by Kate Hewitt
This was her village. Her family. She’d even started going to church again, albeit a bit reluctantly. It felt mean not to, with her parents back home and her father taking services in Simon’s absence, but she felt self-conscious sitting in the front pew, where her mother had always sat; she felt like a fraud. Still she went, and she let the words and music wash over her, and remembered how much she enjoyed her father’s affable yet focused style of preaching, and it was all pretty much okay.
She and Dan had managed to get back on an even keel, after the debacle of his wedding date, although she doubted Dan saw it that way. Miriam was the only one inwardly cringing as she remembered tracking Jane and Dan’s movements from across the room. She told herself she was going to simmer down, but then, one afternoon in early January, when she was filing the last of Dan’s invoices—finally—and he offered to put the kettle on, she turned to him with a too-bright smile, and said in a too-loud voice, “So. Jane.”
Dan looked startled, and Miriam wondered why on earth she’d felt this was a good moment to broach the topic, when in fact she hadn’t wanted to discuss Jane Godfrey in the first place. Ever.
“What about Jane?” he asked cautiously, and Miriam tried desperately to sound casual, which of course didn’t work.
“Just that you never mentioned her. And you guys seemed…” She could not finish that sentence.
“Seemed…?” Dan prompted, looking genuinely confused. Help.
“Close,” Miriam finished with a shrug, and then focused intently on the last invoice she was putting in a manila folder, as if she was performing open heart surgery that required her complete and utter concentration.
“We’re friends from university,” Dan said after a pause. “We go way back.”
“Right.” Let’s stop talking about this, please. Right now.
“But there’s nothing happening, you know, romantically,” Dan continued, as if determined to set the record ramrod straight. “Jane’s engaged to another friend of ours, actually. Matt. They’re getting married in the summer.”
“Oh. Right.” Miriam could not deny the relief coursing through her. Engaged…to someone else. “Sorry, I must have…” Another sentence she chose not to finish. She turned back to the filing cabinet, although she had nothing more to do.
“Anyway,” Dan said, and then he was the one not finishing his sentences.
Cue endless awkward silence, which was only broken by the electric hum of the kettle, and the loud click of it switching off.
Thankfully, making tea and then sipping it caused a reset in the conversation, and Dan started talking about Anna and Simon returning tomorrow, which Miriam was glad to follow up with.
“We’re having dinner at the vicarage on Monday. I hope it goes all right, with two vicar’s wives in residence.”
Dan frowned. “Two vicar’s wives?”
“Mum and Anna. Over Christmas it was a little…tense, I suppose, which is understandable. Both of them finding their new roles.”
“Yes, I can see that,” Dan said slowly. “Your mum was mistress of that house for thirty years. That’s a long time.”
“I know.” Miriam sipped her tea, gripped by a sudden, poignant nostalgia. “It really is the end of an era, and the beginning of a new one, for Simon and Anna.”
“And for you.” Dan nodded towards her bump. “Not long now.”
“Five weeks.” Saying it out loud caused her a lurch of alarm, a ripple of excitement. It was so close.
“Are you all prepared?”
“I have all the kit, the clothes, even the nappies.” Miriam laid one hand on her bump. “Does that mean I’m prepared? No. Not remotely. If I think about it for too long, I start to have heart palpitations.”
“I suspect most new parents feel the same.”
“Yes, but most new parents aren’t doing it all on their own.” Miriam drew a breath and released it in a long, low rush. It was the aloneness of it all that scared her, the lack of a safety net, so many unknowns yawning beneath her.
Yes, she had an amazing family, a wonderful community, and some good friends—well, Dan—but come two a.m. it was just her and the baby. Her little girl. And ultimately, no matter what, it was just her and the baby. She was the mum, the one in charge. She couldn’t hand off her responsibility, no matter how much help she received.
“You’re not doing this on your own,” Dan protested.
“But I am, really,” Miriam replied. “Ultimately.”
Dan hesitated, taking a sip of tea. “You might meet someone eventually, you know.”
