Legacy by Jayne Olorunda Page A

stick of furniture was delivered to the house, they said goodbye to their University road flat and made the move.
    Fortunately Max had promised to decorate, he had often boasted of his handyman skills, his talent with a paintbrush and all things DIY. After the expense of the move and acquiring furniture, at least they would save on hiring a decorator. Gabrielle selected the paint and paper and Max took a few days off to begin work.
    By day two Max’s efforts contradicted his talk of his great talents. If his talent was painting floors, windows and brand new furniture, then certainly he was an expert. If his talent was turning wallpaper to bubbling shreds, then he was a genius. Yet none of his talents were what Gabrielle had in mind. Before he painted anymore furniture, or destroyed another roll of her expensive wall paper, she advised him that unless he wanted a divorce he was banned from attempting a single piece of work in the house again. Max was swiftly despatched back to work and his handyman skills thoroughly discredited. Gabrielle resorted to seeking the services of a professional decorator. It was tight but he managed to get the house finished within two weeks of the due date.
    The new neighbours were lovely. They consisted of mainly young couples like themselves either starting a family or planning to. Within two weeks of moving in, they had made a wealth of new friends all thoroughly welcoming and hospitable. Gabrielle was confident that in the remainder of her maternity leave she certainly wouldn’t feel alone.
    They had decorated the baby’s room in lemon. Gabrielle was superstitious and didn’t want to know the sex; nor make too many preparations before the birth. The room was simply painted and carpeted. Anything else needed would be bought after the child’s arrival.
    The only thing that Gabrielle felt she could do at this stage without tempting fate was to hang the curtains. She made her way to the babies little room and began adding curtain hooks to the edge of the curtain, carefully counting in the pleats. Just as she was about to hang them, a knock came to the front door. She shuffled down the stairs making slow progress as her mobility was constrained by her enormous bump. A whole two minutes later she reached the door. Fearing that the caller would have left she didn’t peak through the safety hole that Max insisted on and instead she quickly opened it. There on the door step stood her mother and father. She was astonished she didn’t have any words or thoughts she just stood there wide eyed and regarded them.
    â€œHello Gabrielle,” her mother said “May we come in?”
    Gabrielle opened the door wider, stood back and let them pass.
    â€œWell you certainly have a lovely home,” her mother said, visibly impressed
    â€œThanks.”
    Confused now, she asked “how did you know where I live?” She hadn’t been in touch with her parents since the letter she had received prior to the wedding.
    â€œMax,” her father said, “he wrote us a letter. He told us that you were married and that you were pregnant.”
    Her mother interrupted: “we couldn’t ignore the letter and we certainly couldn’t ignore our first grandchild.”
    â€œOh,” Gabrielle was touched that Max had contacted her parents, even more touched that he had kept it to himself.
    She cried, she can’t say that they were tears of joy (more shock) but her parents took this as some sort of a sign because before she knew it she was inundated with hugs.
    â€œJohn go and put the kettle on,” her mother demanded dismissing her father to an unfamiliar kitchen, in an unfamiliar house. Some things never change.
    â€œIt’s ok, I’ll do it.”
    â€œYou will not, not in your condition,” her mother demanded and ushered her to sit down.
    Before long in her mother’s infamous interrogation style, she had caught up on the marriage, the