by Cathy Kelly
Hugh’s eyes met Rose’s.
‘Don’t cry, love,’ he said. ‘It’s all fine now.’
Rose found a chair for her daughter to sit on. Tara looked so weak that Rose didn’t want her standing.
‘I’m sorry, love,’ said Hugh, still stroking his middle daughter’s spiky hair. ‘I never meant to hurt your mother or you, love. I can’t explain…’
Tara held a finger up to his lips. ‘Shush,’ she said gently. ‘I understand.’ And she did. She’d loved Finn and yet blindly gone off and betrayed him. At the time, she hadn’t thought of how much it would hurt her husband. She’d just done it impulsively. It was only afterwards that she’d realised how much that unguarded moment had hurt him. She’d primly condemned her father for his infidelity, then she’d done the same thing herself. Under the circumstances, she understood what it was like all right.
The memory of Finn’s bitter, hurt face that night came to her again and she couldn’t smother the strangulated sob that emerged.
‘Don’t cry,’ begged Hugh, thinking it was all his fault.
‘It’s not you,’ cried Tara. She held his hand and cried.
‘It’s going to be all right,’ Rose said, stroking both her husband and her daughter in comfort.
And for the first time in ages, Tara thought that perhaps it would be all right.
CHAPTER FORTY
The nursing staff were very keen on getting Hugh walking.
‘I’ve done three laps of this floor already today,’ he said indignantly to Rose when she arrived to visit him after lunch on Friday.
‘They’re trying to prepare you for the marathon,’ Rose replied straight-faced as she put some bottled water and a bag of apples down on his hospital locker. It was four days since she’d raced from Castletown to the hospital and Hugh was vastly improved. The promised angiogram had shown remarkably little arterial clogging for a man of his age and there was talk of him coming out of hospital after the weekend. The doctors had prescribed a litany of pills for him and said he’d need regular checkups, plenty of exercise and no stress.
Hugh, never the best of patients, was getting antsy at being cooped up – and antsy at what had so far gone unsaid between him and Rose. There had been no time for long conversations about the future, partly because there was always somebody popping in and out of Hugh’s room, and partly due to the fact that Tara had been spending a lot of time in the hospital. Stella and Holly had gone home on Wednesday evening but Tara had taken time off work to stay in Kinvarra. She hadn’t wanted to but Rose had insisted. Shocked by Tara’s gaunt face and lack of spirit, she’d wanted to keep her middle daughter close so she could take care of her. ‘You never take all your holidays,’ she said firmly. ‘Take some now.’
Today, Tara had slept late and woken up looking a little better. There was a healthy colour to her cheeks and her eyes held some of their old sparkle.
‘Do you mind if I don’t come to the hospital this afternoon, Mum?’ she said. ‘I think I’ll go into town and take a look round the shops, maybe spend some time in the library.’
‘Good idea,’ said Rose, relieved to see some signs of Tara returning to normal.
Which meant that Rose had Hugh all to herself on the afternoon visit. Adele, who’d been very shaken by her brother’s illness, was due to visit that evening.
‘Let’s take another walk,’ Rose said now.
Grumbling, Hugh allowed her to help him on with his dressing gown and they set off along the corridor, Rose linking Hugh’s arm as they progressed slowly.
They’d turned the first corner when Rose spoke. ‘We need to talk.’
She could feel Hugh tensing.
‘Don’t you want to talk?’ she asked.
‘I do,’ he said, ‘I’m just nervous of what you’re going to say.’
‘Why? What do you think I’m going to say?’
‘That you came here to make sure I wasn’t going to shuffle off this mortal coil and now that I’m getting better, you’re going away again. I couldn’t bear that.’
‘Why didn’t you say anything, then?’ Rose inquired. ‘No, don’t tell me. You thought that if you said nothing, it would all go away.’ She was fed up with Hugh’s procrastination.
‘Please, Rose,’ he begged. ‘Don’t fight with me. I’m not able to fight. I’m sorry for everything, so sorry. I told you that before and I’ve had weeks to sit and think about it all. That’s all I did, you know. Think about you and the girls and how I’d let you all down.’
