The Decision

by Penny Vincenzi

And, ‘Oh, my God,’ said Jeremy, ‘it’s Mariella.’

  And indeed it was: in the guise of Lady Godiva, clad in flesh-coloured lycra and a blond wig, smiling radiantly and blowing kisses at the crowd, who were cheering and clapping and laughing.

  She was not awarded the prize, of course, for that would not have been fair to the rabbits and medieval ladies and the rest and it went instead to a very sweet ladybird on a Shetland pony; but there was no doubt that for the male spectators it was the highlight of the day, and Jeremy was afraid his father was going to pass out with excitement. He could have done without it himself; but when Mariella joined them, laughing, pulling off her wig, and shaking out her own dark hair, and saying she hoped she had done her little bit for the day, and that it had been a good surprise, he did feel a certain slightly grudging pride and went to fetch her some lemonade in a way that he would not, these days, normally have done.

  ‘Oh, Mariella,’ said Eliza, kissing her, ‘how Mademoiselle Chanel would have liked to dress you for that.’

  The gymkhana was now at full throttle. Countless hooves had thundered round the ring, their riders as hell-bent on winning as if they were at Badminton or the Royal Windsor. There had been enough accidents to keep the St John’s Ambulance team on their toes: three major nosebleeds, two sprained ankles, one suspected concussion, one dislocated shoulder (both sufferers shipped off to hospital), and one granny passing out from heatstroke. A number of little girls (and a few boys) were flushed with triumph, walking round with their ponies, their bridles heavily laden with rosettes. Rather more little girls (and a few boys) were tear-stained or sulky or both. Emmeline Shaw, who had excelled herself, given her age, and won her heats in both the pole-bending and the obstacle race and actually come second in the walk, trot and gallop, was now sitting on the terrace with her father, eating her fourth ice cream of the afternoon, and waiting for the sack race, the last gymkhana event of the day.

  ‘How can it be a sack race when it’s ponies?’ asked Coral. ‘Do they put their feet into sacks?’

  ‘No, silly,’ said Emmie, ‘you—’

  ‘Emmie,’ said Matt sharply, ‘don’t speak like that to Coral, Louise just asked me the same question. Now say you’re sorry and tell her sensibly.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Emmie, who was forced to utter the word so often it tripped with thoughtless ease off her tongue, ‘and I’m telling you sensibly, what you do is ride round the ring, dismount, get into the sack, and jump back to the start, leading your pony.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Louise and Coral in unison.

  ‘What are your duties, Matt?’ asked Louise.

  ‘Presenting the best turn-out cup,’ said Matt slightly wearily, ‘which is after the jumping, and then best-in-show cup, and then please God we can all leave. Or you and I can leave. Look at that wanker,’ he said suddenly, ‘just look at him. How can she like him, Louise, I just don’t get it.’

  Louise looked across at Toby. As far as she could see, he was merely drinking some lemonade, and chatting to Sarah and Anna Marchant, who had arrived halfway through the afternoon, without Piers, and looking rather wonderful in what were clearly vintage jodhpurs, a white silk shirt and a pair of tall leather boots.

  ‘I just had to come,’ she said, ‘I’m so proud of you, Eliza. What a thing to organise.’

  ‘Well – I had lots of help.’

  ‘Of course you did. Is that Archie Northcott over there? Such a charming man, and a surprisingly good dancer, I seem to remember. We had a wonderful flirtation once, during the war, God knows what might have happened if he hadn’t had to go back to Egypt, I think it was, but anyway, I think I was quite relieved, Christine would have been a frightful foe. She always found out apparently, about all the mistresses and gave them hell.’

  ‘Were there lots?’ said Eliza in awe. ‘You never told me that.’

  ‘Of course. He was as good-looking as Jeremy, and rather bored down there in Norfolk. He seems to be chatting up your mother, I feel quite jealous, I shall go and interrupt. Now, how is the lovely Toby?’

  ‘Lovely,’ said Eliza, ‘yes. Just – lovely.’

  She looked at him now, chatting to Emmie, who rather wonderfully continued to like him, and to accept his initially infrequent forays into her life, increasing slowly and helped by his considerable horsiness; in spite of not infrequent bursts of ‘you’re not my daddy’, their relationship seemed set fair.

