Frontwards

Tuesday 6th March, 2006.

It’s almost as if the baby knew that now the wedding was over, it didn’t have to hide away anymore. I woke up this morning in a massive bed next to my gorgeous husband and I felt like a big fat cow. But in a good way.

“Look how fat this bump has gotten,” I think were my first words to him on our first full day of marriage. Smooth as ever, Daisy.

Frank smiled and scooched up next to me, resting his head on my chest and his hand on my belly. “I think it’s amazing.”

After a not-quite-long-enough lie in, we eventually had to get up and check out. It was only as we drove past home that I found out we were apparently having a short honeymoon in Vermont. Frank is scarily good at keeping secrets. It does concern me sometimes. Especially given what he has kept from me in the past. But I trust him, for the most part. Maybe I’m an idiot for that.

A fairly long car journey ensued, in which we played a game of Would You Rather and I had a small doze against the window. It had been a hectic few days, especially for somebody in my condition, so I felt I was entitled to a short nap. And by the time I came to, we were pulling into the car park of a reasonably fancy-looking log cabin in the middle of some woods.

It was kind of creepy, in a beautiful way, with all the twisted trees and chirping birds and the sunlight creeping through gaps in the leaves.

“Nice sleep?” my husband chuckled as he cut off the engine.

I smiled and nodded. “Lovely, thanks.”

We got out of the car and Frank took my hands and led me to the porch of the cabin. We stood outside the door for a little while as he fumbled for the keys but I didn’t much mind. It was too pretty here to care about being in the cold.

Soon enough we were inside and had a fire going and everything. Much of the evening was spent cuddling and being sickeningly in love.

Ah, the honeymoon period.



Saturday, 10th March, 2006.

Frank banned me from “writing in that diary of yours” while we were away. Which I would have found quite rude if I hadn’t been having way too much fun (and by fun I of course mean sex) to really care.

Coming back to normal life this morning seemed really dull. Which I know is a ridiculous thing to say given the fact that a few months ago I was an accountant, but there you go. Things change and people change with them.

Somebody who hasn’t changed is Kate. I walked back into the house to find her singing to herself in the kitchen while she was making dinner. She was singing the Ghostbusters theme while pouring a whole bottle of wine into a saucepan. Of course she was.

“Hey,” I said as I entered the room. “Whatcha making?”

She turned to me and gave me a crazed grin. Frank was standing behind me and I felt him flinch. Who can blame the poor guy?

“Lasagne,” she said in a demonic voice, her eyes shifting from me to my husband and back again. “How was your trip?”

I couldn’t stop myself before I broke out in a grin. “It was amazing,” I replied wistfully.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to her pot. Her cooking pot, that is. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if this turned out to be a “special” lasagne.

My husband and I headed towards the living room to greet everybody else. They barely looked up from the TV to grant us an uninterested “hey”. Nice to know we were missed.

But in a way I was glad to be home, surrounded by this pack of weirdos that I called my friends and my family.

“Holy shit,” Gerard said as he gawped at me and my bump. “You’re massive.”

How he gets all the ladies, I really do not know.

Later on, as we were lying in bed in the dark, Frank turned to me and whispered, “I think we should get our own place.”

This took me entirely by surprise. I mean, I know that that’s what normal married people tend to do and everything, but I thought we were doing okay here and the thought of being alone in a house while Frank was out really scared me.

“How come?” was how I tried to sum up these thoughts.

He pulled me closer so our bodies were touching and then suddenly there was a kick from the baby but it was more powerful than before and we both felt it and then I just felt so stupidly happy that I forgot about everything else and Frank could have said to me “Let’s live in a van for the rest of our days and tour the countryside killing wild animals” and I probably would have agreed with it because I was delirious with joy.



Monday, 12th March, 2006.

Frank and the guys had a meeting today so Kate and I went shopping. I still don’t much enjoy large crowds of people, but having Kate with me made me feel much safer because she’s a fucking lunatic. If anyone tried something while Kate was around, she would rip them apart. She’s like my very own bodyguard.

“So,” I said, as we were having lunch, “when are you going home?”

Kate huffed. “Trying to get rid of me, are you?”

“Yep,” I smiled playfully. “No, you know I’m just kidding. I love having you here. In fact I’d be happy if you just came and lived here with me.”

She grinned. “Really? Because I’ve totally been thinking that I might do that.”

“Do it!” I said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, judging by the faces of the people on surrounding tables. “Please do it. And bring Atty.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “I swear you care more about that cat than me.”

Perhaps, but I would never admit that so I just made a dismissive ‘pfft’ sound and shrugged. Either way, it looked like this might happen. I didn’t stop to think that Frank may have something to say about me inviting my cousin to live with us. Nor, in fact, did anybody else’s opinion. Is that so terribly selfish of me? It is? Whoops.

Surely this is one time in my life where I’m allowed to be selfish. And unreasonable. And emotional. And whatever the fuck else I want to be as long as I’m not taking drugs or jumping on trampolines or generally having any fun.