Rumours and Red Roses

by Patricia Fawcett

  ‘Not much point,’ she found herself saying. ‘Going out for a meal, I mean. The thought of it makes me feel sick. I’m pregnant, Rory.’

  So she never did see the initial reaction and, after a moment’s silence, he came up trumps with lots of surprised, excited sounds.

  She wondered, though, what he looked like when he replaced the receiver.

  He did not want the baby.

  He was saying all the right things, hugging her and telling her she was a clever girl, concerned at how she was feeling, but she knew him well enough and she could read between the lines.

  ‘It wasn’t deliberate,’ she told him as he followed her upstairs. She wanted to say that it had never happened with James, that they had had a robust sex life for years with never a sign of a baby.

  ‘I know. Accidents do happen.’ He smiled across at her before going into their en-suite and turning on the shower. She undressed and put on silk pyjamas before getting into bed. The large high-ceilinged room was softly lit, a newly calm lavender-coloured room, with all white linen and fresh floral curtains. They had a new bed, for she had insisted on that, and it was rather special, a French-style bed, cosily double instead of the king-size she had shared with James. After his shower, Rory climbed into bed beside her, wearing just pyjama bottoms as usual, and she cuddled into him.

  He was cold, his feet like lumps of ice, and she shivered, moving her face against his chest, feeling the hairs moving gently against her cheek, hearing his heartbeat. She sensed he was worried about work, for the negotiations had not gone to plan, and she wished he would talk to her about it. Was it her imagination or was there just the hint of a distancing between them lately, even before this? She desperately needed him to tell her what he really thought about the baby but she knew he was not going to. They had always been so open with each other and this did not feel right. Although, if he did tell her the truth, the likely truth being that he was unbelievably pissed off with the whole idea, what difference would it make? It was done. It had been a shock, a tremendous one, but her gran’s words had come thudding back to her. Like Gran, she couldn’t face it. She was not having an abortion and she was relieved that he had not suggested such a thing.

  ‘I …’ She traced her finger along his chest, smelling the clean tangy lime shower gel, before planting little kisses there, something that normally aroused him. ‘I know we agreed not to have children and I really don’t know how it happened. I’m having trouble believing it. Oh, Rory, what can I say?’

  ‘Don’t say anything,’ he said but his voice was tight and he was already turning away, plumping up his pillows in rather a dramatic fashion. ‘It’s done and it will be fine. Sometimes it’s best not to plan your life too much. Take what comes. And you never know, it might be a boy. It would be nice to have a son.’

  It consoled her a little but she took some time to drift off to sleep. She could feel the tension in him and it was hard to come to terms with the fact that life would never be quite the same again.

  The following morning she awoke to find herself alone in bed. Lying perfectly still, she felt fine, the morning sickness not yet kicked in, and she was disappointed that there was no Rory to cuddle into.

  Sitting up sleepily, warily, she saw him emerging from the bathroom dressed in a tracksuit and carrying trainers.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘What does it look like? Going out for a run,’ he said, his ready smile not quite on tack. ‘I used to run a lot. Didn’t I tell you? I’ve let it slip lately but I’d like to get back into it. Running is good. I’m thinking of re-joining the athletics club and I might be in time to do the next mini-marathon. Of course I’ll have to put the training in. It’s serious stuff and I’m out of shape.’

  ‘How long will you be?’ she asked, glancing at the clock and seeing it was six o’clock. Six o’clock.

  ‘Not long. I’ve got to break myself in. I won’t go far. I’ll be back for breakfast.’ He finished tying his laces and came across to give her a kiss. ‘Go back to sleep. You needn’t get up just yet.’

  He went downstairs and she heard the front door shut behind him.

  It was not quite a slam.

  He had, she realized, made no mention of the baby.

