The Christmas Surprise
Page 24
The priest cleared his throat and looked pointedly at his watch.
‘I was thinking Edward,’ said Rosie. ‘Neddie. After her brother who died in the war.’
Stephen thought about it.
‘Yes. Okay. Yes. Do that, it’s lovely.’
And immediately following the funeral of his mother, with Faustine and the local doctor as godparents, they christened Apostil Akibo Edward Lakeman, and without their even asking, the missionary priest drove four hours back along the dreadful dirt road through the woods later that day with a birth certificate signed and stamped, naming them both as parents. When she saw it, Faustine’s eyes widened and she told him he had just saved them a quite insane amount of paperwork. Rosie went to the van and gave him her emergency bag of sweets, minus the chocolate, which she’d smuggled to the wet nurse. He was touchingly pleased.
After that, everything changed more rapidly than they could have dreamed of. The holiday company very kindly let them cancel their reservation, which was useful, as they needed to book a hotel room in the capital and sort out the rest of the paperwork. And, of course, fill everyone in back at home.
The next few days were a blur of hotel rooms, bad phone connections and long days spent in stifling buildings in the capital. After the quiet and calm of the bush, the city was more familiar, with its traffic and bars and mobile phone shops and policemen and general sense of business. But there was work to be done. And some of it Rosie could absolutely savour.
‘Mum?’
‘G’day! I thought you were on that safari holiday!’
‘Ah,’ said Rosie.
‘Did you see any tigers?’
‘Mum, this is Africa, they don’t have tigers.’
‘Oh. Elephants.’
‘No. No elephants. We heard lots of hyenas.’
‘Oh.’
‘And parrots. We saw a lot of parrots.’
‘We got parrots! Sydney’s full of parakeets! I wish you’d come here instead.’
‘Mum, shut up a minute. Look. This is costing me a fortune to phone that I don’t have, so you have to listen.’
‘GRAMMA! WANNA TALK AUNTIE ROSIE.’
‘She’s busy talking to me.’
‘SHE ALWAYS TALK TO ME!!!’
‘Uh, hi, Meridian,’ said Rosie, resigning herself to a long conversation about Spider-Man.
‘I IS IRON MAN,’ said Meridian self-importantly, settling herself down for a chat. Rosie could hear her shifting around down the telephone.
‘HERE ARE THE BRAVE FINGS WHICH I DOES DO. ONE. I DOES FLYING. FREE. I IS IRON MAN!’
‘Mum!’ shouted Rosie. ‘This is important.’
There was a bit of wrestling and yelling at the other end. Rosie looked down fondly at Ap, who was dozing gently on her lap. She had expected yelling and crying and the exhausted world of some of her friends who had had babies then not got dressed again for about four years, but Apostil so far seemed to be a placid, easygoing little fellow, with a curiosity about the world (which Stephen was convinced was a sign of scientific excellence) rather than an instinctive fury at it. When hungry he would make a hungry mouth and his good arm would thrash up and down a little, but that was about it. He would need a full medical inspection when they got back to the UK, but if Rosie could go on her instincts, he seemed to be in fine fettle. She felt astonishingly grateful.
It wasn’t that, though, that ran through her thoughts every waking second, and every dreaming second too. It was the incredible fact that while she had thought that falling in love with Stephen had been the biggest adventure of her life – all-enthralling, all-encompassing in every way – now she had fallen in love again, completely and utterly, and the feeling was oddly the same. She just wanted to look at his beautiful tiny face; his strong, compact little body that nestled so perfectly in her arms. She wanted to kiss him over and over; breathe in his delicate milky smell; gaze at him. Stephen teased her.
‘You know, you are going to make things very difficult for Mr Dog.’
‘Mr Dog will manage,’ said Rosie confidently. ‘He’s a very affectionate animal.’
‘That’s because you’ve spoilt him rotten. You’re not doing the same to Apostil.’
