Too Late to Paint the Roses

by Jeanne Whitmee

  ‘I want us to be married,’ Ian said. ‘As soon as possible, and – if you’re agreeable – I’d like to adopt Jamie legally, as my own son.’ He held my hand tightly in both of his and looked into my eyes. ‘How do you feel about it?’

  I looked at him for a long moment. ‘Ian – are you sure you’ve given this enough thought. I mean, you’re not asking because – because you’re – because of this?’

  ‘It has nothing to do with what’s happened today. It’s awful of course but it makes no difference to the way I feel. I’ve been trying to get up the courage to ask you for ages. I wasn’t sure you’d want to make that kind of commitment – make our relationship that permanent. And as for Jamie, he’s exactly the kind of son I’ve always dreamed of having one day. He’s like me in so many ways he could almost be mine.’ He bent and kissed me. ‘And he’s yours, so that makes him doubly perfect.’ When he looked into my eyes I knew there was no doubt that he was sincere. After a moment one eyebrow twitched in the way it always did when he was asking me something important.

  ‘So, what do you think? Could you bear to have me around for the rest of your life? Do you think Jamie would approve of me as a father? When they let you come home shall we ask him?’ I continued to stare at him, my mouth and throat too dry to speak. He frowned. ‘Elaine! For God’s sake say something! How long are you going to keep me in suspense?’

  Reaching up I wound my arms around his neck and pulled his head down to mine.

  ‘Is this a yes?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, Ian, of course I’ll marry you,’ I said, my words muffled against his neck. ‘I – I thought you’d never ask!’

  Six

  The following afternoon I had a visit from Mary. She brought surprising news.

  ‘You’ll never guess who rang me yesterday.’

  ‘I’m in no condition for guessing games,’ I told her. ‘Just tell me.’

  ‘Ian’s mother,’ she said triumphantly.

  My eyes opened wide. ‘Amanda?’

  ‘The very same. She rang to apologize for her unacceptable behaviour at Christmas.’ Mary sniffed. ‘Though I must say it took her long enough to make up her mind to do it.’

  ‘Is she better?’ I asked without thinking.

  Mary raised an inquiring eyebrow. ‘I didn’t know she’d been ill.’

  I felt my colour rise. ‘I meant, was she in a better mood,’ I hedged, but it was too late. There was no pulling the wool over Mary’s eyes.

  ‘You went to see her, didn’t you?’ she accused. ‘And after all I said.’

  ‘It was when I suspected that I might be pregnant,’ I conceded. ‘I felt I had to know her side of the story. No one is all bad, Mary.’

  She drew in her breath sharply. ‘Maybe not, but she has a damn good shot at it, that’s all I can say.’ When I made no comment her curiosity got the better of her and she said. ‘So – what did she say? Nothing that wasn’t a pack of over dramatic lies, I’ll bet.’

  ‘You might have been surprised,’ I told her. ‘I caught her off guard. She was suffering from flu or a heavy cold so her defences were down. She was a bit vulnerable.’ I shrugged. ‘No make-up and a grubby dressing gown. She was resentful at first, but she softened – even said she liked me in the end.’

  ‘Huh!’ Mary grunted. ‘Very magnanimous of her, I’m sure! What’s not to like about you?’

  I laughed. ‘There are two sides to every story, Mary. She told me hers.’

  ‘And made herself sound hard done-to, I’ll bet.’

  ‘No. She was honest. I believe what she told me was the truth.’ I explained a little of what Amanda had told me. ‘She’s no saint, Mary, but she’s not a monster either – not deep inside.’

  But Mary didn’t look convinced. ‘She manipulated the situation for all it was worth if you ask me,’ she said. ‘How could she punish Janet and her husband when all they were doing was trying to help her? And as for keeping the identity of Ian’s father from him all those years….’

  ‘I’ve told you how she explained it to me,’ I said. ‘You yourself said that families and their loyalties are complicated. None more so than in this case.’

  ‘Well, I’ll never be able to trust the woman,’ Mary said. ‘To me she’ll always be a vindictive, embittered bitch.’ She looked at me. ‘Just watch she doesn’t make trouble between you and Ian. She’s obviously eaten up with jealousy.’

