Summer at 23 the Strand

by Linda Mitchelmore

  ‘Emotion,’ she told herself as she wiped the toilet seat clean. Then she was sick all over again. It was more than emotion and she knew it. She couldn’t remember being sick – ever – when she’d been pregnant with Max and Adam, or with Lola. There were all the dangers of being an older mum to take into consideration. She and James had talked those through.

  At first James had been thrilled when she’d told him she thought she might be pregnant. In bed, certain all the children were asleep. They’d been cuddled together like spoons.

  ‘I’ve done a test,’ Stella had whispered, just in case one of the children was awake. Sound carried further at night.

  ‘What sort of test?’

  James spent every working moment dispensing medication for people who had had tests and needed treatment.

  ‘The little blue line one. Positive.’

  ‘Not an early menopause, is it?’ James had said.

  ‘Ever the scientist!’ Stella said. ‘And I’m not that old!’

  ‘How many months?’

  ‘Weeks. Six.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘And you don’t mind?’

  ‘Mind?’ James had hugged her closer to him, kissed the back of her neck. ‘I’m delighted. Thrilled in fact. It’ll be nice to have the patter of tiny feet about the place again. Won’t it?’

  But there must have been something about the way Stella had remained stiffly in his arms, and didn’t respond to his kiss, and didn’t answer his question, that had alerted him to something else.

  ‘Stella? What is it?’

  ‘I don’t know’ Stella said, her mouth dry with nerves, ‘that I want the patter of tiny feet about the place.’

  Stella still didn’t know. And she’d been trying hard not to think about it, if she was honest. When the children had visited – albeit unasked and uninvited – Stella had been reminded what a fantastic family unit they were. Max, Adam and Lola were great kids and Stella had no reason to believe the child inside her wouldn’t be great as well. But would their relationships with one another, and with her and James, be changed – perhaps not in a good way – with another child in the equation?

  As if that yet-to-be-born child could read her feelings, Stella was sick again – just to remind her it was there, perhaps.

  Yes, she was well and truly pregnant. Again. Unplanned. That incident in the laundry room? Who knew? James had been supportive and said that, while he was very much pro-life, he would accept any decision Stella made about the baby. It would be she, after all, who would have the lion’s share of the caring to do, as well as the carrying of it for nine months.

  Stella sighed. Her mind seemed to be in two halves at the moment. There was the person she’d been for years now, wife and mum, and there was the person she might be if, like her friend Chrissie, she were to write a book – and the more she thought about it, the more she knew she wanted to do it. She’d been into town and bought a reporter’s notebook, and two biros – one with black ink, the other blue – ready to jot down ideas for her novel (or novels, why not?) if they came to her while she was here at 23 The Strand. She might have to fight James for use of the computer to type up those ideas when she got home, but for now she was enjoying getting her thoughts from mind, to hand, to pen, to paper.

  She’d also bought a card with a beach scene on it and written to Chrissie, congratulating her on her literary success and telling her she’d ordered the book from her local bookshop and was looking forward to reading it.

  ‘ …and I’ve often thought I might write a book myself one day, but seeing as I’m expecting a fourth child I don’t know when or where I’m going to find the time!’

  Seeing the words written down made it seem more real. That and the morning sickness.

  Stella had had to pass on breakfast yet again. Almost ten-thirty now. She picked up the little jar of shells the previous tenant had left her. She unscrewed the lid, and hoiked one out with a finger. Shell-pink, the same shade as the dog roses that grew over the back fence of her garden, from the patch of wild land behind, and which Stella couldn’t bear to get rid of. And small. The two hinged ovals were still smaller than the nail on her ring finger. Was that the sort of size her baby was now? And who was this Ana who had left them? She worked here now, so she’d said in the letter she’d left for Stella. So, on a whim, Stella decided to walk along the promenade to The Port Light. She didn’t know Ana but they had a link, didn’t they, with the shells? If she were honest with herself, Stella was becoming more than a little homesick. And lonely in a way she had never experienced before. But she’d said she’d stop at 23 The Strand for two weeks and try and come to a decision, and she would.