‘You’re right,’ said Rosie. ‘Do you want to send him to boarding school now, or shall we wait till he’s out of nappies?’
He grinned.
‘Give him here.’
He put Apostil down on the bed. Apostil wriggled a bit and then spent some time trying to get the fingers of his good hand into his mouth.
‘I’m your dad,’ said Stephen, smiling. ‘And you have to listen to me all the time. Because my wife-to-be doesn’t.’
‘That’s me,’ chimed in Rosie. ‘Your mummy.’
They grinned at each other with the amazing novelty of saying these phrases.
‘I run a sweetshop. Excellent, huh?’
‘But you have to listen to me,’ said Stephen. ‘Okay?’
Apostil continued to fixate on his fingers, then gazed right past them both.
‘Great,’ said Rosie. ‘He’s not listening to either of us.’
‘He’s looking over our shoulders like he’s checking for someone more interesting to talk to at a party.’
Finally, Rosie could tell Angie was alone.
‘Did you lock yourself in that cupboard again?’
‘Hush, you,’ said Angie. ‘What is it? I’ve got supper on.’
‘Right,’ said Rosie. ‘Okay. Well. Um. You know the “more grandkids” thing?’
‘What?’
This wasn’t working, Rosie could tell.
‘Well, anyway, we came to visit a family here that Stephen knew.’
‘A family where? On safari?’
Finally Stephen shouted out from across the room, ‘Tell her to get on her computer.’
Sure enough, he’d managed to upload a picture of Rosie cradling Apostil in her arms, grinning like an idiot (Rosie thought), looking beautiful (Stephen thought).
‘OH MY GAWD!’ screamed Angie down the phone. ‘You bought a baby!!!’
‘We did not buy a baby,’ said Rosie. ‘Don’t say that, it’s completely offensive. We’re his godparents. It’s our job to take him on.’
‘Oh my GAWD, you’ve got a baby!’ said Angie, backtracking completely. ‘Oh my GOD. Tell me everything. EVERYTHING. Boy? Girl?’
‘I was thinking Edward,’ said Rosie. ‘Neddie. After her brother who died in the war.’
Stephen thought about it.
‘Yes. Okay. Yes. Do that, it’s lovely.’
And immediately following the funeral of his mother, with Faustine and the local doctor as godparents, they christened Apostil Akibo Edward Lakeman, and without their even asking, the missionary priest drove four hours back along the dreadful dirt road through the woods later that day with a birth certificate signed and stamped, naming them both as parents. When she saw it, Faustine’s eyes widened and she told him he had just saved them a quite insane amount of paperwork. Rosie went to the van and gave him her emergency bag of sweets, minus the chocolate, which she’d smuggled to the wet nurse. He was touchingly pleased.
After that, everything changed more rapidly than they could have dreamed of. The holiday company very kindly let them cancel their reservation, which was useful, as they needed to book a hotel room in the capital and sort out the rest of the paperwork. And, of course, fill everyone in back at home.
The next few days were a blur of hotel rooms, bad phone connections and long days spent in stifling buildings in the capital. After the quiet and calm of the bush, the city was more familiar, with its traffic and bars and mobile phone shops and policemen and general sense of business. But there was work to be done. And some of it Rosie could absolutely savour.
‘Mum?’
‘G’day! I thought you were on that safari holiday!’
‘Ah,’ said Rosie.
‘Did you see any tigers?’
‘Mum, this is Africa, they don’t have tigers.’
‘Oh. Elephants.’
‘No. No elephants. We heard lots of hyenas.’
‘Oh.’
‘And parrots. We saw a lot of parrots.’
‘We got parrots! Sydney’s full of parakeets! I wish you’d come here instead.’
‘Mum, shut up a minute. Look. This is costing me a fortune to phone that I don’t have, so you have to listen.’
‘GRAMMA! WANNA TALK AUNTIE ROSIE.’
‘She’s busy talking to me.’
