Sod's Law Pt. 07

"Do we need to?" she asked. Then looked horrified. "You're telling me that if the baby's Barry's, you won't accept it? We would have no future?"

I didn't need to think, I was already shaking my head. "No, that's not what I'm saying. Helen, we are together come what may. Nothing is going to separate us any more. So anything we decide takes that for granted: we decide together and we stick together - unless you want different?"

"No! That's what I want as well."

"So we have decisions to make."

"You mean... I mean, are you set on knowing if you're the father?"

"If I never knew for certain, if we didn't find out, I suppose I'd always wonder. I think it would subtly affect my attitude to the baby. There would always be that niggling doubt, which I think is worse than knowing. I will love our baby no matter what, but I don't want to be always wondering. I can't just pretend; I can't block it out.

"Then there is the question of whether Barry has any rights in this. We are sticking together, so we are going to bring up the child no matter who's the father. Is it better that Barry knows if the child is his? Or do we keep it from him? Do we put the possibility that the child is his to him, or do we wait until after the birth and find out. Then what do we do?

"If I'm the father, it's pretty straightforward, you can continue to work until your contract ends and your training's finished, but this house is unsuitable for bringing up children, so we'd have to buy a house, furnish it and get married, though not necessarily in that order. In fact, we'll have to get a house regardless, since we're going to bring the child up."

"But what if you know the baby is Barry's?" she asked. "Where would that leave you? Won't you have a different attitude to him or her from our own children? And if you act as the child's father and Barry is the real father, surely he'd have right of access?

"On the face of it, it would be easier if he didn't know," I said. "but I don't know whether I could do that to him."

I had not got round to thinking about that dilemma; what I was sure of was that I would bring the child up as my own: even if the baby were not mine, it was Helen's, and it would be easy to love whom she loved. She was right, the child was entitled to a secure and loving family around it and I resolved he or she would have that.

I then reasoned that if we had discovered I was infertile and she had IVF from a donor, would I treat the child as my own? Of course I would. Knowing Barry was the father really should make no difference, except the knowledge that the child was conceived in love. I immediately felt better, at least for a time.

But whether to tell Barry...? It then came clear to me: first we needed to know who was the father, and that would not be until after the birth. Only then, and only if Barry was the father would we need to face the other dilemma. Cross bridges when you come to them.

Helen had been sitting patiently waiting for some response from me.

I think I had my ducks in row.

"So," I began. "One, The baby will be born and brought up by you regardless. Two, we are together whether or not the baby is mine. Three, we do not know whose the baby is, and won't until after the birth, and only if Barry is the father do we then need to face the question of what we do about that. Four, now we know you're pregnant, we need to find a place to live."

This got a wide smile from her and she came and sat next to me on the bed, hugging herself to my side.

"Helen," I said. "I am going to assume I am the father until proved otherwise. In any case, it will be our baby."

"Do we need to get married?" she asked, rather timidly, I thought.

"No one worries about about illegitimacy any more," I said. "It might affect what surname goes on the birth certificate - it would be yours if we aren't married, but it could be yours in any case. If you want to marry before the birth, we will have to get going right away. You would be marrying with a baby bump!"

Helen thought for a while. "I don't care if Barry is the father, I'm putting your name on the birth certificate was the father. We do that before we find out who the father is."

"Well." I said with a laugh, "we seem to have settled into parenthood remarkably quickly! Is your mind at rest now?"

She climbed onto me, straddling my thighs and leaning in for a kiss. "There's nothing we can do about the baby, we just have to adjust to the fact that we won't have any married time to ourselves before having children, so we'll have to adjust to that future. We had that year here together; that will have to suffice for our alone time as a couple. As long as we're together I don't really care what happens. We can have our family while we're young enough to enjoy them."

"So about getting married?" I asked her. It had to be her choice.

"I want to be married. We could do it in April," she said with conviction.

"We can do it this very minute!" I quipped.

She scowled, then grinned. "Good idea! But regarding the wedding, I have one week's holiday left owing. The office are pretty flexible about my time off since I'm a trainee. I have a wedding dress already.