  Rory had been absent when his daughters were born so this time he was determined to make it for the birth of his son. They hadn’t been able to resist the temptation of finding out the sex in advance even though her mother and grandmother thought it a dreadful thing to do. Louisa relented, however, as soon as she realized that it would make the business of buying baby clothes from the boutique that bit easier. White and pale blue only and the baby, even before it arrived, already had an impressive wardrobe.

  Adele had had a designer in to help with the nursery, which was a sweet little haven in waiting. Towards the end of her pregnancy, she would often spend time in there, taking the little clothes out of the drawers and putting them back again, feeling the baby moving and kicking inside.

  Her pregnancy had been a total nightmare. The sickness had never fully left her and she never experienced that well-being you were supposed to feel during the middle stages. She just felt completely rotten throughout.

  As to the birth … well, she was dreading it and hoping there would be some let-up somewhere along the line, that, following a horrible nine months, the birth itself would be an easy one. Not so. There was a conspiracy, she was convinced, a conspiracy amongst mothers to keep the true horror of childbirth secret. She remembered screaming at Rory, telling him to get the hell out, even yelling at her mother who had peeped nervously in. The midwife, bless her heart, never batted an eyelid, saying it took some women that way; some women were totally focussed, just got on with it, whilst others – and that included her – really liked to let rip. As the hours passed, Adele was convinced that no other woman had ever gone through what she was going through and, at that moment, if she had had a shotgun she would have aimed it at Rory and pulled the trigger.

  At the last, Alexander Cavendish Chandler slithered out in a great rush after just three pushes, choosing to arrive when Rory was in the corridor with her mother, getting a cup of coffee for them from the machine. ‘She’ll be a while yet,’ the midwife had told them but she was wrong.

  But, as her mother had cheerfully told her, the pain was all forgotten the minute she set eyes on her little son. He was absolutely wonderful and the maternal feelings that had been worryingly missing flooded in like a tsunami.

  Rory’s face was a picture.

  For somebody who hadn’t wanted another child, he was undeniably thrilled, holding the infant against his body so tenderly, his big hand caressing the soft little cheek. The baby had a mass of dark almost black hair, a lot of it, and the darker blue eyes that meant before long they would probably change to her brown.

  It was two days later, as she was preparing to leave hospital that the consultant asked to see them.

  ‘Ah, Mr and Mrs Chandler,’ he said when, completely unaware, stupidly thinking he just wanted to say goodbye, they went to his office. The baby was ready for off, wearing one of his new expensive outfits and draped in the precious family shawl that Louisa had once despaired of ever using again. ‘Do come in. Take a seat. Now … little …’ He consulted his papers. ‘Alexander, isn’t it? We’ve done the usual checks and we have a slight problem, I’m afraid.’

  She heard the gasp from Rory as she slipped her hand into his.

  PART TWO

  NINETEEN

  Becky

  ‘WELCOME, LADIES. Come this way, please.’

  The waiter was dark haired and handsome in a small, slender Mediterranean way with a gleam in his eye and the two of them had exchanged a mischievous look about him when waiting to be seated. Flourishing very large menus, he led them to a table in the corner, the very same one they had occupied so recently, but this time it was all so different.

  This time it felt like a treat.

  This time, the crucial difference was that
they were not weighed down by a frenzy of worry because today their children were not down in the operating theatres with their tiny hearts exposed. So today, Becky actually took the time to take out her glasses and consult the menu before making a choice. It was undoubtedly a little self-indulgent of them to take time out like this, leaving the poor men folk, Simon and Rory, back at the hospital waiting that endless wait for the consultant’s round, after which, barring something unexpected, the babies would get the go-ahead for discharge. They were both doing well, their temperatures were normal, heart rates fine, blood pressure excellent, so there was no reason to expect a problem. Becky had bought Samantha a new coat, a big girl coat with a matching hat, new tights and new shoes although, just now, she needed to be carried.

  The men had seemed to understand their need for a little break, a woman-only chat. Simon and Rory were friendly enough in that chummy yet slightly distant way of male acquaintances.

