Olivia's Luck

by Catherine Alliott

  Molly came back, armed with a fresh jug, and crouched down between the boys to gather up some strawberry bowls, demanding to know what they were laughing at. Sebastian told her that Hugh had fallen asleep on stage one night and had snored so loudly he’d had to be surreptitously kicked awake by Peter the Great.

  ‘Not so surreptitiously,’ gasped Hugh. ‘Apparently I was out for the count. He nearly broke my ribs!’

  ‘You never told me!’ Molly shrieked throwing a napkin at him. ‘You old fraud – getting into the part, my eye – you never told me that!’

  I got up to help her clear away, determining at the same time to tell her of my little seduction plan. I needed encouragement and boy, would she encourage me. ‘Go for it, Livvy!’ I could hear her saying. ‘This man is perfect. This is exactly what you need!’

  I followed her into the kitchen, and as she wiped her eyes on a tea towel at the sink, still hooting and dissolving with laughter, I stared at her.

  ‘How are you managing this, Molly?’

  ‘What?’ she gasped.

  ‘All this hilarity. You haven’t laughed like this for weeks!’

  ‘Oh!’ She pulled up her dress. ‘Plastic pants! Huge ones, absolutely marvellous, men’s ones actually. Bought them in Boots this morning, and padded them out with stacks of those wingy ST things Hugh brought back from the shoot. I was so bloody sick of sitting around po-faced as if I had a cucumber up my bottom, I thought – damn it, I’m going to have a laugh tonight. Honestly, I’ve practically got a nappy on here, Liv, and I can skip –’ she demonstrated across the kitchen – ‘I can dance – arabesque – lah-lah-lah!’ Her arms flew out and her leg shot up all of two inches behind her. ‘Well, almost. And I’m sure I could straddle some gorgeous hunk’s shoulders if I really – Shit!’ she squeaked, suddenly clutching herself.

  ‘What!’ I leapt forward.

  She peered down. ‘I’m leaking!’

  We gazed in frozen horror as torrents of liquid poured down her legs.

  ‘God, that’s more than a leak, Moll!’

  ‘My waters! Quick – a bucket!’

  ‘No, no, the loo, hurry – it’s closer!’ I bundled her towards it.

  ‘No!’ she hissed suddenly, digging her heels in. ‘I’ve got to keep some! My midwife told me to, so they can test the amniotic fluid. Get a plastic bag!’ She clamped her legs together, bug-eyed with alarm now.

  ‘Where?’ I flew wildly round the kitchen.

  ‘Top drawer – there,’ she pointed. ‘Hurry!’

  ‘They’re huge!’ I wailed as I pulled a vast John Lewis carrier bag from the dresser.

  ‘Never mind!’ she squeaked. ‘Just get some of this ruddy stuff!’

  I crouched down between her ankles, trying desperately to catch some drops and actually feeling faintly hysterical now. Her legs were no longer dripping, just wet, and the deluge was all over the floor.

  ‘Oh, Moll, I can’t!’ I gasped hysterically.

  ‘Get a spoon!’ she shrieked. ‘Look, there’s a big puddle. Oh, go away, Digger!’ Digger the Border terrier, keen to join the party, looked frightfully excited and all set to clean up. I hurriedly shut him in a cupboard.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Molly,’ I yelped, bending down again, frantically spooning away, ‘you should be at the hospital, not worrying about your amniotic fluid – HUGH!’ I flung over my shoulder.

  ‘What?’ drifted laconically up from the garden.

  ‘GET IN HERE – NOW!!!’

  I reached down deep into my lungs for this, and it did the trick. Hugh and Sebastian arrived at the double, just as Molly, tottering across the floor towards her husband, collapsed stiffly on his neck like a paperhanger’s board.

  ‘It’s coming,’ she moaned. ‘Finally, Hugh! Ten bloody days late, but it’s actually, finally coming!’

  Sebastian, childless, and probably having only ever seen births on episodes of Casualty, where it all tends to happen in ten seconds flat on the floor of a phone box, looked horrified. ‘What, here? Now?’

  ‘That’s it, mate,’ said Hugh, grasping his shoulder. ‘This is how she wanted it. On all fours on the kitchen floor, that was her birth plan. Glad you could join us. I’d like you down at the works end, if you will. Wash your hands.’

