13. Gully
Gully
D ear Iris,
London isn’t the same without you, a van and a load of weird furniture that we lugged to Wales. No, seriously. It feels strange being in a hotel room without you. It feels strange being in a bed without you, although I am waking up wondering if I’ve gone deaf because I can’t hear anyone snoring.
You do snore, by the way, and at some point I’m going to record you as proof.
The meetings with my publishers and the production team have gone well. Everything is where it should be in terms of timings and there’s a lot of excitement that I’m actually a book ahead of schedule, to the extent they’re looking at an earlier release which was so not the point of writing like a madman the last few weeks. I have explained that we’re expecting a baby and I’ll be taking paternity leave to be a full time parent for the first nine months at least, but my agent laughed at that and asked if it was even possible for me not to write.
I think she has a point. I’ve managed another chapter today, sat in a café near St Paul’s Cathedral, and I’m still writing to you now – I’ll scan this in with my phone and email it to you. Not the same as having it on paper, but I hope you like the sentiment.
I’m seeing my cousin Claire O’Hara later at her house for dinner. They have four daughters, so her husband Killian lives in a house that is full of females. Somehow he survives, which I think is due to his military training and practice in case he was ever tortured. Their eldest, Eliza, is ten next week, so I’ve done the best cousin thing and bought her a present. Roe and Finn were trying to get me to put their names on it. I didn’t give in.
In other news, my Aunt Marie and Uncle Grant are selling their house in London, which is causing lots of concern with the Callaghan cousins – Claire is a Callaghan; I will do you a family tree at some point when I’ve worked out which of their kids belong to who.
The house sale has caused a furore with my cousins, which is ridiculous, given none of them have lived at home for a decade at least, but there’s all this upset over it being one of their childhood homes. It’s quite entertaining and it’s giving me ideas for a murder.
How’s Monaco and the photo shoot? I loved what you sent me the other day – that’s given me an idea for a story too.
I think my agent’s right.
I’m still going to write during my paternity leave, aren’t I?
Balls.
Speaking of balls, mine are missing you. I tried to jerk off in the shower, but I didn’t have the heart for it. It didn’t feel right.
Love you,
Gully
Dear Gully,
That would’ve been a really lovely letter had you not ended it with commenting on your balls. I miss them too, or rather, I miss your cock. This second trimester thing about having raging hormones is definitely true, however, I’ve had no issue rubbing the bean, to use such a delightful euphemism.
Monaco is ridiculous. It’s full of wealth and gazillionaires where I am, and every second person I walk past is famous or owns half the world or something. We were shooting at the Grand Prix track today, with some of the shots taking place in the F1 cars. That was exciting and I managed to get a few pictures of me in the car that came first in some big race last year, not that I know much about it, but Finn might be impressed.
I have seen some really cute baby clothes that I might have bought. I know we said we’d wait until we got closer, but given it’s not that long off until the twenty week scan, I figured it was okay to get a couple of bits. They’re so tiny and cute and I just hope our baby isn’t huge like you and Roe were, even though you were twins. Your mum told me some real horror stories about the pair of you the other evening – I forgot to say. You and Roe were devils from what she said.
Is this true?
Am I in a relationship with someone who really did super glue his twin to a fence?
It’s really nice at the moment to be somewhere it’s sunny and warm. I think we should have a baby moon somewhere, maybe with a beach and our own private pool, so we can make the most of us being a twosome before the baby arrives.
Arrives makes it sound like they’re going to be delivered by a stork. Such a pretty picture. I’ve made the mistake of looking at some videos of people giving birth and I must admit, it doesn’t look pleasant. I phoned Freya about it because she’s really honest about things like that and she said it wasn’t that bad, bloody awful, but she was that fed up of being pregnant she was willing to go through labour just to not be carting a bump round anymore.
I’m not looking forward to not being able to see my feet. I’ve actually started photos of them so I can remember what they look like. Weird, I know.
You did draw me a family tree a few weeks ago when you were telling me about Ava and Eli and how he’s Elijah and not Elias, but we couldn’t consider any names that started with E-L-I because it was going to get too confusing. A shame, because I like the name Ellie, but you’re right, we need something more unusual.
We could go for a Welsh name, maybe?
Anyway, I’m off to sleep because we’re up early tomorrow for a dawn shoot, and after that, I’m done. I’ll be on that plane the day after and I can tend to your balls.
Love you,
Iris
Dear Iris,
If I’ve timed this right, but I probably haven’t, you’re getting this just before your flight takes off.
