by Jane Holland
‘That’s a great idea,’ Simon says at once. ‘Sorry to interrupt the baby talk. I know how you women love it, but any chance of some wine? Emily’s driving tonight, so I can go wild.’
‘Of course.’ I grin at Emily. ‘We can talk about Harry later, if you like.’
‘Definitely.’
Once everyone has a drink, we shepherd them out into the garden. I ask Jon to put the baby monitor on the table in front of my place setting, hoping I’ll be able to hear it above the conversation that way.
Camilla raises her eyebrows, bending to listen to the faint hiss of the baby monitor. ‘What an intrusive thing. Like listening to white noise. Is it strictly necessary at the dinner table?’
‘Yes,’ I tell her firmly.
She smiles, straightening. But I can see she does not understand.
It’s not dusk yet, but the sunlight is starting to fade. The generous six-seater outdoor table has been covered with a white damask cloth, then laid with cutlery and glasses and thick white cotton napkins. Along the top of the pergola Jon has strung little fairy lights, which are now glowing softly. The whole place is beginning to look magical.
‘How beautiful,’ Emily gasps.
Jon pulls out a chair for her. ‘Please, everyone, sit, make yourselves comfortable. I hope you’ll forgive us both for disappearing, but I’ve promised to help Meghan carry out the starters.’
Camilla laughs. ‘You mean hors d’oeuvres, don’t you?’
‘Starters, hors d’oeuvres. It’s all the same to me.’ Jon grins at the other two men, and they smile back.
‘I thought it was pronounced horses’ doofers,’ Simon says glibly.
More laughter.
Treve stands by his seat, hands clasped behind his back. He has a kind smile. ‘Do you two need an extra pair of hands? I’m very skilled at carrying dinner plates. And not dropping them.’
‘Thanks, no, it’ll only take a moment,’ Jon insists.
Simon draws out the chair opposite Emily, sits rather unsteadily and throws the cotton napkin across his lap.
‘I’m starving,’ he says plaintively, looking up at the fairy lights with interest. ‘Talking of horses’ doofers, I could certainly eat a horse. But maybe not a doofer. Whatever the hell that is.’
Shooting him an irritated look, Emily hesitates, not sitting down yet. She peers first at Jon, then looks round at me, as though deciding I’m the weaker link. ‘Meghan, I know you must be busy with dinner, but I had hoped . . .’
‘Yes?’
Her eyes seem very large behind the big-framed glasses, staring at me fixedly. ‘I don’t want to be a pest, but would it be possible to take a quick peek at Harry before we eat?’
Chapter Five
‘Harry?’ I hesitate, taken aback by her request. ‘You want to see Harry? Right now?’
‘Well, only if it’s convenient. Just a quick peek round the door. Three minutes, that’s all. Sorry, I do love babies.’ Emily glances at Simon, who makes a face and averts his eyes. ‘We hope to have kids. One day.’
Jon lights the citronella candle that forms part of my table centrepiece and is also supposed to discourage insects. I watch him, but he says nothing. The evening light is thickening and softening, the flowers less visible now, nightfall creeping up on us as we stand about the table under the faint glow of the fairy lights.
‘Maybe we could bring Harry down after we’ve eaten dinner?’ I tell Emily, my tone light and non-committal. I point to the monitor. The row of lights on the front show a steady green. No cries, no snuffling noises. ‘He’s asleep at the moment. And he can be difficult in the evenings. Grouchy, you know. I don’t really want to wake him until it’s time for his next feed.’
‘Of c . . . course,’ Emily stammers, and sits down.
Jon looks at me sideways. ‘Darling, I don’t see what harm it would do.’
I stare at him.
‘Look, why don’t I bring the little man down for five minutes? Just so he can say hello. It’s a warm evening; he won’t catch cold.’ He ignores my quick shake of the head, and smiles at our guests instead. ‘Then everyone can see how much he’s grown.’
Emily says, ‘I’d love that.’
‘There you go, see? Emily would love that.’ Jon puts his arm round my waist, his expression cajoling. ‘Come on, darling. I’ll get the baby, you get the dinner. And if he cries, I promise to do my penance and look after him.’
I say nothing, but smile. What can I say, after all?
