The Girl in the Locket

Chapter One

My husband James and I, we had made the decision only late Thursday evening, that we would take the trip to France. We wanted to see Paris. It would be our first holiday since having our youngest daughter Bea. It was one year overdue for me. I was so tired from the merry go round of Mommy duties, and baby talk. I loved Bea to socialise with other babies, but I hadn't bargained on having to talk about babies twenty four hours a day with other Moms. Baby talk was overrated. I got more of an interesting conversation out of my four year old daughter Clark than I did the other Mommies. With Clark it had been easier, in a sense, although times had been harder through her baby years, and life more unsettled, I hadn't had to attend Mommy and baby groups, nor spoken much baby talk. I certainly wasn't in the burbs back then, and assuming a role I wasn't to fit in naturally. I think that's why Clark had always been more of a mini adult than I knew Bea would be at her age.

James had wanted us to assume the traditional roles as parents, he would work and provide, and I would undertake all the child care and household tasks. Boy was I stupid to play along. I was a young Mom where we lived, and all other Mommies in my vicinity were thirty plus. They adored their roles in the home, and they were certainly the more typical soccer Moms. I just could not fit in, as much as I tried. This holiday was my out, out of the country and out of the burbs.

I don't know why Paris had appealed so much. I had always wanted to see Europe. James and I had never gotten the chance to go anywhere much since we had got married. James worked hard with his business, and my art work had taken off, so much so that even through my maternity leave I was painting and sketching commissioned work daily, with Bea strapped to my chest and Clark painting her own art work at my feet.

Mostly, I had to admit it, that it was the fear. The incident five years ago, It had given me a fear of the ocean, going over it or near it, either by plane or boat. It had ruined our honeymoon, when we never made it on the plane to the Bahamas. I was not going to ruin both Clark and Bea's experiences, by doing the same to them.

With fear still very much present in my heart, I clutched Bea close to me and held Clark under my right arm. I kept my eyes on them both the whole take-off. I fed Bea, soothed her, and cradled her as she slept soundly with not a care in the world. Clark had been easier than predicted too, she nodded off while watching her favourite cartoons on James iPad quite early in the flight. It had helped a little bit, to concentrate on both of the girls needs, and to not give my mind a chance to wonder into freak out territory. James held my hand in his, most of the flight, and looked relived half way in that I wasn't having a meltdown and being carried off by a flight Marshall. After hours of passing food, drink and euros over me and Clark to the flight attendant, bashing my knees as he slammed down his food tray and needing to walk the plane half a million times, James eventually fell asleep. I knew he would, and of course he left me holding the baby.

As the captain called out of the speaker, that we were to be landing in the next twenty minutes, I felt relief that soon we would be back on land. I looked over at James and his shaggy sandy haircut, his head on my shoulder. He had his mouth open, drooling. Little Bea was tucked in her blanket, her head resting on my other shoulder. Clark was cuddled into James's chest, her little mouth was open, just the same, her light brown curls falling just above her forehead. My eyes were sore, from staying awake the entire flight and watching children's cartoons. I had been bouncing a rather awake Bea on my lap, and trying to keep her amused.

I knew I had to get up and use the bathroom before we landed. I was desperate. My heart began to race a little though, thinking of handing over Bea to James, and moving away from them all to the bathroom. I didn't want to let her go or move from Clark's side. I shifted my shoulder a little, waking James, his grey flecked blue eyes flickered open, and he looked up at me sleepily.

"Can you take her? I need to use the bathroom" I asked.

He sat up and moved Clark over to her seat beside me, laying her down on a blanket. He pulled his T shirt down properly, removing the wrinkles and the crumbs from his last snack with a wave of his hand.

"Sure, here" He said, opening his arms to take her.

I gently handed Bea over to James, making sure not to wake her. She moved a little and wrinkled her nose as I let her go.

"You sure you will be okay Hon?" He whispered, watching me unbuckle and slide out of my seat.

"I think so" I whispered back nervously.

I bent down and kissed his forehead, and made my way to the bathroom.

After a quick freshen up I made my way back to my seat. Clark was eating a packet of goldfish bites, completely engrossed in the onscreen cartoons again to even notice me. Bea was now awake and in a charming mood. She was giving her Daddy lots of kisses, and blowing wet bubbles at him, well that was until she saw me slide in beside them. Bea's arms spread, and she reached around for me with her chubby little hands, her bottom lip began to shake with frustration that James wouldn't let her go. He held her against him, until I clasped my seat belt tight, and then with squeals of delight from Bea, James placed her back onto my lap.

He ruffled her dark hair and leant down once again with his head on my shoulder.

"She's such a Momma's girl" He accused, the frustration in his voice evident.

"She's just used to having me all the time is all. She looked happy enough when I was gone" I reminded him.

He smiled, and with a jovial manner replied. "Sure she's always nice to her Daddy, when we are alone, but then the boob machine turns up and its over"

"The boob machine?" I laughed.

"She's a little milk thug. She's all about the boobies. They were mine first" He whimpers that last bit to a smiling Bea.

"I think you mean, that my breasts, were mine, first" I corrected, with a smile on my lips.

"No, they were mine" Clark adds cheekily, stuffing another snack passed her pink lips.

Both James and I shared a quick grin. Clark had been joining in conversations a lot more lately with her take on whatever we are discussing at the time. Time and time again we forgot that little ears were listening.

Clark is fiercely independent for her age, and she craves both knowledge and understanding. It was sometimes both draining and fascinating to try and explain everything to her throughout the day. She demanded to be taught from an early age, and it made me both proud and scared a little at daughters thirst for knowledge. It wouldn't be long before she asked the hard questions, and I would be faced with my past once again, and the questions she would no doubt have, that even I as her Mother, had no answers to.

"When are you going to stop breast feeding?" James asked, as Clark returned her attention back to her cartoons.

I roll my eyes, it's the millionth time he's asked in the last six months. It's like a saga that just keeps going, no matter how many times I explain the benefits of my milk to him. As soon as she hit three months he started with this shit. I hear his voice in my head like a whiney brat "when can I get my boobs back?" That's what he really means. I take a deep breath before responding.

"I have. I stopped a month ago" I reply frustrated, pushing down the food tray between us and placing Beas bottom on it while I desperately search her diaper bag, one handily trying to retrieve her bunny. "James if you paid any attention to me at all, you would have heard me tell you a hundred times that she's been on solids for about three months. I only give her breast milk at night. and it's in a bottle now"

He sat up, his head leaving my shoulder, and his eyes now gravitating to my chest as if in shock. "You mean I got my friends back?" He asked with a laugh.

I rolled my eyes again, retrieving Bea's favourite toy, and placing it back into her waiting hands. I brought her back into my arms, and flipped the food tray back up, latching it in place.

"For that comment...never...not a damn chance in hell, or your wildest dreams" I replied, bouncing Bea as she pulled at my long silky black hair.

James laughed and closed his eyes, collapsing back to sleep against my shoulder.

"Not in hell" Clark sung proudly.

I rolled my eyes at my own words coming from my baby's lips. I was a bad mother.