A frisson went through Miriam at that remark, although she couldn’t sift through her feelings to figure out what she felt—or what Dan meant. Someone. Who would that be?
“Maybe,” she said. “But the pickings are rather slim in Thornthwaite.”
“Tell me about it,” Dan answered with a laugh, and Miriam had a horrible feeling she’d just been friend-zoned. Which was expected, she reminded herself fiercely. Of course it was. Really, she needed to get over herself…or get over something.
*
On Monday night, Miriam headed over to the vicarage for dinner with the family—Anna and Simon newly back from Scotland, Esther and Will, Rachel and finally Sam, and her parents. Sam hadn’t been given official family status yet, and Miriam knew this was a big deal for him to be invited to dinner with all of Rachel’s relatives. No doubt the poor man was terrified.
“What about Nathan?” Miriam had asked Rachel when she’d mentioned Sam was coming.
“He has a playdate,” Rachel had answered. “Thank goodness. I love Nathan to bits, but he’s incredibly hard work.” She smiled, but Miriam saw the strain around her sister’s eyes.
“But it’s going all right, isn’t it?” she asked, conscious that she hadn’t been too attentive to her sister’s fledgling relationship. There had been so much else to worry about. “You and Sam?”
“Yes, I think so,” Rachel said.
But there was an uncharacteristic hesitation to her voice that made Miriam prompt, “You think so?”
Rachel sighed. “It’s just…intense, in a way. Because of Nathan.”
“But that won’t be forever…”
“It looks like it will. Sam’s sister…she’s not in a place to take care of him, and Sam’s thinking of applying for permanent custody. Plus, a few weeks ago we received an official diagnosis.”
“What?” Miriam looked at her, shocked. “For Nathan?”
“Yes. He has partial foetal alcohol syndrome, which accounts for many of his challenging behaviours.”
“Wow.” Miriam couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. Here she’d been thinking Nathan was just a pain in the rear.
“It’s good to have a diagnosis,” Rachel said in a rallying kind of voice. “In many ways, it’s a huge relief. Now he can have the help he needs in school, and we can find the right therapies for him, and we’ll know what to expect. Somewhat.” She gave Miriam a lopsided smile, her eyes full of worry. “But it’s a lot to take on board, you know? Because his needs will be ongoing. And being with Sam means being with Nathan.” She bit her lip. “I feel terrible that it could even be an issue for a second. It shouldn’t be, but it is, at least a little.”
“Why shouldn’t it be? It’s a lot to deal with.”
“Yes, but what kind of person says she won’t be with someone because he has a child with special needs? Someone horrible.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Rachel. Better to go in with your eyes open and know what you’re getting into than to just careen ahead blindly.” Miriam smiled wryly. “Hey, I think you’re learning.”
Rachel laughed. “Maybe I am.”
Now Miriam found she was curious to see how all her siblings and partners reacted to each other. She was also wishing she had someone, because it was easy to feel lonely when everyone else had a plus-one. Well, she had her baby bump.
The vicarage was bustling with activity as Miriam stepped into the foyer, unsure wheth
er to call for Anna, Simon, or one of her parents. Whose house was it? Simon and Anna’s obviously, and yet…
She didn’t call out anyone’s name, just walked back towards the welcoming warmth of the kitchen, where as usual everyone was happily congregated, with something that smelled delicious bubbling away on top of the Aga.
“Miriam!” Ruth turned to her with a warm smile. “You’re looking well.”
“You’re looking huge,” Anna said with a laugh as she threw her arms around Miriam. “You’ve popped.”
“I think that happened a few months ago,” Miriam replied as she hugged her sister back, and then Simon. “How are you blissful newlyweds?”
“Blissful,” Simon replied with a grin. And indeed they looked it—loved up and grinning from ear to ear.
“How was Scotland?” Miriam asked. “Dark and cold?”
“Yes, and beautiful,” Anna said. “Although we didn’t see as much of it as we’d have liked—”
“Ew. Please.” Esther held up a hand. “I don’t want to know.”
“I didn’t mean—” Anna protested, blushing, but Esther cut her off again.
