperventilating on the couch before her.

  Hannah tried to slow her breathing. Calm down, you’re being ridiculous!

  ‘Of course, you need dinner, don’t you, sweetheart! You poor thing, it’s almost your bed time and I haven’t even fed you yet!’ she exclaimed between gusty breaths.

  As she stood up from the couch she realised her legs and arms felt weak and tingly. Come on, pull yourself together!

  ‘No, Mummy, I need lunch first!’ Gracie said in an exasperated voice. She had her dad’s mocha coloured eyes and right now they were wide with indignation.

  ‘Lunch?’ Hannah asked sharply. ‘But, but, you’ve had lunch . . . haven’t you?’ she asked falteringly.

  ‘Umm, no I had brekkie and then . . . now it’s lunch time,’ Gracie responded after thinking carefully.

  ‘Oh, God! Gracie! I never gave you lunch? Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I want a sandwich for my lunch,’ Gracie replied, oblivious to her mother’s panic.

  Hannah checked the time again. Twenty minutes until her husband would be home. ‘Gracie,’ she said, her voice pleading, ‘you won’t tell your daddy, will you? You won’t tell him that we forgot to have lunch? Please, please – it’s our secret, right? I promise we won’t forget again.’

  ‘I want ham on my sandwich,’ said Gracie.

  ‘Sure, of course, whatever you want,’ Hannah said in a rush. She raced to the kitchen and opened the fridge. She scanned the contents and her heart sank . . . no ham. Fucking brilliant.

  ‘Umm, Gracie, what about this yummy chicken Mummy has in the oven? Why don’t you have some of that? It’s what Mummy and Daddy are going to be eating tonight. Don’t you want to eat the same thing as us?’

  ‘But I wanted ham, I said!’ Gracie stood with her hands on her hips. ‘Ham, ham, ham!’ she yelled.

  ‘Gracie, please. No tantrums for Mummy. You can have anything you want for dinner, as long as we’ve got it. Noodles? Chicken? Avocado on toast? Please, there must be something you want?’

  ‘HAM!’

  Ethan began to cry again.

  Liam was worried as he pulled into the driveway. Hannah’s first day at home on her own with the two kids and he was late. That had not been his intention. He had felt a bit unsure when he’d said goodbye to Hannah that morning; her words told him she was fine – but her eyes spoke differently. He was hoping he was just imagining things though. He had picked up takeaway Thai on the way home, but he left it sitting on the front seat as he had a box of samples from work to carry inside. Liam had started up his own online boutique beer and wine business over five years ago. He never would have dreamed that it would be doing so well now – a staff of twenty, a couple of trucks, an office in the city. But it did mean long hours, which he felt guilty about.

  When he let himself in the front door, his eyes widened in surprise. The place was immaculate, a garlicky smell was emanating from the kitchen, and as he walked through to the eating area off the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of Hannah, turning from the bench with two steaming plates in hand.

  ‘You cooked!’ he exclaimed, mentally congratulating himself on leaving the Thai food in the car. Obviously he should have called and checked rather than just assuming she wouldn’t have had a chance to even think about dinner.

  ‘Of course I did,’ she responded, and he thought her voice sounded a tad edgy. Uh oh, was she annoyed that he was home so late? He changed tack. ‘You look beautiful,’ he said, taking in her summer dress and tousled hair.

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied, placing the plates on the table and running her fingers through her hair self-consciously. She did look good, but she also looked tired. Dark circles ringed her eyes.

  Liam was kicking his shoes off, when Hannah said suddenly, ‘Listen, do you mind if I actually eat my dinner a bit later? I sort of snacked a bit when Gracie ate tea and I’m not that hungry just now.’

  ‘Oh. Sure, we don’t have to eat right now. Why don’t you take a bath or something? Relax. We can both eat later.’

  ‘No, no. You eat. What I really feel like doing is taking a walk. It’s still so warm outside and I haven’t had the chance to get any fresh air today.’ She paused and then added, ‘You’ll be right then? Ethan shouldn’t need another feed for a little while yet, I’ll be back in plenty of time.’

