‘Tansy.’ She closed her eyes as her heart raced, feeling a mixture of nerves and a new sense of relief that her secret had been shared. ‘I have literally only found out an hour or so ago, I haven’t even told Jonah, who’s away for a few days, and I certainly wasn’t going to share it with anyone else, not for a long while yet.’
Paying no heed to her friend’s words, Tansy leapt from her seat and rushed forward, crushing her to her chest in a hug. ‘This is the best news in the world! Oh my God! I am so excited. You are going to be the best mum in the world! The best. You can have a girl who will marry Benedict, the age gap will be perfect and we can plan their wedding. I call shotgun on aquamarine for my dress, it’s always been my colour, and we will become grannies together and be friends forever! I am so happy!’ Tansy clapped as she danced around the room.
‘Tansy—’
‘Are you taking folic acid? You need to start if you aren’t already. I’ll get you some.’ She tapped her mouth as if making a mental shopping list.
‘I am. But, Tansy—’
‘And you need to invest in good bras – oh my word, they are vital.’ She placed her cupped hands over her chest. ‘I didn’t bother with Benedict and I now have a chest I have to roll up at the end of the day like a used sports sock. It’s not pretty. They are more like deflated balloons than boobs.’
‘The thing is, Tansy—’
‘Names!’ Her friend clicked her fingers. ‘We need to get you a baby book. I feel torn. I want to give you my favourites like Edie and Imelda, but if you use them it means I can’t . . .’
‘Tansy!’ she shouted. ‘Please! Just be quiet for a minute.’ She briefly closed her eyes and waited while the woman took a seat.
‘I’m excited,’ Tansy whispered.
‘I know, I can tell, and I am too, but I have to curb that excitement.’ She took a breath.
‘What do you mean?’ Her friend sat forward with a quizzical expression.
‘It’s not the first time Jonah and I have conceived.’
‘Oh?’
‘I’ve had a couple of miscarriages, early miscarriages, and so I’m being cautious.’ She spoke quietly, wary that even mentioning it might jinx things.
‘A couple?’ Her friend’s expression was one of disbelief and sorrow.
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, Lucy! I’m so sorry.’ She looked into her lap and drew breath. ‘It happened to me before Benedict and after Michael, put me off trying for a long while. It happens to lots of people. It will all be okay.’ She spoke softly, sincerely.
‘I really hope so.’ She swallowed, remembering Dr Millard’s words that most women who suffered from miscarriage went on to give birth to perfectly healthy babies. It gave her hope.
‘You should have told me what you were going through. I can’t bear the idea of you facing that alone.’
‘I wasn’t alone. Jonah has always been brilliant, and this time . . . who knows?’ She felt a smile spread across her face. It was good news – the best. She hoped this wasn’t a lie, hoped that she and Jonah would reconnect over this wonderful news and be happy. Telling Tansy had somehow made it real. She pictured the wicker hamper on top of the wardrobe.
‘I think having a baby will be the making of you, Lucy. I know you are this big exec here and what you’ve achieved in this shark pool is amazing, but speaking as your friend and not your employee, I really hope that it goes right for you and Jonah. You are two of the best people I know. I think your kids would be a knockout.’
Lucy smiled at her friend. ‘I think you might be right. Not a word to anyone, literally, not even Rick. Promise me.’
‘I promise.’ Tansy raised her hand, unable to wipe the smile from her face, but she seemed calmer now she was armed with this new information. ‘And you can have Imelda; that’s my gift to you.’
‘Thanks for that.’ She snorted her laughter and shook her head. This already felt like fun.
Dex and Camille were lying entwined on the sofa when she arrived home, something they never did when Jonah was there. There was a beat of awkwardness while she swallowed her unease at them being in the house alone, as well as her desire to question what they were up to and how long they had been there. This was yet another example where if the girl in question were Maisie, Lucy would have called her into the kitchen and suggested that lying on a sofa with her boyfriend was not really the done thing when someone else arrived in the room.
‘Hello, guys. How are you?’ she breezed, surprised that they made no attempt to sit up, either to offer her a seat or out of a sense of awkwardness that an adult was stood in front of the sofa on which they slouched. It made her feel like an interloper.