  ‘Do you remember the first time we came here?’ Becky asked, glancing happily round. It was a little gem, in the tradition of small family-run restaurants, not the least pretentious, the background music an unobtrusive selection of popular Italian arias. Of course it would help if they were sitting outside under a blue Italian sky instead of sheltering indoors away from a murky English one, although with spring just around the corner there was cause for some optimism.

  ‘Remember it? Don’t I just? It’s only a couple of weeks but it seems a lifetime away. I’ll never forget it.’ Adele shivered. ‘It was a bad idea, wasn’t it, coming here that day? I can’t think why I suggested it. You just looked so awful, so tired and so frightened. I suppose I did too. We were neither of us up to it. What on earth did we talk about?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ Becky smiled. ‘What did we eat?’

  ‘Goodness knows. I could have been eating sawdust for all I cared. It has to be the worst day of my life. And the longest. You, too, I suppose? Have you decided what you’re having?’ she asked with a smile. ‘Shall we order some wine?’

  Becky nodded, getting quite used to drinking a glass of wine with her meal these days because Simon, though no wine buff, did like to keep the wine rack topped up. ‘You choose,’ she said, not quite trusting herself to do it with any degree of competence.

  ‘We’ll have a light rosé then,’ Adele said, confidently beckoning the waiter over to take their order.

  Today, Becky had taken care with her appearance, wearing a beautifully cut trouser suit with a fine knit sweater, the whole outfit in shades of pale blue. She had bought it without Marina’s help at that. Feeling on a high a couple of days ago, with Samantha well and truly on the mend, the whole world had taken on a glow and, with Simon’s blessing, she had taken time out from the hospital duty and gone back to the apartment to check all was well.

  She had taken the opportunity to have her hair cut and coloured afresh at a top-class salon in town, paying an astronomical sum that would have Ivana and her mum in a faint, but the result, smart and chic, was worth every penny. The girl who had cut it, her own hair eerily multi-coloured and spiky, had listened sympathetically as Becky, tongue loosened, had told her all about Samantha. It had, she acknowledged, been a therapeutic session far more successful than the chat with the family liaison lady at the hospital had ever been. Afterwards, still up there on cloud ninety-nine, she had paid the bill by credit card and given the girl a lavish tip.

  She found herself glancing in the mirror at every opportunity, almost unable to believe this classy-looking lady was her. Simon had dutifully admired the new cut but had then irritatingly said that he liked it the way it was.

  ‘The funny thing was that when Mr Jenkins said Samantha was going to be all right, that the operation had gone well, I didn’t believe him at first,’ she said, distractedly rearranging her cutlery. ‘I thought he was just saying it to make me feel better and, when we first saw her in recovery, she looked dreadful connected up to all the tubes and machines and everything. I know they try to prepare you for it but nothing does, does it? Not when it’s your child. And then I couldn’t believe it for days afterwards. I knew things could still go wrong then, something unexpected, especially when there were a few ups and downs with her blood pressure, which had me in a complete panic. I don’t think I quite believe it yet. I’m still very nervous around her. Can I tell you something?’

  ‘Go on. You can tell me anything, Becky.’

  ‘I really wanted them to keep her for a few more days. I want her at home, of course, but not just yet. Last week, there she was lying in intensive care and now they expect me to take her home. Just like that. Does that make me sound awful? Like a bad mother?’

  ‘No. I understand completely.’ Adele gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘I feel like that with Alex. But they are both going to be fine.’

  Becky nodded. She knew that Alex had had a virtually identical problem to Samantha, his slightly more complicated at that, and she felt that she ought to be the one doing the consoling.

  ‘The consultant says the prognosis is excellent,’ Adele continued. ‘We have to believe it. One thing I’ve learned is that they are completely up front and honest. They would tell us if they were at all concerned. They will keep a check on them and if they do need another op to replace the valves in their teens then so be it. It’s a long way off, Becky. Things will have improved by then. It might be able to be done in some less invasive way. Who knows? They might not even need another op. Try not to treat her like an invalid, although, I should talk, I’m just as bad as you. It’s going to take some time before I feel totally relaxed around him.’