  ‘No no,’ I said hurriedly, seeing Sebastian’s aghast face. ‘He’s joking. She’s got a while to go yet, and Molly’s not into painful home births either. Come on, Moll, let’s get you into the car.’

  ‘We’re off, we’re off!’ chortled Hugh joyfully, hopping about from foot to foot. ‘God, I wonder what it is. It’s just like Christmas, isn’t it!’

  ‘Hardly,’ snarled Molly.

  ‘Never mind, my love, we’ll have you there in a jiffy and it’ll soon be over, you’ll see. Come on, my sweet.’ He helped his huge wife, who seemed to have gone completely rigid now, out of the kitchen, then abruptly lunged back to grab a pewter hip flask from the dresser.

  ‘Hang on, Moll!’ He supported her with one hand and filled the flask expertly with whisky with the other. ‘Pain relief,’ he grinned, slipping it into his pocket. ‘In case her agony is too much for me to bear.’

  ‘Oh, the pain,’ she moaned, clutching her tummy.

  ‘What – already?’ he asked anxiously.

  ‘No, no, I’m just remembering. I want everything, Hugh,’ she warned him, staggering out, ‘everything that’s going, remember that.’

  ‘I will, my love.’

  ‘I want epidurals, pethidine, gas, injections – whatever’s going I want it. Unconscious will be just fine. Tell them, Hugh.’

  ‘I’ll tell them, my pet, don’t you worry.’

  ‘And don’t forget to put a ciggy in my mouth as soon as I come round.’

  ‘It’ll be my first priority.’

  ‘And your case?’ I asked anxiously, following them out of the front door.

  ‘Boot of the car,’ she gasped, ‘packed and ready. I knew this would happen, knew it would come in a rush, be a bloody emergency. Oh, bye, everyone!’

  She turned, halfway down the path, and waved, grinning from ear to ear, suddenly enjoying the moment. Hugh braced up beside her with a huge cheesy grin, never missing a potential audience opportunity.

  ‘Bye, all,’ he cried. ‘Back soon!’

  ‘Bye!’ Sebastian and I yelled back enthusiastically. It was a bit like waving to a royal couple on the balcony.

  ‘And good luck!’ added Sebastian as Hugh helped Molly into the car.

  ‘Thanks, mate!’

  Moments later they were away, roaring off in Hugh’s ancient MG, roof down, waving frantically, when suddenly – my hand shot up in the air.

  ‘Stop!’

  Hugh obediently squealed to an emergency halt in the middle of the lane. His head swung back. ‘What!’

  ‘You’ve forgotten Henry!’

  Molly and Hugh exchanged horrified looks then – ‘Shit!’ in unison.

  Hugh performed an immaculate three-point turn in the middle of the lane and came roaring back.

  ‘So we have,’ he muttered as he raced past me and on up the stairs. ‘Well done, Livvy. You’re thinking on your feet.’

  ‘But, Hugh, why don’t you leave him? Don’t wake him up, I’ll –’

  But he’d gone, and two seconds later was racing back down with a sleeping bundle, wrapped in a duvet, in his arms.

  ‘Hugh, why don’t I stay? Or take him back to my house?’ I urged. ‘He can stay with me.’

  ‘No, no,’ he insisted, dashing past me, ‘family occasion.’ He stopped, turned back. ‘In years to come, Livvy, this chap will be able to say that he attended his sibling’s birth, and how many boys can say that, eh?’ He leant forward confidentially. ‘And don’t tell Molly,’ he whispered, ‘but I’ve got the video camera packed in her case. Thought I’d surprise her, thought we could all be in it, you know, en famille, but I’ll be down at the sharp end, of course, getting the moment critique as she pushes it out, doing a bit of a David Attenborough commentary
. Won’t she be surprised?’ he grinned.

  ‘Oh, Hugh, I’m not so sure she’ll –’

  ‘Won’t she just love it? And we can play it every year on his birthday!’ He turned and ran. ‘Bye, all. Just put the dogs out for five minutes, then slam the front door behind you as you leave!’

  We watched as he ran off down the path, bundled Henry in the car – no question of strapping him in, of course, or his wife come to that – and then with a throaty old roar of the engine they were away. I saw two cigarettes burning in the night sky as they sped off, shrieking with laughter. Very close. Very happy. Very Molly and Hugh.

