A WALK IN THE PARK

I remember it so well, that afternoon in the park. I'd barely managed to let Amber, the Golden Retriever, off her lead, before the twins were racing off, in the direction of the play area: swings, slide, climbing frame, and roundabout. Complete with nothing more gentle than concrete, to cushion any potential falls. It was 1983, after all. That was the way things were, in those days.

   It was a sunny April day, and yet, deceptively chilly. I was grateful for my last minute decision to wear both a cardigan and my denim jacket.

   "Girls, wait for me, please! Charlotte! Angeline!"

   Of course, they didn't listen. Never had.

   By the time I'd caught up with them, the identical redheads were already making friends with another girl of around their own age - which, at the time, was seven.

   "This is our friend, Helena," announced Charlotte, beaming at the girl with long, chestnut hair, in a high ponytail.

   "Oh, okay. Does Helena go to your school, then?"

   "No, we just met her," said Angeline.

   "And now she's our friend," added Charlotte, talking slower than usual, and pronouncing her words clearly, as if I might need some help to understand.

   To be honest, I didn't understand. As someone who, both as a child and to that day, had needed to get to know anyone gradually, over time, before I considered them a "friend"...

   But the twins were confident, particularly Charlotte, and that was no bad thing. Not without potential dangers, but what was better? Staying safe, but trusting no one?

   Helena offered me a shy smile, which I returned. 

   "Helena, what do you think you're doing? What do we always tell you about talking to strangers?" demanded a male voice. A guy of about my own age, which was twenty-five.

   "I'm sorry," I told him. "The twins started talking to..." I hesitated. "Helena's your daughter, I guess?"

   "Yes." He seemed to relax then, and smiled. His hair was slightly darker than Helena's, but their eyes were both precisely the same grey-blue. "And it's okay. I tend to be overprotective, but you can't be too careful nowadays. I'm Tom, by the way."

   "Paloma. And these are my nieces, Charlotte and Angeline."

   "Your nieces? I somehow assumed they were yours. They look so much like you. More like each other, though."

   I giggled. "Very much like each other. And I guess there's a family resemblance, too. People sometimes used to mistake me and my sister - their mother - for twins. But Silvia has the red hair, and clearly, I don't." My own hair was naturally mousy, although I'd recently added a few blonde highlights for good measure.

   The twins and Helena, apparently less than enthralled with our conversation, were already racing each other to the climbing frame.

   And, whilst the girls played, Tom and I sat on a nearby bench, and continued to chat.

   He wasn't wearing a ring. I wasn't sure what that signified, though. So he lived with his girlfriend. Many people did nowadays. They had a kid together, which effectively made them as good as married.

   Helena's mum was a lucky woman.

***

A fortnight later, I was in the Red Lion, with my best friend, Tracey. It was Friday night, but still early, and the bar had yet to become exceptionally busy. In an hour or two, I knew from experience, the place would probably be packed.

   Predictably, Tracey launched, within the first ten minutes, into her usual theme. "You know, Paloma - you really need to meet this guy, who works with Nick. His name is Freddie, and I just know you guys would be perfect together."

   "Thanks, but no thanks, Emma Woodhouse." I knew Tracey would get my reference. My friend was as much of a Jane Austen fan as I was.

   She giggled. "Okay, okay. But, if you change your mind, let me know. I'd be happy to set you up on a blind date." She hesitated. "You aren't back with Mike again, are you?" There was genuine concern in her eyes.

   "Hardly," I replied. "That's well and truly over. I honestly do prefer being single, Trace."

   She didn't believe me for a minute, of course. And I certainly wasn't going to attempt to explain about the guy in the park, and how I couldn't stop thinking about him and remembering the spark in this grey-blue eyes.

   I excused myself by offering to get the next round in. And it was at the bar that I saw him again.

   "Paloma."

   "Hi, Tom."

   Awkward silence.

   "I'm here with a couple of mates from work," said Tom. Not Helena's mum, then...

   Not that it mattered. She existed, whether or not they were out together that evening.

   "Same. I mean - I'm here with my friend, Tracey," I said.

   "It's great to see you again. I didn't...We didn't exchange contact details last time."

   "Would Helena's mum like you sharing 'contact details' with random women you meet in parks? Or pubs, for that matter?"

   "I'm not with Helena's mum. Sorry if I didn't explain the situation before. We lived together for a few years, but we aren't together any more. Julie's married, with a little boy - Helena's half-brother."

   I smiled. "Okay. But I need to get back to my friend, before she gets suspicious. She can be a nosy cow." Said, whilst rummaging in my handbag for notebook and pen, hoping I didn't appear as flustered as I felt. Or as elated.

***

April 2003. Twenty years have passed since Tom and I first met, along with his daughter, my nieces, and my mum's dog, Amber. The dog, sadly, passed away, a few years ago. Lottie and Angie, as the twins are now primarily known, remain an important part of our lives, as does Helena. Tom's daughter has two children of her own now, Rebecca and Justin, aged five and four respectively. 

   Which is a blessing, for Helena and her husband, as well as for us. But also, has served as a painful reminder of what we ourselves have lacked. The one major absence, really. A child of our own.

   Until now. And in this moment, as I watch the man I've always adored, holding our beautiful, miraculous son, a sense of tranquility enters my mind as never before.

   "You know Thomas actually means 'twin', right?" I say. "And it suits him perfectly."

   Tom smiles. "You don't have to sell me on the name, or on Jessica. I agreed to both, remember?"

   I gaze into my baby daughter's eyes, as she lies in my arms - that distinctive grey-blue again. "She looks like her sister, more than anyone else," I remark.

   "I think so, too. Helena can't wait to see them both, by the way - although she did say Justin was confused about them apparently being his uncle and aunt. He's insisting he's their uncle, because he's older."

   "Bless him - it must be kind of confusing."

   "Confusing, but more so, cause to celebrate, Paloma. It's been a long journey."

   "It has," I agree. "The twins can't wait to see them, either. The other twins, that is. And Mum and my sister, and Tracey and Nick, and..." My voice trails off. Everyone in our lives, I mean, of course.

   It definitely has been a long and painful road to travel, but we've arrived at last: Tom and myself, Thomas junior, and Jessica. The ultimate blessing has, once again, arrived in the form of twins.