Just One Last Night

by Helen Brooks

  Melanie plugged in the coffee machine and then stood with her hands on her stomach, the wonder that a little life was growing inside her engulfing all her worries and fears and doubts for a few moments. ‘You’ll be told about your brother, little one, as soon as you’re old enough to understand,’ she whispered. ‘He was our first child and greatly loved, but that doesn’t mean you won’t be loved too, for who and what you are.’

  Would this baby understand that she had to leave it for its own good, though? Could any child take that on board? It might hate her. But would that matter so much if it was safe and protected and having a good life? The turmoil came in again on a great flood of anguish. She was doing the right thing, wasn’t she? Yes, yes, she was. She couldn’t doubt herself. And there must be no more nights like last night. This separation had to stand. And that meant she mustn’t see Forde any more, because if he was there, in front of her, then all her resolve went out of the window. She wasn’t strong enough where he was concerned.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ said Forde sharply from behind her.

  Melanie swung round, her hands springing away from her belly. ‘Nothing, nothing’s wrong.’

  ‘You were standing there like that and for a minute I thought you were in pain,’ he said thickly, his eyes searching her face as though he still wasn’t quite sure if she was telling him the truth.

  ‘I’m fine.’ She took a deep breath. She had never voluntarily mentioned Matthew or what had happened, Forde had always been the one to broach the subject and more often than not then she had refused to discuss it, knowing she would break down if she did, but now she said quietly, ‘I was thinking of Matthew, that’s all. I—I don’t want him forgotten. I want this baby to know it had a brother.’

  ‘Of course.’ His voice was soft but with a note in it that made her want to cry. ‘That’s taken as read, Nell.’

  ‘Forde, if I agree to go and see Miriam, to talk to her, I want—’ she took a deep breath ‘—I want you to promise you won’t come here again. That’s the deal. I mean it.’

  She saw him take a physical step backwards as though she had slapped him across the face.

  ‘We can’t keep—’ She shook her head. There was no kind way to say it. ‘I don’t want you here. It complicates everything and it will just make the final parting all the harder. I can cope on my own.’

  ‘And if I can’t? Cope, that is?’ he said grimly. ‘What then? Or is this all about you to the exclusion of anything else?’

  Now she felt as though he had slapped her.

  ‘You’re carrying my child,’ he said with deliberate control. ‘That gives me certain rights, surely? You can’t shut me out as though I don’t exist.’

  ‘I’m not trying to shut you out, not from the baby.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ He raised dark brows. ‘So I promise to stay away for the next nine months—’

  ‘Six. I’m already three months pregnant.’

  ‘Six months,’ he continued as though she hadn’t interrupted, ‘and then what? I get a phone call saying the baby’s born and I can come and pick it up? Is that what you’ve got planned?’

  She stared at him. He had a right to be angry but now she was angry too. ‘I didn’t have to tell you I was pregnant,’ she said stiffly. ‘Not so early on anyway.’

  ‘As I recall, it was me turning up at the doctor’s that forced you to reveal it. Right? Whether you would have told me if you’d had time to think about it, I’m not so sure.’

  Probably because he had touched on something she had been questioning herself about for the last twenty-four hours, Melanie was incensed. ‘I’m not discussing this further, but I’d like you to remember that this is my house and I have a perfect right to say who comes over the threshold.’ She glared at him, hands on hips and her eyes flashing.

  ‘If you weren’t pregnant I’d try shaking some sense into you,’ he ground out between clenched teeth.

  She knew he didn’t mean it. Forde would never touch a woman in anger. Nevertheless her small chin rose a notch. ‘You could try,’ she said bitingly, ‘but don’t forget what I do for a living. I’m stronger than I look.’

  ‘Actually, I’ve never doubted how strong you are,’ he said tersely. ‘It’s your best and your worst attribute. It got you through the first twenty-five years of your life until you met me but now it’s in danger of ruining the rest of your life. You need to let me in, Nell. You don’t have to fight alone. Don’t you realise that’s what marriage is all about? I’m in your corner, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and health. I love you. You. The kind of love that will last for ever. I’m not going to give up on you whatever you say or do so get that through your head.’