  Sebastian and I stood and waved until they were out of sight. All was quiet for a moment. Then Sebastian voiced what I was thinking.

  ‘I envy them,’ he sighed.

  I nodded. ‘Me too.’

  There was a pause. I shook myself. ‘Come on, let’s clear up, see to the dogs and get out of here.’

  Much of the drive home was spent in companionable silence. I think we were both exhausted by the events of the last few hours and also, pleasantly mellow, and somewhat lost in our thoughts. At length though, Sebastian chuckled.

  ‘What?’ I turned, smiling.

  He shook his head. ‘Just – that pair. What a riot.’

  ‘I know,’ I smiled, pleased to have introduced him to a riot. My riotous assembly. I snuggled down happily in my seat.

  After a bit, he pulled up in front of my house. ‘Here we are, then.’

  I turned. Took a deep breath. This was my moment. ‘Um, would you like to come in?’

  His dark eyes widened with surprise. I hadn’t noticed before but they were exactly the colour of expensive chocolates. Belgian browns, they should be called, with black nuts in the middle.

  ‘What, with Maureen there?’

  ‘Well, she could go home,’ I said, somewhat brazenly. I felt myself flushing. This was wrong, somehow. I should be having this conversation in his arms, hot with passion, lips a-tremble, unable to control ourselves and needing to prostrate ourselves somewhere horizontally, pronto, not two feet apart as if we were at some executive board meeting.

  He scraped back his hair nervously. ‘A little, um, awkward, don’t you think? Bye-bye, Maureen, see you later, nudge-nudge?’

  I licked my lips. ‘Well, why don’t we go to your house then, have a coffee there?’ I offered brightly. What was wrong with this man, and what the hell was I doing in the driving seat?

  He regarded me for a long moment. Smiled gently. ‘Let’s leave it, Livvy, eh? Not tonight.’

  I stared. It took me a moment to realise I’d been rejected. Not tonight, Olivia. I felt for the door handle, struggled with it, flushing to my toes.

  ‘You’re right, it’s late,’ I said, rustling up a bright smile, ‘and coffee only keeps me awake anyway.’

  Suddenly he lunged towards me – yes, he couldn’t help himself – and I pitched forward too, kissed his ear as he – opened my door for me.

  ‘It does stick a bit,’ he confessed as I retrieved my lips from his hair.

  ‘Oh, right!’ I gasped. God, did I get away with that? Did he know I’d tried to snog him? I got out, covered in confusion.

  ‘See you soon then,’ I warbled.

  He smiled up at me through the open window. ‘Definitely. ’Night, Livvy.’

  ‘Good night.’ I recovered enough to smile, even challenged him briefly with my eyes. But he didn’t seem to notice.

  I turned, not waiting to see him drive off the few yards down the road, and walked dazedly up my drive.

  When I knew he’d definitely gone, though, I stopped still, turned, and stared back down the empty road. Well. What d’you make of that then? I blinked. Had I got it so wrong? Had I really misread the signs so badly? Had we not, after all, been swimming in a sea of mutual attraction for the best part of the evening? Had he not felt the roaring in his ears, the volts shooting through the old aortas, the throbbing of the pulse points as we’d locked eyes over the buttercups, simultaneously licking strawberry juice sensually from our fingers? I felt – shattered, confused. What was wrong with the man? Was I not right, somehow? Had I said the wrong thing? Offended his artistic sensibilities? I didn’t have time to ponder further, however, as Maureen opened the front door.

  ‘Ah, you’re back,’ she said caustically. ‘I thought I heard a car.’ Her sharp nose twitched like Hunca Munca’s. Probably smelt it too.

  ‘Yes, we’re – I’m back.’ I sighed. ‘Hi, Maureen. All well?’ I trudged wearily towards her.

  ‘Fine. Claudia’s been asleep for hours. I sent her up at nine, she was so tired, but …’ she paused.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, there’s a man here.’

  ‘A man? Where?’ I peered past her, through the open front door.

  ‘He’s sitting out in the garden, on the terrace. Been here for a while, actually.’ She swooped forward suddenly and found my ear. ‘He says he’s your husband!’ she hissed.

  I stepped back. Stared. ‘My … Johnny?’