  Eager to change the subject, I reached for her hand. ‘Mary – I’ve got some exciting news. But if I tell you, you have to promise to keep it to yourself, at least for a few days.’

  Her eyes lit up. ‘Ooh! Go on tell me. I promise I won’t say anything.’ Her fingers tightened round mine.

  ‘Ian and I are engaged,’ I told her. ‘We’re going to be married. And even more exciting, Ian wants to adopt Jamie legally as his own son.’

  She gasped with delight. ‘Oh, that is good news,’ she said. ‘I guessed it would happen soon, though. The two of you are made for each other and Jamie adores him. I know he’ll be over the moon to have a daddy at last.’

  ‘You won’t say anything to him though, will you?’ I begged. ‘They’re talking of letting me go home tomorrow and we want to sit him down and ask him how he feels about it. It has to come from us first.’

  ‘Of course it does. I won’t say a word,’ Mary promised. ‘But I’d love to be a fly on the wall when you tell him.’

  ‘Ask, not tell,’ I corrected. ‘He’s old enough to have a say in the matter. I’m pretty sure he’ll be pleased but there’s no way we’ll impose it on him if he isn’t.’

  The hospital discharged me the following day. Ian came to collect me and as we sat in the car in the hospital car park he took a little box from his pocket and gave it to me.

  I looked at him. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Open it and see.’

  Inside the box was a lovely ring; an oval amethyst in an antique setting. Ian took it from me and slid it onto my third finger. It fitted perfectly. ‘There,’ he said. ‘That seals it. No going back now. You’re the future Mrs Morton.’

  I kissed him. ‘Oh Ian, it’s beautiful but it must have cost a fortune. You shouldn’t have spent so much money. I don’t need a ring.’

  ‘Well I happen to think you do,’ he said. ‘So that’s that.’

  On the way home we picked Jamie up from school. He was strange, almost shy when he saw me in the car.

  ‘Hi, Mum. Are you better?’ he asked as he climbed into the back seat.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I assured him. ‘Good as new.’

  Ian shot me a look. ‘She’s not quite as good as new,’ he corrected. ‘We’ve got to take good care of her for a while.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’ Jamie gave me a little half-smile and rummaged in his satchel to avoid my eyes.

  Ian hadn’t told him about the baby, considering an ectopic pregnancy too much for him to take in. Instead he’d explained that I’d had an operation and needed time to recuperate. At home he seemed almost afraid to touch me or even come too close and at bedtime when I reached out to hug him he stiffened. I looked at him.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I assured him. ‘I won’t break.’

  He turned a grave little face up to mine. ‘Daniel’s gran had an operation,’ he said. ‘And now she has to be in a wheelchair.’

  I laughed. ‘Daniel’s gran had a hip replacement operation,’ I told him. ‘Mine was nothing like as serious as that. And she won’t be in a wheelchair for long so tell Daniel not to worry either.’

  After we had eaten Ian looked inquiringly at me and I nodded. We’d both agreed earlier that we’d speak to Jamie that evening. He was about to disappear upstairs with his homework when Ian said, ‘Sit down a minute, Jamie. There’s something your mum and I want to talk to you about.’

  Jamie hesitated, an apprehensive expression on his face. ‘It’s not the St Cecilia’s exam, is it? They haven’t cancelled it?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. Just sit down.’

  Jamie dropped
his satchel in the doorway and came to sit in the space between us on the settee. ‘Don’t look like that,’ I said. ‘You’re not in any trouble.’

  He looked anxiously up at me. ‘You’re not really ill or anything, are you, Mum?’

  I put my arm round his shoulders. ‘No! Just let Ian tell you.’

  Ian cleared his throat. ‘Jamie, I need your permission to ask your mum to marry me. Would that be all right?’

  Affected by Ian’s serious expression Jamie looked at me and then back at Ian. ‘If that’s what Mum wants I s’pose it’s okay,’ he said.

  ‘And there’s something else,’ Ian went on. ‘When your mum and I are married I would like very much to adopt you. Do you understand what that means?’

  Jamie looked at me and I saw the colour rise in his cheeks. ‘Does it mean that you’d be my dad?’

  ‘It does – legally,’ Ian said. ‘Your proper dad with papers to prove it. You’d have my name and everything. It would make us a whole family.’

