Chapter Text
I wake to the sound of the large metallic kettle being filled, the pitch getting higher the fuller it becomes. The soft hiss of the gas as it comes out of the jets on the hob, the loud clicking of the piezo lighter, and the satisfying sound as the gas ignites.
I look up and the skylight and notice stars against the darkness. In my sleepy state, I wonder why the kettle is on at this early hour. I slide out of bed, my feet touch the cold floor as I rub my eyes.
I can see Richard sitting with his back to me, the dim light of his phone sat beside him. I stroke his back as I pass, heading for the kitchenette to prepare the mugs for when the water boils. I find the decaf tea bags in the cupboard, and take the milk from the fridge.
The tone in the water changes—indicating the imminent boiling—I lower the gas so the whistle does not get a chance to sound, far too early for that. I take the two mugs of tea and join Richard at the dinette, placing them on the table.
“I didn’t mean to wake you darling,” Richard whispers apologetically.
“That’s OK, I’m happy to make you a cuppa, even if it is still dark,” I say smiling. “Especially on your birthday.” I kiss him, running my hand through his ever-widening grey streak, the salt and pepper effect throughout his hair suiting him, as the big four-O looms ever closer.
As promised, whilst eating chips back in June 2020, we have come back to this same field every year, although work commitments haven’t always allowed for it to be in Richard’s birthday week. Just a few nights to relax, unwind, and be ourselves from our ever-evolving world, in a place has hardly changed in the thirty years since I first came here, and probably the thirty years prior to that.
“I’m not sure why it has to be 3 am, I thought we managed to sort this weeks ago” Richard grumbles, looking at his phone.
“It’s because we’re away, it’s to be expected. Hopefully means we’ll get a lie-in” I say wistfully.
“That would be nice. Do you hear that? We need a lie-in, please.”
We both look down at our perfect son, seven months old in his Father’s arms—finishing the bottle of formula he’s drinking—his sea-blue eyes slowly closing. The white of a tiny tooth threatening to emerge is the reason for the early wake-up call—teething the next in a long list of things we never thought we would be dealing with a few years ago.
I finish my tea and take our son into my arms, rubbing his back to expel any wind. With a kiss on his forehead, I place him back into his travel cot, passing him his favourite toy, Wolfie. I watch for a moment, in awe of this small person who has brought so much joy into our lives, as he settles down to sleep—his arms in the surrender position, his bottom lip protruding slightly—before returning to the bed where Richard is already drifting off too.
In a little under two years, our lives have changed so much. So many friends around us started having children—it seemed that month could not pass without a friend or family member announcing that they were expecting—and we knew that we would not let being a gay couple stand in the way of becoming parents.
We started looking into the possibility of starting a family by joining Surrogacy UK—a surrogacy through friendship organisation that brings surrogates and intended parents together, so that friendships can form, leading to dreams coming true. Through them we met Emma and instantly clicked, she had never been a surrogate before but had friends who had become parents through Surrogacy UK. Seeing the joy that baby had brought, not only to the gay couple but their families and friends, lead Emma to finding out more as she wanted to help spread the love and joy she had witnessed.
The ball was most definitely in Emma’s court, as the ratios of intended parents to potential surrogates are usually around five to one. We got to know her and her family—she is married with three children of her own—she loves being pregnant, but her family is complete. We were so excited when she chose us for what she calls ‘extreme babysitting’. Her husband is in full agreement—essential for a smooth running of all the legalities. It was not long ago that the surrogate and her husband's name would remain on the birth certificate for six months, despite the husband having no biological tie to the baby. Thankfully the law has recently changed after years of petitioning.
Seven months after meeting Emma all the paperwork was completed and we could try for our pregnancy, which thankfully worked the first time. Richard and I were able to be there for all hospital appointments, scans, and of course the labour and water birth. This was the most amazing experience of our life, and Emma was a star. I cut the cord while Richard had first skin to skin contact. Together we discovered we had a son, and both burst into tears of joy. We named him Daniel Richard Dexter after Elton’s song and my first professional role, Grandpa, and our director friend.
Emma and her family have remained friends and Daniel will grow up knowing his ‘Special Auntie’. He does not have a mother, however, he does have two doting fathers. Richard chooses to be called Pa and I’m Daddy, at least for now, Daniel may change this himself in time. With four Aunties—Richard and my sisters—two Grandmothers and three Grandfathers, Daniel has a family who loves and spoils him, and our friends adore him too. His smiles and cuteness spread love to whoever sees him.
