Rachel Dann - Pieces of My Life

Feeling a presence behind me I look over my shoulder to see Harry standing in the doorway, a stricken expression on his face, wordlessly holding his hands out to pull me to my feet. I reach up and take them. As I stand, he pulls me into his arms and my head tucks under his chin. Despite my residual anger I welcome the feeling of things sliding back into place, the universe aligning again. We haven’t had a row like that in a long time. I hug Harry back tightly and try to squeeze away the uncomfortable realisation that we haven’t actually talked to each other as much as that for a long time, either.

‘Kirsty, I’m so sorry,’ he murmurs into the top of my head. To my dismay I hear his voice crack with emotion.

I pull back to look at his face, and don’t recognise the pale, serious man staring intensely back at me.

‘Er… it’s okay. I’m sorry I reacted like that,’ I mutter, feeling increasingly alarmed by the fierce way he is staring into my eyes.

‘Please be patient with me,’ he whispers, holding on to my arms more tightly. ‘I know you want… more. And I want us to have that…’

This sudden outpouring of emotion is so unlike Harry, so unlike us , that all I can do is stare back at him with my breath held, waiting for whatever will come next.

‘…But I really need to do this. Just one more trip. We can see it as the last adventure before…’ His voice wavers alarmingly again. ‘Then, after this, Kirsty, I promise – I’ll be ready to move on to the next level with you.’

Somewhere on the outskirts of my surprise and alarm, it strikes me that even in a moment like this Harry can talk about our lives as if they were a game on his X-box.

‘It’s fine.’ I find the words springing from my mouth before my head has fully made its mind up. ‘Let’s do it.’ I try to smile convincingly. ‘Let’s have your adventure. But just a few months, okay? If we can get the time off work, that is—’ My voice is swallowed up in Harry’s jumper as he hugs me back so tightly I’m practically lifted off my feet.

‘Babe, you’re so amazing – I love you!’ His face is transformed, so lit up with relief and joy that I feel twinges of guilt for ever reacting so negatively. He leans down and plants a kiss on my mouth then turns to hurry out of the room. ‘Just gotta write an email quickly, then I’ll bring the rest of the wine up!’ he calls over his shoulder, and I can hear him thundering back downstairs, full of boyish energy, the Harry I met at university suddenly returned with full force. I sigh and slump back against the wall, looking down at the travel book still in my hands.

Taking two or three months out of our daily lives won’t make much difference, will it? We’ll get back older, wiser, the wanderlust well and truly out of our systems. Well, out of Harry’s system… I’m still not entirely sure it’s even in mine. After this, Kirsty, I promise… Harry’s words ring in my ears and I imagine him stepping gratefully back over the threshold of our home, scooping me into his arms and saying ‘That was crazy and fun, but this is where I want our family to grow up’.

As we get older, our travels will give us an edge; we’ll be cooler, more interesting, sophisticated.

Better parents.

In fact, there is no reason we can’t start trying for a family while travelling, right? I lose myself briefly in a daydream of falling asleep in Harry’s arms in a beach hammock, his hand resting contentedly on my newly rounded tummy as the sun sets behind us. We could even name our future son or daughter something exotic to forever remind ourselves of the moment. Something like… Rio. Or Havana.

No, that’s a ridiculous idea. Too… Posh Spice.

But maybe Harry really does have a point. If we’re going to see anything of the world, our time is now . Two years ago we didn’t have the money, and in two years’ time we’ll be stumbling around like the walking dead on three hours’ sleep a night with perma-vom splattered across our baggy, unfashionable sweaters, having conversations about poo consistency and bedtime routines. Well, I hope we will.

I tuck the travel book inside my jumper, planning to have a good read later. Something has to change… and if we’re not going to have a baby yet, then maybe we should have an adventure.

Chapter Two

The news that we’ve decided to go travelling is met with varying degrees of enthusiasm by our respective families.

Harry’s parents think it’s all marvellously exciting and jolly good fun. They’ve travelled all over the place, of course, and even lived in New York for a year when they first got married. A long Sunday afternoon passes with Harry and his dad hunched over a map of South America spread out on the kitchen table, saying things like ‘You could catch a direct flight to Cusco then hike south along the Inca trail’ and ‘If you can stay on the road until February you could make it to Rio for carnival season’, while Harry’s mum and I sit and make polite conversation over the Marks & Spencer biscuit selection.

I know my own family will have rather more realistic concerns, such as what will happen with our jobs and the house and whether we’ll come back alive. I don’t relish the thought of telling them at all, but after a fortnight has gone by and we’ve practically finished packing up our belongings, had all our travel injections and even persuaded our mortgage company to let us off the hook for three months (I don’t know what Harry told them, but decided the fewer questions asked, the better), I know I can’t put it off any longer. Before our scheduled Sunday dinner at my mother’s house, I phone my sister, Chloe, to test the waters.

‘Aren’t you a bit old for that sort of thing?’ she squeals indignantly, making the eight-year age gap between us sound like a whole generation. Chloe is in her final year studying drama at uni in London, but goes home almost every weekend to our mother and her father Steve’s house, to consume the entire contents of their fridge, do her laundry, and help herself to any clothes lingering in my old bedroom. I have deliberately timed our visit to coincide with one of these weekends, in the hope that her chaotic presence might somehow distract Mum from the bombshell Harry and I plan to drop.

‘If by that sort of thing you mean broadening our minds, experiencing new cultures and possibly even discovering career opportunities in the international field, then I would tell you age knows no boundaries,’ I reply smugly. I’m quite pleased with that one. Harry would be proud of me.

‘But… I thought you were desperate to get up the duff?’ Chloe sounds confused, as if she is trying to process some kind of new and unwelcome reality. ‘Knitting tiny woollen socks, swallowing tons of folic acid, keeping a spreadsheet of your ovulatory cycle…’ She trails off, sounding desolate.

I don’t know what to say.

‘It’s not actually a spreadsheet… just a notebook. And I don’t even know how to knit.’

The silence extends on the line between us.

‘Mum’s going to go totally mad, you know.’

‘Yeah. How’s she been lately?’

Chloe breathes an exaggerated sigh down the phone. ‘Worse than ever. She’s just watched some documentary about this kid in America who hacked the Pentagon computer system from his basement – you know, one of those nerd types – anyway, she’s going round making us all change our laptop passwords and close our internet banking accounts and amend our Facebook privacy settings. Driving everyone fucking potty, even Dad.’

I try to imagine patient, docile Steven losing his temper with Mum. Of everyone in the family, he is undoubtedly the most tolerant of her incessant anxiety.