Bee laughed, ‘What, here?’
‘Why not? Soon we’ll have kids and it will be strictly after lights out.’
*
‘Do you think we were a bit rash last night?’ Bee said, almost as soon as her eyes opened, ‘shouldn’t we have talked about it more?’ She was facing away from Boyce, staring at the plain white wall, bare back pressed against his side.
Boyce put his laptop on the bedcover. ‘About what? Having a baby?’
‘Yeah, having a baby.’ She shifted to face the other way, two hands folded beneath her face as if in prayer. ‘I mean I don’t know anything about babies, or being a mother. Should I have had so much Champagne last night, or the coffee? All that wine. You know, that sort of thing. I usually like to read up on stuff before I do it, not just get stuck in without any thought. I like to know things. I feel cross. Actually I don’t. I feel worried. I need a book or something. ‘
‘Well, let’s go into town today and buy one.’ Boyce climbed out of bed and pulled back the curtains, ‘It’s a beautiful day. We could go for a walk afterwards, get some lunch.’
‘And how do you know when you’re pregnant? Is it a feeling?’
‘You miss a period and take a pregnancy test.’
‘I know that much, Ian, but I mean before all that. You hear about people that just know from the start.’
‘And people who find out only when they go into labour.’
Bee grimaced, ‘I really don’t get that. I suppose they must be very fat already, or something.’
‘It will be great, Bee, wonderful. Trust me. You’ll be a wonderful mother, and our wonderful babies will become wonderful kids.’
‘But what if I can’t even conceive? I can’t believe we just did it without protection, without thinking about anything at all. What if the baby is not right in some way? What if you’ve got some disease that I should know about?’
‘Bee!’
‘People have tests these days, that much I do know, for HIV, for all sorts.’
‘Bee, I haven’t got HIV.’ Boyce sat back down beside her, ‘I think you’re worrying too much. Really, what is there to think about? We want a baby, that’s all, something people have done since time immemorial. Just enjoy it.’ He lay down, nose to nose, ‘Do you want to get married first? Is that the problem?’
‘No, not necessarily. I mean I don’t mind, although if we are going to get married I’d quite like to be able to fit into a nice dress without a huge bump.’ She could feel his hand roaming under the bedclothes, ‘And what are you up to?’
‘I thought we could go for twins,’ he grinned.
*
At breakfast the subject of Tuan came up and even with their latest plans filling them with joy and excitement, Boyce began to fidget. He told Bee she should start taking care of herself, that it was important not to get too tired just as it was important to avoid drinking alcohol and not catch nasty bugs from crowded spaces. Fumes were also not good for a foetus, he said, all those heavy metals poisoning the system. Maybe she should consider not going to London.
Bee laughed. ‘I’m not pregnant, I doubt it anyway, and even if I was, going to London won’t make any difference. There are a lot of women having perfectly healthy babies in every city in the world. You’re just being silly about Tuan again.’
‘Not many men would tolerate their future wife skipping off to meet up with her ex boyfriend every five minutes.’
‘Now you really are being silly,’ Bee’s tone was affectionate.
‘But they wouldn’t, would they?’
‘Do we really have to go through this every time? He has never been my boyfriend, ever. He’s like a brother to me. Do I stop you seeing your brothers? And I only see him every few months, not every five minutes. For your information, he is the only friend I have that is truly mine and not yours. I like seeing him. We have a lot of history.’
Boyce shrugged, ‘Whatever you say.’
Breakfast fell into a comfortable peace. Boyce read the paper and Bee nibbled toast. The idea of a wedding and babies had shocked her at first, but now she was convinced this was all they needed to get back on track. And it felt exciting. But in her mind she could hear her mother’s thoughts on the subject, echoed by Nana, remarks about people having babies to save floundering relationships. This, Bee felt, was different; she and Ian were different.
TWO
‘Bee!’
