by Kate Hewitt
“Yes, it is.” Miriam knew it was silly to feel defensive about her home county; she’d been dying to get away from it for her whole childhood. Rory wasn’t saying anything she hadn’t already thought herself, many times. “I suppose I’ve changed my mind, coming back to it after travelling the world,” she said. “It feels like home.”
Rory nodded. “I’m more of a city person myself, I suppose.”
They continued to walk around the lake, chatting in fits and starts, finding common ground in small ways—they’d both taken geography for A level, but Rory had studied business at university while Miriam hadn’t gone. He had an older sister, and they traded a few anecdotes about the perils of well-meaning but bossy siblings. At times Miriam felt heartened by their connection, and at other times she felt it simply wasn’t there, and they could just as well be two acquaintances making chitchat at a party.
Towards the end of the walk she held up a hand to keep him from going on ahead. “I think I need to sit down for a moment.”
Rory sprang towards her. “Are you okay…?”
“Yes, fine, just feeling a bit tired.” Miriam lowered herself onto a bench, resting her hands on top of her bump. It was three and a half weeks until her due date and she really was massive. She felt her belly tighten and release in what the midwife had told her were Braxton Hicks, or practice, contractions. They didn’t hurt, but they felt odd and sometimes intense. She winced as the sense of tightening increased, and Rory put a hand on her arm.
“Are you sure you’re all right? You’re not…”
“Going into labour?” She gave a huff of laughter. “Nope. These are just practice contractions.” She felt a strong kick to her pelvis and winced again. “And the baby is making her displeasure about them known.”
“You mean…she’s kicking?” Miriam nodded and Rory looked at her bump with a sort of mystified fascination. “May I…may I feel? Her kicking, I mean?”
Miriam had had all sorts of hands on her bump; she didn’t get through the coffee hour after church without a dozen people or more giving her belly a touch or a rub. Yet now she hesitated, because this felt like something far more intimate.
“Okay,” she said at last, and tentatively Rory laid his hand across the top of her bump.
“She’s kicking lower,” Miriam said and, with a self-conscious smile, she moved his hand lower on her bump. He let out a little awkward laugh; yes, this was definitely intimate, no matter what had happened between them before. Then their daughter punched hard, right into his hand, and his laugh turned to a sound of wonder and joy.
“Wow…that was so…that was so…real.”
“Yep, she’s pretty real.”
He shook his head. “Sorry, I must sound like an idiot.”
“No, I understand. It’s all pretty amazing. Kind of creepy, too. Like something out of Alien.”
“Yeah. I mean, there’s a baby in there.”
“Exactly. So bizarre.”
They both laughed and smiled at each other, and the moment spun out, into something else, that made Miriam tense with both expectation and alarm.
Surely he wasn’t going to—
But no, he wasn’t. Rory took his hand off her bump. “Miriam, I have to go back home tomorrow. I’m moving to London in a couple of days.”
“Okay,” Miriam said cautiously. She thought she felt relieved, but she wasn’t sure.
“I know this is all rather weird and it’s such early stages, but…” Rory hesitated, his gaze scanning her face. “I don’t want it to end here.”
“It can’t end here,” Miriam pointed out, with a gesture to her bump.
“I mean us.” Her heart flip-flopped, and not entirely in a good way.
“I’m not sure there really is an ‘us,’ Rory,” she said carefully. “Despite evidence to the contrary.”
“I know that. Trust me, I’m not asking you to marry me or anything.” Miriam stared at him, wondering how he expected her to react to that. “I just want to leave the door open. I want to meet my daughter when she’s born. I want to be involved in her life.”
“Okay.” She could hardly object to that, not that she even wanted to. And yet… “How do you propose to do that?” she asked.
Rory let out a gusty sigh. “I don’t know. I can visit again, or you could visit London. We can make it work. And of course financially I’ll help… That’s my duty.” Miriam’s mind spun. She hadn’t even considered that aspect of things. “But in terms of us, or a possible, potential, one day sort of us…will you at least keep an open mind? And I will, as well.” He gazed at her steadily, waiting for her response.
