Two Weddings and a Baby

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Two Weddings and a Baby Page 11

by Scarlett Bailey


  It would have been better if she wasn’t preparing to make her entrance in a black and white onesie in a cat design – complete with a hood that had little pointy ears. There was also a tail.

  Her sisters had been unable to contain their delight when she’d returned from her shower to find Mo fretting on her mother’s shoulder as she paced up and down on the limited floor space. Then they’d showed her the outfit they had found for her.

  ‘Tell me that’s not all you have for me to wear,’ Tamsyn said. ‘Mum, tell me that you’re not going to let them do this to me.’

  ‘It’s all I can find,’ Cordelia said. ‘I mean, it’s two in the morning nearly, and I’ve got three extra beds in my room, in front of the wardrobe. What do you want from me? A Tamsyn Thorne original?

  ‘Well, we did also find you this,’ Keira said, producing a red, lace-edged basque from under her pillow. ‘But we thought that, given the sexy vicar’s horror at your accusations, you’d better wait for the second date to wear it.’

  ‘Oh my God, Mu-um!’ Tamsyn wailed, but Laura only looked resigned, busy as she was comforting the increasingly fed-up baby, jiggling her up and down.

  ‘Go on,’ Keira said. ‘Put on your jammies and then go and find your new boyfriend. Tell him you’re purrrrrrrfect for him.’

  Cordelia snorted with unbridled and undignified joy.

  ‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ Tamsyn had said. ‘I already have a boyfriend, actually! We’ve been together for nearly a year.’

  The bombshell had worked to a certain extent, in that it had made her two sisters stop tormenting her and stare at each other, open-mouthed. Only now she knew that when she got back from apologising to Jed, she would have to explain to her family why she had kept Bernard a secret for so long, which was going to be hard to do, because all the reasons that seemed to make perfect sense to her when she was with him made her feel distinctly uncomfortable now.

  Still, one humiliating, self-abasing thing at a time, Tamsyn told herself, although her feet still refused to move. It was Mo who, fed up of waiting for her next feed, made her mind up for her and howled, a cry that was answered at once by Buoy on the other side of the door.

  ‘What are you doing out here?’ her brother asked her, opening the kitchen door.

  ‘Um, coming to get a feed for Mo,’ Tamsyn said, shuffling past him, hoping that he wouldn’t notice that her pyjamas had cat feet.

  ‘Why are you wearing a massive Babygro? Are you trying to make sure that Mo doesn’t feel like the odd one out?’

  ‘Ha, ha, very funny,’ Tamsyn said, although she smiled at him. It was good to hear that old familiar warmth in his voice, albeit sarcastic, older-brother warmth. He looked surprisingly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, despite it being two in the morning and after all he and the other lifeboat volunteers had been through already. That must be what love does for you.

  ‘Just watch yourself around Buoy,’ Ruan warned her. ‘He does like to terrorise cats. The bigger the better, in his opinion.’

  ‘Evening,’ Tamsyn said to Alex, who was sitting on the old armchair in the corner, or at least Tamsyn was fairly sure she was there. It was hard to tell because at some point during the evening Buoy had transferred himself from in front of the fire in the snug to curled up on Alex’s lap. Except, because he was a dog of considerable size, it was more than her lap he was covering, and his head was resting on her shoulder. Skipper was sitting at Alex’s feet chewing cheerfully on the toe of her Timberland boot. Alex smiled at her through Buoy’s fur.

  ‘How’s Mo doing?’

  ‘Well, her lungs are healthy,’ Tamsyn said, having to speak up to be heard over them as she hastily retrieved a bottle from the fridge. She went purposefully over to the bottle warmer and looked at it. It wasn’t rocket science, she told herself. She’d organised runway shows that involved choreographing thirty models, so she should certainly be able to work out a bottle warmer. But the more she looked at it, and the simple dial, and the numbers, and the friendly baby-blue and white plastic, the less of a clue she had about how to make it work.

  ‘You need to put water in it,’ Jed said. ‘But not too much, otherwise it will flood over the top when you put the bottle in. Here …’ Tamsyn watched while he filled a mug from the tap and poured a little into the bottom of the warmer, taking the bottle out of her hand while Mo wailed in abject misery in her ear.