Tuan jumped from the back of the car before it stopped, skipping the few steps across the pavement that brought him to her. He kissed both cheeks, lips firmly pressed to skin, before gliding her away by the shoulders to see her smiling face more clearly. Onlookers began to gather. His fingers slid down her rising arms until each of their hands gently cupped somewhere near the other’s bent elbow, the traditional Tuan greeting now a private gesture of their own. Smiles were broad. Around them, phones were held high snapping opportunistically.
Two bald and burly men in slick grey suits leaped from nowhere; within seconds they stood erect on either side of the pair, sentries with hands clasped, faces stern, absurdly severe, bodies less comical in their enormity.
‘Where were you going? I said I’d pick you up from the station.’ He chuckled a little as he spoke.
She smiled coyly, ‘I know. I was bored of waiting and thought I’d take a walk. I was about to turn back.’
He kissed her again, ‘You smell nice.’
Bee’s face became animated as she inspected her friend, noting that every item of clothing was as uniformly black as his hair with no variation in the depth of colour, regardless of the differing fabrics. He looked nice, she thought, but unexpectedly reminded her of a nightmare she had as a child, where a man who was no more than a silhouette stood below her bedroom window and watched her, unmoving like a statue. In the dream she‘d panicked and fallen to the floor, legs refusing to work, desperate cries trapped in her throat. The dream had come after Pulau Tua and always stayed with her because at the time it seemed so real. More nightmares followed where her legs would sink deep into the sand, or she would try and call out to Pappy to stop him from sailing away on the bumboat without her, her voice a powerless squeak.
But Tuan was no featureless blank and this was far from a nightmare. Smoothly tapered handmade Italian leather boots glowed below neatly pressed narrow trousers; far above, jet black hair tumbled over broad shoulders in characteristically unkempt locks, shiny despite apparent neglect, the one part of his life never smoothed or trimmed if he could possibly avoid it. Only Char’s scissors ever touched that sacred mane and very rarely. His solid body remained as always, encased in the trademark formal frockcoat. He was tall she noted for what felt like the hundred millionth time, and she asked herself how it was that he always seemed so much taller than the last time they had met. Surely if he were, then by now he would have reached the sky.
‘You’re taller.’
‘You say that every time I see you. Bee I stopped growing when I was fifteen.’
‘Boy’s grow until late teens, actually.’
‘Not this one. It’s on the record.’
‘I’m sure you’re taller. Maybe it’s your clothes.’
‘And maybe you’ve shrunk.’
‘No… no I haven’t shrunk…’
‘Missed you.’
They let go of each other’s arms and hugged.
‘You look great, Tuan. It’s so good to see you, even if you have grown. Can we get in?’ She nodded towards the limousine, ‘The crowd’s getting bigger… just like you.’
‘So it is. Come on, Shrimp.’
They climbed into the car and the spectators surged after them, dissipating only as the car rounded a corner. Tuan instructed the driver to take them home.
‘Char joining us?’ Bee asked.
‘Not this time, no. She’s away at the moment. New York I think.’
‘You are kidding! New York! What’s she doing there?’ Privately in denial regarding Char??
?s success despite what she claimed out loud, Bee found it hard to imagine her doing anything but smoking and drinking behind the gas tanks.
He shrugged, ‘Something to do with hair. She’s not around much these days, too busy with her salon and stuff.’
‘Really? Her Salon? I always thought she was exaggerating, you know, sort of living the dream by going on about it. When she talked about her salon I just assumed she meant the kitchen at your house where she used to cut her friends’ hair.’
‘And I thought I was the cat. Meow, Bee!’
‘I’m just saying what I thought, that’s all.’
‘Well you were wrong. You have always been jealous of her so I suppose it’s an understandable mistake.’ He smirked.
‘I am not jealous of Char Williams.’
‘Whatever you say.’
‘I am not. What has she got that I haven’t?’
‘Apart from enormous…?’ Tuan hands spread before him.
‘Thank you very much, Tuan. Always such a gentleman.’
‘You asked for it. And whatever you think, Char is a great person, she knows what’s what.’
‘I never said she wasn’t.’