“Really. Don’t. Want. To. Know.”
“Why don’t you set the table, Esther?” Ruth said, diplomatic as ever. “Roger, sherry?”
“I’m on the job,” her dad said cheerfully, brandishing the familiar blue bottle of Bristol Cream. Her mum, Miriam noticed, was firmly in charge of the kitchen. She and Roger had been living in the vicarage on their own while Simon and Anna had been away, and that seemed to have cemented Ruth as mistress of her domain, at least for tonight. Anna seemed happy enough about the arrangement.
With a hello from the foyer, Rachel and Sam made their arrival known, and then it was hugs all round again, and Sam was shaking hands, looking a bit scary in his taciturn way, but Miriam knew underneath his strong, silent exterior there lurked a gentle heart.
“It’s so lovely to meet you properly, Sam,” Ruth said. He’d come to the wedding, but with everything else going on, Miriam suspected he’d escaped a proper grilling, not that her parents would ever act in such a way. They were far too subtle for that, but Esther wasn’t.
“Yes, a pleasure,” Roger chimed in, offering a firm handshake. “Sherry?”
Miriam sat back and sipped her elderflower cordial and let her family’s chatter and banter wash over her. She felt happy and surprisingly settled, at peace in a way that had been growing steadily over the last few weeks and months but had taken forever to find.
Then Esther sat down next to her.
“How are things with you and Dan?”
“Wait—what?” Miriam nearly spluttered her cordial. “There’s no me and Dan, Esther,” she hissed in a low voice, glancing worriedly at Rachel who was very nearby.
“Oh, come on,” Esther said. “I saw the way you were tracking him at the wedding. You practically had a scope on him.”
Busted. Still Miriam tried to rally. “I was curious,” she admitted, “because he’d never mentioned Jane before. But it turns out they’re just friends, anyway. She’s engaged to someone else.” Too late Miriam realised she probably shouldn’t have offered that information—ammunition—to her sister.
“So you do care about him.” She sounded satisfied.
“Not like that. He’s become a good friend, though. But seriously, Esther.” Miriam gave a pointed glance towards a thankfully oblivious Rachel. “Now is not the time. And I’ve got a lot on my plate already, okay?” She nodded to her bump. “Don’t hassle me about Dan.”
“How is Dan?” Ruth asked brightly, having heard a snippet of conversation without getting the gist. Rachel tensed, ironing her expression out to something sort of neutral.
“He’s fine,” Miriam said, since it seemed as if everyone was waiting for her to answer. “Fine,” she said again, because she didn’t have more to add.
“Who was that girl he was with, at the wedding?” Anna asked. “Are they together?”
“No, she’s just a friend.” This was starting to feel really awkward. Miriam glanced at Rachel, but to her surprise her sister looked relaxed again, after that initial moment of tension.
“I hope he finds someone,” Rachel said. “Like I have.” She glanced at Sam, who smiled back at her, his normally stern-looking face suffused momentarily with tenderness. Everyone was looking loved up. At least the danger seemed to have passed.
Shortly after, they moved into the dining room, and everyone took their seats as Ruth brought in the coq au vin and Roger filled up everyone’s glasses.
The conversation moved from Simon and Anna’s honeymoon to Esther’s pregnancy symptoms to Rachel’s challenges with her year three class. Roger asked Sam about buying The Bell, and Esther gave an update on the community garden she’d started last spring, behind the vicarage; veg plots had been allotted and there was now a waiting list.
Miriam actually thought she’d slipped under the radar of familial scrutiny when Ruth turned to her. “Have you made a birth plan, darling? It’s getting close.”
A birth plan? Miriam was only vaguely aware of what that was, despite her now-biweekly appointments with the local midwife, and she knew she did not want to discuss it with her entire extended family.
“Drugs,” she said succinctly. “Lots and lots of drugs.”
“Sounds good to me,” Esther said, clinking her glass with hers. Miriam gave her a smile of gratitude. Sometimes Esther could be a blunt pain in the neck, but at other times she knew just what to say.