  ‘Me too.’

  They paused as the antipasti arrived; Parma ham with figs for Adele and for Becky stuffed aubergines. They made suitably impressed noises as the waiter fussed around with the bottle of wine before he left them with a winning smile and the suggestion of a wink.

  ‘We shall be sozzled if we finish all of this,’ Adele said, taking a sip of her wine. ‘But I think we deserve it, don’t you? We ought to be having champagne.’

  ‘How’s Rory taking it all?’

  ‘Very well. He’s much calmer than me. He’s been much calmer all along which is just as well. One of us needed to be. He says we just have to treat him like a normal child now. But as you well know, that’s easier said than done. The other day I caught him having a bit of a rough and tumble with Alex in the day room and I had to stop myself from telling him to be careful, frightened that he might fall over. This sounds stupid and I haven’t said anything to anybody but I’m scared stiff of the scar tearing or seeping. It looks so fresh still.’

  ‘It won’t tear and it won’t seep either,’ Becky assured her with a smile. ‘I did ask and, no, they didn’t think it a daft question.’

  ‘They must be used to it. Frantic foolish mums.’ Adele smiled. ‘And grannies as well. My mother’s been threatening to come over ever since the operation even though I’ve told her to stay put. I didn’t want her to see him like that. I wanted to wait until he was up and about again but I know she’s desperate to see him now.’

  ‘I wish my mum could get over to see Samantha,’ Becky said wistfully. ‘She rings every day to see how she is but it’s not the same, is it? Did I tell you that my mother lives in Australia?’

  ‘I think you might have mentioned it. She got married again, didn’t she?’

  ‘Yes. It’s been nearly two years now. The good news is that she’s coming over when she can get it organized.’

  ‘How lovely for you.’

  ‘It might be a while yet because, reading between the lines, I don’t think her husband’s keen on her doing it but I know she’ll be here as soon as she can. She has been back once already when Samantha was about five months old and it was terrible when she went back because I know what she was thinking. And I was thinking exactly the same. She wouldn’t let go of her for ages. We were both wet rags at the airport. We made a bit of a scene. Alan had to prise her away from me at the departures lounge and apparently they h
ad an awful flight back. She doesn’t travel well at the best of times but she was in tears all the way. And I was in tears all the way back from the airport. That was a day to remember, or rather to forget. I honestly thought she was going to pull out at the very last minute. I was surprised when I saw the plane taking off with her on board. I really miss her,’ she added, suddenly hard put not to cry. She was still up and down emotionally with tears never far from the surface.

  ‘It must be difficult for her being so far away.’ Adele gave her an encouraging smile. ‘Although, having said that, my mother’s driving me mad with all the panicking she’s been doing these last months. She’s quite horrified that I haven’t engaged a full-time nanny. She’s been so nervous around Alex and that makes me nervous too. My grandmother on the other hand accuses me of mollycoddling him. She thinks he should be out in his pram in all weathers. Fresh air never did anybody any harm, she says.’

  It was odd, Becky thought, smiling across at her, that, after a slow start, she was now beginning to get used to her new lifestyle. Having Samantha recover so well from the operation had given her a new-found confidence. Simon was right. Even though she missed her mum, her life was here with him and Samantha. She felt much more a contemporary of Adele’s now, dining here, smartly attired, with absolutely no feeling anymore that this idle lunching with a friend business was out of her league.

  It just showed what she had long suspected. You could get used to anything, given time.

  The old Becky, the one who had to watch her pennies, was long gone and now she did not feel guilty if she spent money on herself. Simon liked her to do that, wanted her to look and feel good.

  This was a last meal together, a small celebration for the two of them, she and Adele, and shortly they would go back to the hospital and pick up their children and their husbands, go their separate ways and try to live a normal life.