  ‘God certainly made sure babies knew how to tell everyone they were hungry,’ Tamsyn said, smiling hopefully. Jed smiled in return, but it wasn’t the same smile, the one he’d greeted her with in the graveyard, or the one he’d treated her to when he’d been showing her how to button up a Babygro (which had come in useful when she’d been forced into the crime against fashion that she was currently wearing). It was a polite smile – it was a vicar-shaking-hands-after-the-Sunday-service smile. No, it wasn’t even that, because Tamsyn had no doubt that Jed smiled at his parishioners with a good deal more warmth than this.

  ‘Let me take her for a moment,’ Jed said, holding his arms out for the squalling infant.

  ‘There’s no need.’ Tamsyn found herself swaying from side to side as if she were aboard a boat on a rough sea. ‘I’m not totally useless, you know.’

  ‘I didn’t say you were,’ Jed replied, his tone calm and soothing.

  ‘Don’t talk to me like I’m a toddler,’ Tamsyn said, realising belatedly that she’d stamped a fluffy foot as she said it. Taking a deep breath, she tried a new manoeuvre, a sort of side-to-side jiggle, which seemed to calm the baby for a few moments.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I thought I was good at coping under pressure and taking life as it comes. After all, I’ve had to re-sew fifteen ballgowns after the models got drunk and went on a KFC binge. Fifteen, in an hour! But this … I think it’s driven me a little bit … I lost perspective.’

  Jed nodded, smiled that same ‘nice’ smile, used that same calm tone. ‘It’s bound to have.’

  ‘Look,’ Tamsyn said, ‘I’m trying to apologise for accusing you of being a dog-collared Lothario, so please don’t give me that vicar shtick.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Jed said.

  ‘You know what,’ Ruan said to Alex, ‘I think it’s about time we went to bed, before Buoy smothers you.’

  ‘Shtick, I said shtick not shi … Not that word!’ Tamsyn said, just as the light went out on the bottle warmer.

  Ruan lifted Buoy off Alex and carried the old dog in his arms like a baby. ‘’Night, sis,’ he said to Tamsyn. ‘It’s been … memorable.’

  ‘Ruan,’ Alex hissed at him as she grabbed Skipper’s collar, detaching him with some force from the table leg he’d clamped his teeth around, in a bid to stay up later.

  ‘’Night, Tamsyn,’ she said. ‘I’m so pleased that you’re here. And I’m so sorry it’s been so dramatic!’

  ‘Not your fault,’ Tamsyn said. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Alex. You seem far too good for my brother.’

  Mo was quietened at once by the bottle in her mouth, although for several seconds she continued to make angry little noises, just to emphasise that she didn’t expect to be kept waiting in future, and really the service could be improved around here.

  Tamsyn couldn’t help but smile as she looked down at the angry little face, scrunched up around a nub of a nose. She looked furious, and Tamsyn supposed she had good reason. Did she know, Tamsyn wondered, could she sense what had happened to her? Was she feeling lonely and lost and sad, and wondering where her special person was? Tamsyn hoped not. She hoped that Mo knew nothing about it at all, that the expression on her face was all about having to wait for a feed, and nothing about feeling abandoned, amongst strangers.

  She glanced up at Jed, who had his sleeves rolled up as he tackled the washing-up.

  ‘I’m sorry if I offended you,’ she said to his back. ‘I was just trying to work it out; to find out who on earth would leave a baby in a churchyard in this day and age. It seemed plausible to my weary, sleep- and wine-deprived bra
in.’

  Jed pushed his hair out of his eyes, leaving a little garland of bubbles on his forehead which Tamsyn found rather endearing.

  ‘Only if you think that what I do, what I believe and the way that I try and live my life is a joke,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t, truly I don’t,’ Tamsyn assured him, sitting down carefully on one of Sue’s rickety kitchen chairs. ‘I suppose I just don’t often meet people who believe, well, in anything. Unless you count the belief that carbs are the root of all evil and horizontal stripes are the devil incarnate. It’s rare to meet a person who has faith. I am truly sorry, and really, you should be accepting my apology about now. Otherwise you start to lose the moral high ground and just come across as a bit sulky.’

  Jed almost smiled as he picked up a tea towel – a glimmer of a proper smile – and dried his hands.