"Easter is early this year, end of March, so we could look for the first Saturday in April and book a holiday the following week. I shouldn't be showing too much by then. Training finishes in June, so I'll have a month before the birth."

I laughed and tickled her ribs making her squirm and giggle.

"You worked it all out before, didn't you?" I accused her.

"It depended on how you reacted," she said blithely. "I trusted you would react exactly as you have, so, yes, that was plan A. What I trusted would then happen was that you'd take me to bed and roger me senseless, which you have already implied. I didn't have a plan B!"

"Rogering can be arranged," I said, pushing her off my lap, and holding her up as she gained her feet. Then I pushed off my trousers and underpants and slipped off my shirt. Then sat and removed trousers from ankles, shoes off feet and socks off same. Then stood up naked.

"I'm ready!" I said.

She was staring at me with a wondering expression, then, looking down pointedly at my penis,

"You're not!" she rejoined. "You need to stiffen up!"

"You need to strip, and I can assure you that stiffening will occur without a doubt."

Of course I was right. She slipped her sweater over her head and unclipped her bra, allowing both garments to fall to the floor while she cupped her breasts in each hand, running her thumbs over her nipples, which obligingly stood out firmly, as did my cock at the sight.

She came into my arms, rubbing herself against me, her nips pricking chest. Her hand going to my cock.

"I think you need to take off my jeans," she said suggestively, "and slip down my little knickers. Then you can finger my clit and push your fingers into my twat while I give your cock a little wank to keep him hard."

"If I'm stripping your body to make you naked," I growled, "he'll stay hard all on his own."

"Shall I stop then?" she asked coquettishly, arching her eyebrows, and prodding me with those sharp tits.

"No," I groaned. "You may continue as I remove your clothing."

"Thank you sir," she giggled, as I pushed down her jeans, which she kicked off, then I slipped my hands inside her bikini panties and stroked her rounded bottom and thighs downward before the flimsy wisps fell of their own accord. I held her hips, bent my knees and she spread her legs, she pushed my cock between the petals of her sex, a half sigh, half grunt expressing her pleasure at the pressure on her ready furrow.

"I think this adjacent bed would be a perfect place to be now," she suggested. I nodded.

She sat on the side of it, then lay flat, widening her legs to display herself to me. "I would very much like you to stuff your prick up my pussy, if you don't mind and it would please you," she said with mock seriousness.

"I think I think it would please me greatly," I replied, though a grin forced its way onto my face.

"Go on then!" she urged, my own grin allowing hers. "I think there's an aperture wide open for it. Would you do me from a standing position please. That would really set me on my path to heavenly pleasure, I am sure."

We couldn't keep the stilted pretence up any longer and dissolved into giggles.

"Fuck me, my lover," she said gutturally, laughing, "Ram it in, pound me, slam it into my helpless kitty."

"Oh, yeah!" I shouted as I lined my cock with her 'aperture' and pushed hard. "Here it comes!"

"That's it!" she agreed. "Right in! Now shag me you stud!"

All the time we were laughing, smiling, grinning, smirking as I did as I had been bid and 'pounded', our bodies slamming together again and again.

Helen's smile slipped away from her as a look of concentration took its place, her eyes half lidded as she exhaled loudly with each crashing thrust. Her hands clenched on the bed sheet as her body became rigid.

"Ugh! Yes! Ugh! Here it is! Ugh! I'm coming! Oh my Lord! Oh, Fuck! Too much! Come you bastard! Come now!" All this accompanying a convulsive thrashing beneath me, her face in a rictus borne of the intensity wracking her.

I came as well, pushing as deep as I could, holding still my breath and my body, delaying the delicious moment of gushing into her until I could resist no longer, and let go.

"I feel you!" she cried. "I feel you throbbing, OH! Here I go again!" She screamed out a long wail as her eyes rolled into her head and she collapsed limp on the bed. I fell forward onto her bending at the waist, feet still on the ground, my mouth on a tit which I languidly sucked, and her hand randomly caressed my hair.

It was an odd position for us both in which to fall asleep, but we did for a short time.

We were awoken by a tapping at the door.

Nuala. "Eating in quarter of an hour," she shouted through through the door.