  It was quite busy in The Port Light. People sat in twos and threes, hunched over coffees and teas, and nibbling on cakes and pastries between sentences. Two young women were behind the counter and the coffee machine hissed. One of them – the one Stella thought might be Ana – put a jug of milk to the frother and for the few seconds it was running it drowned out all other sound.

  She looked up.

  ‘Hello,’ she said to Stella with a welcoming grin. ‘I won’t be long. One moment.’ Deftly she swirled the frothed milk onto a wide cup of coffee.

  And as Stella neared the counter she saw the name ‘Ana’ on the badge on Ana’s overall. She’d been right; this was the young woman who had left her the shells.

  The other assistant took the coffee over to a table in the corner.

  ‘Black coffee, please,’ Stella said.

  ‘Small, big or in a mug?’ Ana said.

  ‘Small, please.’ Stella hoped she’d be able to drink it without having to run to the toilet. She glanced around to see where it was, just in case she did.

  ‘And cake? I have good carrot cake.’

  ‘Not today, thanks,’ Stella told her. She wrapped her arms across her stomach as a wave of nausea hit her again.

  Ana stretched an arm out across the counter and touched Stella gently on the shoulder.

  ‘Ah, I think I understand why you don’t want to eat, yes?’

  ‘Yes,’ Stella said.

  ‘Sit down. I will bring your coffee over.’

  So Stella sat down at the last empty table and when Ana brought her coffee she came with a small, plain biscuit as well.

  ‘It’s good for sickness of the morning,’ Ana whispered. And then her face lost its beaming smile and Stella saw there were tears in her eyes. ‘I took it once. But now I… I don’t have a baby after all.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Stella said.

  ‘I never forget. I forget the man but not the baby,’ Ana said. ‘I should not say this to you. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to alarm you. You and your baby will be very well. I know it.’

  While this was such a personal, intimate conversation, Stella could understand the reason for it. She realised English wasn’t Ana’s first language and that she was probably alone in a strange country with few people around her to whom she could talk of such things. And wasn’t that why Stella was here this morning? In a bid to combat loneliness?

  ‘It’s okay. Don’t worry. I understand. Sometimes we have to say what’s in our hearts.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ana said, and again that beaming smile that made her cheeks look like two rosy crab apples.

  ‘I’m stopping at 23 The Strand,’ Stella said. She desperately wanted to keep that smile on Ana’s face now. ‘I’ve come to say thank you for your gift of shells. I was born here, and have lived here all my life and walked on this beach thousands of times, but I’ve never, ever, stopped to collect shells.’

  ‘Sometimes,’ Ana said, ‘it’s easy not to see the beauty of things when we have other things, which are not so beautiful, in our minds. Yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When I picked up those shells they reminded me that the world was still beautiful, that there are still things to know and learn, and people to meet. I am very happy you like the shells.’

  Ana had to go back and serve a customer who
had come in, and Stella sat and enjoyed her coffee and nibbled at the biscuit and looked at the people around her, wondering what sort of things they might have in their lives and if any of them had a reason for being in The Port Light. Some looked very happy, some sad, with barely a smile. One or two were on their own, like Stella. Another idea for the book she now knew she would write came to her and she took her notepad and pen from her bag and wrote it down in case she forgot. Being pregnant could make a woman feel very forgetful – she remembered that.

  Before leaving, Stella told Ana she would visit The Port Light again.

  ‘Bring the baby to show me,’ Ana whispered, just the hint of a question in her voice. ‘I would like to meet her. Or him.’

  Stella nodded. But would she? Would she keep it? It was, she knew, hardly bigger than her baby fingernail, with no discernible features.

  Would she?

