Short Lived
‘I’m afraid that, in the current financial climate and today’s... difficult... property market, even our best possible rate would require you to possess a minimum deposit of £20 thousand. And whilst you yourself, Mr King, are in a stable job with a reasonable salary, I’m afraid that your wife’s situation... Well, maternity leave often extends indefinitely in our experience – rightly so, of course, parents should be with their children... But – I’m afraid that it does leave your combined income somewhat less secure for the foreseeable future. Given that, on top of this, your ability to buy a property would hinge completely on your being able to sell your own flat – I’m very sorry, Mr King.’
If Nadia Dawson were any more afraid, any more “sorry”, she’d surely quail with melancholy right there in her plush leather office.
How could they do this?
Jim drew in another deep breath, his fist now clenched around the useless toothbrush so hard his knuckles turned white. He stared out of the window, over the five-storey drop below their small concrete balcony and the spread of toy-town houses and patchwork fields that stretched into the distance, hardly seeing any of it.
The sickening, churning, falling sensation didn’t go away though.
‘Of course, we realise that this outcome will not be the answer you and Mrs King were hoping for – so we’d be very happy to arrange another appointment with you, Mr King, to discuss your options on what to do next?’
Unable to stop the heavy sigh weighing on his chest, Jim thunked his head forwards against the glass of the window and closed his eyes, resigned.
‘Yes, sure – I’ll... talk it all over with my wife and we’ll get back to you, okay?’
‘That would be fine, Mr King.’ Now that the conversation was reaching an end, Nadia Dawson definitely sounded cheerier. So she should, Jim thought darkly. She was dodging a bullet – very likely, she would arrange it so that another colleague would meet with them when they next went back to that pit of bureaucratic despair that called itself a bank, passing them from one faceless mortgage advisor to the next, until they finally gave up this hopeless dream of escaping their tiny flat and living in a house of their own. ‘We’ll look forward to hearing from you, then, Mr King. Goodbye now.’
‘Thanks very much for your call.’ Jim grudgingly replied, before the line went dead. He slammed the phone back into its cradle irritably. ‘And of course, thanks for ruining my day, you incompetent bunch of...’
‘They said no, then?’
Jim spun around at the sound of Erin’s voice, caught unawares. He wondered how long she’d been standing there; judging from the tired expression on her delicate face, she’d obviously heard enough. With a sigh, she crossed to him, hugging her battered flannel dressing-gown closer around herself, covering her swelling stomach, which protruded out from beneath her pyjama shirt.
‘Was it because of the baby?’
‘Well, they said the maternity leave didn’t help... But, to be honest, love, it just sounded like it was everything – she seemed pretty emphatic about the fact that we can’t afford a house unless we have someone guaranteed to buy the flat.’
‘But the estate agent said that we’re probably going to be dependent on young, first-time buyers and they can’t afford the price we’re asking because – ’
‘Because the banks won’t lend them the money, I know. Somewhere, the God of Irony is having a wonderful day.’ Jim’s joke fell flat on Erin’s defeated expression. Sighing, he decided he might as well tell her the rest; it wasn’t exactly as if things could get any worse. ‘And we need twenty grand in savings, not fifteen.’
‘What?’ Erin threw up her hands, dark hair flying as she tilted her head back to gaze incredulously at the lounge ceiling. ‘We still have to live, don’t we? What do they think, money just falls from the sky? I wouldn’t mind so much if they hadn’t been the ones to collectively gamble away the savings of the entire nation!’
Jim tossed the toothbrush onto the sofa and wrapped his arms around his wife, drawing her into a hug that was partly more for his comfort than for hers. They had lived in their nice, but extraordinarily minute, flat for eight years now – and, yeah, when they were twenty-five and still gloriously spontaneous it had been perfect.
But now, with all their friends comfortably settled in comfortable homes with comfortable broods of 2.4 kids, they yearned for a place of their own – with a garden, a second-floor, a hallway, a porch. They had wanted it for a good couple of years, truth be told, but they had always convinced themselves that the dream would last and that they could wait – for more money, more stability... Then Erin finally becoming pregnant had made them realise that the time was now – that now is everything.