  She nodded, wide-eyed, tight-lipped, triumphant. Then she folded her arms importantly and stood aside to let me in. I put my handbag down slowly on the hall table and moved past her in a daze, then realised she was following me down the passage.

  I turned. ‘Um, thank you, Maureen,’ I muttered. ‘How much do I owe you?’

  ‘Oh, well, now let me see. I arrived at seven so –’

  ‘Here.’ I pressed far too much into her hand, not having time for the mental arithmetic.

  She didn’t argue and went back towards the door for her coat. ‘I’ll see myself out,’ she called diplomatically, but with a tinge of regret.

  I nodded, didn’t answer, but all the same waited until the door had shut firmly behind her. Johnny? Here? What on earth for? And why so late? I glanced at my watch. Ten thirty. Not so late, of course, because Molly had abruptly curtailed the evening.

  I walked slowly out on to the terrace, tucking my hair carefully behind my ears. My heart was pounding. As I emerged through the French windows, I saw him sitting on the terrace wall, his long, elegant legs dangling. He stood up.

  ‘Hi, Livvy.’ His face was strange, taut and pale in the moonlight, yet I knew he had a tan, and he was smoking, for God’s sake. Johnny almost never smoked. Then it came to me. In a blinding flash, I knew. Knew what this was. Why he’d come. This was what Nina had come to tell me the other day, what Molly had hinted at.

  ‘Sorry to crash in on you like this.’ He cranked up a smile.

  ‘That’s OK,’ I said carefully.

  He took a nervous drag of his cigarette and stared down between his feet. I moved past him and sat, because I needed to, not too close, but just a bit further along the wall from where he’d been sitting. I held on to the balustrade behind in case I needed to clutch something.

  ‘I thought you were in France,’ I said lightly.

  ‘I was, we were, but …’ He bit his lip. ‘Well, I needed to talk to you. It wouldn’t keep any longer, so I flew back this afternoon.’

  I nodded. Blimey. This afternoon, eh? Guilty conscience keeping him awake at night, no doubt. Spoiling his holiday, putting him off his langoustines, keeping him from concentrating on his Jeffrey Archer on the beach. I noticed he was practically wearing beach clothes too – T-shirt, deck shoes, shorts – as if he’d literally just stood up and brushed the sand off himself. Literally just left her, lying supine and bronzed beside him on her raffia mat in her Topshop bikini, kissed her sun-drenched shoulder a tad regretfully and said, ‘It’s no good, my love, I must pop back and speak to her indoors. We simply must get this sorted out once and for all. See you back here in the morning for coffee and croissants on the balcony, OK?’

  ‘Right,’ I swallowed. ‘You couldn’t have called?’

  ‘No. I had to see you, Livvy.’ His blue eyes were heavy with regret.

  I gulped and gripped the balustrade behind me firmly. ‘I see. Well, here you are then.’ I raised my chin with a bri
sk, defensive air. ‘Fire away.’

  He took a quick nervous drag of his cigarette, dropped it and stubbed it out with his toe. His eyes came up to meet mine. Clear as a summer’s sky.

  ‘I can’t bear it, Liv. I miss you too much. In fact I miss both of you too much. This has been the biggest mistake of my life. I thought I could do it, but I can’t, I know that now. I love you so much, Livvy. I want to come back.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I stared at him incredulously. For a moment I couldn’t speak. Had neither wind nor words to draw on. My mouth fell open with shock.

  ‘You … want to come back?’

  He scraped back his hair nervously. ‘Look, I know it’s a hideous cheek and I should have rung or written – prepared you in some way – but every time I sat down and put pen to paper it sounded so formal, so eighteenth century, I – I just needed to see you.’ Suddenly he bounded across to me, took my hands as they lay shocked and lifeless in my lap, and shook them urgently, as if to shake life into me. He gazed desperately into my eyes. ‘I needed to plead with you, Livvy, to beg you even, to go down on my knees if necessary, because God knows, I can’t do this any more. I’m dying without you. I can’t bear it. I just can’t bear it any longer!’

  I stared into his wide blue eyes, speechless. Then I took my hands away, got up, and walked dazedly round the terrace. I sat down again, my legs feeling very unsteady, and looked down at the moss on the York stone. He wanted to come back? He was pleading with me to have him back? At length, I unwound my tongue.