“Yes, of course I will,” Miriam said, because how could she say anything else? His request was entirely, eminently reasonable, as well as generous. And she had fancied him once… Who was to say that something couldn’t develop between them, with time?
“Okay. Good.” He looked relieved. “Now I only have one more thing to ask.”
“Okay…”
“I’d like to meet your family before I go.”
“What?” Miriam yelped the word. “Rory, I really don’t think you do.”
“I know you’ve indicated that they’re full on, but I don’t want to be the tosser who gets the vicar’s daughter pregnant and then scarpers. I need to do this, Miriam. For my own sake.”
Miriam flushed at his plain speaking. Her parents probably thought he was a bit of a tosser. “You have no idea what you’re in for,” she muttered.
“I could probably guess. And I think I can handle it. Can I meet them today? This afternoon or evening?”
“I suppose. Yes, okay.” Dread swirled through her stomach at the thought, but dutifully Miriam brought out her phone and fired a text to Esther.
Rory wants to meet everyone. How about tonight? Btw, IT DOESN’T MEAN ANYTHING.
She got a reply in approximately six seconds.
How about 7pm? Sure it doesn’t.
Miriam suppressed a groan as she slid her phone back into her pocket. “Yes, tonight is good,” she said, trying for a smile. Tonight was going to be a whole new level of awkward, but she appreciated Rory’s sense of responsibility and honour.
*
At quarter to seven that evening Miriam walked up to the vicarage, her stomach seething with nerves. She’d fired texts to everybody already, insisting this was nothing more than a courtesy call, and demanding that they all play it cool and relaxed.
Who do you think we are? Rachel had texted back, followed by four crying with laughter emojis. It didn’t bode well.
As soon as Miriam stepped into the vicarage, she could tell that everyone was Making an Effort. The fires were crackling merrily in both the living and dining rooms, and the smell of fresh baking wafted out from the kitchen. Cautiously Miriam rounded the corner, pausing in the doorway to take in the sight of her mother and Anna sliding freshly made cheese straws off a baking tray.
“Seriously? You made canapés?” She saw another tray of homemade sausage rolls, with her mother’s mouthwatering puff pastry, crispy and golden.
“Just a few.” Ruth looked entirely too innocent. “We want to be hospitable, Miriam.”
“This is just a quick chat, okay? It means nothing.” She wasn’t trying to be unkind, saying that, but she felt her family needed the reminders. Repeatedly.
“It means something,” Anna protested. “Something small,” she added hurriedly, when Miriam gave her a quelling look.
“I mean it,” she said. “Rory’s heading back to London tomorrow. Nothing has been decided at all. We’re just getting to know each other, and we need to be able to do that without everyone getting in a tizzy.” She felt as if she were shouting into a void. Or worse, as if her mother and sister were hearing an entirely different subtext—we’re madly in love and we’re going to get married.
Their canary-eating grins said it all. With a groan Miriam hunkered down to stroke Charlie, who was, as usual, sprawled in front of the Aga while everyone stepped around him.
“You’re the only sensible one in this entire house, aren’t you?” she said as she scratched behind his ears.
“Well, we’ve always known that,” Ruth answered with a smile. Miriam struggled to rise to her feet, and Anna grabbed her hand and hauled her upwards.
“Don’t worry, Miri,” she said with a conspiratorial smile. “We won’t embarrass you…too much.”
Miriam rolled her eyes and managed a smile back. This was her family and she loved them. The trouble was, she didn’t want to disappoint them by not doing what they so clearly wanted her to do—fall in love with the father of her child and ride off into the sunset with him. Or maybe they were hoping Rory would move here. There were plenty of consulting jobs in Cumbria. Not.
Miriam sighed and headed back out to the hall in a vain attempt to manage her father’s expectations. When she found him reading the paper in the living room, however, he was blessedly underwhelmed.
