Jamie Holland - An Almost Perfect Moon

Lucie too had lost a parent, although her father had been killed when she was just two. It had been a bond between them from the outset. But her father died flying a helicopter and Lucie was able to grow up proud of the handsome, heroic figure in the photo frame. Ben kept no picture of his mother. After she’d left them, she was simply never mentioned again. Sometimes it was as though she’d never existed at all.

Ben had never understood her desertion. What had they done to deserve such an unnatural act? Aunts and family friends were no substitute. Ben was brought up hearing his father yell at his older brothers Stephen, Matthew and Andrew as they found themselves in one piece of trouble after another. Gradually, they wore him down: by the time Andrew had dropped out of school, his father had long since given up trying to control them.

Ben was different. From an early age he’d recognized that the way to escape this oppressive family life was to keep his nose to the ground and work hard. His brothers helped with this. All of them were big; nobody messed with the Armstrong boys, so their little brother evaded the normal bullying meted out to swots. It was the one thing for which he would always owe them. By the time they’d all left school he was big enough to look after himself. At fifteen he was six feet tall and shaving every day, and no one touched him. He was left to study as hard as he liked, and it soon paid off. The first of his brothers to get any O-levels, he stunned the rest of the family by managing ten straight As. From then on university was just a formality. None the less, the day he’d won a place at Cambridge to read economics had been the best of his life. His ticket to freedom.

‘I wonder if the little thing will have any hair to start off with,’ said Lucie, suddenly opening her eyes.

‘I don’t know. At least we know what colour it’ll be.’

‘Worried I’ve been with the postman?’

Ben laughed. ‘If it’s not very dark indeed, you’ll be in big trouble.’ He rubbed her tummy gently. This was what he’d been looking forward to ever since they’d married: a son or daughter, so he’d have his own proper family. Just six weeks to go. He couldn’t wait. This was what he worked so hard for. He wasn’t going to make the same mistakes his father had. He would always be able to provide for his family. Lucie would be effectively retiring in a few weeks’ time – he now earned enough for her to extend her maternity leave indefinitely if she so wished, and still put money aside for the future. Their child would always have a parent at home. Ben glanced around the room. Life was pretty good. Upstairs he’d carefully decorated the nursery – yellow, because he felt it was good for boys and girls, and he’d also lined the room with a frieze and a mobile of wooden parrots. It was the only yellow Lucie had allowed in the house – elsewhere, she’d firmly banned it as being ‘too early nineties’.

‘But I like yellow,’ Ben told her, ‘it’s cheerful.’

‘But, darling, everyone has yellow. It’s so faux. ’ Ben bowed to her better judgement. After all, she knew much more about style and current trends than he did – as she should, the amount of magazines she subscribed to.

Later, as they lay in bed, Ben said to her, ‘So what d’you think is Harry’s problem with Julia?’

Lucie put down her magazine, paused and then turned to him. ‘Harry’s a romantic, darling. But I also think he’s terrified of committing to anyone other than his mythical perfect person. And I’m not sure she exists.’

‘Maybe.’

‘Perhaps he’s right, and Julia isn’t the one for him, but all I’m hearing is how wonderful she is. I don’t really understand his problem. And anyway, I thought all men liked big tits.’

‘Not at all. We don’t all adhere to men’s magazine ideology. And anyway, I love you and yours aren’t exactly huge, are they?’

‘Ben, I feel so flattered.’ She laughed. ‘But I do think Harry should give Julia a bit of a chance. He wants too much – no couple are going to be in perfect unison all the time, but he just won’t accept that.’

‘It’s his mum and dad,’ Ben told her. ‘Perhaps we’re at an advantage – we’ve got no standards to judge marriage by, but he’s got his brilliant parents, still happy together after thirty-five years. Harry says they even still sleep together, and his dad’s now seventy.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about Harry. We’re going to have more than enough to think about in a few weeks – I want you to concentrate your energies on us.’ She kissed him, and turned off the light.

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