They kept walking, but Hugh’s head was bent now, as if in penance.
‘Believe me, Rose, if I’d known what I was doing to you, I’d never have done it. I just didn’t think. It was stupid, stupid seeing those women, but they were no substitute for you. It just happened.’
‘And how would you have felt if I’d done the same,’ she said, her voice hard, ‘if it had just happened for me? If I’d had a fling with Alastair, or run around with James from the bank? How would that have felt to you? You know exactly how it would have felt, you’d have been furious and devastated, Hugh.’
‘I’d have wanted to kill them,’ he said simply.
‘It’s no different for me. Except that I wanted to kill you too. How could you do that to me, Hugh?’ That was the question that had haunted Rose for so long. How could a man cheat on a woman and think it meant nothing, and how could he cheat and still love her? Men and women were different, as modern psychology experts were always pointing out. Was that enough of an answer?
‘Rose, I am sorry. I can’t make up for what happened in the past, and it was the past. I haven’t looked at another woman for years. She…she was part of the past and I was trying to be kind to her.’
Rose could imagine that all right. Hugh had never been much good at jettisoning people.
‘Things are different now. If only you’d come home and stay, please…’
A nurse waved at them and Rose managed to wave politely back as they continued on their way.
‘And you’ll never, ever do it again,’ she said.
‘Never. I love you, I nearly lost you, Rose. I’m so sorry…’
Hugh leaned wearily against the padded handrail that lined all the corridors. He looked grey in the face again, making Rose realise that he had still a long way to go to recover. She felt a wave of compassion drift over her. She did love Hugh, despite everything.
‘I should have said something a long time ago,’ she said quietly. ‘I knew you’d been involved with other women and I let it go on because I thought it was more important to keep the family together than to break it up over your affairs.’
‘Rose, please forgive me.’
‘I have,’ she said dryly, ‘or I wouldn’t be here. I had to forgive myself first.’
‘You did nothing wrong,’ he interrupted.
‘I allowed it to continue,’ Rose said. ‘We were living a lie, Hugh, and I won’t do that again. Everyone thought we had it all, the marvellous Millers. Living that lie nearly destroyed us.’
He gripped her hands tightly. ‘It hasn’t, though, Rose, has it? We’re not over, please.’
‘We’re not, but you have to promise that it will never happen again. You have to choose me, Hugh. Because if you betray me again, I’ll leave you and I’ll never see you again. Ever.’
‘I know. I promise. I love you.’
She believed him. Hugh understood that she meant what she said.
There in the pale green corridor, they embraced, Rose holding the thin body of her husband close to her, careful not to squeeze too tightly.
‘We’re not over,’ she whispered into his ear. ‘But there can be no more lies or secrets.’
‘Never,’ he whispered back, holding her just as tightly.
‘God, would you look at the pair of them,’ said one of the catering staff as she wheeled along the afternoon tea trolley. ‘They’ll throw you out, love, if you keep at that!’ she roared at Rose.
‘She thinks I’m your fancy piece,
’ Rose said wryly.
Hugh smiled. ‘Much better, you’re my wife.’
Stella stood outside Austyn’s Jewellers and admired the engagement rings. There were no prices visible on the fat velvet cushions. If you had to ask the price, Stella knew, you couldn’t afford them. She tried to work out which one she liked best. The enormous diamond she’d seen being purchased the previous December had been replaced by something similar, another knuckle-duster that would need its own insurance broker and a hotline to the police station.
There was one ring she really liked; Art Deco-style with a square cut diamond surrounded by tiny emerald stones. She held out her hand and tried to imagine what it would look like. Her fingers had swelled up, she noticed. She’d been the same when she’d been pregnant with Amelia. Her actual bump had remained small and neat until the fifth month, but water retention meant she’d had to stop wearing her ring from the third month. If her calculations were correct, she’d be three months pregnant very soon and it looked as if the water retention aspect was repeating itself.
‘Working out which one looks best?’ said a voice.
‘Nick!’ Stella turned and Nick caught her in his arms.
‘Sorry I’m late. It’s a nightmare parking round here.’
