Love, Iris

by Elizabeth Noble

  ‘So how do you know?’

  Gigi shrugged. ‘I think you just do. I think you said it already. I think you know what you’re meant to be feeling, and I think you’ve just told me you don’t.’

  ‘Maybe …’

  ‘Can you slow things down?’

  ‘That’s just cowardly, isn’t it?’

  ‘I can’t tell you what to do, Oliver.’

  ‘I know that.’ He sat forward, tapping his feet nervously against the floor, so that his knees shook. ‘Fuck. Fuck …’ He buried his face in his hands.

  Gigi laid a hand on his shoulder.

  Something was missing. Gigi sensed there was something he wasn’t telling her. Her mother’s instinct told her that this wasn’t just an accumulation of feeling. There was some kind of catalyst. She knew it. She just didn’t know what it was. And she didn’t want to push.

  She couldn’t pretend she’d been excited about Caitlin becoming part of the family, but she knew she’d have done her best, her very best, if she was the person Oliver had chosen. It sounded like Caitlin had chosen him. Like her beautiful boy had done what he thought he should – what he thought was right. She only hoped he had the sense not to compound the original mistake by carrying on. It couldn’t work, if it started like this.

  And he hadn’t asked about Richard, about how she was feeling and how she was doing, and she was glad. It was a relief that Oliver was thinking about himself, and not about her and his father. It made her feel less guilty.

  For his part, Oliver felt a sense of simple relief at saying out loud some of what had been in his head these last few weeks. He was grateful for his mum’s quiet ear, even though he knew, really, she hadn’t liked Caitlin. Or at least the idea of her. Or at least the shadow she cast over the family.

  If he was absolutely honest with himself, seeing her against the backdrop of his family had been the beginning of the real doubt. It hadn’t worked. Not like Emily worked. Gelled. Not even like other girlfriends he’d taken home had worked. Before Christmas, he’d told himself some of what was missing was just myth, the schmaltz of the smug. That there wasn’t some prescribed list of feelings, of boxes everyone had to tick. After Christmas, that had got harder to believe.

  There were bits of him not given over to Caitlin, and he was suddenly, without fully understanding why and how, aware that they might be vulnerable, those bits, to someone else.

  Tess

  Tess was signing in at Clearview when Gigi came up behind her, and held her briefly in a light embrace that might have seemed overfamiliar if it wasn’t Gigi making it, but, since it was, it just felt nice.

  ‘Hello, lovely.’

  ‘Hello yourself. Coming or going?’

  ‘I was going, actually. You?’

  ‘I just got here. Traffic’s rotten.’ She’d meant to come earlier, in truth, but, for the first time, after last time, she’d almost dreaded it. She’d procrastinated at home – Donna wasn’t there – and so she’d put on a wash, unloaded the dishwasher and dawdled for too long. That, and then the traffic, had put her back.

  ‘Really? I might hang around a bit longer, then – let it clear a bit.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  ‘Don’t fancy a coffee, do you? I don’t want to keep you away from your gran …’

  ‘Actually, I didn’t have breakfast. I’d love to grab something.’

  ‘Deal. Come on, then.’ Gigi linked arms with Tess companionably and pointed them in the direction of the cafeteria.

  ‘They might still have some croissants or something. Too early for lunch.’

  The cooking smells hit Tess sideways, once she was in the room, and she settled for a cup of mint tea, which could usually head off a wave of nausea.

  Gigi noted the change of heart, and raised an eyebrow as they sat down.

  ‘I thought you were hungry?’

  ‘I am. And not …’

  Gigi looked at her, a small smile forming.

  Tess laughed. ‘I’m pregnant, Gigi.’

  The small smile broke into a beam. ‘Oh, Tess – that is happy, happy news. Congratulations!’

  Tess smiled shyly back. ‘I thought you might have guessed already. You being a midwife …’

  Gigi put her hands up in a gesture of surrender. ‘Occupational hazard.’

  ‘It’s okay. I’m glad to say, actually.’

  ‘How far along are you?’

  ‘Around five months. The baby is due at the beginning of August.’

  ‘Wow. That’s brilliant. Summer babies are a joy. Twenty weeks or so?’ Tess nodded. ‘And still sick?’ Professional curiosity had obviously kicked in.

  ‘Mostly fine now – it was never too bad, actually. But every now and then something just … gets me … and then I don’t fancy anything. Believe me, highly out of character – normally no pastry is safe in my vicinity, but I’d honestly heave if that pain au chocolat came anywhere near me right now.’

  Gigi laughed conspiratorially. ‘I was the same with raw meat. Couldn’t stand it.’

  Tess blew out her cheeks and smiled ruefully. ‘Yup. I get that.’

  ‘You need something, though, to go with that tea. If you haven’t eaten all day. Forgive the bossiness. Mother, grandmother and midwife, so you’re buggered. Think you could manage a ginger nut?’

  Tess smirked, knowing resistance was probably futile. ‘I could try …’

  Gigi took out her purse and stood up. ‘I’ll grab some.’

  She ate two small packets, in fact, while Gigi made small talk, and was amazed to find that they did help.

