My Secret Sister by Edwards Helen

Author:Edwards, Helen [Edwards, Helen]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781447228882
Publisher: Pan
Published: 2013-03-14T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

Helen

The Gun Chase

‘I’m pregnant,’ I grinned. I was bubbling over with excitement.

‘That’s wonderful.’ Simon gave me a huge hug.

‘Hey, not so tight,’ I teased him, then held his hand to my tummy.

He looked almost reverent as he exclaimed, ‘I‘m going to be a dad!’

We were both absolutely thrilled with our news, and realized that sharing the house with my parents would make it difficult to keep a secret. So we decided to tell them after dinner. ‘We’re going to have a baby,’ I announced.

After a flicker of surprise, my father grunted and went straight back to reading his newspaper. You’d think I had told him a fly had died.

Simon took my hand in his and turned to my mother. ‘We thought you’d be pleased.’

She looked from one to the other of us. ‘Well, one thing about being pregnant,’ she smirked. ‘Everyone knows what you’ve been doing, don’t they?’

Our happiness turned to shock. How could she say such a terrible thing, especially in front of my husband? I squirmed. It was naive, I suppose, but we both thought they would be happy. Not at all – I was stunned at their indifference, their lack of support.

At fifty-two, Tommy’s chronic health problems made him subdued, even withdrawn some days. Conversely, my mother brightened. She had reprised her role as mistress of the house. Of course, it was our house and we paid for everything. But my mother took over.

This situation could never have worked out for long, but we felt we had no other option. Why did I continue to do as they commanded, without question? Simon was the same. Anything to keep the fragile peace, I suppose.

I hoped things would improve, but I was wrong. The only positive was that my father recuperated enough to work again and he found another job in Johannesburg. This boosted our finances, and Tommy’s mood. He regained some of his old strength . . . and all of his dominance. That was the challenge. Out in the car one evening, Simon and I discussed our future. We’d talked about it often, and now we decided. We would return to England as soon as we could. To be fair, this was not only because of my parents. We did not want our child to be brought up under the apartheid regime.

Our beautiful baby was born in August 1970 – a boy we called Scott, with the finest blond hair. As the midwife handed him to me I burst into tears, completely overwhelmed with joy. I had never understood how fierce maternal love would be, but the urge to protect him was overpowering. It was our moment – my son and me. I looked with adoration into his deep blue eyes and he looked back at me in puzzlement. Simon, beside me, was now in floods of grinning tears, desperate to have his turn. I handed the baby to him, the most beautiful baby in the world. He was now the number-one priority in our lives.

Simon and I talked almost every day of our plans to return to England.

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