If only the bank felt the same way.
Drawing back slightly, Erin looked up at Jim firmly, trying to re-gather her calm.
‘We could always try somewhere else?’
He smiled gently at her optimism, but they both knew that the suggestion was out of the question. They had both always banked with their local branch, for decades now; they did everything through them. To go somewhere else would require a huge shift of loyalty, it would be a massive upheaval... and probably all for the same end result.
Nope, for now – unless money really did miraculously drop out of the sky – they were stuck.
As if reading Jim’s mind, Erin squared her palms against the white cotton of his shirt and forced a smile.
‘Well, I guess we’d better just make the best of it, then. Keep praying for viewings; keep squirreling away... keep buying lottery tickets.’
Jim gazed down at his wife and felt a surge of admiration. Somehow, she always managed to make the best of it and keep smiling, reminding him in her hopefulness to do the same.
It was just... He wanted to give Erin and the baby everything that was perfect in this world – to go home after a hard day’s work to a proper house, one that they could spread out and be a full-sized family in, with a garden where they could watch their son or daughter grow amongst the flowers and trees... Somewhere that was private, theirs and theirs alone, with no creaking, whirring lift shafts throughout the night and a main door you couldn’t admit guests through properly because the buzzer mechanism was perpetually broken.
After so long together, always just making ends meet, he felt it was time for them to have some real good luck – that one little boost to kick-start the life they deserved. But his God of Irony seemed to have other plans; ones which mainly revolved around kicking them while they were down.
Jim kissed Erin’s forehead and then her lips, one hand tenderly caressing the curving bump of her abdomen. God, he wished he could fix this.
...Three Weeks Later...
Erin leant back in the reclining bed-chair hybrid that seemed to be a staple of ultrasound units, her t-shirt raised up to her ribs, as the doctor applied the gel to her abdomen. This was her second ultrasound, at eighteen weeks, and she still couldn’t quite get used to the odd sensation of the cold smears across her belly, nor quell the small bubbles of panic that burst within her chest as she waited for the image on the monitor to appear...
What if something was wrong this time?
Her discomfort must have been obvious somehow, because the doctor smiled reassuringly as she gently pressed the scanner against Erin’s abdomen.
‘Don’t be nervous, Mrs King; everyone worries when it’s their first pregnancy. But usually any problems show up when we do the scan first-time around... This time you’re going to see your little girl or boy growing a bit bigger – and no doubt just as healthy.’
‘It’s just...’ Erin paused, worried that she was going to sound ridiculous. ‘It’s just, I’ve been really sick over these last few weeks and... I seem to have quite a big... bump... for eighteen weeks? I mean, I know it’s my first time and I’m no expert or anything, but I have been reading everything I can find on the internet and the websites all say that the bump really starts to protrude aro
und twenty, twenty-two weeks, which I’m not – and yet my bump seems quite big...’
The doctor patiently smiled at her again.
‘Okay, Mrs King, well, let’s get the sonogram under way and have a little look.’
Suddenly, the unreal sound of muffled beating filled the room, as if someone was drumming far away and underwater. To Erin, it sounded fast and thick, but then she supposed that it was emanating from inside her, having to pulsate through several layers of muscle and skin to make itself heard through the scanner. Coinciding with the heartbeat, the image on the monitor clicked into life, a world of greys and blacks and whites that all whirled together to form the hazy outline of her baby on the screen – fuzzy at first and as unintelligible as the static between TV channels. But then he or she was there before her eyes, a strangely formed, beautiful little life, secreted away inside of her.
Erin smiled – she couldn’t help it – her happiness at the thought was overwhelming.