Taking our tiny bundle home from the hospital that first night was terrifying, just like any other new parents. However we got into a routine quite quickly, Daniel is an easy-going baby who feeds and sleeps well. We read all the books—our mothers would say too many—in hope that we would get everything right, however, babies tend to go off-piste just when you think you got it sussed. What never fails to amaze us is the unconditional love that we feel for this tiny human who is totally reliant on us for everything.
We agreed—in the very early stages, before even meeting Emma—that our work schedules should allow for at least one of us to be available to be the ‘stay at home’ parent. This sometimes involves joining the other Dad on location, usually if they’re going to be away for more than a week. We have so far managed to keep knowledge of our son out of the media too. Elton and David have been fabulous at helping out with this, and many other aspects of being famous parents.
Cute baby gurgling noises, as Daniel ‘talks’ to Wolfie, wake me again. Thankfully it is light this time, my phone advising it’s seven-thirty—this constitutes a lie-in nowadays. I get Daniel from his cot and change his wet nappy before making up his bottle. I sit in the passenger seat of the cab, opening the blinds to look at the view while I feed him, stroking his soft downy hair. His eyelashes are so long and dark, framing the amazing blue eyes that he has inherited from his Pa.
When it came to trying to conceive, mixing our sperm was not an option, and we have not told anyone which of the samples were used. However, you only need to look at Daniel to see he’s definitely more Madden than he is Egerton. If we do decide to try for a sibling—in a few years—then it will be my sample used.
His bottle finished, I sit Daniel up against my chest and show him the view out of the window. I take a selfie of the two of us, his smile lighting up the screen when he sees himself. I’m telling him about going for a walk to the beach later when Pa gets up and looking for the fishes in the rock pools. He has no idea what I’m saying but acts interested anyway.
“What was that about Pa getting up?” Richard’s voice behind me makes us both jump.
“Daniel look, it’s Pa,” I swing round in the swivel chair to face him.”Say Happy Birthday Pa.” I lift Daniel up for Richard to take him from me.”Happy birthday darling.” I kiss his cheek as I squeeze past to put the kettle on.
After presents are opened and breakfast is eaten, Richard dresses Daniel while I pack the bags for the day—going anywhere always requires multiple bags packed. The forecast is perfect for a trip on the beach with a baby—not too hot with a slight breeze—it’s exactly as predicted when we make our way down the field, across the lane, over the dunes and to the edge of the sand. The easy pop-up tent provides essential shade, and the tartan picnic blanket—thoroughly washed after some suspicious stains were spotted—is laid on the sand to sit on.
It’s still early, and with children still in school on this Thursday morning, the beach is empty apart from a handful of dog walkers.
Richard takes Daniel out of the Palouse he has strapped to his chest and lies him down on the blanket. This is the first time I have seen our son properly since Richard dressed him, and I bite my tongue when I see the ridiculously expensive Gucci tracksuit—a gift from the Furnish-Johns if memory serves—definitely not appropriate beachwear for a seven-month-old.
While Richard is rummaging in one of the bags I take my opportunity to start to strip the clothes from our son. Even the trainers and socks are Gucci, it’s like he’s been dressed as Elton! I shake my head as I try to fathom what possessed Richard to even pack such an outfit for a few days in a field, let alone dress a baby in it for the beach. I’m not going to bring it up now though, not on Richard’s birthday.
With Daniel stripped down to just his vest and T-shirt I consider leaving him like that, but as the dribble on his chin is about to hit the one hundred pound item of clothing I whip it off and wipe him with a muslin in one swift movement.
It’s only after I folded all the removed garments do I look down at our son, kicking happily on his back in just a vest, which I don’t recognise.
The white cotton vest has some writing on it that I can’t make out, I look around for where I have put my glasses down. Daniel giggles as I tickle his chubby little legs—the best sound in the world. I look again at the writing. It says:
“DADDY, WILL YOU MARRY MY PA?”
I read it through twice, looking up at Richard, who’s on one knee in front of me, a ring box in his hand. He sweeps Daniel up with his other arm and closes the gap between us, both their faces looking at me expectantly.
My eyes glaze over so I can no longer see anything other than outlines. The love in my heart swells so much it actually hurts.
As a single tear falls down my cheek, the only thing I can manage to say is “Yes!”