“I can understand why he feels the need to meet us, of course,” he said, “but I recognise that you don’t actually know this man, Miriam, and I wouldn’t expect anything to come of it unless or until you got to know him, and found you could love him.” He spoke equably, but Miriam still cringed. You don’t actually know this man. She knew it hurt her father to say those words. It hurt her. Forgiveness and acceptances were important, essential, but consequences still remained.
Esther and Will breezed in a few minutes later, followed by Rachel and Sam. Simon came out of the study, and Miriam looked around them all and wondered if Rory would run away screaming as soon as he crossed the threshold. There were a lot of people here eyeing him up.
Then the doorbell rang, unfortunately before Miriam could issue Esther another much-needed warning.
“Stations!” Anna called excitedly, and Miriam rolled her eyes again. Apparently, they’d all briefed each other and decided on a plan—Ruth and Anna in the kitchen, Esther and Rachel in the living room with their significant others, Roger answering the front door. Where was she supposed to go? Unsure what to do, Miriam stood in the front hall like a lemon, her heart beating its way up her throat.
“Rory, how lovely to meet you.” Roger’s voice thrummed with rich affability. Miriam couldn’t hear Rory’s reply, but then a few second later he came into the front hall, smiling slightly, looking nervous.
People converged on him from all sides, like a planned attack. So much for stations; her family couldn’t resist meeting him—and sizing him up. Miriam watched, her heart thudding hard, as they all gave their individual greetings.
“Rory, so pleased to meet you,” Ruth said, looking very pleased as she shook his hand warmly.
Will, Sam, and Simon all did their personal versions of a manly handshake, and Esther softened her stern look with the faintest of smiles, while Anna and Rachel both came over a bit gushing. It could have been worse, Miriam decided with relief, as they all headed into the living room and Roger, true to form, served drinks.
The conversation was stilted, as Miriam had expected; her family fired questions at Rory under the guise of being friendly and polite, and he stammered his answers. It couldn’t actually be called a conversation, although everyone pretended that it was.
“So, London,” Ruth said at one point, trying not to look disappointed. “That sounds very exciting.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Rory said. “I’ve told Miriam she must come and visit…with the baby.”
All eyes swivelled to Miriam expectantly, waiting for a response. She managed a smile. “That should be fun.”
Finally, after a rather endless hour, it was over, and Rory made his excuses, saying he was driving back to Nottingham that night. Miriam escorted him to the door, while everyone watched unabashedly.
“Sorry about that,” she murmured. “But I did warn you.”
“It was fine,” Rory said, and she looked at him sceptically.
“Was it, really?”
“Well, it was okay.” He gave her a wry smile. “But look, I can handle it, Miriam, okay? This whole situation is down to the both of us, you know. Let me hold up my side of things.”
“Okay.” Although she didn’t really know what that meant.
“Okay.” Rory nodded slowly. “And you’ll let me know when—you know?”
Give birth? “Yes, I’ll let you know. Of course.”
“I looked up online what the appropriate amount of child maintenance is, and with my salary what it is, I’m meant to give three hundred pounds a month.”
Yikes. That was more than Miriam was making. “Okay…”
“But if you need more, let me know, okay? I don’t want to be a stickler about things.”
Miriam knew he was being more than generous. “I will, but you need to live too, Rory. I don’t want to put you out.”
“This is important. I want to do the right thing.”
“Yes, I know you do.” And in a bizarre way, that was part of the problem. Although Miriam knew it made her picky and unreasonable, she didn’t want doing the right thing to be Rory’s only motivator. Surely that wasn’t a good enough reason to get together?
Or maybe it was.
“Then I suppose this is goodbye for now.” Rory gave her a lopsided smile. “See you soon, Miriam.”
“Okay. See you soon.”
He stepped forward to brush his lips across her cheek. “Take care,” he murmured, and then he was gone, swallowed up by the darkness of the church lane.
Slowly Miriam turned back to her family and the inquisition she knew remained. Sure enough, as soon as she walked back into the living room, everyone turned to her.