  Stella walked into town to collect her ordered book from the bookshop. Was there room for one more book on the shelves? Hers? Would she have time to write it if she kept this baby? Stella knew James would support her in whatever decision she made. She could have the termination as a day patient and her mother and children need never know. But wasn’t that immoral? Denying her mother another grandchild and depriving her children of a sibling. James of another son or daughter. And now Ana, who had asked her to bring in the baby to show her.

  ‘Here we go then,’ the smiling man behind the counter said. ‘Happy reading.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll just look around while I’m here.’

  ‘Please do. We’ll leave this here then, in case there’s something else you see and can’t resist. We sell chocolates too.’ He waved an arm towards a display of artisan chocolates.

  ‘Mmm,’ Stella said. She never had been able to resist chocolates. She rarely bought them for that very reason but… well, she was salivating now. She walked towards the display. I live here, for goodness’ sake, she thought, and I didn’t know the bookshop sold such deliciousness. Perhaps, she thought, I’ll buy chocolates to leave as a gift for the next occupant of 23 The Strand. If I can resist eating them! And then a thought struck her… were chocolates good or bad for gestating babies? She didn’t know. She would have to look it up.

  And then she noticed a display table with a notice – SUMMER READS. Lots of author names she knew and had read. And some she didn’t. She picked up a book, read the blurb, put it down. Tried another. She brought it towards her nose and sniffed. Oh yes, there was something about a paper book, so tactile between her fingers, that stirred the senses.

  ‘And this,’ she said, taking the book over to the counter. She’d leave this book as a gift. She’d enjoyed reading while being at 23 The Strand, and she hoped the next occupant would too.

  James was sitting on the top step of 23 The Strand when she got back. He had his head in his hands, staring down at his feet.

  Stella saw him as she rounded the corner onto the pedestrian-only promenade that ran in front of the chalets. She began to run.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  James leapt to his feet and hugged her tight so her words were muffled against him.

  ‘Nothing’s happened.’ James released his hold, held Stella a little away from him, looking her straight in the eye. ‘Unless it is that I’ve missed you more than I ever thought I would. Unless it’s that I’ve realised you make a far better job of keeping the home and family together than I ever could. Unless it’s that I’ve realised we all take you far, far too much for granted. Unless it’s that I’ve realised how very much I love you.’ He kissed her forehead.

  Stella felt her insides melt – like sweet and soft caramel. Yes, she often thought her family took her for granted but no one had held a gun to her head and made her become a wife and mother, and to choose to be a stay-at-home mum, had they?

  ‘I love you too. Very much. And I’ve missed you,’ she said, ‘And the children. Although they did visit.’

  ‘Did they?’ James looked genuinely surprised. ‘I didn’t know. I didn’t tell them.’

  ‘I didn’t think for one minute you would, even under pressure. Max hacked into my email account. He found the one confirming my booking for this place. It seems Adam forced it out of him and he and Lola turned up a couple of days later.’ Stella was clinging to James’s arm, reluctant to let go. ‘Where are they, by the way?’

  ‘Max and Adam have gone on a bike ride together. First time ever!’

  Stella linked her arm through James’s and steered him across the deck.

  ‘Come on. We can’t stop here chatting all day. It’s good, though, that the boys are out together,’ Stella said. ‘I’ve always thought twins were supposed to be on the same wavelength but our two have always been so different. But what about Lola?’

  ‘On a playdate at Rosie’s. I think that’s what she said it was called although she did say she was too old for play. Whatever, she’s stopping the night.’

  ‘I’ll get some coffee,’ Stella said, fumbling for her key.

  ‘Not yet. Let’s sit here for a moment.’ James pulled out the chairs and waited for Stella to sit down.

  Gosh, what gallantry, Stella thought. Maybe she should stop away from home more often!

  ‘It all looks so very different from here,’ James said. ‘Torquay looks almost like Monaco across the water, if a bit greener. There’s even a cruise ship out there,’ he went on, pointing to a startlingly white cruise ship it hurt Stella’s eyes to look at. ‘Are there any for sale, do you know? Or for rent? We could have one as a sort of love nest.’

  Stella burst out laughing.