‘She’s a bit twitchy, isn’t she?’ Jon murmurs on our way back into the house. ‘Simon says she’s obsessed with having a baby, never stops talking about it. But I don’t see what harm it does to show Harry off to them. And I rather like the idea. The proud father, and all that.’
‘Of course.’ I force myself to smile. But inside I’m worried. ‘I wanted him to sleep as long as possible though. He may need a feed again soon.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be fine, especially now you’ve started him on solids.’ Then he frowns. ‘When was his last injection?’ I tell him, and he shrugs. ‘He won’t need another one until tomorrow morning, then. Twice a day, isn’t it?’
Reluctantly, I nod.
Inside, Jon heads straight towards the hall, leaving me to cope with the plates on my own. Then he looks back round the kitchen door. ‘Do you think this dinner party might have been a mistake?’ He’s grinning, enjoying being the host. ‘Simon has obviously been drinking since the end of work, Emily keeps looking at him like she hates him, Camilla is in one of her infamous moods, and we haven’t even eaten yet.’
I take a deep breath. ‘They’re here now. Too late for regrets.’
‘We could always run away. Leave them to it.’ He blows a kiss at me. ‘Barricade ourselves into the bedroom for the evening.’
I shiver deliciously at the suggestion, but shake my head. ‘You know we can’t. Maybe later though. If Camilla starts throwing food?’
‘It’s a deal.’
While Jon’s upstairs, I start ripping cling film off the cold hors d’oeuvres. It’s only orange-fleshed melon slices decorated with mixed fruit and mint leaves, but I really did not have time to be more creative.
Jon has still not come back down by the time I’m finished. Probably changing Harry’s nappy. I go to the foot of the stairs, and nearly call up. But then I realise how much he would resent my interference. I can’t wait for him any longer though, so decide to carry the melon slices out on my own.
I make my way to the back door, laden with precariously balanced plates, and find Treve standing in the doorway. He seems to take up the whole space, I notice.
‘No Jon?’
‘He’ll be down soon. Harry probably needed a nappy change.’
His ironic gaze meets mine. ‘Babies, eh? So much trouble.’
‘But where would we be without them?’ My arms are aching now. ‘Sorry, have you come to help?’
Treve smiles, and holds out his hands. ‘Allow me, Meghan.’
He helps me carry the melon slices out to the others. The garden looks marvellously peaceful now, an orange-streaked dusk beginning to settle about the city. Camilla and Simon are deep in conversation.
The monitor is surprisingly silent, green lights holding steady.
I chew my lip, considering it.
What’s going on up there? There’s a changing mat in the bathroom, though I usually change him in the nursery.
‘I’d better see where Jon’s got to.’
Treve stops me. ‘Let me,’ he insists, and takes the empty bottles with him, tucking them under his arm as he disappears into the house.
I sit at the head of the table, slowly turning the plate of melon slices to face me so the arrangement is how I intended it to look.
Jon will be fine, I keep telling myself.
I worry too much.
Treve comes back from the house only a few minutes later. Behind him is Jon, carrying a sleepy-looking Harry in his arms.
Emily has been rumma
ging through her bag. She produces a small pill bottle, then glances anxiously at the empty water bottle. ‘Is there any more water?’ Then she sees Jon, with Harry, and jumps up from her seat. The chair falls backwards with a clatter as she gasps, ‘Oh, how gorgeous. Look at those eyes. Simon told me he was a beautiful baby, but I didn’t realise just how . . . Meghan, you are so, so lucky.’
‘Thank you.’
I get up too, and hold out my hands for Harry. But Jon ignores me, cradling his baby son with every evidence of paternal pride.
‘So here he is, guys,’ he tells us, looking down at Harry with a fond grin. ‘Getting big, isn’t he?’
While the others exclaim over him, I meet Jon’s gaze. ‘You took a while.’
‘Dirty nappy.’
‘I told you to let him sleep.’
‘It wasn’t a problem. I’m not helpless. I can handle a few stinky nappies, you know.’ He lets Simon take Harry, despite my instinctive protest. ‘That’s right, keep one arm round his back, just like that. Hey, you’re a natural.’
