Goes Without Saying Pt. 02

No sex in this part

*****

Chapter 07

After David's last parting from Gwen, the full anguish of loss had not reached him. He felt numb, but also a drive to sort everything out. He had to tell both sets of parents of her death, then the wider family and then their friends. He had to arrange the funeral. Suddenly he realised they had never discussed what would happen if one of them died. Cremation or burial?

It did not seem odd to him to be considering the matter, and he soon realised he could not face the idea of having her cremated. So it would have to be burial. He would get a family grave that would hold four or five. Yes, that would be good. Then when his turn came he could join her.

In later times he could remember little of the next few weeks. Life was very busy and initially his emotions were numbed by the need to get things done. Those around him at the time filled in the gaps in his memory, and there were plenty of folk around him.

Beth was taken care of in the hospital for the next two days, though he insisted on going in to feed and change her when he could.

He remembered with absolute clarity his phone call to Gwen's parents, and to his own.

"Hello," said her mother on answering.

"It's David." His voice was toneless and conveyed trouble.

"Dafydd, bach," she said, now worried, "what's the matter, she's not lost the baby?"

"Mam," he said, using his word, the Welsh word, for her, "The baby is fine. It's Gwen."

"What's wrong with her?" she said, her voice full of dread.

"She collapsed after the birth, Mam," he said. "I'm so sorry. There was nothing they could do to save her."

"Da Duw yn y nefoedd (Good God in heaven)!" she cried. "You're saying..."

"She's gone, Mam. She's left us."

There was a cry, and a muffled exchange before Gwen's father came on the line.

I'm so sorry boy," he said, his voice taut with emotion. "How did it happen?"

"She gave birth no problem," he answered, trying to remember each detail. "They put little Bethan on her tummy and Gwen smiled at her and said, 'Isn't she beautiful?' Then she looked worried and said she felt strange and closed her eyes. The nurse pressed the emergency button and the team arrived. I had to leave with Bethan. I heard them say she'd arrested before the door closed. Half an hour later, the doctor came through and said they'd lost her."

"So she didn't suffer?"

"No, Da, she didn't suffer at all."

"And her last thought was happiness at Bethan being there?"

"Yes."

"Good." he said, which David remembered thinking strange at the time, but later realised his meaning. Gwen did not suffer, and her last feeling was of happiness.

"Mam says we're on our way," his father-in-law told him, "Be with you tomorrow. We'll tell the rest of the family."

David phoned his own folks and got the same response. Then Alex, who was devastated, but promised to tell all their friends.

"Alex," cautioned David, "Please tell them not to phone me; I've got a lot to do."

Alex concurred and rang off.

The house was full from the second day, and David was supported in all the tasks a bereaved partner has to perform. Gwen's mother and his own looked after the baby, but once again David wanted to feed and change her himself when he could.

The autopsy revealed Gwen had suffered a catastrophic Amniotic Fluid embolism, causing lung and heart failure. It was a rare occurrence, the doctor explained, and virtually untreatable. Somehow debris from the amniotic fluid found its way into her bloodstream and reached the lungs and heart causing an allergic reaction.

There was an undertaker to choose, the death certificate to get from the register office, and the funeral to organise. He remembered later that Siân, Gwen's sister, more or less did all that herself; she went with him to the register office and she knew what readings and hymns Gwen had liked. Alex phoned to say he'd found a Welsh Methodist chapel in the town, and the minister was helpful in the extreme. The local cemetery had room for a family grave,

The funeral was turns harrowing and joyful. The chapel was packed to the doors. Alex had organised friends to play for the service, and with Siân he organised readers. He gave the eulogy himself, and did it with delicacy and some humour, talking about her life from early childhood to the day she died.

David himself, his brother and Gwen's brother along with Alex and two other friends carried the coffin from the hearse to the grave and after prayers they lowered her to her final resting place. David threw a single red rose onto the coffin.

There was a buffet lunch at a local hotel, and most of the local congregation arrived to talk to David and the family. He was kept busy all the time, and had no time to think about what had happened. He had not shed a tear since Gwen had died, holding himself in check for the sake of the family, and in any case his emotions seemed in limbo.