"Thanks!" we shouted in unison and giggled. I stood and pulled her up off the bed.

We showered (separately) briefly, and dressed.

"Do we tell them?" Helen asked.

"D'you want to?" I parried.

"Yes, let's!" she grinned. "It's such a relief to have got everything sorted out - at least everything that can be sorted out."

Dinner, in this case a nut roast from the veg side, was one of Imogen's specialities. I noticed Helen picked at it a little then took a mouthful, and that seemed to get her going, for she finished her slice, and asked for more.

I wondered if she were having second thoughts about the announcement. Conversation flowed freely and everyone - except Helen - were relaxed after the week's work. Helen was definitely tense.

Nuala was getting up to clear the table when Helen asked her to wait a moment, and everyone else stopped what they were doing, wondering what was going on.

Helen began, "We've two things to tell you all: we hope to get married in April, and I'm pregnant. The pregnancy is accidental - I missed some pills when David came and proved we're not related. His intervention caused chaos and I missed some pills. So the baby's due sometime in July and we decided to get married before then."

There was a babble of delighted chatter and congratulations, so I decided to put in my two penn'th while excitement was high.

"So we'll be looking for a house to buy as soon as possible."

There was a sudden lull in the babble of conversation.

"You're moving out?" gasped Imogen.

"But... why?" asked Kim with an air of desperation.

"You sure?" asked Chris. "I mean, you run the place."

"I can continue to 'run the place', as you put it, Chris," I said. "I hope we won't be moving far."

"I don't understand," Kim repeated. "Why do you need to..."

"We have one room," I said. "It's not a self contained flat, Kim. It's upstairs, the bathroom is tiny, it's a long way from the kitchen, laundry, etc. You can't bring up a baby here in those conditions. Babies cry - loudly, you don't need that keeping you awake at night."

It cast somewhat of a damper on the festivities, and we began to move to do the washing up. I noted that Nuala said nothing and looked thoughtful and upset. She had got herself engaged the previous year, and I wondered if she was wondering whether her own days in the house were numbered.

We finished the washing up and putting away, and with congratulations from them we bade everyone good night.

We planned our strategy for the weekend and then, needless to say, there was an affectionate romp with Helen before we settled to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms.

So after breakfast we toured every estate agent we could find and collected fact sheets on a wide selection of properties which we took home and went through in detail, discarding those either beyond our financial capability or needing too much attention, in the wrong place or simply that we didn't like the look of it.

This left us with a handful ready for Sunday, when we toured around viewing the properties from the outside, and again discarding some where the estate agent's estimation of their attractiveness did not coincide with ours. It left six, of which I would attempt to book a viewing the following weekend.

Meanwhile, Helen searched for possible venues for wedding 'breakfasts', and I, who seemingly had been Christened in the Church of England by my teenage mother, found a Parish Church a walking distance from the House. We agreed that we would be married where we would live. She didn't want to be married where her previous attempt at a wedding had fallen through.

On the following Friday Helen returned ready for a weekend of house viewing, but it was not to be. At the evening meal, there seemed some excitement. Alan Watkins had been elected spokesman.

"Last weekend you said that when you were married and had the baby, it would be impossible to live here. We think we've found a way for you to stay here if you want to."

"Go on!" I said with a smile. I didn't think it was possible.

"What rooms do we have on the ground floor?" Alan asked with sparkling eyes.

"The guest bedrooms!" exclaimed Helen, seeing it before I did.

"Exactly," said Nuala. "We've got an idea."

"Go on!" I said laughing.

"The guest bedrooms are in that corridor opposite the laundry room," said Alan. There's even a door to shut the suite of rooms off at the entrance to the corridor. Make one of the rooms a sitting room, another a bedroom for you and the third for the baby. There's the bathroom with a bath as well as a shower. Then there's that mini kitchen, and there's even a separate door out to the garden."

"What will you do about guests?" I asked.

"How many times have we had those rooms occupied?" asked Nuala. "To my memory we've only used them once and that was only one room for a weekend."

"There are still the attic rooms, which have a shared bathroom," added Imogen, "and if you moved down there, your room would be empty as well."