“I think that went well,” Ruth said brightly.
“He seems nice, Miriam,” Anna chimed in.
“And phwoar. Quite dishy,” Rachel added.
“He seems responsible,” Roger said, the final word on the matter. “And he clearly wants to do the right thing.”
Esther, unusually, didn’t say anything, but she gave Miriam a shrewd look as she made all the dutiful responses to her family’s observations.
Miriam made her farewells soon after, too emotionally exhausted by the day to oversee the inevitable post-mortem of the meeting. As she headed up the high street, she realised that her days walking up the steep hill were starting to be numbered; her belly tightened painfully with every step she took by the time she got to the top.
Three weeks until D-Day. It seemed incredible. Impossible. She had the nappies, the clothes, the cot. She had bottles and burp cloths and even nipple cream, which her mother had kindly informed her she would need, since she was hoping to breastfeed. She had everything but the baby, and yet none of it seemed quite real.
She still had the feeling that someone was going to walk up to her and say, “Oh, you? No, you can’t have a baby. Sorry.”
But no one had yet, and no one was going to. This was really happening.
She came to Dan’s house, and with a flicker of disappointment she saw that his lights were off, his car gone. She wondered where he was, and realised she would have liked to have had a chat, although on second thought she knew she didn’t really want to tell him about Rory, and hear yet more encouragement about how she should go for it. Plus there was the whole matter of last night, when she’d felt, for a single, heart-stopping second, that he might kiss her.
In the cold, hard light of day, she’d decided she’d been imagining that moment. Wishful thinking, to her own shame. Yet she wasn’t quite ready to come face-to-face with Dan again, so perhaps it was a blessing that he wasn’t at home.
With a sigh, Miriam turned towards the annexe.
Chapter Eighteen
A week later, Miriam was heading back to the vicarage for an afternoon tea with her family, before her father took the train to Manchester and then a flight to China. Although Miriam was sad he wouldn’t be there for the birth of her baby, she understood his need to return to work; he’d been gone from China for over a month.
“Hello…?” she call
ed as she stepped into the entrance hall and shed her coat and scarf. The vicarage seemed surprisingly quiet, considering she was running late and eight people were meant to be present. Frowning a little, Miriam came into the front hall, surprised by the silence. Where was everybody? Was something wrong?
She’d managed to navigate the last week semi-successfully; no one had pushed or asked about Rory, and he’d emailed once, to let her know his contact details, and reiterate that he hoped she’d visit after the baby was born.
Miriam had also, she hoped, managed to get things back on an even keel with Dan. That hadn’t been as hard as she’d feared, which made her think that near-kiss in the dark kitchen had been in her mind and no one else’s. How else would Dan manage to act completely normal the next day, rabbiting on about Rory until Miriam told him, as nicely as she could, to shut up?
He’d laughed and agreed, and since then things had been back to the way Miriam liked them—evenings in front of the telly, banter at work, a friendship that felt like a warm blanket. As for her own wayward feelings…she was doing her best to keep them under control.
“Hello…?” she called again. “Anybody home?”
“In here, darling,” Ruth called from the living room and Miriam pushed open the door, only to spring back in shock at the sight of at least two dozen people crowded into the room, all of them yelling “Surprise!”
“What are you all doing here?” she asked dumbly, before Esther laughed and said:
“We’re throwing you a baby shower, genius. I know it’s rather American, but everyone’s doing it these days, or so Rachel says.”
“It’s true,” Rachel said. “I read it online.”
“Oh well, then,” Esther said with a roll of her eyes, and Miriam laughed. She couldn’t believe how many people had come—so many from church, and a few old school friends she hadn’t seen in absolute yonks, all her family, and…Dan.
Her gaze fastened on him, her eyes widening in surprise. He smiled back, wryly, and within that split-second gaze Miriam felt as if they’d had an entire conversation.
You’re here?
I know, right? Seems like I’m no longer persona non grata.