Before he left the lunch, the Chairman of the Board of Directors, who had come for the funeral, told him to take three months' leave with full pay, telling him that his was an unusual case, since he had a new-born baby as well as a toddler to care for.

David's mother had stayed at home with Evan and Bethan, and they joined the crowd at the hotel. There had been much discussion about whether to take Evan, but the consensus was that he would not understand and was better at home.

The Welsh contingent stayed for another day before reluctantly taking their leave.

"Don't you forget us, boy," he said, hugging David. "Come and see us often. We're ready to come to you whenever you need us, you know that, isn't it?"

"Yes, Da," said David. "Thanks for everything."

Gwen's mother simply hugged him hard and long.

David's father had to take other members of the family home, and so left shortly after the in-laws, leaving David with his mother alone in the house with the two children. Both children were asleep, Evan for his afternoon nap. The house was quiet. His mother went to the kitchen and began putting nappies from the bucket into the washing machine. Gwen and David had opted for Terry nappies rather than disposables, and though advised to use the latter, he obstinately refused. Gwen had wanted Terries; he would use Terries.

He sat still in the lounge and the reality of his situation swept over him at last. Until then he had been busy, arranging the funeral, looking after the guests, accepting condolences from friends and relatives. His feelings were numbed; now it was as if he was awaking from stunned semi-consciousness.

He felt uncomfortable, agitated. He longed for his lover, and the yearning became intolerable. He bolted for his bedroom, threw himself on the bed, their bed, the dam broke and he sobbed his heart out. The future was bleak; he had no one. The only one who could comfort him had gone never to return. Eventually he was cried out and exhausted he fell asleep.

It was early evening when he awoke and he panicked for a moment before realising his mother was in the house. He could hear her voice and that of Evan. He got up and used the bathroom, feeling sweaty having slept for too long in his clothes.

There was a knock at his door and his mother entered bearing a mug of tea.

"You slept well," she said with a gentle smile. "You needed that."

She left, shutting the door behind her.

David decided to shower and change, then drink his tea, before facing the little world of his children downstairs. He felt much better for it and went downstairs.

He entered the lounge and was immediately assaulted by a small body.

"Dada!" Evan shouted as he launched himself into David's arms.

David felt his little face pressed against his neck and his little fingers tight around his neck.

David's mother looked on with a smile, later she had words for him.

"David darling," she said seriously, "when my mother died I went to pieces. You were three, just like Evan. Your granddad told me I had to put the children first and my own grief second. He said it was not easy, and I could see his own grief, but he said I had to be collected with the children, but I could go somewhere quiet and cry there, 'that's what I do,' Granddad said.

"It shocked me that my Dad cried for her at the time, but it brought us closer together. You see what I'm saying?"

David saw only too clearly. The feeling of Evan's love and utter trust in him was healing in itself, and he saw the wisdom in his mother's words.

"I've only got two weeks compassionate leave from work," she went on, "I know you did a lot when Evan was born, but this is different. We have to get you into a routine for both the little ones. Right?"

David nodded.

So the next day and for the rest of the time she was there, David gradually took on more and more of the daily tasks. He got up in the night to Bethan, and went to Evan when he woke up from his nightmares. He fed them and cuddled them; they all went shopping together, he cleaned and tidied, and played with Evan. By the time his mother went home, he was in complete charge, had a routine, and felt comfortable in his role as single parent.

He was too busy during the day when the children were awake to grieve, his love for the children and their love for him cheered him, but whenever they were napping he fell into deep depression and often wept in the solitude of his bedroom. He would feel bouts of intense anger at his plight. Why him? Why had she to die so young, never to see her children grow, with all the joys that growing children bring?

He sometimes felt guilty. If he had not wanted more children, if he had been content with Evan, she would be alive today. He knew she had wanted more children; he knew it in his head, but he still felt he was responsible - it was his sperm after all.

