Zombies

by Liz

“It’s your turn”

“Uh?“

“She’s crying, don’t pretend you can’t hear”

Steph kicked Simon a little too hard in the shin.

“FUCK! OK!”

“Don’t swear, she...”

“She’s 4 months old!”

Simon grabbed his still warm dressing gown from the back of the door, slung it over his body and plodded through the dark across the small landing to the nursery.

“sshh sshh ssshhhh, it’s OK princess, daddy is here…again…cos mummy is obviously in need of more sleep.” He leant into the cot and picked up the now puce baby. Bringing her up to his chest, he started to bob up and down while humming ‘YMCA’ at half speed. She had fallen asleep to it once and now Simon swore it was her favourite and the only thing to calm her back down.

“Please Abby, please. Daddy has got to be in work today. Give daddy just a little break.”

He picked up Lamby and shuffled back out onto the landing with Abby showing no signs of relenting.

“Simon?” Steph called from the darkened bedroom.

“It’s OK, I’m taking her down for a bottle. She’s just hungry” He flicked on the hallway light and started to head downstairs. Steph turned over and pulled the covers up higher to cover her head.

“Fuck.” The clock on the chimney breast read 04:30. Simon’s shift started at 6 – there was no hope of anything resembling sleep again this morning. He crossed the living room, bashing his shin on the coffee table. “FUCK”. Limping on to the kitchen he opened up the fridge to try and find a bottle of milk. The only thing on offer was a can of Red Stripe and leftovers from their take away dinner. Food shopping hadn’t been high on their agenda since Abby arrived. In fact the only thing that had been on their agenda was sleep. Four months of disrupted nights following disrupted days. Simon couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t nearly fallen off the toilet at work as his eyes thought it was an appropriate nap time. He expected it to be hard but the trauma of her birth had left all of them at a loss as to how to live their lives together.

“I’ll take her” Steph appeared at the doorway, her eyes barely open as she extracted an engorged breast from beneath her dressing gown.

“OK, how about I make tea?”

“uh huh”

“Milk?”

“Shit, think I left it in the car”

“Ah it’ll still be ok” Simon muttered as he grabbed the keys and headed towards the front door.

The air out in the little lane was crisp. Beams of light from the house lit up the dew hanging on the blackberry bush across the way.

“I can’t believe it is autumn already” he thought to himself. He never even registered the dustbin lorry reversing directly towards him.

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