  ‘And you get through your head that I can’t be what you want me to be. I’m not good for you, Forde. I’m not good for anyone.’

  ‘You are the best thing that ever happened to me,’ he said from the heart. ‘The very best. Now you can try to tell yourself different if you like, but I know what I feel.’

  She stared at him. ‘I can’t do this,’ she said flatly, the tone carrying more weight than any show of emotion. ‘I want you to go, Forde. Now. I mean it.’

  She did. He could see it in every fibre of her being. But he had one last thing to say. ‘Even before the accident, you were expecting the bubble to burst, Nell. It became a self-fulfilling prophecy and you are the only one who can change that. I don’t think I can do or say any more but I hope you have the courage to dig deep and face what you need to face, for the sake of our child as much as us.’

  Her chin was up and her voice was tight and thin when she said, ‘Have you finished?’

  He gave her one last long look and then walked into the dining room, where his jacket was still hanging over the back of a chair, shrugging it on and leaving the house without another word.

  Melanie heard the front door slam behind him but she didn’t move for a full minute simply because she couldn’t. She felt sick and ill and wretchedly unhappy, but she told herself she’d done what had to be done.

  After a while she poured herself a coffee because if ever she had needed one it was now, walking into the sitting room and sinking down on one of the sofas. She sat for some time. It had started to rain outside, big drops splattering against the window, and she shivered. The weather was changing at last. Winter was round the corner.

  It was the following evening when her phone rang just as she was finishing dinner. She hadn’t felt like a meal, but had forced herself to cook a cheese omelette after she’d had her bath and changed into her pyjamas, conscious that she had to eat healthily now. To that end she’d had a glass of milk with the omelette and finished with an apple crumble and custard. Shop-bought but tasty nonetheless.

  Her heart thudded as she picked up the phone but it wasn’t Forde. Instead a woman’s voice said, ‘Can I speak to Mrs Masterson, please?’

  ‘Speaking.’ This had to be the woman Forde had mentioned.

  ‘This is Miriam Cotton. Forde asked me to give you a ring.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Melanie suddenly felt ridiculously nervous. She didn’t want to go and see a stranger and talk about her innermost feelings, but she had made a bargain with Forde that he’d leave her alone if she did so. ‘I—I need to make an appointment, Mrs Cotton. I’m sure you’re very busy so I quite understand it might not be for a while.’

  It was another minute or two before she put down the phone and her head was spinning. She was going to see Miriam Cotton after work the next day. She didn’t doubt that Forde had pulled strings to make it happen; ‘strike while the iron was hot’ was his style.

  She sat and brooded for a good hour, looking at the address and telephone number Miriam had given her and wondering whether to call her back and cancel the appointment. It would mean she would have to take a change of clothes to work and get ready before she left Forde’s mother’s house, but that wasn’t really the issue.

  She was frightened. Scared stiff.

  As the thoug
ht hit she realised her hands were clenched into fists in her lap and she concentrated on relaxing her fingers slowly. Forde had said she would have to find the courage to dig deep. Why should she put herself through that? What if it did no good? What if it made her feel even worse?

  Panic rose, hot and strong, and then she remembered something else Forde had said, something she’d tried to put out of her mind, but which had only been relegated to the subconscious, waiting to jump out the minute she let it. He’d said she’d been expecting the bubble of their marriage to burst all along, that it had become a self-fulfilling prophecy and she was the only one who could change that. It had made her so mad she could have cheerfully strangled him, and she’d told herself at the time that was because it was untrue and terribly unfair.

  She shut her eyes tightly. But it wasn’t.