For the next few hours I’ll be watching that website that charts planes in real time, looking at exactly where you are and completely shitting myself that something will happen to your flight. I’ll be doing it from Manchester Airport, because I’m already there waiting for you.
Sad, I know. But in case you were early I wanted to be here.
I used to miss you between seeing you, but it was different. I’d wish you were around more so we could talk or grab a bite to eat or I could give you a hug when you weren’t feeling great. Because I’m used to you being around all the time, you being away has been awful.
I’m not trying to guilt you. We both have jobs that mean we have to be away from home, like a lot of people do, and we knew when we decided to get pregnant that we’d arrange our work so one of us was always at home with our baby.
New suggestion, we travel together until they’re school age, because I’m not sure I like being away from you for this long. My balls have actually written a letter of complaint.
I’m saving it for you for when you get home – the letter from my balls, that is.
I miss you sleeping next to me. I miss the trail of stuff you leave around the house. I miss your very off key singing when you’re making a cup of tea. I miss your scent and how it fills the room.
I miss fucking you when one of us wakes up in the middle of the night and we just want to be close to each other.
And the orgasms.
I can’t wait to get you home and I can re-explore every inch of your skin with my tongue. I can’t wait to have my hands on your tits again and play with them until your pussy’s dripping and you’re trying not to beg me to fuck you.
I keep imagining you on all fours, holding onto the bed sheets or the back of the sofa while I fuck you from behind, using my hand to play with your clit so you keep squeezing my dick while you come over and over again. I love how pink your cheeks get when I’m filling you up, how you say my name when you want me to go quicker and how good you are at sucking my cock when you need a break from coming so hard.
I hope you enjoy thinking about that during your flight.
Love you,
Gully
As predicted, I was met by a hurricane of a woman who wanted to rip me to shreds given what I’d written in my last letter and she’d managed to download just before her flight took off.
As predicted, we found a very quiet country road and made good use of the back seat of my car, thankful for the tinted windows before we’d even exchanged more than about four sentences with each other.
Her flight had been fine in principal, but she’d worn light coloured sweatpants which had gotten a bit wet, so she’d felt self-conscious, uncomfortable and horny all at the same time, so I was on the receiving end of her temper and her frustration which was actually a pretty fucking good combination.
I’d had two days at home without her after I’d come back from London, finding my house too big without her and generally being a pain in the arse with my brothers because I needed to be distracted.
I’d missed her. Which I’d told her, not just by letter, but over text and on the phone too. Maybe it was too much, maybe I’d been too strong and I’d need to use my words and ask her about that because I had no gauge for being in a relationship and my brothers were fucking useless at this stuff.
I did mention it to Freya. She’d smiled and told me I was cute, and that she imagined Iris would be liking me being so obvious about missing her. A day later, she’d told me I should carry on, so I’d figured that maybe Freya had spoken to Iris and I felt even more like a fifteen-year-old lad with no idea whatsoever.
I’d spent half a day walking the coastal path, something I’d done regularly since moving to the island six years ago, thinking about my next steps. When we’d been in York, I’d disappeared on my own because I’d had a purchase to make.
A big purchase.
The sort that one way or another was going to change my life.
I was going to ask Iris to marry me, and I was going to do it before she had our baby. I didn’t expect us to get married before then – I’d leave that decision up to her because I’d be happy running off to Gretna Green or Vegas, but I was well aware that women could have different ideas about such things. As long as she became my wife and took me as her husband, she could have whatever wedding she wanted.
So I had the ring, and I hopefully still had the woman, so I just needed a plan of how I was going to propose.
My walk led me to Mavis’ house, the woman herself out in her garden tending her spring plants and moaning about Clover’s cat who she said was defecating in her flower beds on purpose. Moonshine could well have been. The cat was a huge thing, more like a panther but with a lot more fur, and he definitely had a mind of his own.
I stayed out of that debate though. It wasn’t up to me to defend the furry beast – Clover was more than capable of doing that herself – but Mavis had never given me bad advice when I’d asked for it in the past.
“I want to propose to Iris. I need some idea of how to do it.”
Mavis glared at me. “You open your mouth and say the words ‘will you marry me’. It isn’t that hard.” She sipped at her tea, which I imagined had a dash of whisky in it.
“I know what words to say, I just need to think of a good way to do it, so she never forgets.”
Mavis shook her head at me again. “I’ve had five marriage proposals, Gulliver, and I remember every one as clear as if it was yesterday. It doesn’t matter where you are, she’ll remember someone asking to marry her.”
