Birth, Marriage and Death

You Can't Change What Happened

A/N:

So, this week has been a completely weird week.  I had an amazing day on Wednesday, spent the whole day in London with my friend before KC in the evening, went to the Sky Garden for cocktails.  The gig was amazing and we had really good seats, about level with Ricky's podium in the middle.  But the evening before we found out my sister in law had had a heart attack and she's still in intensive care on a heart bypass machine.  Total highs and lows this week!  I'd repeat the highs in a heartbeat.

Anyway, on with the story:

Poppy

I don't think I'd ever been as nervous as I was when we arrived at Ricky's parents house on Christmas Eve. It didn't help that I was tired; despite sleeping almost the whole time Ricky had been driving my body was still exhausted by the combined effects of being pregnant and fighting off a cold I'd managed to pick up a few days earlier. Ricky was sure I'd got it when I was sitting on that bench waiting for him for so long and now didn't really want me to go outside at all unless I was bundled up in about twenty layers of clothing.

At least today all those layers disguised my growing belly. I'd deliberately worn several loose layers of clothing, knowing that they would hide any change in my figure until I chose to reveal it.

As we stood at his parents' door waiting for them to answer his knock I felt scared to death; like a naughty child about to be reprimanded by a teacher or stern relative. I clutched Ricky's hand tightly, wanting to hide behind him, not really wanting to be here. He'd told me several times that it would be fine, that his parents were happy that we were back together and that they didn't think badly of me at all, but I couldn't quite believe him. I knew – or at least had an idea of – how much I'd hurt him when I left; how could they be okay with that?

My grip on Ricky's hand tightened and he smiled down at me reassuringly as the front door swung open. My heart was hammering in my chest as I forced myself to look up from the ground and at whoever had answered the door. It was his mum, Linda. She was lovely, petite and blonde with Ricky's blue eyes and easy smile.

"Poppy, how wonderful to see you dear," she said immediately stepping forward to hug me and kiss me on both cheeks. "How are you? Ricky says you've been poorly."

She stepped back and led me into the house as I replied, telling her it was just a cold and I was feeling a lot better.

"That's good," she said, taking my coat and handing it to Ricky to hang up alongside his. "Now you just rest while you're here, you're a guest in this house; I don't want you feeling you've got to help out with chores while you're poorly."

"Thank you," I smiled, feeling a little less nervous. Linda was as lovely and warm and welcoming as she had been on each of the previous occasions I'd met her, even the last, disastrous time when I'd broken down while we were out for afternoon tea; perhaps they really were fine with this.

She ushered us into the lounge, finally turning her attention to her son and asking Ricky how our journey had been and telling him a couple of small items of family news. Then before I knew it I was face to face with Ricky's dad, Alan. I was a little more nervous of him; he was quieter than Linda, never said that much and I never knew quite what he was thinking. But today he was as welcoming, albeit quieter than his wife, hugging me and telling me how lovely it was to see me.

I started to relax even more then as we sat down on the sofa in the lounge and Linda returned with a tray of tea things. It really did seem as if they were okay with this, with me being here. They didn't hold a grudge against me for what I'd done to Ricky. It seemed that the only person doing that was me.