However, he never resented Bethan, never blamed her for Gwen's untimely death. Bethan was her parting gift, and was so beautiful, so perfect. She was a happy baby, gurgling and smiling at him. He noticed that she already had Gwen's smile. He could almost believe he could hear Gwen saying through the smile, "Come on David, you can do this! You're doing wonderfully."

It upset him, but at the same time was a comfort.

Evan asked often when Mummy was coming back, and David had to tell him she was in heaven and would not be coming back, but she was watching over him, and loved him. He seemed to accept it, and go off to play, but would forget and ask again.

One aspect of David's grieving was an obsessive need to 'do Gwen proud' by looking after her children himself. His devotion was single minded, total, and excluded all others, and it lost him friends. It almost led to his breakdown.

-

Chapter 08

It was a Thursday evening in July, two and a half months after Gwen's death. David sat slumped in his chair in the living room. Beth was fast asleep in her cot, and he had just finished reading Evan his nightly story. The boy always took a long time to go to sleep, though he had given up asking when Mummy was going to come and tuck him in. Each time it had wrung David's heart afresh. Each time he told the little one that Mummy was looking down on him and loving him, and had given the little lad a kiss 'from Mummy' before going to the bathroom so the child would not hear him weeping.

After ten weeks doing everything alone, he was exhausted. It was not simply being at his children's beck and call, taking care of little Beth's needs and finding time to play with Evan while getting the washing and ironing done, the terry nappies cleaned, washed and dried, the shopping with both children in tow, and house cleaning while Evan took his nap in the afternoon. There was no let up in that. But there was the yawning gap at his centre where Gwen had been, and the recurring mourning that always took him by surprise.

Apparently he was doing everything right. Beth was putting on weight as she ought to, Evan mostly played happily and the health visitor was on hand to give advice and to assure him he was a wonderful father, but he had never worked so hard or for so long each day; there was no let up.

Since... the event... (he could not bring himself to name his wife's death) he had not had any time off. His own fault, he realised that: a good number of women had volunteered to babysit, to take the strain, but he had obstinately refused to let anyone else near his babies.

For one thing, Evan had clung to him every time he tried to leave the house, even to put out the rubbish. Evan had followed him round the house for the first two weeks after his grandmother had gone home, fearful that David would leave him as well as his mummy, and his granny, until David got him engrossed in one game or another and he began to trust that David would not in fact disappear.

After the funeral, he remembered, there were all sorts of people visiting him, both male and female, some offering help, but he had been so defensive, or morose and uncommunicative that the visitors began to dwindle, until on this evening he realised he had not seen anyone at the house for two solid weeks. He had had invitations to take the children with him to friends' for dinner, but he was too tired and sad to accept, so soon those invitations had stopped also.

Alex had been the most faithful, calling in on his way from work for a chat. He would stand about while David did washing, cleaning feeding Evan or changing Bethan, or make him some tea while he did those chores, but even his brief visits had ceased in the past week, and David had been too apathetic to call him.

He remembered the last visit.

"David," Alex had said urgently. "You have to get someone in to help you; you're wasting away; you look more and more tired and haggard each time I see you."

David had shrugged, and mumbled that there was time for that.

"I don't want to nag you," his friend had continued, "but aren't you due back at work in three weeks? You need to get someone to look after the children then."

"They'll give me extra time," said David, though deep down he knew he had already taxed their patience long enough. He felt a real sense of dread about leaving his little ones.

"Come on, David, they've given you three months! Yes, you can have more time, but not on full pay. You can't afford to live on Paternity Allowance, and the company won't support you for ever. You need this job for the children's sake. You know it, don't you?"

David would not have taken that nagging from anyone else, but had nodded disconsolately. He knew it all right, but also knew he wouldn't be able to leave the children in a stranger's care. His parents were too far away, and Gwen's even further, and the two grandmothers had already given all the time they could after the funeral.

They left it at that, Alex extracting a reluctant promise that David would look for a nanny, or a nursery. Alex had not been back.