As they chattered away, the car gradually slowed to a crawl in the heavy London traffic. When finally the driver had to stop, an intrepid child tried to see what superstar might be hiding behind the heavily tinted glass by pressing his eager face against a window. His mother grabbed him, pulling him away urgently, and Tuan and Bee heard the muffled reprimand. A small greasy mark remained on the glass plus a tiny lump, a gift from the boy’s nose.
‘Kids!’ Tuan roared, beaming with delight, ‘Look at that. Disgusting.’
‘I know. Who’d have them?’
‘I would!’ He laughed again.
‘It’s just an expression.’
‘I know. I’m just saying that I would, that’s all.’ He smiled and reached across, squeezing her hand gently, ‘Hilarious. I love it. Can’t wait for my own.’ The hand squeezed again.
‘I didn’t think you’d ever worry about children?’
‘Worry? That’s a funny way of putting it.’
‘Want them then, if you’d prefer.’
‘Why not?’
In her stomach was a sensation similar to that felt when a car drives at speed over a humped bridge. A feeling of gut flipping over just below the solar plexus, of intestine knotting rope-like bridges to the heart, an explosive internal sneeze; a spontaneous phenomenon that for Bee induced guilt. Two separate worlds seem to be bumping and crashing together as Tuan’s paternal hopes for the future drew parallels with events back home. It was an off the cuff remark which somehow made it all the more profound.
Uncomfortable and with nothing to say she smiled and let him ramble on. When finally he had finished pontificating, confidently recounting anecdotal tales of children’s follies and foibles, chuckling at how endearing it all was, he held up a finger and exclaimed,
‘A treat! I almost forgot.’ Opening a tiny fridge he swiftly pulled out a bottle of Champagne, popped the cork, and poured two glasses.
‘Just a small one. Thanks. You certainly know how to do things.’ She raised her glass and clinked it against his. With the first sip she felt some of the tension caught up inside slip away. She leaned back and tried to relax.
‘Well, I have missed you, Bee. I always miss you,’ he said.
She smiled, ‘You could always come and see me, you don’t have to wait for me to come to you all the time.’
‘I could, but it wouldn’t be the same, would it?’
‘Why on earth not? If you came to me then you could also catch up with Mum and Dad, and Nana and Pappy.’
‘I saw Felix the other day, as a matter of fact.’
‘You saw Pappy? He never said.’
‘He was seeing some old friends… south of the river somewhere or another… we met up for lunch. He’s seemed okay, said Nan hadn’t been too well lately. I think that’s why he was on his own.’
‘She hasn’t been well for a while. To be honest, I think she’s doing too much, you know how they both are. Busy, busy, busy. I’ve been trying to get them to buy a car to make life easier but they won’t hear of it.’
Tuan looked wistfully at Bee, ‘If it’s a matter of money… ‘
‘Well, that’s very sweet of you but money’s not the issue. It’s the environment. It’s about making a point, setting an example, showing everyone and anyone that our lives should not rely on ready access to a resource-guzzling vehicle that carries so few passengers. You know the spiel.’
‘He was late, you know. For lunch.’
‘No way! He is never late.’
‘Yup. A full fifteen minutes.’
Bee was genuinely shocked. She had never heard of either Pappy or Nana being late for anything, except the one time their bus broke down and the replacement broke down too, prompting Nana, in the throws of an exceptionally radical phase, to accuse the car industry of sabotage.
‘Did he say why?’
‘No.’
The driver turned and apologised, informing Tuan that the road ahead was closed. ‘Looks like a bomb scare, Sir. The boys in front are taking a new route. We’ll be a little later getting home.’ The lead car began a tight U-turn, barging a path through the busy city traffic.
‘Never mind, Wilson, just do your best.’ Tuan turned to Bee, ‘We could always go home later, how about we stop off at Regents Park for a walk?’
‘I wouldn’t advise it,’ the driver interrupted, ‘The rear security car has sent a message to say we’re being followed. Looks like the usual bunch.’
Bee turned and looked out of the rear window, and saw directly behind them a vehicle driving almost bumper-to-bumper. The uniformed driver wore a different suit from Wilson’s formal chauffeur’s attire, behind him sat the two bald bodyguards. Behind them followed the problem.