  ‘Course, enjoy yourself,’ Liam replied quickly, watching as Hannah scooped her plate back off the table and placed it in the fridge. She disappeared down the hall to change and Liam shrugged and began to eat. He was getting the feeling there was something she wanted to say – but maybe the walk would help clear her mind. Perhaps she’d be more relaxed with him when she returned.

  As she was leaving Liam called out from the table, ‘Wow, babe, dinner tastes great. What did you put in this sauce?’

  ‘Just some different herbs and things. See you in a bit.’ And then the door slammed shut. Liam ate quietly, and then eventually migrated to the couch where he turned on the television and flicked through the channels until he found the tennis. He was watching a close match between Federer and Nadal when he heard a high-pitched wail from down the hall.

  Ahh, there’s my little man, he thought, secretly pleased that Ethan was awake. He’d been asleep when Liam had left this morning, so it felt like it had been forever since he’d held him in his arms.

  Ten minutes later though, Liam was beginning to wish that Ethan had waited until his mum was back before waking for his feed. ‘Come on, mate,’ he said, as he danced back and forth across the living room, jiggling Ethan up and down in his arms while he continued to scream and scream. ‘Your mum says you don’t need a feed just yet. Come on, settle down, settle down.’ He watched as Ethan’s gummy mouth continued to open and close like a fish; his head kept turning inwards towards Liam’s chest, searching. ‘Not going to find any milk there, buddy.’

  After another fifteen minutes of constant screaming, Liam was now of the mind that Ethan was in fact hungry. Maybe Hannah had got the time mixed up? he wondered. He was slowly feeling more and more useless as he failed to placate his tiny son. ‘Come on, Han,’ he murmured. ‘Where are you?’

  When he finally heard the key in the lock, he breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Here she is, mate, mum to the rescue,’ he whispered to the red-faced bundle in his arms. As Hannah stepped inside, he practically launched their son into her arms. ‘Thank God you’re back,’ he exclaimed. ‘Could not get him to stop crying. Think he needs to feed,’ he said in a rush. Hannah stared back at him, seemingly taken by surprise, but then she nodded and turned away, heading down the hall to their bedroom.

  Liam hesitated. Should he follow? Keep her company while she fed? Offer to hold him while she took off her sneakers? He probably shouldn’t have thrust the baby straight into her arms as soon as she arrived home. But he had been feeling his stress levels increase in time with the pitch of Ethan’s cries. He didn’t like to feel helpless. He decided to leave her to feed in peace and turned his attention back to the tennis match instead, just in time to see Nadal drop to his knees and punch the air in triumph.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It was 3 am, and Hannah was having trouble sleeping. �
��You should always sleep while the baby is sleeping,’ she chanted quietly to herself as she tossed and turned. As she lay there, her eyes attempting to focus on the darkened ceiling, she thought with interest, Tonight is the first time that you have ever lied to your husband. She was referring to the great chicken dinner deception. But then she realised that this wasn’t true and the moment didn’t seem quite so poignant any more. She had in fact lied to him on the first night that they had had sex. It was eight years previously, their second date, and she had promised herself that she was going to take it slow with this guy. She thought she might actually really like him and so the grown-up thing (because of course she was a grown-up now, at twenty years old) would be to wait, at least until the fifth date – that seemed appropriate.

  But he had invited her back to his place after the movie and she had agreed, trying to convince herself that she really was going there for a cup of coffee and also attempting not to show how excited she was to be dating an older guy who actually had his own place. They had been breathlessly kissing on the couch for an entire thirty minutes and every now and then his hand would creep deliciously along her thigh or down the side of her top, just tracing the rounded edge of her breasts. He had suddenly whispered in her ear, ‘Shall I grab a condom then?’

  And she had frozen, unsure of how to respond. She had been enjoying herself tremendously for the past half an hour. But she had been looking forward to leaving him that night, filled with anticipation for their next date, both of them going to their own beds, flushed with desperate longing for one another and lingering over the perfect ending to a somewhat respectable second date.

  As she had wondered how to respond without hurting his feelings, a thought struck her. If she said no to his question, would he take that as a no to having sex, or a no to using a condom? Imagine if she had unprotected sex, just because he misinterpreted her response! Feeling flustered and deciding she had no other option, she whispered back a nervous yes.