  Opening her eyes, she stood up. She was exhausted; she couldn’t think of this any more. She was going to bed and in the morning she would decide what she was going to do. But even as she thought it she knew her decision had already been made. Because something else Forde had said had cut deep. She had to do this for the sake of the baby. She had to try. It might be a lot of pain and anguish for nothing, and in digging up the past she might open a can of worms that was best left closed, but if she didn’t try she would never know, would she?

  She didn’t even bother to brush her teeth before getting into bed, so physically and emotionally tired her limbs felt like dead weights, but in the split second before she fell asleep she acknowledged it wasn’t just for the baby she was going to see Miriam tomorrow. It was for Forde too.

  Miriam Cotton wasn’t at all what Melanie had expected. For one thing her consulting room was part of her home, a cosy, friendly extension to the original Edwardian terrace overlooking the narrow walled garden consisting of a neat lawn and flowerbeds with an enormous cherry tree in the centre of it. And Miriam herself was something of a revelation, her thick white hair trimmed into an urchin cut with vivid red highlights and her slim figure clothed in jeans and a loose blue shirt. She had a wide smile, big blue eyes and lines where you would expect lines for someone of her age on her clear complexion. Altogether she gave the impression of someone who was at peace with herself. Melanie liked her immediately.

  Once sitting in a plump armchair next to the glowing fire—artificial, Miriam informed her cheerfully, but the most realistic Melanie had ever seen—and with no consulting couch, which she had been preparing herself for all day and dreading, Melanie began to relax a little. There was something about Forde’s friend’s mother that inspired trust.

  Miriam smiled at her from the other armchair. ‘Before we go any further I must make one thing perfectly clear. Anything we talk about, anything you tell me is strictly between the two of us. Forde is a dear man but he will not be party to anything which is said in this room, not unless you wish to confide in him, of course. You have my absolute word on that.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Melanie nodded and relaxed a little more. She didn’t want to have any secrets from Forde, it wasn’t that, but knowing she still retained some control was nonetheless reassuring. It made her feel safe.

  ‘Forde tells me you’re expecting another baby?’ Miriam said quietly.

  Melanie nodded again. She was glad Miriam had said ‘another’ and not pretended Matthew hadn’t been born. ‘Yes, in the spring.’ She hesitated. ‘I suppose that’s the main reason— No.’ She paused, shaking her head. ‘That’s not right. It’s one of the reasons I’m here. I guess falling for another baby has brought everything to a head.’

  ‘Everything?’ Miriam said even more quietly.

  Melanie looked into the gentle face opposite her. There were family photographs covering one wall of the room and she had noticed one little girl was in a wheelchair. This woman knew about trouble and heartache, she thought, biting her lower lip. She would have known that even without the photographs. It was in Miriam’s eyes. ‘Shall—shall I start at the beginning?’ she asked. ‘My childhood, I mean.’

  ‘That would be good,’ Miriam said softly. ‘And take your time. You can come to see me here as often as you like, every evening if you wish, until you feel ready to stop. Forde has been a wonderful friend to my son and you take priority right now. All right?’

  Melanie left the house at seven o’clock feeling like a wet rag. She, who prided herself on not wearing her heart on her sleeve, had wept and wailed through the last two hours in a manner that horrified her now she thought about it.

  She climbed into the pickup, which she’d parked a few metres from Miriam’s front door. It looked somewhat incongruous in the line of mostly expensive cars the well-to-do street held, but Melanie didn’t notice.

  She took several deep breaths before she started the engine. She was far from convinced all this was a good idea, she told herself grimly. She felt worse, much worse if anything, after all the emotion of the last hours. Admittedly Miriam had seemed to guess how she was feeling and had assured her it was the same for everyone initially. She had to persevere to come out of the other end of the dark tunnel, according to Miriam. But what if she got stuck in the tunnel? What then?

  She drew out of the parking space into the road, a deep weariness making her limbs feel heavy.

  Then she straightened her back and lifted her chin. She had promised Forde and she would keep her end of the bargain. She would come back tomorrow and all the other tomorrows until this thing was done.