And then she saw the doctor’s frown.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
The doctor imperceptibly shook her head, leaning a little closer to the monitor and pressing the scanner slightly harder against Erin’s abdomen. The sound of the heartbeat seemed to seep into every corner of the ultrasound room, swishing out its rhythmic thumping against a swirl of fluid-sounding whooshes. The scanner shifted slightly across Erin’s belly and she lost the image of her baby on the screen, the little warped figure disappearing into the blurring blacks and greys once more.
Erin felt the panic rise another notch, clutching at her chest with tiny fisted hands of its own.
‘Doctor? What is it?’
Lips twitching, the doctor shook her head again, leaning back on her stool.
‘Well, I think I can tell you why your bump seems bigger than normal, Erin.’
Erin noted the sudden switch from ‘Mrs King’ and the panic beat harder. But then, to her surprise, the doctor beamed at her, gesturing abstractly to the monitor.
‘You’re having twins!’
Erin stared at her; everything in the room seemed to stop still in line with her shock – even the baby’s heartbeat seemed muted as her ears rang. Surely she had misheard?
‘I – I’m sorry?’
‘You’re having twins, Erin – there are two little babies in there. That’ll be why you popped out so quickly.’
‘But – but... There was only one heartbeat?’
‘Heartbeats aren’t always exactly distinguishable, Erin – the babies are in very close proximity; heartbeats will overlay. Look, see – here’s baby one,’ She hovered the scanner so that the imager Erin had seen before filled the monitor once more: the concave hollow of her womb and then, curled up towards the bottom of the screen, the faint-tracing outline of a baby, not completely formed, but with the head rounded and the curled up body squashed below. ‘And now I’m just going to turn it ninety degrees...’
To Erin’s complete disbelief, the outline disappeared once again, only to be replaced by the outline of another foetus, pressed up against the top of the screen – same large head, same coiled body. Another little shift of the scanner and then the two whorled together for a second and Erin saw it – two little baby silhouettes curved around each other like yin and yang.
Unable to take her eyes off the monitor, Erin pressed a hand to her chest, her head spinning. Twins? Twins?
‘How... How did we miss this before? At the last – last scan there was only one.’
‘Well,’ the doctor smiled at her evident surprise, ‘your last scan was at eight weeks; things are still a little unformed then; plus neither you nor your husband declared any family history of twins so... Sometimes this does happen, Erin – it’s very exciting!’
Exciting was one word for it.
Twins? She and Jim had never even thought... This was... amazing.
‘So... are they both okay? Is everything okay?’
‘Absolutely, both heartbeats sound normal – as far as they can be distinguished anyway.’ The doctor hovered the scanner over one baby again and the pumping rhythm whirled and thumped out across the room, filling its mother’s ears. Then she slid the scanner a little across, bringing the second foetus back into focus; the heartbeat skipped a little – or at least, gave the impression of skipping; instead, Erin realised, the ultrasound was switching across, the second heartbeat bursting the rhythm back into life, filling the room with whirly thuds that were just as vibrant as its twin’s.
‘Oh my God,’ was all Erin could manage for a second and the doctor laughed, patting her hand. ‘No wonder I’ve been so sick.’
‘Absolutely; having twins means you have double the hormones, which in turn – unfortunately – means double the sickness... But they do both look healthy, Erin – they’re roughly the same size and the heartbeats sound good and strong. You don’t have to worry at all though – first time mothers who are expecting twins are scheduled for extra testing and ultrasounds so that we can keep track of everything and avoid absolutely any risk of complications. So we’ll be with you every step of the way, okay, Erin?’
Erin exhaled a shaky laugh, still staring at the screen in amazement.
‘Does that include coming home with me to tell my husband?’
The doctor laughed with her, patting her hand a second time, reassuring.
‘It’s always a shock the first time round, especially when you have no history of twins. But I’m sure Daddy will be just as excited – it’s a fantastic surprise for you both, congratulations!’