  ‘Better?’

  She nodded gratefully. ‘Better.’

  ‘It’s rotten.’

  ‘It’s not so bad. I’d been dreading being one of those women who are really ill all the time – like poor old Kate Middleton.’

  ‘That’s grim. Particularly, one imagines, if one is so much in the public eye.’ She said it in a faux posh voice. ‘But hyperemesis is quite rare. With most women it passes in the first few months, and it isn’t even every day.’

  Tess nodded again. ‘In time for stretch marks, swollen ankles, haemorrhoids, breasts the size of zeppelins …’

  ‘Sometimes! But don’t forget the glow, the thicker hair … the baby you get at the end of it …’

  ‘God, I sound negative, don’t I? Sorry.’

  ‘Nothing to be sorry for. Some women love being pregnant. Some women don’t. It’s all okay.’

  Tess smiled gratefully at Gigi. ‘You’re very kind.’

  ‘Just telling it like it is … It’s a lot – a lot of changes – not just the physical ones, although they can be overwhelming on their own. It’s other stuff too.’

  ‘And that’s if you’ve got your life sorted.’

  ‘And you haven’t?’

  Tess ran her fingers nervously around the edge of her empty teacup. ‘Not really.’ And then, she didn’t quite know why, except that Gigi was so lovely, she said, ‘Not at all, actually …’

  ‘Oh, love.’ Gigi stroked her shoulder.

  ‘It’s a bit of a mess. I’m not with the dad. I mean, I was, when I got pregnant. I’m just not now. And I’m not going to be. I don’t really know how he’s going to fit into the baby’s life. I’m being a total coward about sorting it all out, to be honest, but we’re not going to be together …’

  ‘Are you sure about that? Babies can change things.’

  Tess’s face was very serious. ‘I’m sure.’ Her tone brooked no argument, and Gigi nodded, no doubt wondering what on earth had gone on between them to make her so sure.

  ‘And he’s moving to New York anyway. Which isn’t the why, by the way.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘So breaking up with Sean – that was his name, Sean – meant I was homeless. We’d been living together, but it was his place. I’d given up my flat to move in with him. Idiot. So I’m back at my mum’s house. In my damn thirties …’

  ‘And how is that?’

  Tess shrugged. ‘It�
�s okay. Better than I thought it would be. I mean – it’s good of her to have me. We haven’t exactly been close these last years. Ever. Iris has been more like my mum. But Donna did want me to stay, and it’s been okay. Still, it’s not where you’re supposed to be, is it, when you’re having your first child? You’re supposed to be married to someone you adore, in your own place, painting a damn nursery and hanging mobiles, aren’t you? Not kipping in your mum’s spare room while you try to figure out what kind of flat you can afford.’

  ‘You’re still working?’

  ‘Yes. And I’ll get the full maternity, and all that. I mean, I can afford something … but I’ll be alone there, with the baby, and, frankly, the thought scares me to death.’

  Tess looked tearful. Gigi squeezed her hand.

  ‘You know, unsolicited advice can be the worst thing in the world, but –’

  ‘I’m soliciting it, I think.’ Tess half laughed.

  ‘Well, then, I’d say this, Tess. One thing at a time. One thing at a time. It’s too much, if you try to sort everything all at once. You’ve got to prioritize. Right now, what matters is you and the baby. Staying well and healthy, rested. You’ve got your mum, you’ve got your job, you’ve got somewhere to stay …’

  ‘I must seem such a flake to you.’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘You’re sweet, but I don’t believe you. You’re so sorted.’

  Gigi laughed more bitterly than she had expected to. ‘Appearances can be deceptive, lovely.’

  Tess snorted. ‘You’re lovely. Lovely husband. Lovely kids. Lovely home, I bet. Lovely job, which I know you must be brilliant at …’

  Gigi looked into her eyes. ‘I left that lovely husband.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I left him.’

  ‘Oh God. I’m sorry! Wow. Big mouth. Sorry … sorry.’

  ‘Why should you be?’

  ‘I’ve been going on –’

  ‘And that’s fine,’ Gigi interrupted. ‘I asked. I just wanted you to know my life wasn’t exactly all squared away either. I don’t think anyone’s is, truthfully. We’re all just faking it, aren’t we, to some degree?’

  Tess smiled gratefully. ‘Are you okay?’

  Gigi took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. ‘Not yet. But I will be. So will you.’ She squeezed Tess’s hand.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ Tess felt awkward suddenly. She remembered how little she knew Gigi. And for how short a time. It just fast-tracked things, being in here, having this common bond. All of them a bit vulnerable and upset, a bit of soft under-belly facing upwards. And she was grateful. Gigi had been so kind. And maybe she was even a little desperate – for the connection.

  ‘Not really. Not to anyone. You’re sweet to offer. I’ve got to organize my own thoughts before they can be words. I’ve done something so extraordinarily out of character, I think I’m still in shock. Can’t say what I mean about it, because I’m not even sure what I mean. If that makes sense?’

  ‘Such sense you cannot imagine!’

