
Tara King’s day job is in digital marketing for publishers. She reads widely and her current influences include (and this is just a handful) Wendy Erskine, Lucy Caldwell, Jhumpa Lahiri, Katherine Heiny and Emma Cline.
‘Three is the Magic Number’ is a short story in a collection about family life.
Email: tking003@gold.ac.uk
Twitter: @taraKing
Three is the Magic Number
Tess had been looking forward to having a coffee all morning, even if it was from a machine in a café at the soft play centre she had brought her daughter Dora to for a birthday party. But after one sip the pleasure was gone. It tasted funny. Tess felt light-headed. Maybe she was pregnant again. Tiredness clung to her and the last few nights she had plunged into a deep sleep riddled with dreams, waking up hungry with an urgency to eat toast. This morning she had struggled to do up her bra. She was pregnant.
Tess couldn’t remember exactly when she last had her period. She had been advised by her doctor to have a coil after the Pill started giving her migraines. When she went to the family planning clinic to have it fitted and saw the implant sitting in the metal kidney tray ready for insertion, she changed her mind. The thought of the T-shaped apparatus wedged at the top of her womb made her clench her thighs together.
‘I just couldn’t face it,’ she told her husband Dan. ‘It looked so angry.’
So, they agreed to be careful while she looked into the other options.
Tess could see her daughter Dora jumping around in the padded ball pit with her friends. A toddler was lobbing balls out of the pit onto the floor. Tess sighed. On the neighbouring table, a baby let out a whimper and Tess watched the mother put a protective hand on her child’s tummy. The baby let out a howl and the mother lifted him and settled him on her lap, pulling up her top as he rooted for a feed. Tess felt her phone buzz in her pocket. It was a message from Dan to say he was back home with their three-year-old son Jack.
She tapped out, ‘I think I’m pregnant,’ and then deleted it.
She scrolled back through her messages. Their conversations were functional and mostly arrangements or requests for more milk and bread. She couldn’t think when they’d last had a proper conversation about something other than the kids. They needed to get out, just the two of them. Go for dinner, or even to the theatre. But with a new baby, Tess knew they would struggle to even get to the playground. A new baby meant going back to the beginning again.
Until she became a mother, Tess felt she was good at life. She had breezed through school and university then landed a job in human resources. Even her dating life had been simple, having met Dan at a friend’s house-warming party. She would never have thought that night when they were chatting in the kitchen of her friend’s new flat that a kiss and swapping phone numbers would evolve into a wedding and then two kids and a house in the suburbs of south London. Dora’s arrival was harder than she expected and during the first few long weeks as a new mother she felt under siege. The cycle of feeding, the crying, the panicky feelings that she was not doing it right. The sleepless nights. And just when they felt they had a steer on life again they had Jack. It was easier second time around as they knew what to expect but Tess was not sure she could do it all again a third time. She had planned to go back to work this year but hadn’t found the right thing yet. The company she worked for merged over her maternity leave and she accepted a voluntary redundancy. Finding a part-time role with flexible hours wasn’t easy. She was too experienced. Too old. Tess felt the world of work drifting out of her grasp. The children’s day was so short and seeing Jack and Dora’s faces beam up at her when they spotted her at the classroom door reassured her that she was doing something right.
Tess sprinted straight upstairs to the bathroom when she got home. She knew there was a test kit buried in the cabinet. She locked the door and sat on the loo. She held the test in her hand waiting for the results, listening to the sound of her breath. It was positive. She imagined the ball of cells inside her doubling and expanding. It was probably the size of a peanut now or maybe a grape. She knew she had to tell Dan later once the kids had had their bath and bedtime story and were in bed. Once they’d stopped pleading to come downstairs for a last snack.
‘I’m hungry.’
Or wanting a drink of water.
‘I’m thirsty.’
Or begging Tess to lie on the floor next to their beds.
‘I’m lonely.’
Once the house was quiet, she’d tell Dan. Or maybe she wouldn’t tell him. She could slip off to the doctor and get a referral for those pills. She could tell Dan she was having a bad period. He wouldn’t pry. Although she could be around a couple of months pregnant now, so it was almost too late.