  Melanie drove home slowly, aware she was totally exhausted and needed to be ultra careful. Once at the cottage she fixed herself a quick meal before falling into bed. She was asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

  That evening was to set the pattern for the next few weeks, but the morning after her first visit to Miriam she attended the local hospital for her first scan. It was a bittersweet day. She remembered how she and Forde had come together for Matthew’s first scan, excited and thrilled as they had waited to see the baby on the monitor, and slightly apprehensive in case everything wasn’t as it should be.

  This time she sat alone in the waiting area, which was smaller than the one in the hospital in London—her own choice, she reminded herself as she watched the couple in front of her come out of the room where the scan took place wrapped in each other’s arms and smiling.

  Once she was lying on the bed it was more of a repeat of the time before. The lady taking the scan was smiling; all was well, heartbeat strong, baby developing as it should be and no concerns.

  She left the hospital clutching two pictures of the child in her womb and with tears of relief and thankfulness streaming down her face.

  Once she was sitting in the truck in the hospital car park she took a few minutes to compose herself before phoning Forde on his mobile. He answered immediately. ‘Nell? What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing’s wrong. I’ve been to the hospital for the first scan and everything’s fine with the baby. I just wanted you to know. I’ve a picture for you. I’ll leave it with Isabelle.’

  It was a moment before he spoke and his voice was gruff. ‘Thank God. And I mean that, thank God. They can’t tell if it’s a boy or a girl at this stage, can they?’

  ‘No. That’s at twenty weeks. Do you want to know?’ They hadn’t found out with Matthew.

  ‘I don’t know. Do you?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I’ll ring you near the time and discuss it then. I have to go to work now. Goodbye, Forde.’

  His voice was husky when he said, ‘Goodbye, Nell.’

  It took her another ten minutes to dry her eyes and compose herself again before she could start the truck and drive out of the hospital confines, but by the time she got to Isabelle’s house she was in command of herself.

  Isabelle insisted on giving her a hot drink before she joined James in the garden, and her mother-in-law was entranced with the picture of her future grandchild. ‘Do you mind if I take a copy of it for myself before I pass this on to Forde tonight?’ Isabelle asked as they finished their hot cho
colate and custard creams at the kitchen table. ‘He’s calling in later for dinner. I don’t suppose you’d like to stay too?’

  Melanie shook her head. ‘I’m going to see Miriam again.’ She had thought it only right to tell her mother-in-law what she was doing yesterday and now she was glad she had. It was the perfect excuse and had the added bonus of being the truth.

  ‘Is it being nosy if I ask you how it went?’ Isabelle said gently.

  ‘Of course not.’ Melanie shrugged. ‘But I can’t give you much of an answer because I’m not sure myself. It was… traumatic, I suppose.’

  ‘But helpful?’

  Melanie shrugged again. ‘I don’t know, Isabelle. I guess time will tell.’ She drank the last of her hot chocolate and stood up. ‘I’d better go and help James with the planting.’

  Once outside, she lifted her face to the silver-grey sky. Helpful. How could anything so painful be helpful? She wasn’t looking forward to the next weeks.

  November turned into December amid biting white frosts and brilliantly cold days, but she and James managed to complete the work at Isabelle’s by the end of the first week of December.

  And Forde kept his word. He didn’t come to the cottage and he didn’t call her. In fact he could have fallen off the edge of the world and she’d be none the wiser, Melanie thought to herself irritably more than once, before taking herself to task for her inconsistency.

  Pride had forbidden her to mention him to Isabelle while she had still been working at her mother-in-law’s house. It seemed the height of hypocrisy to do so anyway after she had left him and was still refusing to go back. What could she say? Was he well? Was he happy? And after that time when Isabelle had asked her to stay for dinner on the day of the scan, her mother-in-law had talked about everything under the sun except Forde. Which wasn’t like Isabelle and led Melanie to suspect her mother-in-law was obeying orders from her son.