Celtic Mists Wellness Retreat was exactly as Eliza remembered. Her last visit had been for Katie’s fiftieth birthday celebration, thirteen, maybe fourteen years go. Katie had died a few years later, and Cassandra now ran the retreat by herself.
The front door of the rambling Welsh stone house flew open and Cassandra greeted her with a hug. She wore leggings and a brightly coloured hand-knitted sweater, her feet in sheepskin slippers. She hadn’t changed a great deal, but her long frizzy hair, held back with a scarf, had gone grey.
‘Eliza, darling! Good heavens, look at you! You’re the very image of your parents. You have your mum’s eyes, but otherwise you’re all Harry.’
Eliza hadn’t realized Cassandra had known her parents as a couple. This trip was suddenly looking more interesting.
As they went inside, the smell of the place – a blend of old carpet and pot pourri – took Eliza straight back.
‘I’ll show you to your room, then we’ll have a cup of tea. Maria’s having a nap. I’m so pleased you’re here; she needs a friend.’
It was the same room she’d stayed in as a child. As she unpacked her bag, she looked out of the old sash window with its deep stone windowsill, to the rolling hills beyond, remembering. Her eyes fell on the vegetable garden below, and for a moment she saw Katie, trowel in hand, looking up at the window and waving.
Eliza felt a pang of loss. She’d usurped Katie’s own daughter in Harry’s affections, but Katie had never shown resentment, had never said a word against Harry. No wonder he still called her Saintie Katie.
Back downstairs, as Cassandra brewed tea, she repeated her concerns about Maria. ‘She seems distracted, worried. Phil’s only visited her once. I didn’t like him at all – he more or less dismissed my way of life because it doesn’t include God; only nature and the human spirit.’
‘Phil the Fraud,’ said Eliza, sitting down at the familiar scrubbed pine table. ‘Making billions out of evangelizing. It can’t be right. His TV ratings are huge, and so are his advertising rates. All of which means he can generously donate to the political party that will advance his sexist, bigoted aims. I don’t trust him, not one bit.’
‘Heavens, Eliza. You’ve marked his card.’
‘Dad thinks he only took up with Maria to get a foot in the door of a British media company. He could be right, but Maria’s mad about Phil. Anyway, Dad kicked him into touch at the last board meeting, so he’s got next to no influence at Rose now.’
‘Good old Harry. I was always a massive fan.’ She placed a mug of tea the colour of urine in front of Eliza.
‘He liked – likes – you too.’
‘No, you were right the first time. We got on like a house on fire when I was still with Charles. Everything changed when . . . well, when Katie lost another child. I blamed myself when she went into early labour, after a row between Megan and me. Poor Katie. Your mum was there when it happened. It was what pushed me into rehab.’
Eliza sat up straighter. ‘Did you know Mum well?’
‘No, I only met her twice. That first time was before Ana and your dad were together, obviously. But I do remember Harry watching her that night – it was The Rack’s launch party. She looked stunning. Poor Katie was seven months pregnant; she felt like a lump next to your mum. Ana was with her fiancé.’
‘Percy?’
‘That was it. Wavy fair hair. Smiley.’ Cassandra pushed a plate of muesli slices across the table. They looked like squares of gravel. ‘Poor man never stood a chance once Ana caught Harry’s eye.’
‘Well, I’m kind of glad she did.’
‘Haha, yes. Worked for you! But, Eliza, I’ve been thinking about Katie, what with my worries about Maria. She had a terrible time of it with her fertility problems. Stillbirths, miscarriages; she really went through the mill. It made me think – even though Maria’s set on natural childbirth, and I’m all in favour of that – maybe we should get her checked out. I don’t want something going wrong and then having Phil sue me for lack of care or whatever. I suggested a check-up, but she refused. I’m worried she’s got her dates wrong – she’s not as big as she should be.’
Eliza sipped the tea, trying not to grimace. She couldn’t identify the flavour, but in an attempt to rescue her tastebuds took a bite of the muesli slice. Matters didn’t improve.
‘The dates sounded right to me,’ she said, after ungluing her teeth. ‘Could the baby just be small?’