“Five proposals?” I frowned, not sure if I was hearing her right. “How many times were you married?”
“Married twice. Freddie asked me three times – I said yes on the third time. Ron asked me once and there was a boy called Gary who asked me when I was just seventeen. I’d have married him as well only my mother and his mother hated the bones of each other, so I decided it would be a bad idea.” She stared into the distance. “He joined the army and didn’t come back. Shame. He was a good man.”
“Why did it take you three times to say yes to Freddie?” I hadn’t heard this story before.
“Because I wasn’t sure I wanted to actually marry him. He was a flirt and he sniffed around a few of my friends. We weren’t stepping out or courting, mind. I was just the only girl who wouldn’t pay him the time of day so I was a challenge. I had him running round in circles, he was that determined to get me and he did in the end. We were married for thirty years, until he died.”
“What did he die from?”
Mavis smiled. “You don’t know this story? He was a fisherman. The boat capsized in a storm and he never came home. Only one of them came back. It was when we lived in Holyhead, a long time ago. I met Ron when I moved back here and he became the next love of my life, even though we didn’t have long together. He died of pneumonia.” Her usual cantankerous demeanour was lost for a moment. “I stayed by myself after that. Think I was a bit cursed.”
“Just unlucky. What was the best proposal?”
“They were all the best, young man. Stop overthinking it. Just have the ring ready and when the moment arises, take it.” She slapped the arm of her chair. “Now I’ve got a meeting with Linda for a game of cards at the Puffin Inn, maybe you can walk me over.”
I decided to take Mavis’ advice, which I usually did to be fair. Instead of planning something extravagant, I kept the ring to hand and decided to bide my time.
The time was almost when we went back to the cottage hospital for the twenty-week scan.
We were nervous, almost as nervous as when we’d headed to the same place weeks ago when we were anxious that something wasn’t right. We’d talked about whether we wanted to know the baby’s gender several times and hadn’t come to any conclusion, apart from that Iris had the final say, given she was going to have to do the hard work.
Carole met us at the desk again, gushing over the book of mine that she’d just read and asking the same questions about Detective Joe that I was usually asked. It was a nice distraction and it helped that she was happy and positive rather than concerned about everything.
Iris got on the bed, shifting her clothes around and glancing at the screen then me, quieter than usual. Carole chatted away, asking how everything had been and if there were any questions or worries. We ran a few things by her, which we kind of knew the answers to, but wanted to ask anyway.
The heart rate was slower this time, which was right for the stage of pregnancy. It was clear and strong, filling the room with its booming and I saw Iris relax a little more. I leaned over and kissed her while Carole put the gel on.
“Do you want to know?” Iris asked me. “Shall we find out.”
“It’s up to you. I can wait if you can.” I knew it was the right answer with the way Carole smiled at me.
“It’s isn’t one hundred percent accurate and the baby might be in a position where we can’t see anyway. I won’t give anything away unless you want to know.” She pressed a few buttons again and the screen came on.
A few seconds later and the image on the screen looked like a baby in black and white, moving around some.
I stared, grasping hold of Iris’ hand, all kinds of awe making me speechless.
“It looks like a baby.” Iris clutched my hand back harder. “I can’t believe that’s growing inside me.”
Carole nodded and smiled, looking genuinely delighted. “And everything’s looking very healthy. Baby’s the right size for where you’re up to. I’m very happy with this.”
I got my phone out to video the screen again, although later we’d be emailed a file with it in, which we’d learned last time. I couldn’t see anything very well, my eyes damp. I scratched at them, determined not to cry, but Iris caught me and started laughing.
“You don’t need to be a big hard man about this.” She pulled me closer to her. “It is amazing. That’s your baby you’re looking at and in another twenty weeks you’ll meet them.”
I nodded, not sure I could trust myself to speak.
Iris laughed again and looked at Carole. “I think I want to know. I think I need to prepare Gully to be a girl dad or boy dad.”
I looked at the woman who was my world. “Really?”
She nodded. “I think I know anyway.”
“How?”
“Just a feeling. I think it’s a girl. Carole, can you tell us?”
Carole nodded, smiling at Iris. “You’re right. You’re having a little girl and I’m pretty certain about that.”
I swallowed. Hard.
A daughter.
I bent down to kiss her mother. “I love you.”
She caught hold of me, holding me as close as she could. “The feeling’s mutual. I love you too. I don’t know how you’re going to cope with a daughter, Gulliver.”
“Me neither.” I shook my head. “I’ve no idea either.”
She already had me wrapped around her little finger and she wasn’t even born yet.