  ‘We’ve done more than our fair share of loving,’ she said, patting her stomach, which seemed to have become more rounded since she’d been here.

  ‘One can never have enough!’

  James picked up the jar of shells Ana had left. Stella had been adding to it in ones and twos from her walks along the beach.

  ‘Been beachcombing?’

  ‘Sort of,’ Stella told him. ‘The previous occupant – a young girl from Poland or Romania or somewhere like that – who stayed here before me, left them as a gift. I don’t know how I didn’t notice them on the beach before, how beautiful they are. But then, it’s been a long time since I’ve been down to the beach.’

  ‘And me,’ James said. ‘I wasn’t very hands-on about it when the kids were small, was I? Left it all to you.’

  ‘You did a bit, but it doesn’t matter. Anyway, I went to visit Ana because she works at The Port Light now. She’s lovely. She’s got the most amazing smile and you notice it even more because she’s had sad things happen too. She told me.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘A relationship break-up. A baby she couldn’t carry to full term. I’m not sure in what sort of order that was. She guessed why I suddenly went a bit pale. I felt queasy and just thinking about the slice of cake she offered me made me gag a bit.’

  ‘And will you take the baby to show her?’

  ‘I don’t know yet.’ Stella reached for the jar of shells and held them up to the light. The sun was lower in the sky now and the light shone through the shells, giving everything a rainbow mother-of-pearl translucence. ‘I need a bit more time.’

  ‘And I’ve come and put my size tens all over it.’

  ‘No, you haven’t. I’m glad to see you. Really glad. I must have been mad thinking I had to make this decision on my own. It’s your baby too. And I must have been mad to think I could manage without phone calls or without you ruffling my hair and mussing it all up every time you pass.’

  ‘I do do that, don’t I?’

  ‘Every time,’ Stella said. ‘And this jar’s not full yet. I told myself I’d fill the jar and then I would have come to a decision. Come on. Let’s go and collect some more.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Now.’

  So that’s what they did. They left their shoes inside 23 The Strand and walked the length of the beach, hand in hand. The beach was emptying now, peopl
e returning to their hotels and B&Bs. The sand was warm beneath their feet.

  ‘I ordered pizza one night,’ Stella said, ‘and the pizza-delivery lad recognised me.’

  ‘The ginger-haired one?’

  ‘Him.’

  ‘He never said.’

  ‘He promised he wouldn’t. How many times did you ring out for pizzas?’

  ‘Well, after I had written notes from the children begging me not to cook any more. Then.’

  Stella laughed.

  The sound of a boat engine getting nearer made them turn towards it.

  A small boat with fairy lights strung from bow to stern and a few places in between was going past. It seemed full of people, many holding drinks. And there was music.

  ‘Ah,’ James said. ‘The famous romantic evening cruise. See the bay by moonlight. Champagne under the stars.’

  ‘There’s no moon yet,’ Stella said.

  ‘Ah, sometimes the delight is all in the anticipation. They’ve started on the champagne, though, if that row is anything to go by.’

  ‘We’ve never been on that, have we?’ Stella said.

  ‘No. Like a lot of people who live in a holiday place who never do all the attractions, I should think.’

  ‘But we could.’

  ‘We could. But I’ve got a better idea. Let’s go back to the chalet.’

  ‘What now?’ Stella said.

  ‘Now.’

  ‘I haven’t got anything for supper. Well, not enough to share. Lidl should still be open.’

  ‘Who said anything about eating?’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘Bed?’ James said.

  Stella laughed. It was still daylight. She and James hadn’t gone to bed in daylight since their honeymoon.

  ‘You’ve already had your evil way with me,’ Stella told him. She patted her stomach, now with its precious cargo.

  ‘It takes two,’ James said.

  ‘It does. It did. I’m going to keep the baby.’

  James pressed his lips together but didn’t say anything. His eyes were dancing with delight though.

  ‘The kids are going to get a bit of a shock,’ he said. ‘But I think it will be good for them. They’ll need to help more.’