‘I don’t know. Something’s not right. See what you make of it, when she comes down.’
A little later, as Eliza lay on her bed reading the latest draft of Will and Kit’s script (this was going to be huge), she heard movements in Maria’s room next door. She slid off the bed and made her way onto the landing.
‘Maria, it’s Eliza,’ she said, tapping on the door. ‘Can I come in?’
Her sister was dressed in a maternity top and leggings. Eliza tried to keep her eyes on Maria’s face.
‘Cassandra told you I was coming?’
‘Yes. I suppose it’s nice of you to visit.’
‘So your due date’s the middle of January?’
‘I feel it will be soon.’ Maria stroked her rounded stomach, and Eliza finally looked down. Cassandra was right – from Eliza’s admittedly sketchy knowledge of these things, that didn’t look like a full-term bump.
Rather than stare, she looked around the room. There was a beautiful bassinet draped in white lace, and neatly arranged on shelves were folded piles of baby clothes and nappies, and a baby monitor still in its box.
‘Shall we take a walk outside?’ said Maria. ‘I could do with some fresh air.’
‘So you’ve been feeling well?’ Eliza said, as they opened the gate to the field beyond the garden. The sun had already dipped behind the hills, casting the valley into shade. Frozen puddles cracked beneath Eliza’s boots.
‘Very well, yes. And you? How are things?’
‘Oh, you know. Work’s fine, but my love life’s slightly shambolic.’
‘No, I didn’t know.’ Maria looked over at Eliza, considering.
‘We’ve never really had those conversations, have we?’
‘How’s Phil?’
‘Very busy. He gets in touch when he can. He’s looking forward to our baby’s arrival, obviously. He likes Elijah for a boy, Sarah for a girl.’
‘Lovely! Eli or Sarah. Aunt Eliza heartily approves.’
‘I’m afraid Phil doesn’t approve of you at all. He thinks you’re . . . ’
‘In league with the devil?’
Maria smiled. ‘Something like that. But I’m glad you’re in charge at Rose now.’
‘You are? Why? I thought you’d be angry.’
‘When you fall in love and have a family, then you’ll realize what’s really important in life. But in the meantime . . . I like seeing you doing well.’
Eliza looked at her sister in astonishment. Could love really change a person so profoundly? Maria’s fire had been well and truly doused.
‘OK, I have to ask – who are you, and what have you done with the real Maria?’
‘Pregnancy truly is an amazing gift.’
Eliza told Cassandra she agreed – the bump looked too small. Maria should be checked out.
‘If she won’t be examined by a doctor, maybe a midwife? One who’s into natural childbirth?’
‘Worth a try,’ said Cassandra.
By the end of the following morning they’d found one they thought might meet with Maria’s approval. Bronwyn Morgan offered to come over.
They told Maria over lunch – bowls of Cassandra’s homemade watercress consommé. Eliza tried not to gag as the soup, which tasted like washing-up liquid, slipped down her throat. It was all coming back to her now – Cassandra’s cooking. She remembered how the food, and Maria’s cruel words, had made her desperate to go home to London.
‘So the midwife’s views are entirely in line with yours, Maria,’ said Cassandra. ‘No drugs, no intervention. I’d like her to attend the
birth, and thought it would be useful for you to meet her first, so the two of you can discuss your birth plan.’
‘I don’t make that plan, God does,’ said Maria.
‘Yes, well. But you’re happy to meet with her?’
Maria looked mutinous. ‘I’m not doing any tests. And I don’t want to be prodded.’
‘No prodding,’ said Eliza. ‘We promise.’
Bronwyn was small and brisk, middle-aged, with short grey hair. Cassandra reiterated Maria’s wish for everything about the birth to be natural.
‘I’ve brought many a little life into this world,’ Bronwyn said, in a strong Welsh accent, ‘without the need for anything more than a big push from Mum and a helping hand from me.’
Cassandra took Bronwyn upstairs then joined Eliza back in the kitchen.
They were still washing up the lunch things when Bronwyn reappeared. ‘Eliza? Maria would like to see you, dear. Cassandra, could I have a word?’