The door rattled. It was Dora.
‘Mummy, what are you doing?’
Tess shoved the stick into her pocket.
She flushed the loo and opened the door.
Dora looked at her suspiciously.
‘I’m hungry,’ she said.
They headed downstairs counting the numbers as they stepped. It would be a summer baby.
Dan was in the kitchen. She looked at him. They were approaching middle age and they’d be classified as old parents if they kept the baby. He had grey in his hair, and she was sure his ear lobes were getting bigger. Tess headed to the hob and opened the cupboard for pasta.
Dan was gazing down at his phone, probably making plans. He loved having dates in the diary and things to look forward to—big family Sunday lunches, dinners out with other couples. Tess glanced over to their family calendar pinned on the wall next to the fridge—their month ahead was jam-packed with arrangements.
‘Hey,’ he said looking over at her. ‘You alright? You look a bit pale.’
‘I’ve spent the afternoon in a soft play centre,’ she said.
‘Okay. You might need something stronger than tea then.’
Tess opened her mouth to tell him and then stopped. She usually blurted information out to Dan, but she found herself swallowing her words.
‘I’m fine… The kids are hungry so I’m going to crack on. It’ll have to be cheesy pasta again,’ she said, steering the conversation away from herself.
‘Well, that’s a favourite with them,’ he smiled. ‘I’ll do our dinner tonight.’
Tess wracked her brain to remember their conversations, if any, about having a third child. She could clearly recall when they stepped out of the ward as a new family of three to make their way home. The midwife at the hospital had cheerily waved them off with the words, ‘See you in two years.’ Tess had felt too bruised and battered by the birth to reply, but the nurse was right and two years later they were back. Jack was born and they left the hospital as a family of four. A girl and a boy. The perfect pair. People often told them they were lucky. They had one of each.
Jack was by her feet with his truck and Dan leaned down and scooped him up.
‘Come on big man. Let’s get you out of mum’s feet while she’s making your tea.’
Dan was good like that, pre-empting danger. People often told her how great a father he was. Tess watched Dan carrying Jack and felt a swell of love. Dan would be fine with a third baby. He was strong. He didn’t need much sleep. He would be hands-on with the baby and keep taking the kids to the playground and ferrying them to their activities. His dad would send him pictures of bigger family cars which he’d probably secretly like. It would be Tess’s body split open again with a third birth. The timer beeped. She drained the pasta, swirled in the cheese sauce and took their bowls over to the table. This time next year there could be three bowls, cups and spoons at the table. The thought made her jolt.
Tess hadn’t meant to keep the knowledge to herself, but she never found the right moment to tell Dan. She could have told him when they lay in bed that night, but she was enjoying cuddling up against him. He had kissed her neck and she felt intense happiness and didn’t want to break the moment. She should have told him on Sunday morning when he brought her a cup of tea in bed before the children jumped in. But still, she kept the news to herself.
Over the following week, babies popped up everywhere she looked. An advert for organic nappies followed her around on the internet. In the supermarket, a bald-headed baby in a buggy stared at her, locking her gaze with his wide blue eyes. Her friend shared a video of her baby staggering across the kitchen floor, taking his first steps. A pink baby sock was left on the wall by their house. These were all signs. Scrolling her socials, Tess zoomed in on a photo of a celebrity announcing the arrival of her third baby. The celebrity’s children leaned across the hospital bed to stroke their new sister. Tess gazed at the family image. The angelic newborn in a Moses basket, eyes closed like half-moons, a little white hat on her head. Tess could smell the distinct sweet smell of a new baby. This woman could be her. Smiling, with brushed hair and posing for photos. She wondered if she was having a girl or a boy.
The week passed in a blur until it was Saturday again. Another busy day tag-team parenting juggling parties, playgrounds and playdates. After tea and bath and the last bedtime story where Jack looked for the little stripy man in the corner of his favourite picture book.