  There was a moment while Jamie took this in then he said, ‘So I’d be Jamie Morton instead of Jamie Law?’

  ‘That’s right. So how do you feel about it?’

  Jamie digested the prospect, looking first at me then at Ian, then suddenly he gave a loud whoop and punched the air. ‘Wow! YES!’ he shouted.

  Ian and I laughed. ‘So you approve then?’ Ian said.

  ‘I think it’s really cool!’ Jamie said. ‘When will it all happen?’

  ‘As soon as we can arrange it all. We can have the wedding fairly soon,’ I explained. ‘Once you’ve broken up for the summer holidays. But the adoption thing might take a bit longer.’

  ‘Oh.’ Jamie’s face dropped a little then he looked at Ian. ‘So I can’t call you Dad yet then?’

  Ian swallowed hard. ‘Not legally, but I don’t mind what you call me. Once your mum and I are married it’ll be a new start for all of us.’

  There was so much to do in the weeks that followed. First, and taking priority, was Jamie’s entrance exam to St Cecilia’s. He had already taken the written exam but he still had to play for the head of the music department, which would be the deciding factor. Ian was coaching him in the pieces he would play both on piano and violin. The two of them were closeted together every evening after Jamie had finished his homework. There was his music theory to study as well and we had decided that our wedding plans must certainly go on hold until after the exam.

  ‘He’s going to need a full sized violin soon,’ Ian said one evening. ‘I’ll have to ask around to see what’s on offer.’

  ‘How much will that cost?’ I asked.

  Ian shook his head. ‘To get a good worthwhile instrument won’t be cheap and Jamie has promise. He deserves the best. But don’t worry, I’ll be earning a regular salary once I start my teaching job and we can probably pay for it in instalments.’

  I looked at him. ‘Ian, don’t you ever miss the orchestra?’

  ‘Not a bit.’

  ‘But – haven’t you ever had a dream?’

  He laughed. ‘What kind of dream?’

  ‘Well, you’re talented, haven’t you ever wanted to become a soloist?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’ve told you darling. Teaching is what I love; besides I don’t think I could handle the competition; all that aggressive rivalry. You say I have talent but so have hundreds of others. It’s a jungle out there. No, watching youngsters like Jamie growing up into first class musicians is more than enough reward for me.’

  On the day of the exam Jamie was too nervous to eat any breakfast. He sat at the table pale-faced, his untouched boiled egg and soldiers in front of him.

  ‘Try and eat something, darling,’ I said. ‘You really do need something inside you.’

  ‘I can’t swallow, Mum,’ he said. ‘My mouth has gone all sort of dry.’

  I sat down opposite him. ‘Listen, Jamie,’ I said, taking both his hands. ‘There’s no need to be scared. Just go in there and do your best. Pretend you’re at home, practising with Ian. If you don’t get the scholarship it’s not going to be the end of the world. No one’s going to chop your head off and Ian and I will never stop being proud of you whatever happens.’ I glanced up at the clock. ‘Better go and wash your hands now. It’s time you were leaving.’

  He grinned at me and I felt reassured. ‘Thanks, Mum. Ian always says, “Blow their socks off”, so I’ll do that, shall I?’

  ‘That’s right, you blow their socks off. I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed for you – really tightly – all morning.’

  I waved them off from the window. I knew Ian was as nervous as Jamie but he was trying hard not to show it. During the hour that followed I hung around the house, unable to concentrate on anything and when the telephone rang I welcomed the diversion. I recognized her slightly husky ‘actressy’ voice at once.

  ‘My dear, I had to ring and say how sorry I was to hear about your sad loss,’ she said.

  I swallowed hard, still finding it hard to hear it put into words. ‘Thank you, Amanda. How kind of you to ring.’

  ‘Not at all. It’s odd, isn’t it, the way nature lets us down sometimes. If there’s anything I can do….’

  ‘There’s nothing, but thank you anyway.’

  ‘If you want to come and see me again – or perhaps we could meet one day for lunch…?’

  ‘That might be fun. I’ll be in touch, Amanda, and thanks again for ringing.’

  I replaced the receiver and looked at my watch. At least another hour before I could expect them back. I went into the kitchen and laid the table. I’d planned to get Jamie’s favourite, chicken nuggets and chips for lunch, with a chocolate Viennetta to follow. If the news was good it would be a celebration – if not it might help to cheer him up.