Eliza’s heart sank as she noticed Bronwyn’s troubled expression. She made her way upstairs, finding herself slowing down as she neared Maria’s room.
What had Bronwyn discovered about the baby? About Eliza’s little niece or nephew – Dad’s first grandchild. Was there something terribly wrong with it? She went cold at the thought.
She tapped on the door and opened it.
Maria was curled up on the bed, her eyes wide and staring.
Eliza hurried over. ‘Maria! What’s wrong? Is the baby all right?’
She sat down beside her and stroked her back.
Maria turned her head and met Eliza’s gaze. The despair in her eyes was heart-wrenching.
‘Maria?’
‘I don’t understand, Eliza. I don’t understand.’
‘What don’t you understand?’
‘It can’t be true. Tell me it’s not true.’ Her voice rose. ‘Who is that woman? Did God send her?’
‘Bronwyn’s an experienced midwife. What did she say, Maria?’
Cassandra and Bronwyn came in, and Maria started to cry.
Great, heaving sobs.
‘Eliza?’ said Bronwyn in a low voice, beckoning. She took her onto the landing. ‘Did she tell you?’
‘No. Is the baby . . . is there something wrong with it?’
Bronwyn put a hand on her arm. ‘There is no baby, Eliza. I’m afraid it’s a phantom pregnancy.’
‘What?’
‘I examined Maria, and persuaded her to do a urine test, which confirmed my suspicions. It’s all in her mind.’
Eliza’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘But . . . the bump. Surely that’s not possible?’
‘Phantom pregnancies are rare, Eliza. There’s usually a psychological reason. Sometimes when a woman’s desperate for a child – really desperate – the mind tricks the body into thinking it’s pregnant. All the symptoms are there. It can be so powerful that hormones are produced – the stomach enlarges, the breasts swell; there might even be milk.’
‘Oh my god. Poor Maria.’
Eliza was reminded of her conversation with Harry, about the power of the mind. ‘Poor, poor Maria. How will she ever get over this?’
Chapter 27
Eliza
‘How do we tell her husband?’ asked Cassandra as they drank tea in the kitchen. Eliza made it this time – camomile, to calm the nerves.
The midwife had advised them to let Maria rest, to give her time to come to terms with this heartbreaking situation. Once she accepted the truth, her bump would disappear – although Bronwyn recommended a thorough check to rule out anything else that might have caused the symptoms. Cysts were mentioned, but the other word beginning with C hung in the air.
‘Surely she should tell Phil herself,’ said Eliza. ‘I don’t want to tell him. When was he next due to come?’
‘Not until the birth.’
‘What a supportive partner. He probably thinks it’s all women’s work, just wants to be presented with a pretty, pink, sweet-smelling baby when it’s all over.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose I’ll have to tell Dad. I actually think he was quite excited about being a grandpa.’
Cassandra smiled. ‘He’d make a good one. I remember him with Maria when she was small. He was lovely with her.’
‘I wonder when that changed? He’s quite mean to her now.’
‘Well, you know Maria’s history. She went from two happy adoring parents to a chronically depressed mother and a father who was never there. There was a time when only the housekeeper paid her any attention.’
Eliza put down her mug on the table with a bang, making Cassandra jump. ‘I’m going for a walk – and I’ll ring Dad.’
She strode across the fields, keeping up a brisk pace against the cold – and as an outlet for her frustration. Eventually, feeling calmer, she climbed onto a wooden gate and sat looking out across the valley. Little clouds formed in front of her face as she breathed deeply, letting the natural beauty wash over her.
No wonder Katie and Cassandra had settled here. She was beginning to understand what they’d been running away from.
There was only one feeble bar on her phone, but she gave it a go.
‘Lizzie! How’s Welshness?’ said Harry.
She didn’t bother with the preliminaries. ‘Dad. It’s not good news. For reasons that are quite difficult to understand, Maria’s not pregnant after all. She just imagined she was.’
‘What? You mean . . . a phantom pregnancy?’
‘Yes. All the symptoms, but no baby. She’s devastated.’
‘My god.’
