The Girl in the Mirror(49)

Damn. I haven’t asked a single question about the surgery. Would Summer have taken off Tarquin’s nappy by now to see how the circumcision has healed? Or would that be a weird thing to do?

Tarquin writhes inside Jacqueline’s makeshift baby wrap, and I break out in a sweat. There’s no way I can carry on with this thrashing beast strapped against me. My clothes are oily and rank within seconds. The smell is nauseating. Did I step in dog turd?

Now the flailing stops. Tarquin relaxes and starts cooing. Jacqueline laughs and slaps me on the back. “This is why he was so grouchy, huh?” she says. “Now he has Mama back, he can let everything go. The bathroom’s through the hall, to the left.”

“The bathroom?” I say.

“Is there something wrong with your nose?” she asks with a puzzled look. “You need to change his nappy, Mama. There’s a change table in the bathroom. I use it for my grandson. Everything you need is there.”

I’m strapped to another human being who has just crapped himself, and I’m meant to clean it up. “This is the worst day, this is the worst day,” I repeat as I stumble to the bathroom, where I improvise my way through the loathsome task. Why didn’t Adam volunteer to do it for me? Do mothers not get a break even when they’re pregnant and grieving? Not to mention that my right hand is still healing. Does anyone care that I might pick up an infection?

At least no one is watching me, no one except the mute brat, anyway, and the pack of disposable nappies that I find under the change table comes with instructions in English. I hold my breath and force myself to glance at the results of the recent surgery. Ouch. The kid’s definitely been circumcised.

Things have got to get better. How many more nappies will I have to change? Tarquin must be old enough to be toilet-trained. I’m sure there are day care centers that toilet-train your kid for you back in Australia. Or we could leave him with Aunt Jacqueline until she’s sorted him out. She looks like she could get the job done in a couple of days.

I can’t hold my breath any longer. I breathe in and nearly die. Can I use morning sickness as an excuse not to change any more nappies? I can’t mention my pregnancy in front of Daniel, though. I don’t want him to watch me lying to Adam.

Things are turning to shit fast. Adam’s into BDSM, Daniel is onto my fake pregnancy, and I don’t know the first thing about mothering Tarquin.

I need to get the kid into day care, but first I need to get through today. And right now I need to get through this nappy change. Why the hell does anyone have children?

You’re learning fast, I tell myself. One day, I’ll know the answers to all the questions. I’ll know Tarquin’s health issues and which way round a goddamn nappy goes. I’m stepping into someone else’s life, but day by day, it will become my life. A year from now, will there be any pretense?

With a clean nappy on, Tarquin—Tarky—kicks his legs joyfully and reaches for my neck. I stuff the used nappy into a bin and lift him into my arms.

“This is the worst day,” I mutter.

“Mamamamama,” he says.

It’s meaningless babble, but I’ll take it for now. As I wander back into earshot, I say, “I love you too, baby. It’s good to have you back.”



Jacqueline’s house is not far from La Belle Romance, and it seems family can turn up whenever they like. Romain after Romain bursts into the house without knocking. Jacqueline has food for everyone. It’s not till I recognize a suited manservant from the hotel that I realize that she has called in catering from La Belle Romance. Soon waiters are everywhere, keeping everyone’s drinks topped up, setting tables for lunch. Along with copious side dishes, there is roast ham, turkey, oysters, and lobster. We eat al fresco in a garden lined with coconut palms, with the same doubled coconuts dangling above our heads.

I ask about the coconuts when Adam has wandered away, in case Adam’s already told me about them. It’s easier to be Summer among people I’ve just met.

“The coco de mer tree,” Daniel explains. “Native to the Seychelles. Thought to be an aphrodisiac, because the double shape is like the form of a woman.”

Now that he’s pointed it out, I can’t unsee it. The coconuts look like a pair of buttocks, unmistakably a woman’s. Daniel’s language is so delicate. The thought flashes into my mind that Daniel wouldn’t jam me against a washing machine and sexyrape me. But then, I didn’t think Adam would, did I?

There are more cousins. The Romain line runs to boys, and the family resemblance is strong, so Adam and Daniel’s doubles are everywhere, along with pretty, well-dressed wives and children. Everybody’s taken time off work at a moment’s notice for this lunch, to honor Adam and his bride. There are glasses of wine everywhere, and it’s very hard not to pick one up.

But it’s also, I realize slowly, a farewell lunch. After many interminable conversations about babies and children, people start to leave, and the women’s goodbye hugs are lingering. They say, “I wish we could see more of you,” and, “Till we meet again.”

I make my way to Adam, who’s kicking a ball around with Tarquin in a corner of the garden.

“Why does everyone think we’re leaving?” I ask him.

“Because I already booked flights,” he says. He doesn’t even look at me when he speaks.