  ‘Apology accepted,’ he said, sitting down at the table. He watched her for a moment with those beguiling eyes. ‘I am sorry, too. I think I probably could have seen the funny side for a bit longer. I do get a bit humourless when it comes to things that I am passionate about. And, well, if I’m honest, I wish I had met the person I felt I could share my life with completely. I look at Ruan and Alex, and I see … wonderment. I get lonely. I’d love to be a father, to have that sense of joy whenever I look at the person I love. I pray that someday it comes to me, just as it has to your brother.’

  ‘But, I mean,’ Tamsyn hesitated, trying really hard not to say the wrong thing. ‘Do you think you can know that a person is that person when you don’t “know” them in the, you know, biblical sense?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jed nodded. ‘Yes. I think if a person is the right person, then your hearts and minds will connect long before your bodies do. For me, a conversation with the right person can be just as thrilling as a kiss, and a kiss just as erotic as sex.’

  ‘Mmmm,’ Tamsyn said, pressing her lips together and wondering what it was about what Jed had just said that made her heart beat a little faster. ‘So as a vicar, you are allowed to say “erotic” and “sex”, then.’

  ‘Yes, I can say those words,’ Jed said. ‘I can feel those feelings, feel desire for a woman. It’s not an alien concept to me, although it’s been a very long time since I felt it last.’

  Tamsyn listened to the ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall and wondered how many seconds had passed while they said nothing, and just looked at each other. It was the strangest sensation, and one she was almost certain was making her weary brain hallucinate.

  ‘Well,’ she said, trying to sound sensible and not at all beguiled by a Man of God. ‘That still leaves us with a little girl with no family, and no clue as to who might have left her in the porch.’

  ‘I think you’re right that it must be someone familiar with the church,’ Jed said. ‘Someone who thinks of it as a safe haven. The trouble is, we have a healthy congregation in Poldore. It’s a very community-led parish. We are involved in all sorts of ways: youth groups, supporting our elderly, working in the schools, visiting the sick … And all sorts of people use the parish rooms. The sewing circle, the WI; there are life-drawing classes; Rory leads a creative-writing class. We have a project that helps young, unemployed people gain skills and qualifications. I don’t think you can categorise the people that are involved with the church; they come from all walks of life, all age groups, all backgrounds.’

  ‘Oh, Mo,’ Tamsyn said to the little girl. ‘If only you could talk. If only you could tell us who your mummy is.’

  ‘You must be tired,’ Jed said, gently. ‘She should sleep for a few hours now. Do you want me to take her while you get your head down?’

  Tamsyn hesitated. There was a large part of her that really wanted to curl up alone in a cool bed, close her eyes and fall instantly to sleep, which she knew was exactly what would happen. And yet to her surprise, she wasn’t biting Jed’s hand off to accept his offer.

  ‘It’s just, she’s had so much upheaval already,’ she said, not quite believing her own words. ‘I don’t want her to have any more that isn’t completely necessary. I’m exhausted and my arm feels like it’s about to drop off, but it’s only for a few hours, isn’t it? And then one way or another she’ll be out of my life. I just want these first few hours of hers to feel as secure and as safe as they can.’

  ‘You sound a little surprised to be feeling that way,’ Jed said, but he wasn’t mocking her.

  ‘I suppose I am,’ Tamsyn said. ‘Must be jet lag. And sobriety.’

  For a few moments they listened to the roar of the wind outside, and the rain occasionally blowing against the window, sounding like handfuls of pebbles.

  ‘You should sleep,’ Tamsyn said, finally. ‘You’ve been all over the place being all vicary. Did you get a bed when Sue was allocating bunks?’

  ‘I did,’ Jed said. ‘But I don’t sleep very well. Insomnia; I’ve had it for a few years now.’

  ‘You can’t count sheep, or angels, or something?’ Tamsyn asked him. ‘I can’t imagine not being able to sleep; it would be the worst feeling in the world.’

  ‘I get enough sleep, somehow,’ he said. ‘I just don’t try to go to sleep. I wait until my brain can’t take any more and switches off, and then I usually have a few good hours. But that’s a long way off yet.’

  ‘I love sleeping,’ Tamsyn told him. ‘Sleeping is one of the best things in the world.’