For a moment, neither said anything. Eliza remembered her sister’s words, spoken only yesterday, about the power of love, about what really mattered.
‘Dad, I think you need to come to Wales.’
‘Can’t. We’re flying out in a couple of days.’
He really didn’t get it.
‘No, Dad. You need to come to Wales.’
‘She’s got you there, she doesn’t need me.’
The anger made a swift return. ‘For god’s sake, Dad! What if it was me? Would you come if it was me?’
‘Well . . . yes. But you and I are close.’
She gripped the phone harder. ‘And why do you think that is?’
‘Because we get on. Because you’re my—’
‘Favourite?’
‘What’s your point, Lizzie?’
‘That list of women you’ve treated badly in your past. You might want to add your daughter to it.’
He went quiet. ‘Where’s all this coming from? Ah, wait. Have you been discussing me with Cassandra?’
‘Yes, but this is coming from me. She mentioned how lovely you were with Maria when she was little. Then it seems you pretty much ignored her. No wonder she’s such a screw-up. Have you never thought perhaps you might have something to do with that?’
‘Is that what you believe?’ She heard it in his voice. Her answer mattered to him.
‘You know what? All my life, people have told me how I’m the apple of your eye. Your favourite. And all this time I basked in it. What must that have been like for Maria? If you don’t want another messed-up woman on your conscience, you should come to Wales. And don’t say you can’t. We have an airline. Reckon you can rebook that ticket.’
Harry arrived the next day. Cassandra and Eliza had spent the morning with Maria, reassuring her that she and Phil would still be able to have a family once she got over this upset.
Eliza spotted the Aston Martin coming up the driveway, and they went out to meet him.
‘Look at him, Eliza,’ said Cassandra, nudging her. Harry appeared out of the beautiful car, dressed in jeans and a chunky cream sweater.
‘That’s just so unfair on other men.’
Eliza snorted. ‘Please stop. I have issues with women finding my father sexually attractive.’
‘Hello!’ said Harry, slamming the car door and coming over. ‘Cass, darling. So good to see you – it’s been a while.’
‘Harry. It’s wonderful that
you’ve come. I think you and Maria will both benefit from some healing time together.’
‘Hm. We’ll see. Just doing as I’m told, as per. The Rose women are very much in charge now. Frightening times.’
‘Come and see Maria,’ said Eliza.
‘Already?’
‘Yes, already.’
Harry
Eliza put a hand on Harry’s arm and said, ‘Don’t blow this, Dad. Be kind. Think back to that little girl Cassandra was telling me about, the one you adored. Not the difficult one.’
He tapped on the living room door and opened it. Maria was sitting by the fire, staring into the flames. She looked up as he shut the door behind him, and the grief in her eyes took him straight back.
Katie.
He swallowed. That expression – it was Katie’s, after the loss of Summer, their first stillborn child.
He hurried over. ‘My poor girl,’ he said, wrapping her in a hug.
Her tears came, and for a long while neither said a word.
‘Are there tissues?’ he said, gently letting her go.
‘Yes,’ she said, sniffing. ‘But they’re so organic they disintegrate with one nose blow.’
Harry laughed, glad she’d offered a way back to the light. ‘Cassandra hasn’t changed, then.’
He pulled up a chair next to hers. ‘She and Eliza have filled me in on what’s happened. I couldn’t be more sorry. About . . . well, all of it. What’s happened to you here; our disagreements at work. Not being around enough when you were little. I fear I may be responsible for—’
‘My unhappiness? Partly, Father. But you weren’t responsible for Mother’s death. I’m still trying to get over that. She was all I had, until I met Phil.’
‘You had me, and Clare and Eliza.’
‘No, I didn’t. You’ve always excluded me.’
He was quiet for a moment. ‘Perhaps. I’m sorry. Will Phil come to take care of you?’ He acknowledged the passive-aggressive element in that question. Maybe the best he could do for Maria in the short term was to prepare her for what was surely to come.
‘He doesn’t know what’s happened. I can’t face telling him. I don’t know how to.’ The tears started again. ‘How could God be so cruel? I can’t understand why He’d do this to us.’
Sister to Sister Page 20