‘Good, thanks.’ Dex smiled, raising his hand in a wave. ‘How was your day?’
‘Fine. Thank you for asking, Dex. Have you both eaten? I was going to rustle up a stir-fry,’ she offered stoically.
‘We’ve got pizza on the way. Wouldn’t want to put you out in any way. In your home,’ Camille answered casually without shifting her eyes from the TV screen. Her behaviour was different with Jonah out of the house. Firstly she was far more at ease with Dex, lying with his hands in her hair and her shirt a little lifted so her skin was against his. And secondly, it was as if she no longer felt the need to pretend to be a friendly force; her verbal barb was cast carelessly, and Lucy found it almost intolerable.
‘It’s your home too, Camille, but no worries.’ She kept her voice bright, embarrassed in front of Dex, unwilling to again go over the fact that she had inadvertently slipped up before. With something akin to relief, she made her way to the kitchen, where she would prepare a healthy stir-fry and take it up to the bedroom. This prospect of not having to face the teenagers who dominated the sitting room filled her with joy. Without Jonah to crowd her space, she would eat her supper and a dessert of strawberry laces and have a little knit; she was getting close to finishing her blanket.
It was a frantic week. Her tenant, Ross, had left the flat on the Thames Path, and Lucy had had to organise an inspection of the property and get the keys retrieved and documents signed. It had been painless, but had still incurred a whole heap of admin that she could have done without.
She did, however, use Jonah’s absence to complete a long list of half-finished chores that were considerably harder when he was in situ. She emptied out the larder, attacking the shelves with a sponge and large bowl of soapy water. Returning only the tins and jars that were in date, she managed to throw away several cans of various vegetables that were in excess of three years old, a couple of smeared and sticky jars of spices, bought for some short-lived fad no doubt, and an opened bag of sugar that had gone rock hard. She stood back and admired her handiwork – the contents of the shelves now sat on pristine surfaces in order of height – and was happy to be able to put her mark on the house in any way.
Next, she took the three grocery bags full of Jonah’s old T-shirts, sportswear and jeans that had been nestling in the cupboard under the stairs and carried them to the charity shop. Her husband liked to dip into these bags occasionally and rescue a ghastly item that he had outgrown decades ago. At least with them out of the house, that temptation was removed.
By the time Friday arrived and Lucy made her way home from work, the house was neat, the bed linen was laundered and pressed, fresh flowers sat in a ceramic jug on the kitchen table, and two slabs of steak nestled in her grocery bag, along with a whole bunch of organic carrots, a fat Spanish onion, a tin of chickpeas and some heavenly scented fresh tomatoes on the vine, from which she would make a spicy vegetarian Moroccan tagine. Preparing the house for Jonah’s return and claiming the evening meal was another small way in which she tried to assert her presence. She hoped that she would beat Jonah home, and she couldn’t wait to see him, having decided to share her news after their steak supper and as they climbed between the sheets, hoping it might be the glue that fixed their recent disagreements.
Lucy trod the path to their front door and whistled as she p
ushed it open. ‘I’m home!’
There was no response.
It was only when she opened the kitchen door to find Camille sobbing into her hands at the table and a rather worried-looking Jonah by her side that she realised she wasn’t alone.
She instantly knitted her brows at the sight of her stepdaughter’s distress.
‘What on earth’s the matter?’ She kept her tone low, trying to think of all the possible reasons for this level of hysterics. Her first thought was that something terrible had happened to Geneviève. Lucy abandoned the bags of shopping on the worktop, trying not to feel aggrieved at having been robbed of the evening she had planned. Silently berating herself for her selfishness, she took a seat opposite them both, waiting for an explanation.
‘Cam’s had a bit of bad news.’ He grimaced over his daughter’s head and continued to pat her back.
‘What’s happened?’
Camille lifted her head to reveal her face, red and bloated with swollen eyes and a running nose. ‘Dex . . .’ she started, before breaking away in a loud sob, ‘Dex is going away.’
‘Going away?’ She looked at Jonah.