  She had weathered it all very well, but there were inevitable upsets, she still shouted at both Eliza and Matt from time to time, and told them they were stupid, that she didn’t like having two houses, that none of her other friends’ mummies and daddies lived not together – and, generally, used the situation to the best of her ability. Indeed it had been one of the things that had bound Eliza and Matt together in their new relationship, as important in its own way to Emmie as the old one, that they must acknowledge this and not be either deceived or distressed by her manipulations, her averral that Mummy – or, as it might be, Daddy – had said she could stay up late, eat sweets in bed, have a new pony, and take her whole class to the pantomime at Christmas.

  Eliza still quite often hated Matt; she knew she would never forgive him for what he had done to her, while struggling to understand it and to acknowledge her own part in it. She still – occasionally, very occasionally – almost loved him when some fierce memory hit, or he made her laugh, or they were together with Emmie. She resisted it, but it was not to be denied. She was learning to tolerate him, to get along with him; that was new and most difficult but essential for their lives as Emmie’s parents, the two people she loved best in the world. As a bond, that remained unbreakable. But it was hard.

  ‘Dearest, are you all right?’

  ‘Yes. Think so. Bit – you know. Uncomfy. Probably just need to pee again. I’ll waddle off and see you back here in a little while. I might even – find a bed, lie down for a bit.’

  ‘I’ll come and find you. How’s the indigestion?’

  ‘Oh – completely gone. Yes.’

  Scarlett stood up, stretched her arms, tottered slightly on her high heels; her balance wasn’t good. She should really wear flat shoes, but she hated them.

  It really was all very uncomfortable; she felt completely invaded by this creature that had made its home in her. Well, not for much longer.

  She felt very ambivalent towards it; she viewed its arrival with a certain anxiety, and not just the birth. She so hoped she was going to be a good mother. It was all rather daunting. She might be dreadful at it. The qualities required were very different from those that had served her so well in her life thus far. She would try as hard as she could and she certainly wanted the baby, quite desperately, but supposing she didn’t like it? That was Scarlett’s secret fear, one that had haunted her through all these long months: one she couldn’t admit to anyone. That she would take one look at it and realise she had made a terrible mistake. She didn’t really like babies as a race very much: they weren’t even very pretty, not at first, scrumpled little things, with their unseeing eyes and flailing limbs. Scarlett liked things to be pretty.

  Hopefully, maternal love, whatever it was, would carry her through, and would arrive along with the baby; meanwhile she must just wait.

  She did feel a bit odd: as if she was about to burst. Probably be better after she had peed.

  ‘Oh, my God.’ She stared at the flood that had formed around her feet in the kitchen as she stood drinking a glass of water. ‘My God. Oh – my – God.’

  Panic roared through her; she felt completely terrified. What did she do, who could she tell, where could she go? It was awful, she’d spoil everything for everyone, the whole day, and she felt so stupid, so completely stupid –

  ‘Oh – hello.’ Scarlett looked round; it was Eliza’s friend, Heather.

  That was better than some complete stranger – and she’d know about having babies.

  ‘I’ve come for some water, my little girl’s terribly thirsty, do you know where the glasse
s are—’

  ‘Look,’ Scarlett said, stupid in her fear, pointing down at the puddle, ‘look what I’ve done.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Heather. And they stood there together contemplating it; and then Heather said, ‘Look, you’d better sit down. Your waters have broken. Shall I get someone?’

  ‘Yes, yes, please. Probably – yes, my husband. Only you don’t know him. He’s quite easy to spot though, he’s tall and dark and he’s out on the terrace, oh, no, find Eliza, she’ll know what to do.’

  ‘Eliza’s disappeared, I was looking for her too. Are you having any contractions yet?’

  ‘No, not at all. It doesn’t seem to hurt. It will though, I suppose.’

  ‘Just a bit,’ said Heather and smiled again, ‘but don’t worry, it isn’t nearly as bad as people say. As long as you relax, that is.’

  ‘I don’t feel very relaxed. And I’ve got to get back to London, to my doctor. Well – maybe you could get Sarah, Eliza’s mum. I’ll just – just wait here.’

  Heather went out of the back door onto the terrace. Sarah was chatting to a man, a neighbour she supposed. She went up to her rather tentatively.

  ‘Mrs Fullerton-Clark. Could you – could you come into the kitchen please. Bit of a, a – problem.’

