‘You’re tired, honey,’ Luke says. ‘Why don’t you have a lie-down. I’ll clean Jinx up and then I’ll bring you up a cup of tea or something. I think you need it.’
‘Um,’ I say, having no intention of getting into bed. ‘Yeah, okay. Thanks. Put the kettle on.’
Luke crosses the hall and walks into the kitchen wrestling to keep Jinx in his arms. I wait until I hear him running the tap before I hurry down the stairs. I press my face close to the front door and stare through the peephole. The row of red-brick houses across the street stare back at me like tall, stiff soldiers. I strain my eyes left and right, taking in as much of the street as the tiny hole will allow. There’s no one out there. Not even a neighbour walking by. It’s like a still from a movie set. At any moment the director will yell ‘Action!’ and everything will come to life.
Jinx begins howling – Luke must be attempting to wash him. A car drives past and the woman across the street opens her front door and walks down the steps on to the footpath. It’s noisy again. Noisy and familiar and, without over-thinking it, my fingers curl around the handle and I try to open the door. It doesn’t budge. Luke must have locked it after all. I shake my head at my silliness as I grab the keys off the low sideboard next to me and finally open the door.
I give a sigh of relief. A brown cardboard box with a white card on top waits on the porch mat.
A delivery, I think, realising how foolish I’ve been.
‘Hello, Darcy,’ my neighbour shouts and waves from across the street.
‘Hey,’ I shout back.
‘I was just coming to take that in for you. I thought no one was home,’ she says.
‘Oh.’ I cringe. ‘I was napping.’
She makes a face, and I remember my anti-ageing masque. God, I’m a terrible liar.
Thankfully she doesn’t dwell and her face lights up and she points to my bump. ‘Not long to go now, eh?’
‘No. Not too long.’
‘I bet you can’t wait. It’s the best feeling in the world, Darcy. Nothing will ever be the same again.’
I smile. And I don’t tell my lovely neighbour that that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.
‘Do you want a hand with that?’ she asks, getting a little closer. ‘Looks like it could be heavy.’
‘No thanks. Luke’s here,’ I say.
‘Okay. See you soon,’ she chirps, walking away.
‘Bye.’
I struggle to bend down, and it’s even harder to get back up. I take a moment to curse my new body shape. The box isn’t heavy and I close the door and shuffle backwards into the house with it. I suspect it’s something Luke has ordered online for the baby. He’s obsessed with buying stuff for the nursery. All neutral colours, of course, because he doesn’t want to know if it’s a boy or girl.
‘Let’s keep it a surprise,’ he said at our first scan, deciding for both of us.
I hope whatever he’s ordered this time isn’t expensive. Our credit card is nearly maxed out. Luke keeps telling me not to worry, but until Mr Buckley signs on the dotted line I can’t relax.
I set the box down on the sideboard and read the card on top. ‘Darcy’s Dishes’ is clearly written in large swirly handwriting. Exhaling, I realise whatever is inside is most likely work related. I ordered some new labels for our lasagne last week but I usually direct that kind of stuff to the factory. I read the card again, confused when I find no address anywhere on the box. How did the delivery person know where to find me?
I crane my neck towards the kitchen. It sounds as if Luke and Jinx are locked in a battle of wits, going by the odd noises they are making. And it would seem my husband is losing. Poor Luke, I think as I lift the card and peel back some wide brown tape sealing each side of the lid.
I gasp excitedly when I part both sides and I’m met with a mound of raffia paper. Blue and pink shreds battle for space. It’s the first gift I’ve received for the baby and I guess it’s from the staff at the factory. My heart pinches a little as I allow myself a moment to miss my days in the factory and a staff who are the first family I have known for years. I decide it doesn’t matter how much Luke protests; I am going into work tomorrow, even just for a couple of hours.
I tuck into the huge mound of paper. It separates and a few stray pieces scatter as I dig deep to find what’s inside. Nothing! I dig deeper, scattering paper on to the ground, and finally the light catches something silver in the corner of the box. Smiling, I reach for the bracelet. Oh Luke, I think, torn between loving the thoughtful gesture and wishing he wouldn’t spend money right now. The delicate bangle is slightly tarnished and warped as if it’s spent years lovingly wrapped around someone’s wrist. An antique. I flinch, afraid to even guess what it cost. I’m about to slip it over my hand when a bolt of recognition charges up my spine like an electric shock. I squeal and drop the bracelet. It stubbornly spins like a dreidel on the hall tiles before flopping on to its side, staring up at me. My eyes are wide with disbelief as I run towards the kitchen.
Luke meets me at the kitchen door with a wet and soapy Jinx in his arms. ‘What is it? Are you in pain? Is it the baby?’
‘I . . . I . . .’ Words won’t come out. The sudden movement has upset my stomach and I throw up on the floor.
‘Oh God, Darcy.’ Luke drapes his arm over my shoulder and guides me towards the kitchen table, ignoring the mess I’ve just made.
I’m light-headed as he pulls out a chair and I sit. Jinx escapes Luke’s grip and scurries into my arms. I’m barely functioning enough to catch him as he whimpers and licks my face, trying to take care of me.
‘I’ll get you some water,’ Luke says, steadying me on the chair before he turns to the sink. ‘Do we need to go to the hospital? Does it hurt?’
‘I told you someone was at the door,’ I say, finally catching my breath.
‘Oh. There really was someone there,’ Luke says, running the tap.
‘Yeah.’
Luke doesn’t say anything more as he sidesteps a puddle on the floor in front of a sudsy sink where he’s been washing Jinx. He fills a glass of water and places it on the table in front of me and watches me with trepidation. I know he wants to ask if the baby is okay. He can’t take his eyes off my bump and when he does, he flicks them to the glass of water, hoping I’ll drink it.
‘I thought it was a gift at first,’ I explain.
‘At the door?’
I nod.
‘Then why did you scream?’ Luke folds his arms and I can see irritation sweep over him despite how hard he tries to hide it. ‘I really thought you were hurt.’
‘I thought it was from you,’ I say. ‘The bracelet.’
‘What bracelet?’ Luke exhales sharply. ‘Darcy, what’s going on? You haven’t been yourself for a while. And you really scared me just now. I thought the baby—’
‘It’s from her,’ I say, cutting him off.
Luke leans his head to one side as if he’s suddenly too tired to hold it up straight. ‘I know I’m going to regret asking this . . . but who? Who has been so awful they’ve sent you a bracelet?’
‘Luke I’m serious,’ I snap, frustration replacing shock. ‘It’s from Tina.’