‘He’s been offered a job placement in New York for a year and Camille is pretty upset.’
‘So I see,’ she whispered, angry that the girl had managed to rob her of the reunion she had planned. ‘You know, Camille, a year seems like a very long time right now, but it really isn’t. It will go very quickly. I promise you that.’
‘Stop trying to sound like you are bothered! You don’t give a shit! You’re just hoping I go back to France so that you two can get back to your cosy life without me here in the way!’ Camille spat through her distress.
‘Camille!’ Jonah was clearly taken aback by the outburst. Lucy was a little reassured by his shock.
‘What? It’s true, Dad. She doesn’t want me here! She more or less said as much,’ Camille yelled.
‘I . . .’ Lucy opened her mouth, genuinely struggling for a response.
‘That’s not true, Cam. You are just upset because of Dex,’ Jonah stated, ‘but that is certainly no reason to take it out on Lucy.’
She and Jonah exchanged a look that smacked of alliance. It gave Lucy the confidence to speak freely, relieved that finally they might share a view when it came to Camille.
‘To be honest, Camille, when you talk to me like this and treat me this way, you are quite right. I do wonder how we can all live here harmoniously. You don’t make it easy for me.’
‘Lucy!’ Jonah raised his voice in the same way that he had only moments earlier shouted a different name.
She stood her ground, despite the quake of nerves in her limbs. ‘No, I’m sorry, Jonah. I am of course sad for Camille that her boyfriend is going away for a little while, but that is no excuse for her to talk to me in that way.’
Camille laid her head on her dad’s arm, and he brushed her hair with the flat of his hand. ‘Don’t cry, love,’ he cooed.
Lucy felt her hackles rise. She let her eyes rove the walls of the busy kitchen, resting them on the grocery bags full of items she had lovingly chosen for supper, a precursor to breaking her happy news. Placing her hands on the edge of the table, she pushed the chair away and stood, leaving the two sitting alone. As she trod the stairs, her gut twisted with the feeling of disappointment.
I need some space. Space to think. I want to get away from Camille, away from this house.
It was as she finished showering that Jonah entered the room and lay on their bed.
She stood before him in her white towelling bathrobe with a towel on her head, waiting for him to speak. Feeling, in turn, disappointed and furious.
‘I can’t stand it when you two bicker. It pulls me in two!’ He pinched the bridge of his nose.
‘Bicker?’ She rounded on his choice of word and the fact that yet again he had let her down with his lack of support. ‘I am not her schoolgirl friend, arguing over whose turn it is to wear the high heels. I am her stepmother, and this is precisely the problem. You put us on an equal footing and you can’t. She is a child, Jonah, your child. And I am your wife.’
‘But don’t you see that even by saying that it’s as if you want me to choose?’ he shouted.
Lucy shook her head and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘I do want you to choose, but not in the way that you think, not between Camille or me, never that, but how you let her behave. I want you to choose to parent her differently, to let me be a part of it, to set boundaries and not allow her to exclude me or be rude to me!’
‘She is absolutely sobbing her heart out down there.’ He pointed to the stairs, as if this display in some way justified her behaviour or might be enough to let her off the hook.
‘And that’s sad, it is. But this is about so much more than a boyfriend going away for twelve months. This is the foundation of our family!’ she yelled.
Jonah sat back and looked out of the window, as if the solution might be lurking in the trees that dappled the sunlight through the window.
‘I need to go to the flat for a couple of days,’ she lied, the idea occurring to her as she spoke, as if the empty flat could give her the space and time out that she craved. ‘Ross has moved out, but I need to have a clean-up and sort out the mail and a few other bits and pieces.’ She avoided his gaze as she pulled the small suitcase from the bottom of the wardrobe and unzipped it, laying it flat on the bed.
‘I’ll come with you,’ he whispered.
‘No.’ Her response was firm and instant. ‘Camille needs you right now, and I’ll be better off left to my own devices. I’ll get everything done quicker.’ She concentrated on opening the top drawer of the chest and pulling out her underwear, knowing in her heart that all she needed was a couple of nights of solitude, where she could, without distraction, figure out how best to deal with the Camille situation.