David felt the grey clouds of depression gather, and once again looked towards the drinks cabinet, feeling the pull of an alcoholic stupor to allow him to escape this hell he was living in, but he did not move. He could not let Gwen down; he would live for their children, but the darkness in his spirit deepened and once again the tears fell.

He started into wakefulness. He had been deeply asleep. Then he heard the doorbell.

Good old Alex, he thought, levering himself out of the chair, and making his way to the front door.

He opened the door. "Hi, Al..."

He stopped, his mouth agape.

"Hello David," said the visitor, whose face betrayed a brief look of distress at his appearance before it was replaced by a nervous smile.

He found his voice. "Celia? What...?"

"Aren't you going to ask me in?" she asked, her smile becoming more confident.

He stood back, and gestured to her to enter, which she did, preceding him to the living room. She sat on the sofa, collected and demure.

"A drink?" he asked, looking at her. She was as lovely as ever, perfect in every detail, the light summer dress riding up a little to show her perfect legs and half her thighs. He could see it was not deliberate; it was simply the way she was, the way summer fashions were.

"Have you still got some of that Dalwhinnie?" she asked.

He nodded and went to the drinks cabinet. Pouring her the 15 year old malt whisky of her choice and getting a little jug of water from the kitchen.

He sat down.

"No drink for you?" she asked.

"No," he said, "Have to be alert and sober for the children."

She cast him a glance, the meaning of which he did not understand. It was as if she wanted to reproach him, but would not; or perhaps it was respect?

There was no ice-breaking conversation between them, no 'How have you been?' or 'How's things?'

"David," she said at length, after sipping her whisky, "I've come to apply for the job."

He was nonplussed, "Job? What job?"

"Alex and I were talking," she said ignoring his question temporarily. "You know he's very worried about you? And looking at you, so am I."

"I'm managing," David's reply was curt and, she thought, defensive.

"David," she soothed, "you don't have to pretend with me. You're heading for a breakdown. That's why I'm here."

"I don't need any help," he said obstinately.

She looked at him with 'that look' he remembered well.

He shrugged and surrendered. "I'm just very tired," he said dejectedly.

"My darling," she said, and he couldn't even summon up the energy to contradict her endearment. "I've come to help. Don't argue," she said as he made to interrupt. "What use will you be to Evan and Beth if you have a breakdown? None. They'd be put into care. So try to see sense."

"But-"

"No buts," she cut him off. "Alex said you will need a nanny and really a housekeeper when you have to go back to work. I'm here to apply for that position."

She drew breath. He took a breath.

"No, listen," she said as she saw him about to interrupt again. "First of all, I know you and you know me.

"Second, you know that I've been round to see little Evan often, almost every week. Evan knows me and we get on well. I'm his Aunty Celia. Gwen trained me in everything to do with baby care, so I'm well qualified to see to Beth's needs.

"Third, I've already resigned from my job to look after you and the children. All I want is board and lodging and a small allowance. I can move in as soon as you like. There's the spare en suite bedroom. Until you go back to work you can supervise me and make sure I do everything as you want it done.

"Fourth, Gwen asked me to look after you and the children if anything were to happen to her. Neither of us thought anything would happen, but she was being careful. She was always thoughtful like that. You know she wanted me as a godmother to little Beth when she's Christened? No? Well, she would have asked you about it after Beth was born. She told Alex as much."

She looked at him with an expression of care and affection.

"Will you give me a trial? Isn't it better for Evan to have someone he knows and loves looking after him? You do need me; look at you. Have you looked in the mirror? You're gaunt and you have dark rings under your eyes. Please, David, please see sense?"

In other circumstances he would have politely refused her offer and shown her out, but he was exhausted and hopeless, and it made her arguments irrefutable. He sank back into the chair and looked at her, so full of life and so beautiful. He felt sudden anger and resentment, not at her, but at fate for taking that from Gwen.

"Thank you," he said. "We can see how it works out."

"I'll get my things," she said, and before he could react she had left the house and brought two large suitcases in from her car.

"You were pretty sure of yourself!" David commented with a smile, as she put a few more bags down in the hall. It brought back a memory of her leaving him with suitcases that fateful day.