‘SHE ALWAYS TALK TO ME!!!’
‘Uh, hi, Meridian,’ said Rosie, resigning herself to a long conversation about Spider-Man.
‘I IS IRON MAN,’ said Meridian self-importantly, settling herself down for a chat. Rosie could hear her shifting around down the telephone.
‘HERE ARE THE BRAVE FINGS WHICH I DOES DO. ONE. I DOES FLYING. FREE. I IS IRON MAN!’
‘Mum!’ shouted Rosie. ‘This is important.’
There was a bit of wrestling and yelling at the other end. Rosie looked down fondly at Ap, who was dozing gently on her lap. She had expected yelling and crying and the exhausted world of some of her friends who had had babies then not got dressed again for about four years, but Apostil so far seemed to be a placid, easygoing little fellow, with a curiosity about the world (which Stephen was convinced was a sign of scientific excellence) rather than an instinctive fury at it. When hungry he would make a hungry mouth and his good arm would thrash up and down a little, but that was about it. He would need a full medical inspection when they got back to the UK, but if Rosie could go on her instincts, he seemed to be in fine fettle. She felt astonishingly grateful.
It wasn’t that, though, that ran through her thoughts every waking second, and every dreaming second too. It was the incredible fact that while she had thought that falling in love with Stephen had been the biggest adventure of her life – all-enthralling, all-encompassing in every way – now she had fallen in love again, completely and utterly, and the feeling was oddly the same. She just wanted to look at his beautiful tiny face; his strong, compact little body that nestled so perfectly in her arms. She wanted to kiss him over and over; breathe in his delicate milky smell; gaze at him. Stephen teased her.
‘You know, you are going to make things very difficult for Mr Dog.’
‘Mr Dog will manage,’ said Rosie confidently. ‘He’s a very affectionate animal.’
‘That’s because you’ve spoilt him rotten. You’re not doing the same to Apostil.’
‘You’re right,’ said Rosie. ‘Do you want to send him to boarding school now, or shall we wait till he’s out of nappies?’
He grinned.
‘Give him here.’
He put Apostil down on the bed. Apostil wriggled a bit and then spent some time trying to get the fingers of his good hand into his mouth.
‘I’m your dad,’ said Stephen, smiling. ‘And you have to listen to me all the time. Because my wife-to-be doesn’t.’
‘That’s me,’ chimed in Rosie. ‘Your mummy.’
They grinned at each other with the amazing novelty of saying these phrases.
‘I run a sweetshop. Excellent, huh?’
‘But you have to listen to me,’ said Stephen. ‘Okay?’
Apostil continued to fixate on his fingers, then gazed right past them both.
‘Great,’ said Rosie. ‘He’s not listening to either of us.’
‘He’s looking over our shoulders like he’s checking for someone more interesting to talk to at a party.’
Finally, Rosie could tell Angie was alone.
‘Did you lock yourself in that cupboard again?’
‘Hush, you,’ said Angie. ‘What is it? I’ve got supper on.’
‘Right,’ said Rosie. ‘Okay. Well. Um. You know the “more grandkids” thing?’
‘What?’
This wasn’t working, Rosie could tell.
‘Well, anyway, we came to visit a family here that Stephen knew.’
‘A family where? On safari?’
Finally Stephen shouted out from across the room, ‘Tell her to get on her computer.’
Sure enough, he’d managed to upload a picture of Rosie cradling Apostil in her arms, grinning like an idiot (Rosie thought), looking beautiful (Stephen thought).
‘OH MY GAWD!’ screamed Angie down the phone. ‘You bought a baby!!!’
‘We did not buy a baby,’ said Rosie. ‘Don’t say that, it’s completely offensive. We’re his godparents. It’s our job to take him on.’
‘Oh my GAWD, you’ve got a baby!’ said Angie, backtracking completely. ‘Oh my GOD. Tell me everything. EVERYTHING. Boy? Girl?’