The thought of her beautiful, tranquil apartment fuelled her desire to escape. She was grateful that they had decided to wait a while before selling it and using the money to remodel the house.
‘How long will it all take, do you think?’ he asked with a note of concern.
‘Not too long.’ She spoke to the contents of the case, absently folding shirts and rolling her pyjamas, almost unable to process this turn of events which couldn’t have been more different from the evening that she had been envisaging all day. Lucy had been so excited to share her lovely news. Now, she felt nothing but the waves of disappointment wash over, leaving in their wake a sting of hurt that shook her.
‘Do you have to go? Can’t it wait for a few days and then we can do it together?’
‘No, Jonah, I need to go tonight.’ She avoided eye contact and tried to ignore his deep sigh of disappointment.
Finally she stowed her knitting on top of her clothes and re-zipped the bag. Lucy turned to reach for her jeans and a T-shirt that lay on the floor when Jonah called out.
‘Lucy!’
‘What?’ She stood upright. His tone had sounded urgent, and she waited for his apology, his plea for her to stay right there. She knew that if he said the right things, she would unpack her case and fall into his arms, because she loved him. She loved him more than anything.
‘You’re bleeding.’ He pointed at the dark stain that spread on the back of her robe.
Tears pricking her eyes, she hastened out of the room before they spilled. She knew that he would assume this was a regular period, and she did nothing to enlighten him.
The dark was drawing in an hour later as Lucy parked her car in the familiar space, just as she had a thousand times before. But tonight she was on edge, her muscles coiled with tension.
‘Stay with me, baby, please stay with me.’ This she repeated over and over, sending her prayer up into the night air. ‘I will lie flat, I’ll take it easy, try and relax and I will try to keep you.’ She cried, knowing she couldn’t cope with a trip to the hospital alone. The fact that the bleeding had slowed she took as a good sign. Deep down, she knew she was putting off
having to confront the idea that this baby too might be leaving her.
There had been the odd moment over the last few weeks when she had longed for the solace of this apartment. In fact, there had been occasions over the last year when she had longed for the minimalist order of the space. But tonight neither brought her any comfort.
‘It’s okay, baby, it’s all going to be okay. We can do this.’ She rubbed her stomach.
Thankfully, Ross had been a model tenant – just as Tansy had promised when she recommended him – leaving the flat as he had found it. The toilets were bleached, the stove was scrubbed, the floors were swept, the surfaces sparkled, and the vast glass picture window that looked out at the boats and lights that shimmered on the moody Thames was smear free. But the place felt different. She felt different.
The background smell of the apartment was not hers. Gone were the floral notes of her perfume that once lingered in the air, and there was no longer the punchy zing of lemon in the cleaning fluid that she favoured. In its place was the woody, masculine aroma of a dark, brooding cologne, and in and around the kitchen hung the faintest trace of an Eastern spice that was unfamiliar to her. This, like most things in the last couple of hours, made her cry. An empty feeling of loneliness now engulfed her, not only at the fact that she had left the house in Windermere Avenue that had once felt like home, but also that she no longer felt she belonged here. This left the unpalatable question: where did she belong?
Lucy unzipped her suitcase on the double bed and unfurled the sleeping bag she had grabbed from the wardrobe in her rush to leave the house, figuring it would be easier than hunting for bed linen. The crumpled item looked lonely and desolate in the middle of the wide bed in which she and Jonah had consummated their new-found love. She blinked away the image of that first night, full of promise, and placed her hand on her stomach as the gripe of pain tore at her insides. ‘Stay with me, baby, please, please, please . . .’ she whispered.
Lucy knew the drill by now. Lying back on the cream hide sofa, with her legs propped up on two pillows, she closed her eyes, suddenly aware that the silence carried its own music, and to her ear it sounded a lot like loneliness. She had forgotten the many nights she had spent like this, wondering if she would ever meet someone with whom she wanted to share her life, and she had – she had met Jonah. But what she hadn’t envisaged was having Camille in tow, and all the tension that had come with her arrival.
The Idea of You Page 21
