‘Remember our first time here?’ he asks.
How could I ever forget?
‘Of course.’
I sip at the tea, suppress a grimace at the metallic taste, and cast my mind back to that perfect evening when I first thought I’d got to the heart of him. And barring a few facts, perhaps I had … sweet, kind, a little lost.
‘You gave me a handful of sweet peas,’ I prompt him, knowing what he wants to do.
He places his cup on the ground and turns away. In the few seconds it takes him to pick a handful of flowers, I grab my opportunity to throw the tea away. Turning back, he hands me the sweet peas, takes my empty cup and places it next to his.
‘They’re not the most expensive flowers in the world.’ He squints into the sun. ‘But they’re the dearest to my heart.’
Because his adoptive parents sat out here every evening in the summer, hardly saying a word as they were so comfortable together.
‘And to my heart too,’ I add. ‘Lucy thinks I’ve over-egged the pudding. Too many sweet peas.’
‘Some puddings are better that way.’
He takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine, watching them, deep in thought.
‘You drifted off when we were here,’ he reminds me. ‘I asked you what you were thinking about.’
‘Penny for them.’
‘You said they weren’t worth that much. What were you thinking about? You can tell me now.’
‘I was day-dreaming … about being married to you, about sitting here and drinking tea, and watching the kids play.’
‘That early on?’
‘That early on,’ I confirm. ‘I didn’t want to admit it.’
‘Well, here we are, complete with child number one.’ He rests his palm on my stomach and right on cue, child number one decides to stretch, forcing a foot into my diaphragm.
‘Oooh,’ I groan.
The baby moves again, shoving an elbow outwards. Dan feels it and smiles.
‘When do you think we’ll pop out child number two?’
‘Excuse me, let’s get this over with first. Slow down.’ I arch my back. ‘All I know is this. We’ve got six bedrooms, all freshly decorated. Leaving one for guests, that means we’ve got four bedrooms to fill.’
‘Four?’ He mouths the word with a look of mock terror.
I give him a look of real terror in return. What the hell have I just said? I want four children? I want morning sickness and stretch lines and indigestion four sodding times? I shake my head.
‘Yes, four.’
‘And what about your pelvic floor?’
I smile, recalling my drunken outburst at Harrods.
‘You’ll still love me when I’m incontinent.’
‘You’re a coarse woman, Mrs Foster.’ Leaning in, he kisses me gently on the lips. ‘But I wouldn’t have it any other way. Have I told you your massive pregnant tits look wonderful in this dress?’
I pull back my head and give him a good dose of disgust.
‘You’re a dirty bugger, Mr Foster. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. So, why are we here then?’
‘Because I’ve got a few more vows for you, just as solemn as the ones we made in front of everyone … but these are private.’
I’m intrigued.
‘Go ahead.’
‘Okay.’ He rubs his chin. ‘I’ve already done the love, honour and obey thing, till death us to part, etcetera. They’re kind of umbrella vows, aren’t they?’
‘Get on with it.’
‘Okay, so I hereby vow to stop steamrollering you into things.’ He waves a hand and shrugs. ‘Well, obviously, it’s a bit of a habit, but just kick me if I start.’
‘Understood.’
‘And I also vow to consult you on every important decision I make.’
‘Every important decision we make,’ I correct him.
‘Quite right. We.’ He surveys the garden. ‘I vow to support you and encourage you wherever it’s necessary. I vow to listen to you and your every need …’
‘This sounds too perfect to be true.’
‘Cynic,’ he chides me. ‘I’m still going to be pretty selfish in certain areas. For example, I’ll probably get an erection in your presence when it’s most inappropriate, and I’ll have to fuck you senseless on an incredibly regular basis. But all in all, I’ll be the best husband you could possibly wish for, the best dad to this little one, and any further inconveniences to your pelvic floor, planned or unplanned. Oh, and finally, I vow never to keep another secret from you.’
‘Unless it’s a good secret.’
‘Which is?’
‘Presents, umbrellas, that sort of thing.’
‘Oh, I get it.’ He nods. ‘Good secrets.’
‘So, I should make some vows to you.’
‘You don’t have to.’
‘I want to. I vow to support you and encourage you where it’s necessary. I vow to use my brain before my mouth and stop being so bloody stubborn. I vow never to run away from anything that scares me. I vow to face it all, head on, with you at my side. I vow to put all my dirty clothes in the washing basket. And I’ll try to remember to put the lid on the toothpaste. Oh, and I vow to do a bit better with the cooking thing.’
‘That pretty much covers all the bases.’
‘So, it does.’
‘Oi!’ Lucy calls from the gate. ‘What are you two doing in here?’
‘Oi!’ a second voice joins in.
Pushing past her, Lily staggers towards us, veers onto a vegetable patch and stumbles about amongst a forest of broccoli,