Erin smiled, nodding without listening as the doctor continued to talk to her about tests, weight gain and other issues that they would need to schedule appointments to discuss as her pregnancy progressed. Her eyes were glued to the monitor and the profiled shapes of her babies – her twins – etched out amongst the static image of her womb. She felt she could cry with happiness – after days and days of worry, concerned that the vomiting and the quick swelling meant something was seriously wrong... Now they were blessed with not one baby, but two. It was a miracle – the first in months.
But was it a miracle they could really cope with?
She knew Jim would be ecstatic with the same thrill of happiness she felt – but even so, was this too much for them? After the failure at the bank, the thin trickle of their savings, the prospects of remaining in the flat indefinitely – and now with two babies on the way? It was small enough with just her and Jim for company; and their cash-flow... Besides, how safe would a fifth-storey flat be with infant twins?
Panic threatened to overwhelm Erin again, sinking different teeth into the soft folds of her heart this time, but still just as sharp. But as her heartbeat thudded in her ears, it mingled with another sound – the rhythm of the babies’ heartbeats still thumping along on the monitor. Re-focusing on their little unsuspecting forms, Erin’s fears were slowly soothed by the steady thump that swished like a muffled drum throughout the room.
No, it was a miracle – and the happiness that their little twins would bring would be more than a match for any other difficulties she and Jim might have to face along the way.
It would be okay.
They were going to be a proper family, nothing else mattered apart from that; not money, not houses, not endless hospital visits...
Erin smiled at her twins, heart swimming in a flood of love and pride.
She and Jim were going to give them the best possible lives they could wish for –
She just knew it.
The doctor began tuning down the instruments, withdrawing the scanner; the heartbeats vanished and Erin felt a little pang of longing rear up defensively as the sound was suddenly severed from her being. Slowly she sat upright again and, as she did so, was suddenly flushed with embarrassment as her phone began to trill from within her bag, down on the floor beside the bed. The doctor glanced up, startled.
'Oh my God, I'm so sorry,' Erin mumbled, hooking the handles with two fin
gers and flipping it up onto her lap. 'I'm sorry, I thought I'd switched that off - I realise - the equipment - I'm so sorry.'
'It's okay, Erin, don't worry.'
'No, really - ' Erin trailed off, frowning at the unfamiliar number on the screen, her thumb hovering over the off button. Who on earth would be calling her from a private number? The doctor caught sight of her confused expression and paused; then, patting her shoulder conspiratorially, she nodded her head at the still shrilly ringing phone.
'Go on, answer it, as long as you're quick - we're all done here, and I won't tell anyone.' Shaking her head in apology again, Erin flicked the screen to accept the call.
'Hello?'
'Hello, Mrs King?'
'Yes?'
'My name is Sergeant Warner, I'm with the Greater Manchester Police - Mrs King, I'm very sorry to call you like this, but I'm afraid your husband has been in a car accident...'
...Three Weeks Later...
As Jim grudgingly manoeuvred his mug one-handed, cursing the awkward plaster cast locked around his other arm from palm to elbow, he tried to remind himself for what had to be the millionth time just how lucky he was that the accident hadn’t been more serious... A fracture to his wrist and forearm, five stitches to a cut on his forehead, whiplash, two bruised ribs from the seatbelt and an almighty concussion – it was an impressive list of injuries, but he’d take them all over a broken spine or irreversible head trauma any day.
And all because a guy paying more attention to his phone than the road had run a red light and turned a corner across the dual carriageway at the wrong moment... Thankfully Jim had only just shifted the car into second gear; going barely fifteen miles an hour, he had been at a slow enough speed for the incident to remain a ‘minor collision’ only...
Minor collision or not, though, Erin still hadn’t quite recovered from the shock of receiving that police call, rushing to find him at A&E, scared and alone... She had been terrified; Jim felt a rush of guilt as he thought about this yet again. God, he had felt enough fear when he’d seen that Mercedes barrelling towards him – he couldn’t begin to think about what Erin must have gone through whilst he was being brought into the emergency room, imagining those scenarios only ever contemplated in your worst nightmares... with the additional weight of pregnancy hormones to boot.