Emily is staring wide-eyed at the baby in her partner’s arms. Her face is flushed, her mouth slightly open. I feel a little sorry for her; she is probably imagining how things would be if they too had a child.
Perhaps I was wrong to try to stop Jon from bringing Harry down to the dinner party. They do seem pleased at the interruption, and he’s well wrapped up, a cosy blue blanket tucked round his sleepsuit for extra warmth.
Even Treve is leaning closer, tickling Harry’s cheek with a work-roughened finger. ‘Ah, he’s a stunner. Proper job, you two.’
Jon grins at me over Simon’s shoulder. ‘Proper job’ is a very Cornish phrase, and one he often likes to mock in private. I only hope he won’t do so tonight and spoil the atmosphere.
‘Why not let Emily hold him for a minute?’ I suggest to Simon, who turns at once so she can lift Harry carefully out of his arms.
Emily’s face is beatific as she holds my baby. ‘So gorgeous,’ she repeats, and breathes in his scent, kissing the top of his head. ‘Darling little thing. I’m not surprised you don’t want to go back to work, Meghan. If I had a baby, I’d probably never work again.’
Simon looks round at us, his brows raised. ‘And there’s an excellent argument for birth control, right there.’
The men all laugh.
Camilla makes a snorting noise, then takes another long swallow from her wine glass. I realise belatedly that she is the only one who did not stand up when Jon brought Harry outside. But I suppose she is not the maternal type.
I catch Treve looking at her a little sternly. I expect he wants kids, but Camilla doesn’t. Maybe that’s part of the tension I’ve been sensing between them lately.
Harry sucks his fist thoughtfully, staring round at us all with wide blue eyes. I am a little concerned that he’ll need a feed earlier now that he’s awake.
‘Right,’ I say, ‘I don’t want to spoil anyone’s fun. But we need to eat, and Harry should probably go back to bed for now.’
Jon nods, taking Harry back from Emily’s arms. She does not protest, but I catch a stricken look on her face as she watches the baby being carried back into the house.
‘I do envy you,’ she tells me as we sit down again, her tone wistful. ‘To have such a lovely baby.’
I wonder how much she would envy me if she knew all the worries and stresses we have to contend with on a daily basis. But I say nothing, just smile. Jon is obsessed with the idea of people judging us in some way if they knew about Harry. As though his condition is our fault, which is absurd. But I have promised him not to talk about it.
I listen on the monitor as Jon lays him back to sleep in the cot, murmuring something under his breath. Before leaving, he turns on the musical mobile. Harry makes the soft cooing noises he always does as he watches it spinning above him.
Jon comes back a moment later, still grinning. ‘Our little star is back in bed,’ he says, and bends to kiss me on the mouth. There’s real warmth in his kiss, and I recall how we made love in the shower earlier. Maybe our relationship is on the mend after all.
‘Oh, you wanted some water, Emily.’ I start to push back my chair, but Simon is already on his feet.
‘I’ll fetch some,’ he says. ‘Tap water?’
‘There’s Perrier in the fridge.’
Emily looks round, still in a kind of trance. ‘I’d prefer tap water,’ she insists, and nods at Simon.
He disappears into the house.
‘So Harry settled again okay?’ I ask Jon, though we can all still hear the tinkling music from Harry’s cot mobile coming out loud and clear via the monitor, and there is no sound of any whinging or crying.
‘Good as gold,’ he assures me.
Simon comes back out, whistling. He hands the tumbler to Emily. ‘Here’s your water, darling,’ he murmurs before sitting down.
Camilla watches with undisguised interest as Emily takes two pills, putting each on the back of her tongue, then knocking it back with a gulp of water. ‘I can’t take pills like that. I prefer to pop them on the tip of my tongue. My mother-in-law’s a nurse. She always tells me off about it,’ she says, then adds with a slight edge to her voice, ‘though we don’t see much of her these days, thank God.’
Everyone looks at Treve.
He puts down his wine glass. ‘A retired nurse,’ he corrects her. ‘And she means well.’
Simon looks from one to the other, his face wry. ‘Do I sense some tension here? You don’t like Treve’s mother, Camilla?’
‘Apparently, I’m not Cornish enough to be Treve’s wife,’ she says tartly, and we all laugh. ‘My mum’s Welsh and my dad’s from Launceston, only just inside the border.’