‘Paparazzi?’
‘Maybe. Probably.’ Tuan was indifferent. ‘Who cares?’
Bee shook her head disapprovingly.
‘You enjoyed all that once upon a time,’ Tuan accused.
‘We all change. All kids like that sort of thing. Well, all kids except you!’ She looked back again, straining to see past the security car, ‘We could go anyway, and ignore them. That’s what we used to do.’
‘I don’t want to deal with it. We’ll go home. Thank you, Wilson.’
‘My pleasure, Sir.’
‘He is such a nice man,’ Bee whispered, ‘I wish I had a Wilson driving me around all the time, and being so polite and friendly.’
‘He pays me extra to be nice to him, Miss,’ came the chortled reply.
‘Sorry,’ Bee was embarrassed, ‘but you even have the name. I think it every time I see you. I hope you’ll take this how it’s meant, but you have to agree that Wilson is a great name for a chauffeur, it’s perfect.’
‘Better than Parker?’ He replied, eyes smiling into the rear view mirror.
‘Okay, maybe not better than Parker.’
‘Excuse Wilson, Bee, he’s not housetrained.’
Tuan retrieved the bottle from the fridge, offering it to Bee, who hesitated before accepting a small top up.
‘You’re very restrained today,’ he remarked, ‘not coming down with something are you?’
‘I don’t always drink like a fish, you know,’ she took a sip, ‘So tell me about this launch. Where is it?’
Tuan looked out of the window, ‘Oh, the launch. I postponed it.’
‘Postponed?’
‘Yes.’ He looked back at her, ‘I meant to say. I mean, I know that’s why you came but…’
Bee frowned and asked him how long he had known. He claimed only a few days but she thought it unlikely. There was little point saying so.
‘Anyway, you were due to come,’ he added, his voice with its usual proud edge, ‘I’ve booked theatre tickets for tonight, and we’ve a busy day tomorrow: I thought maybe the Natural History Museum, there’s an exhibition
about Southeast Asia I would like to see.’
‘That’s fine, sounds good in fact, but I have to go to Jermyn Street for Ian at some point. He needs some shirts. That okay with you?
Tuan seemed not to hear and so she repeated the statement but he remained silent. She sighed and gave up and turned to watch the streets of London slowly roll by. Busy roads, smart shops, jostling people, endless expensive cars, grimy pavements, ratty looking phone booths, bill posters, Bill Posters will be prosecuted, red buses, black cabs, grand buildings, vagrants, destitute mentally ill crawling absently from the back streets, policemen in boots and stab-proof vests strolling past pooches in silken booties and jewel encrusted jackets; it was a world away from the valley.
‘That beautiful old Hall opposite our house is for sale, you know, the one with all the land. I saw it last week in the property section. You wouldn’t believe the price they’re asking. It won’t sell.’
‘It will. Some people have more money than sense.’
‘Well that’s true. I think Ian imagines us moving there when he’s a publishing tycoon.’ Bee was determined that Boyce’s name would be accepted into conversation. It made her feel less guilty if she talked about him.
Again Tuan sat in silence. Then Bee heard a small snort of disgust.
She reached out a hand and touched his arm gently, ‘Do you think you could be just a bit less hostile when I talk about him?’
‘How about we just don’t talk about him?’
‘He’s part of my life, Tuan.’
‘He needn’t be.’
‘Pretend, for my sake, that you don’t hate him. The way you act, it makes me feel really uncomfortable.’
‘I don’t hate anyone.’ He rolled his eyes and looked away, his head shaking almost imperceptibly. ‘You’re too good for him, Bee. Nan thinks so, Felix thinks so and even your mum and dad have doubts.’
‘That is not true.’
‘It is. You’re like a sister to me, so I can say these things to you. I have to say these things because no one else will.’ His tone was steady, ‘He’s bringing you down. You don’t laugh, you don’t go out, in fact, you don’t do half of what you used to...’
‘Don’t patronise me, Tuan. I know you mean well but seriously, you have no idea what you’re talking about. And you’re hardly in a position to criticise, are you?’