  ‘What sort of a problem, Heather dear? Not the freezer finally packed up, I hope—’

  ‘No, it isn’t the freezer,’ said Heather, ‘it’s a – well it’s a baby.’

  ‘A baby!’ said Sarah, in tones that would not have disgraced Lady Bracknell. ‘What on earth is a baby doing in the kitchen?’

  ‘Well, it’s not there yet,’ said Heather, feeling increasingly stupid. ‘It’s – well, it’s Matt’s sister, Scarlett, I think she’s in labour.’

  ‘Oh heavens,’ said Sarah, ‘I did think it was rather a mistake to come, she looked so huge. Larry, excuse me, I must go. Heather, that’s her husband, Mark, just over there, look, tell him to come – and – yes, see if you can find Eliza, dear, as well.’

  Scarlett was remarkably composed by now; she was sitting by the open door on a chair, smiling, when Mark came in.

  ‘Darling, we must leave at once. Back to London—’

  ‘Scarlett, we can’t drive back to London with you in labour. And don’t tell me you’re not, I’ve read the books.’

  ‘Of course we can. We’ll have loads of time and I want to be – oh!’ She stopped, looked at him, her dark eyes suddenly wide with fear. ‘That – might have been something. Oh, it’s gone now. Phew. Well, look, go on, find the car, bring it to the front door—’

  ‘Scarlett, my dear, you can’t embark on a three-hour journey when your waters have broken,’ said Sarah firmly, ‘it would be very dangerous. I’m going to call Dr Watkins, he’s our GP, and get some advice. He’ll probably tell you to go to the nearest hospital, our cottage hospital in the next village is very good—’

  ‘I am not going to a cottage hospital,’ said Scarlett, ‘I want my own gynaecologist looking after me—’

  ‘Dear love, I agree with Sarah,’ said Mark, ‘you can’t do that drive in labour.’

  ‘Mark,’ said Scarlett, ‘how many more times do I have to tell you, first babies take at least twelve hours to arrive. I want to get back to Mr Webb, I am going to get back to Mr Webb, and none of you can stop me. It’s ridiculous, I – ooh. That was – well, a bit more of something.’

  ‘Scarlett,’ said Sarah, and she was very calm now, ‘look, we will, of course, do everything we can to get you some expert care.’

  ‘I don’t want any expert care, I want Mr Webb’s expert care,’ said Scarlett, her voice slightly less certain now. ‘Please, Mark, go and get the car.’

  At that moment, one of the St John’s Ambulance men came into the kitchen.

  ‘Sorry, Mrs F-C, but a little boy’s passed out, the heat I think, can I get some more water?’

  ‘Yes, you can of course. But first, could we have a bit of advice. This lady’s waters have just broken, and her baby is due – when, Scarlett?’

  ‘Tomorrow. So – look,’ Scarlett looked at the man imploringly, ‘tell them it’ll be fine to go back to London, will you?’

  ‘I can’t do that, my love. Once your waters have broken you’re liable to infection. And that drive, with baby not cushioned by the waters, very dangerous, it could be.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m not in labour,’ said Scarlett, ‘well, hardly, couple of – of twinges, but …’

  ‘My love, you’ll have to stay here. You should be resting comfortable. We can get an ambulance, course, I’ll call one right away – where’s the phone, Mrs F-C?’

  ‘But – I want—’

  ‘Scarlett,’ said Mark, ‘no.’

  Sarah helped Scarlett up to her room; pulled the eiderdown off the bed, pulled the curtains.

  ‘There you are, my dear, lie down. Do you know, Eliza was born in this room—’

  ‘Yes, well, I don’t want to have my baby in this room,’ said Scarlett. Her teeth were chattering slightly now with fear. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but—’

  ‘Of course not, and you didn’t sound rude at all.’

  ‘I’m just so – frightened.’

  ‘Yes, it is frightening at first,’ said Sarah, smoothing back Scarlett’s hair, ‘then you’ll find you settle down and it’s amazing how you cope. Now the ambulance should be here pretty soon, and Dr Watkins is coming over to see you, just as a precaution. He’s a darling man, and very gentle. Don’t worry, you’ll be absolutely fine. Would you like some tea?’