“And what about anyone with you?” Ruth pressed. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of sisters who want to be there with you—”
“Ew, sorry. No.” Esther shook her head. “It might scar me for life.”
“Esther,” Ruth protested, laughing, but Esther was adamant.
“I have to do it myself. I do not need a visual beforehand.”
Miriam was silent, the reality of her impending labour and delivery dropping down on her like the proverbial shedload of bricks. Her mum was right; she really did need to start thinking about these things, although perhaps not discussing them at dinner with her entire family.
“I’ll have a think,” she promised her mum. Later, when she was carrying in the dirty dishes, the answer appeared, blindingly obvious.
“Mum…” Miriam began as she stacked dirty plates next to the sink. “Would…would you be with me? When I give birth?”
Ruth turned to her, smiling, teary-eyed. “Oh, Miriam,” she said, hugging her. “Of course I would.”
The doorbell sounded in the distance, but Miriam was too busy battling her own weepiness to take much notice. Then Rachel came into the kitchen, a slightly odd look on her face.
“Rachel?” Ruth extricated herself from their hug. “What is it?”
“There’s someone at the door,” Rachel said.
Miriam, assuming it had nothing to do with her, tuned out the conversation as she reached for a plate to rinse.
“Who is it, darling?” Ruth asked.
Rachel hesitated, and Miriam reached for another plate. “His name is Rory,” she finally said. “And he’s asking for Miriam.”
Chapter Fifteen
For a second Rachel’s words didn’t penetrate. Miriam stared at her blankly, trying to make sense of what she’d said. Rory. Someone named Rory.
“Miriam?” Ruth asked hesitantly. “Darling…?”
“Right.” Miriam felt as if she were standing outside of herself, watching. What is this confused young woman going to do now, I wonder? “I suppose…I’ll go see him.”
She walked out of the kitchen in a daze, barely conscious of the furious whispers behind her.
“Is this…?”
“Yes, it must be.”
“Oh my goodness.”
Miriam took a deep breath and walked to the glassed-in entrance hall, where she could see a man, no more than a shadowy figure, was waiting. She felt as if she were floating, and then she crashed to earth with an almighty thud when he turned an
d gave her an uncertain, sort of smiling look. Rory. It really was him.
Standing there, staring at him, she realised she’d forgotten what he looked like. If he hadn’t come to her door and said his name, she didn’t think she would have recognised him. And yet…he was the father of her child. It was such a bizarre thought she had the urge to laugh, except nothing was remotely funny.
She took a step forward and opened the door. “Rory.”
“Miriam…” He looked and sounded bewildered. “Is—”
“Let’s go in here.” Quickly she led him into the front room, which was cosy with the fire still going, the heavy drapes drawn against the cold winter’s day. She closed the door with a firm click. This was not a conversation she wanted to be overheard.
And yet, when she turned back to face him, she found she had nothing to say. “I thought you were travelling the world,” she said at last.
“I came back at Christmas.”
“Right.”
They stared at each other for another long moment and then Rory gestured to her bump. “Are you… Is it…mine?”
Miriam knew it was a reasonable question, but she hated that he had to ask. “Yes. There aren’t any other possibilities.” She wanted to make that clear. He’d been the only one, which in a way made her reckless decision even more reckless. With a sigh she lowered herself into a chair. Rory jammed his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
“My sister is friends with one of your sister Rachel’s uni friends. I saw a photo of you at the wedding on her Instagram page.”
Wow. The power of social media. Miriam shook her head slowly, disbelieving and yet also strangely unsurprised.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rory burst out. “Why didn’t you try to find me?”
“Find you? How was I supposed to do that?” Miriam asked incredulously. “All I knew was your name was Rory and you came from Nottingham.”
“Oh, right,” he retorted bitterly. “It might have taken a whole hour of searching on Facebook.”
Miriam stared at him in amazement, shocked to realise he was right. If she’d wanted to, she could have found him. She’d made Rory into someone impossible to find, to know, because that had felt easier. Safer. She’d had enough to deal with, without adding a strange male who just happened to be the father of her child into the mix.