All the residents wore broad smiles.

"We know you'll need a house eventually," said Nuala. "I can't see teenage children running round the place, but it gives you time to settle into life with a baby. You can take your time finding just the right house instead of being rushed.

"If you were down here, you're a long way from the other bedrooms. No one will hear a baby crying in the night except you! What's more, you have a raft of resident babysitters."

"And," said Imogen, "you get your meals cooked for you!"

I saw the relief on Helan's face, and the idea appealed to me as well. "Brilliant idea!" I enthused. "I'll need to read the trust's house regulations carefully for alteration of use, and I don't remember any mention of children, but it seems ideal."

Everyone trooped out of the kitchen and down the corridor to the guest bedrooms.

"It's definitely doable," Helen said.

"We don't want to lose you so soon," said Chris with a grin. "It'll be fun having a baby around. The girls are already turning broody."

Suddenly the weekend was radically changed! Instead of looking at houses, we looked at hotels and restaurants, and we visited the Church, which was late nineteenth century and quite pretty.

The fact it was not an older church reminded us that originally River House was the only house for miles around, and with the inhabitants being Jewish there was no need for a chapel of their own! Until the housing grew up around the House there was no need for a church.

By the end of Sunday we had made an appointment to see the vicar the following Friday, and earmarked three hotels for a reception who had vacancies for a wedding. Once again, as Helen was packing to leave, there was a delegation of three at our door, Nuala, Chris and Kim.

"Alan, Annette and Imogen have delegated us," said Kim. "We've got an idea you might like to think about."

"Hmm?" smiled Helen. "Another one?"

"Why are you looking at hotels for the Wedding meal?" Chris asked. "We've got a ballroom where a crowd could eat, with a dining room off to service it. The kitchen is a caterer's dream! Why not get caterers in and have the reception here?"

Helen and I looked at each other and smiled.

"There are two distinctive advantages to living here," said Helen. "One, a massive pile of a building with lots of rooms; two, highly intelligent and resourceful fellow residents to have brilliant ideas. That's twice now: the rooms downstairs and catering possibilities for the wedding. I think we're going to have to invite these people, you know?" She said with a smile.

"Really?" I said, trying to sound surprised. "Perhaps you're right. You folks are marvellous!"

So I was deputed by my inamorata to find a caterer. I knew Ezra Seddon had parties at his house and had them catered, so I asked him. He gave me two names.

"Both are completely efficient," he said. "And neither of them is Jewish, so you'll get your ham and pork, as well as milk products at the same meal." He laughed at the relieved look on my face.

The appointment with the Vicar on the following Friday went well and we booked the church for Saturday 5th April at 3pm.

The Banns would be read on three Sundays in February, in that church and in Helen's Parish Church. We attended a Sunday service in each Church to hear them read, and the whole contingent of the House came with us at our end.

We were surprised when Helen's parents accompanied us to theirs,. The parishioners in both churches congratulated us and those at Helen's church did not seem to be at all surprised at a second set of Banns for Helen, though there were friendly smiles.

I was concerned that Kathleen Metcalfe might feel spurned by our not marrying from their house in their church, but now she was well over the trauma of the cancelled wedding, she asserted that she couldn't go through all that preparation all over again, and felt she was well out of it! I knew Helen was keeping her well informed.

What surprised me was her parents' reaction to Helen's pregnancy. We had to explain how it happened (the accident, not the mechanics) and they took it calmly. Indeed Kathleen was excited about becoming a grandmother! My Mum just shrugged, hugged and congratulated us, and there were hugs from Craig, Nessa and Gina.

Everything went smoothly. Helen came to me most weekends and she and the other women in the house took on the wedding preparations. She spent a great deal of time with them, but I got her in the evenings.

There were a good number of phone calls to and fro, from which I was excluded, though I was usually allowed a word or two with Helen on the phone when the important female business was concluded.

Thankfully, Helen's pregnancy was relatively trouble free. She had some morning sickness, but that did not last beyond a week or two. She glowed with motherhood, as many women do. I did have concerns that as she began to show, Barry might ask if he were the father, but even after the wedding when she definitely did show, he made no comment, and asked no questions.