  At twelve o’clock I heard the car draw up outside and I ran to the front door. Jamie was out of the car almost before it had stopped.

  ‘I passed, Mum!’ he yelled. ‘I did it. I got in!’

  We had our celebration lunch and Jamie had to go to school afterwards, much to his disgust. Ian and I went with him and went to find Mr Kenton, the headmaster, to tell him Jamie’s news but he already knew. The headmaster of St Cecilia’s had already contacted him.

  ‘He’s done remarkably well,’ he said as he invited us to take a seat. ‘He’s getting in a year ahead of the age they usually accept scholarship students. Not that it will make any difference because they take children from year three upwards so you needn’t worry that he’ll be overstretched. They were very impressed with him.’ He smiled. ‘And we’re looking forward to having you on board next term, Ian.’

  Ian smiled. ‘I’m looking forward to it too. I’ve already made lots of plans.’

  Mary refused point blank to let me work over the month that followed.

  ‘You’ve had a bad time,’ she said. ‘And there’s a lot going on in your life, not to mention having Jamie at home for the school holidays. Just concentrate on your wedding plans for now. Janet and I will manage fine.’

  It was kind of her but I couldn’t help feeling a bit left out and really I’d have liked something to take my mind off the loss of the baby or the fact that Ian and I would never have a family of our own. Although we didn’t discuss it, the sadness was never very far from my mind.

  We decided on the last weekend before the new term began for our wedding. When I told Mary she frowned.

  ‘That’s short notice.’

  ‘We’re planning something very quiet,’ I told her. ‘It won’t take much organizing.’

  ‘But what about a honeymoon?’

  I laughed. ‘We don’t need a honeymoon. It’s a waste of money.’

  She shook a finger at me. ‘You may not need a honeymoon but you need a holiday, my girl. You’ve had an extremely traumatic time.’

  ‘And it doesn’t help being reminded of it all the time,’ I said, a bit more sharply than I intended. ‘Sorry, Mary. I didn’t mean to snap. Maybe we’ll manage a few days at half term.’ I grasp
ed her arm. ‘Oh, and by the way, I’m coming back to work next week, even if it’s only to share some cooking sessions with you.’

  ‘Oh, all right. You win,’ she said. She gave me a brief hug. ‘I don’t mind admitting that I’ve missed having you around, but definitely no functions until after the wedding.’ She grinned. ‘And by the way, your wedding reception is to be my present to you both.’ She held up her hand. ‘No arguments. You might be planning a quiet wedding but the reception is going to be a wow – so there!’

  I went shopping for my wedding outfit by myself, determined not to be influenced by anyone else’s taste. It didn’t take me long to choose. I found what I wanted almost right away; a plain cream dress with a pretty matching jacket. I found shoes to go with it and to finish the afternoon I treated myself to a visit to the hairdresser and emerged with a new short feathery hairstyle which, the stylist assured me, accentuated my eyes and cheekbones. At home Ian was flatteringly appreciative.

  ‘Wow! You look fantastic. So where’s this outfit?’

  ‘You’re not seeing that until the day,’ I told him. ‘And you better get yourself a new suit – and take Jamie with you to get his.’

  Jamie looked up from what he was doing with a loud protest. ‘Oh no! I won’t have to wear a suit, will I?’

  ‘You certainly will.’

  ‘What, with a tie and everything? Can’t I just wear my jeans?’

  ‘Of course you can’t. Tell you what, let Ian help you to choose a nice pair of trousers and a white shirt. You’ll need new shoes too. Your old ones are all scuffed.’

  He groaned. ‘Well at least you’re not expecting me to wear a kilt like Daniel had to at his sister’s wedding. All this fuss just to get married. Why can’t you just go and get it done, like having a check-up at the dentist’s?’

  Ian roared with laughter. ‘I notice your son hasn’t inherited your romantic streak,’ he spluttered.

  Mary had arranged the wedding reception at her own home. Our marquee supplier had agreed to install a marquee in her garden and she had contacted some of Ian’s friends to supply the music. I was touched when she told me that they had all insisted on giving their services free of charge by way of a wedding present.