  ‘Oh – yes, please. That’d be nice. With some sugar. I still think I could go back—’

  ‘Scarlett,’ said Sarah firmly, ‘you can not go back. Now you try to relax. Easier said than done, I know, and I’ll get you the tea. The loo’s right next door if you want it—’

  Scarlett lay very still, as if any movement might precipitate her baby and its birth into further action. Where was Mark, what was he doing, for God’s sake – talking to someone no doubt, bloody man, bloody everything, she wanted to be in London with Mr Webb, she wanted her hospital, her nice expensive private hospital with its nice expensive drugs, suppose the local hospital didn’t even know about pethidine, suppose – another pain hit her. She bit her lip, trying to keep calm, fear building faster than the pain …

  Louise looked at Matt; he was standing on the edge of the ring, holding Emmie’s hand. He had slowly relaxed as the afternoon went on, but he was still edgy. It was very difficult for him. He’d actually behaved very well. And once he’d presented the cups, they could leave. She was rather sorry; Eliza had asked them to stay for supper.

  ‘We’d love you to be here, Louise,’ said Eliza, ‘you and Matt. And Toby, you know, is going. He can’t stay anyway. So it won’t be too awkward. See what you can do.’

  ‘Thanks, Eliza, but I think probably it would be better if we went. It’s – it’s not easy for Matt.’

  ‘No, of course not. I think he’s been amazing, actually.’

  ‘Have you seen Scarlett? Matt was looking for her.’

  ‘No, but I’m sure she’s fine. Mark’s looking after her like an old hen – he’s so sweet – gosh, I must go, musical ride and then it’s over.’

  ‘My dear Mrs Frost, we can’t move you now.’ Dr Watkins looked at her sternly. ‘You’re well on your way. Ah, here we go, here comes another one. Deep breaths, that’s right. Here, you – what’s your name—’

  ‘Mark,’ said Mark slightly desperately. He had never been more frightened in his life.

  ‘Go and see what’s keeping that ruddy midwife. She should have been here half an hour ago. And then bring some more cold water, sponge your wife down, it’s bloody hot. Make yourself useful, man, don’t just sit there, like a frightened rabbit … well done, Scarlett, well done. You’re doing beautifully. Not so bad, is it? Sarah – cup of tea for me, my dear, if you wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘She’s what! My God. I’ll be in in one minute. How – how exciting. A baby, here at Summercourt – f
irst one since – since me. Gosh. Where’s Matt? Louise, Louise—’

  ‘Ah, there you are at last. What have you been doing, woman? Come along, here’s Mrs Frost, she’s doing wonderfully well, but she could do with a bit of gas and air now, and then you can examine her, see how she’s getting on. Got all the gear have you, sort her out a bit. Contractions every four minutes, getting nice and strong, I’d say a couple more hours and baby’ll be here.’

  A couple more hours. Of this? Surely not, surely, surely not. Still – it was going to be less than twenty-four, obviously. And it did hurt, it hurt like hell, but it was – all right. She was just about coping. She hadn’t screamed or anything, which she’d been worrying about, right in the middle of the gymkhana – it was actually rather lovely here, in this beautiful room, and fancy Eliza being born here, and her mother coming in and out, and that nice girl Heather, helping with her breathing – she was going to be all right. She was worried about Mark, he looked as if he was going to faint, probably best if he went out, only it was nice to have him there – oh, shit, shit, here came another one …

  ‘Matt, Matt, there you are, Scarlett’s having her baby.’

  ‘Scarlett’s what?’

  ‘She’s having her baby.’

  ‘What, here?’

  ‘Yes. It all happened very fast, and she’s up in Mummy’s room, I was born there, you know, so rather lovely, and no, I don’t think you should go and see her, she’s quite far on apparently, and the doctor’s there and the midwife, and—’

  ‘Toby, you can’t go yet. Scarlett’s having her baby. It’s really exciting. Please, please stay—’

  ‘Louise, there you are. Look – we can’t go yet. Apparently my sister’s having her baby. Here, in the house. The doctor’s here and a midwife, so she’s all right. I hope. What on earth would Mum say … Christ, I need a drink.’

  ‘Right, one more push, that’s right, good girl, good girl. Well done. Here we are – and it’s a – it’s a girl, a lovely little girl. Oh, you have done well. There you are, my lovely, there she is – whoops, and there goes the daddy, head between your knees, sir, that’s right. Your wife’s done so well, now you look at your daughter, isn’t she lovely?’