‘Found him,’ he said pressing his small finger onto the page and breaking into a grin. His soft head, downy still with the last straggles of baby hair that she’d need to cut soon. Tess knew now was the moment. She kissed Jack and Dora goodnight and headed downstairs to find Dan. He was in the kitchen by the hob cooking a curry. The room smelt of warm spices. The light was dusky.
Tess walked over the breakfast bar, leaning against it. He looked up at her and smiled.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she said.
He put down the spoon, looked at her and said, ‘We’ve just got rid of the buggy.’
They stood for a moment in silence.
‘I can’t believe it. I don’t know what to say.’ He rubbed his face. ‘When’s it due? I mean, when are you due?’
‘July,’ she said. ‘I think.’
‘July.’ He paused for a moment and Tess imagined his mind moving, calculating the timespan. ‘Are you sure? I mean of course you are—’ he said, his face pale. He pulled at his ear, tugging his ear lobe. ‘When did you find out?’
Tess stood still digesting his reaction. Her face was hot. Her eyes dry.
‘Maybe a week ago.’
Tess watched the corner of his mouth twitch.
‘A week?’ he said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I tried but we’ve been busy.’
‘Not that busy, Tess.’
Tess watched Dan move over to the fridge, open it and take out a bottle of beer. He cracked it open with a hiss. She could hear him swallow his drink.
He rubbed his face and said, ‘Does everyone know? Am I the last one to find out?’
‘Of course not. I haven’t told anyone. I needed to get my head around it.’
‘I thought you were just tired but now it’s so obvious.’
Tess realised she was holding her hands on her tummy. The words blurted out of her mouth.
‘Do you want to keep it?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know Tess. We haven’t talked about a third baby.’ He swigged on the beer. A little bit of white froth stuck on his lip. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
He put the beer bottle down, with a chink on the counter.
‘I’m sorry… At least now the kids won’t keep asking for a dog.’
‘It’s not a joke, Tess,’ said Dan. His face looked tired. ‘Another baby will put us back to the beginning again.’
‘It’ll be easier this time. We know what we’re doing.’ She pushed aside the memory of her lying on the sofa feeling worn out. Dan turned away from her. ‘You’re great with babies.’ ‘I don’t think I have the bandwidth for another baby.’ A smell of burning food wafted across the kitchen. He turned to the hob, switched off the heat and pushed the pan away. The curry was congealed ‘And now I feel terrible for saying that.’
Tess could feel a flutter in her tummy. She imagined a moment in the future. Dora and Jack playing in the kitchen. Tess holding the baby. Dan to the side. They could make this work.
‘I assumed you’d be happy,’ she said.
‘It’s not that Tess. I thought we told each other everything. I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.’
‘It’s not like you didn’t enjoy making this baby,’ she said. Her voice was grumpy.
He sighed. ‘We didn’t plan to have a third baby. We didn’t even discuss having another baby.’
‘If you didn’t want another baby that much, why didn’t you have the snip?’
He flinched.
Tess could feel the baby tumbling and turning in her womb. The dishwasher let out a loud beep marking the end of the wash cycle, breaking their silence.
Dan came to the first scan appointment with her. In the waiting room of the maternity clinic Tess thought back to that day in the doctor’s surgery. It wasn’t only the sight of the coil sitting in the kidney dish that had put her off. The doctor had kept referring to her age and how the coil would see her through until her menopause. A decade stretched ahead with the implant leaking out hormones. Tess imagined her eggs growing older and wizened, slowly stopping. She should have told Dan how overwhelmed she felt. How confronted she felt by the end of her youth and fertility. She’d left the GP in a daze, her head spinning with unwanted information.
Tess heard her name being called and they made their way into the scan room. Dan followed her. She lay on the bed, pulling up her top and the nurse squirted cold jelly across her tummy. She felt the pressure of the ultrasound wand moving across her belly finding her womb. The nurse smiled at her. The clear sound of the fast drumbeat of the baby’s heart. The rhythmic pulse. Life goes on. Tess looked up at Dan. His eyes were locked on the screen as he reached out to her hand and squeezed it.