  ‘It’s not the sleeping I have issues with,’ Jed hesitated. ‘I suppose I am just one of those annoying people whose brains won’t stop ticking and thinking. I always write my sermons in the early hours of the morning.’

  ‘What made you become a vicar?’ Tamsyn said, her brain, almost asleep, articulating the words that had been knocking around in her head almost since she’d first met Jed in the rain under the cedar tree. ‘Did, erm, God talk to you or give you a sign, or something?’

  ‘If only,’ Jed said. He leant back in his chair, stretched his arms out wide and revealed his throat, which Tamsyn discovered she wanted to press her lips to in a series of little butterfly kisses. ‘Wouldn’t it be so easy and simple if faith was something so certain? But then I suppose it wouldn’t be called faith.’

  ‘So you didn’t grow up in a religious home, then?’ Tamsyn asked him. ‘I mean, Mum and Dad always said when we were filling in forms that we were C of E, you know. And Dad had a proper funeral, with hymns and everything, and we were all christened, and Ruan’s having a church wedding. But, I don’t know, I wouldn’t say any of us are what you’d call religious. What is it that makes you so good at believing?’

  Jed rubbed his hands over his face; he had a little smattering of golden stubble around his jaw that glistened in the lamplight.

  ‘There’s no certainty,’ he said. ‘Only hope. And faith and love of my fellow man, and love of God. I believe because I feel it, in here.’ He tapped his chest. ‘In my heart and soul. I believe because, to me, not to believe seems impossible. I’m sorry, I don’t suppose that explains it very well.’

  ‘Well enough,’ Tamsyn said, ‘considering the late hour, or early hour, whichever one it is now.’

  ‘And what do you believe in?’ Jed asked her.

  ‘Would it sound awfully shallow if I said the thing I had the greatest faith in the world in is Prada?’

  ‘Yes,’ Jed said.

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Something woke Tamsyn with a start, and she realised with quiet horror that it was the sound of her own snoring. Sitting upright, she looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings and waited while the events of yesterday gradually came back, the most tangible reminder being the tiny, open-mouthed baby that slept soundly on her shoulder. Blinking, she winced as she straightened up and realised that what she had been leaning on was not a cushion or a firmly padded chair back, but a vicar.

  ‘Oh.’ Tamsyn formed the word with her mouth, but she did not say it out loud because Jed was still asleep, a state of affairs that she now knew di
dn’t come easily to him. He was a very neat sleeper, Tamsyn couldn’t help noticing. No slack-jawed dribble, no rattling snores; he slept with his mouth very slightly open, his golden lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks, his hair in his eyes making him look much younger than he was, and innocent.

  They had come into the snug at about four a.m., when it had grown chilly in the kitchen, to see if the fire was still lit. Tamsyn had sunk down onto the battered old dog-hair-covered sofa, still warm from its last occupier, a very fat pug called Wash, and Jed had stoked up the embers of the fire again. She didn’t really remember much after that, except that she’d been in a curious state of deep but conscious sleep, so that even when she was dreaming she hadn’t forgotten the baby in her arms, and she’d been constantly aware of the sound of her breathing, the crackling of the fire.

  Mo stirred, screwing her face up in what was fast becoming one of her characteristic looks of displeasure, and from the delightful scent that pervaded the tiny room, Tamsyn guessed that she probably needed yet another nappy change. Besides, the clock on the wall told her that Mo would be hungry soon, at a little after six a.m. Grimacing as she remembered her outfit, Tamsyn crept out of the room, taking one more look at Jed as he slept. He was extraordinarily restful to look at, after all.

  The long corridor that ran through the house was all but silent; even the great hall seemed quiet, and Tamsyn didn’t care to guess what was going on upstairs, though she was certain that of all the refugees who had taken shelter in Castle House overnight, her twin nephews would be up by now and probably jumping on her sister’s head. She was well out of it down here.

  ‘That’s the trouble with children,’ she whispered to the baby as she crept into the kitchen with Mo snug in her arms. ‘They have no idea of the concept of lying in. Remember that, as you get older; remember lying in. It’s a wonderful thing.’

  It took Tamsyn a second or two to realise that the huge kitchen wasn’t entirely empty, because sitting at the other end of it, almost blending in with the grey and white kitchen in the gaunt light of the dawn, was Catriona Merryweather, her hands wrapped around a mug of steaming tea.

 

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