‘I love Wales,’ Emily says.
Camilla studies her, but says nothing.
In the silence that follows, I ask Emily, ‘Where are you from?’
‘Oh, here, there and everywhere.’ She cleans her glasses with her napkin, then puts them back on and looks round at me. ‘My family are kind of . . . nomadic.’
‘So mysterious,’ Simon says, laughing, and ducks when she tosses the napkin across the table at him.
‘Can we eat yet?’ Camilla asks plaintively.
‘Of course,’ I say.
‘Well, I didn’t want to be rude and start too soon.’
The way she emphasises the word rude makes me deeply uncomfortable. Camilla finishes her glass of wine, and then pours herself some more from the bottle beside her. I look away, suddenly awkward.
Maybe it’s not Treve that’s put her on edge tonight. Maybe it’s me. At any rate, I feel as though I must have upset her in some way, or been a bad hostess. Only I can’t put my finger on what I’ve done wrong.
In the silence that follows her remark, Treve picks up his fork. ‘Meghan, you’ve surpassed yourself. This looks amazing.’
Thankfully, everyone seems to have relaxed by the time dinner is almost over and the dessert course is being served. The alcohol, presumably. Though Emily does not touch any, I notice, and joins me in drinking fruit juice and sparkling water instead. I wonder if she is unwell. After all, she arrived late because of a doctor’s appointment, and she looks pale, even by the flickering yellowish light of our citronella candle.
I place a small glass bowl on every place, bursting with cream and meringue and raspberries. ‘Eton Mess.’
‘Mess is right,’ Jon says, poking it with his spoon. Then he grins up at me. ‘It smells delicious. I can’t wait.’
I sit down, trying not to let my hurt show. I don’t want to seem needy. But my mouth aches from smiling, and I know I’m only partially successful when I start chatting lightly with Treve and see him glance between me and Jon.
Does he have to make fun of me?
‘I’m sorry,’ Emily suddenly says, standing up. ‘Not your fault, Meghan. The food has been lovely, but I have to leave. I don’t feel so good.’
Simon stares up at her, clearly bemused. ‘Darling?’
‘My head, sorry.’ She makes a face, and adjusts her glasses, as though they are part of the problem. ‘I tried. I really did. But it’s aching so badly . . .’
I get up too. ‘Can I get you anything? A headache pill? Some more water?’
‘Honestly, I just need to go home.’
‘Of course. Let me find your coat.’ I glance at Simon, but to my surprise he does not move. ‘Simon?’
‘How bad is it, Emily?’ he asks, frowning.
She hesitates, then forces a tight smile. ‘I can run myself home if you want to stay.’
‘I would prefer that, if you’re sure you’re okay to drive.’
Emily nods.
He pushes the car keys across the table to her. ‘I’ll grab a taxi home.’
Jon pours his friend some more wine, spilling a little on the tablecloth. ‘No, you won’t. You can stay the night.’
‘Thanks.’
Emily looks from Simon to Jon, then raises her gaze to mine. She does have that wan, heavy-lidded look that I associate with a gathering migraine. ‘Well, that’s settled. I’m so sorry to have upset your dinner party, Meghan.’
‘Nonsense, you haven’t upset anything.’ I escort her back inside. ‘I’ll see you out. I like to keep the door locked while we’re in the garden.’
At the front door, I hesitate. Emily does not look up to driving herself home; her skin is pasty, her eyes rather wild behind her glasses. ‘Look, wouldn’t you rather I call a taxi for you? It’s no bother.’
‘I’ll be fine.’ Emily turns on the front step to kiss me on the cheek, which surprises me. ‘You have a lovely house, Meghan, and an even lovelier baby. Take good care of him, yes?’
I smile. ‘Absolutely.’
I think losing poor Emily partway through dessert is going to be the only blot on an otherwise perfect dinner party. There’s worse to come though. The three men carry the dessert dishes and used glasses inside while I organise the coffee, but as soon as we sit down again to drink it, I hear an odd rustling sound from the baby monitor. Harry turning over in his sleep, maybe. I feel my breasts tighten and tingle in response, suddenly uncomfortably full, and glance down at them.