Stella hugged him tightly, feeling the familiar waterworks spring into action. She cried at the drop of a hat. How the hell was she going to tell him she was pregnant without bursting into tears in the restaurant. Hormones were one thing but this was ridiculous.
In the four days she’d known she was pregnant, Stella had mentally gone through every permutation of the words ‘I’m having our baby.’
She simply didn’t know how to say them. She and Nick had never discussed the concept of having a child together. They had enough trouble with their offspring as it was.
‘I’ve missed you, so much,’ said Nick, still hugging her. ‘If you hadn’t been free for lunch today, I’d have marched into your office and pretended to be a client again. I couldn’t have waited until tonight.’
Stella grinned. As it was, she’d rescheduled several appointments so she could meet Nick for lunch. When she’d driven up from Kinvarra the night before, she’d deliberately said it was too late to see Nick because she was too apprehensive about telling him the news. They walked up the street holding hands and stopped outside a Japanese restaurant they both liked. Next to it was an old-fashioned American restaurant which was famous for burgers, spicy potato wedges and a calorie-laden chocolate dessert that added an instantaneous five kilos onto anyone who ate it.
‘Right, healthy noodle bar lunch or pig-out enormous platefuls of chips?’ said Nick.
‘Chips,’ said Stella firmly.
‘OK,’ he replied, astonished.
‘And chocolate cake for afters,’ said Stella dreamily.
The rich scent of flame-grilled burgers made Stella salivate with hunger as they sat down in the restaurant. ‘I’m ravenous,’ she said, scanning the menu and wondering if she could have her burger with extra onions. Oh, yes, milkshake. She licked her lips. A huge glass of sludgy, creamy strawberry shake would be fabulous.
The waitress took their order without batting an eyelid. She was used to people coming in and ordering enormous meals. Nick, however, watched in stunned silence as Stella went for garlic mushrooms (‘extra garlic, please’), the Mega-Byte Burger (‘lots of onions’), a large plate of wedges, a deluxe strawberry milkshake and a side order of guacamole. Finished ordering, she smiled and looked at him.
‘Er, medium burger with cheese, small order of wedges and a Coke,’ he said.
‘You can have some of my mushrooms,’ Stella said kindly.
‘Did you starve in Kinvarra?’ teased Nick when the milkshake, a giant portion of garlic mushrooms and Stella’s burger arrived and she attacked the meal as if she’d been on the Dr Atkins Diet for six months.
The waitress placed his burger in front of him; beside it, Stella’s meal looked huge.
‘There’s enough there for two,’ he laughed.
Stella’s mouth fell open and Nick stopped laughing. His hand, on its way to pick up a potato wedge, dropped like a stone to the table.
Stella took a gulp of milkshake. ‘I didn’t know how to tell you,’ she said, ‘but I guess I have.’
‘You’re pregnant.’ It was half question, half statement.
Stella suddenly didn’t feel as if she could eat her lunch. Her stomach felt the way it did when she was on a plane and it hit a pocket of turbulence.
And then Nick smiled, and the turbulence feeling vanished.
‘That’s incredible, our baby. How long?’
‘Three months.’
His hands snaked past the mountain of food and found Stella’s. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ he said, still smiling idiotically. ‘I’m thrilled, it’s…we’re…’
‘I wasn’t sure what you’d think,’ Stella said, beaming back at him. ‘We have enough excitement in our lives as it is.’
‘Oh, Stella, I love you.’ Holding hands like teenagers on a first date, they smiled dreamily at each other.
‘I love you too.’
‘So when are we having the baby?’
She giggled. ‘We’re having the baby in December. I hope you’re going to take your share of the contractions and all the other pain?’
‘I’ll expect an epidural,’ Nick said. ‘I’m no good with pain. And whale music, don’t forget that. I love a bit of whale music.’
They both laughed at this silliness. Stella felt like laughing all day long. How had she ever felt worried about telling Nick the news? The only question now was how they were going to tell their respective children. Stella hoped that Amelia would be thrilled, but what about Jenna?
‘Amelia has wanted a baby sister for years,’ she said. ‘I’m not so sure how she’d feel if we have a boy. What do you imagine Jenna and Sara will think?’
‘Two months ago, I’d have groaned at the idea of telling Jenna this news,’ Nick said. ‘But now, I think it’ll be fine. I had a long talk with her during the week; a talk I should have had months ago.’
Stella’s stomach experienced a bit more turbulence and she drank some of her milkshake.
‘Jenna’s sorry, Stella. She told me that she’d said sorry to you last week.’
‘She did,’ put in Stella. ‘I honestly thought we were getting somewhere and then she burst into tears and rushed into the loo.’
‘Well, she is genuinely sorry. Saying you’re sorry is a huge thing for Jenna, but she is. I’m to blame too. I made a mistake from the beginning by not telling her about us,’ Nick admitted. ‘She’s not a kid but I treated her like one.’
‘We’ll have to tell her and Sara about the baby soon, then,’ Stella pointed out. ‘And you’ll have to tell Wendy too.’ She wondered how the other woman would take the news.
‘Wendy will be fine,’ Nick said. ‘For the girls’ sake. We talked about the whole Clarisse fiasco and Wendy’s furious about the way Clarisse manipulated her; particularly how it affected Jenna. We were both tied up with how we were feeling and we didn’t recognise how it was affecting her.’
Stella felt her waterworks spring to life again. Everything really could work out all right.
‘There’s no need to cry, darling,’ said Nick, searching his pockets for his handkerchief. He found it and handed it over. ‘Why don’t we eat up. There’s something I’ve remembered I’ve just got to do.’
Stella dried her eyes and looked at her meal. It was getting cool but she was hungry again, and it would be an awful shame to waste it. They talked babies all through lunch. Stella told him what it had been like when Amelia was small, and Nick remembered Sara as a naughty toddler who’d rush upstairs and turn on all the taps whenever Nick turned his back. Even when he talked about Wendy, saying that Jenna was such a good baby by comparison and how she’d sit on Wendy’s lap and smile sunnily at everyone, Stella found that she didn’t mind any more. Nick had a past and she had a past: feeling env
ious of it was a wasted emotion. What mattered was the present and the future, their future. And now, that future looked bright.
‘Come on, Stella,’ said Nick when they were finished eating. ‘Let’s pay the bill.’
They strolled happily down the street again, and Stella laughed when Nick kept asking her if she was tired or if she needed a rest. ‘I’m pregnant, not sick,’ she teased.
‘I know,’ he said, ‘but I want to take care of you.’
‘You will,’ she joked. ‘I’m going to be a tyrant when I get bigger. Although, on second thoughts, maybe I do need to rest now. You can be my slave and carry me.’
‘No problem. Will a fireman’s lift do?’ Nick supported Stella with one strong arm.
They were still laughing when they arrived where they’d met; outside Austyn’s jewellers.
Nick gently steered Stella towards the window she’d been standing at when he’d arrived.
‘Which one do you like?’ he asked softly.
Stella turned round and stared at him.
‘They make maternity wedding dresses, or so I believe,’ Nick went on. ‘Or we could wait till afterwards if you think your Aunt Adele might collapse with the shock of her niece walking down the aisle nine months pregnant.’
The image of Aunt Adele’s face was so delicious that Stella exploded with laughter.
‘Is that a no?’ he asked, grinning.
‘No, it’s a yes,’ she replied.
Holding hands, they walked into the shop.
An assistant shot out from behind the counter.
‘Sir, madam, may I help?’
‘We want to look at your engagement rings,’ announced Nick with pride in his voice.
‘Cushion number one,’ added Stella.
The salesman smiled. God, he loved his job.
Mike Hammond’s house sat in a small hollow in thirty acres of rolling hills. The house itself was a sprawling ranch-style building, and behind it were staff quarters, a stable block, a separate gym and garages for his collection of vintage cars. Tara knew this because the house and Mike’s second wife, a limpid-eyed Portuguese model, had been featured in a magazine recently. At the front of the house were two huge paddocks and a couple of glossy-flanked chestnut horses grazed in one of them, raising their elegant heads to look inquisitively at Tara’s car as she drove past.