  They looked into each other’s faces and understood each other, without facts or explanation, and both were surprised by how much comfort there was in that.

  Gigi

  Richard hadn’t called her mobile phone in a long time. Even before she left. He didn’t like the phone. It had been ages since he’d checked in with her during the working day, for no particular reason, but ‘just because’, and those days of not hearing from him had been a part of her loneliness. Other people’s partners rang or texted – sent messages about their day, or the idiot in the car next to them, or what to have for dinner … And now here he was, calling while she was in the condiments aisle in Tesco, realizing that she could buy crunchy peanut butter instead of smooth. She held the phone in her hand, staring at his number, and didn’t answer – he’d caught her off guard. After five rings, the words MISSED CALL flashed up on the screen. She stuffed the phone into her handbag and tried to concentrate on jams. Another minute after that, it trilled again with a voicemail. Maybe it was something about the kids? Gigi took a deep breath, and listened to Richard’s message, curtly telling her that he was at Clearview, that James had been taken ill. That he thought she should know. That she could come, if she wanted to. She couldn’t tell from his voice whether or not he wanted her to.

  That didn’t matter. She left her trolley where it was in the aisle, got into her car and set off for Clearview. She wasn’t thinking about Richard now, but about James. She’d seen him a few days ago, and he’d been well. Confused, like always, but well. They’d done the crossword, which usually meant she did the crossword out loud and he listened, or not, and this time he’d got a word, which happened less and less these days. He’d known that ‘e.g. an anteater, 13 letters, 5 across’ was insectivorous, which was more than she did, and that bit of dredging up of memory had made them both smile. But there’d been nothing specifically wrong with him. Richard hadn’t given her any details in his message – any sense of how bad this was. She drove a bit too fast.

  Richard was in the corridor outside James’s room when she arrived, looking at his phone. She put her hand on his arm and he looked up, surprised. She wanted to hug him – maybe even expected to, but he pulled away and took a step back from her.

  ‘Is he okay?’

  He nodded briefly. ‘Stomach flu, they think. Just a bug. He’s been pretty sick. Both ends.’ He managed to look and sound like he was actually standing in a puddle of it. ‘But he’s okay …’

  Gigi felt relief, then surprise at the relief. She knew James would have been happy to be carried away by an innocuous stomach flu. It shouldn’t be a relief. But it was.

  ‘Is he in there?’

  Richard nodded. ‘They’re getting him comfortable.’ He grimaced.

  He’d always been hopeless when the kids were ill – no good at dealing with the mess of it, however sorry he was, and he always was, that they felt rotten. She had a sudden memory of him standing with an infant Oliver, covered in vomit, holding him out at arm’s length; but she was the one who had to grapple with a sick-soaked duvet cover and organize a warm bath. Worried about his boy, but unable to do what was necessary to comfort him. Poor Richard. He always let her do it, then made her a cup of tea and told her she was wonderful. She’d always known he meant it.

  ‘How? I don’t understand.’ It wasn’t a rational question, not really. Especially not for someone who worked in the NHS. But she wasn’t feeling rational.

  ‘One of those things, I suppose … They’re not immune in here.’

  ‘Was this overnight?’

  He nodded. ‘They called this morning. Once the worst was over.’

  ‘But they didn’t take him to hospital?’

  ‘No one said anything about that being necessary.’

  ‘Is he on a drip? For fluids?’

  ‘I don’t know, Gigi.’ He sounded exhausted. ‘I haven’t asked. I haven’t seen him yet.’

  ‘We need to talk to the doctor.’

  ‘He’s with someone else. The nurse said he’d come round shortly.’

  An uneasy silence descended. There were things other than James that they could talk about – the kids, the flat she was going to see, work, the weather … But it was odd – standing here with him, and all their past; the sudden, brutal absence of their future had unbalanced everything, shifted everything. She wondered if they’d ever have a normal conversation again. She knew she badly wanted to try.

  ‘Do you want to go and get a cup of tea? Wait until he’s ready?’

  Richard shifted from foot to foot. ‘I don’t think I can. Probably shouldn’t have rung you.’

  ‘Come on, Richard. Don’t be daft. It’s still me.’

  ‘But it isn’t, G. Everything has changed …’ He felt it too – that sickening lurching away from normal.

  ‘This hasn’t.’ She gestured around her.

  ‘What do you think he’d say about it? If he knew?’ he almost snapped.

 
It was a low blow, and it hit its target, almost taking her breath away. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. She stared at the carpet, her eyes smarting.

  But cruelty wasn’t Richard’s métier. That was too unkind for him. He spoke first, and his voice was completely different. ‘Just as well he doesn’t, I suppose … Sorry.’ When she looked up he couldn’t meet her gaze.

  ‘Richard –’

  ‘I think I’ll go, actually. No sense both of us waiting.’

  ‘He’s your dad, Richard. I can go.’

  ‘He’d probably rather see you. You’re better at all this. You always were.’

  His voice was so sad, and small.

  She was going to argue, maybe even going to ask him to stay with her, but, as she started to speak, the door to James’s room opened and two nurses with yellow plastic aprons and gloves came out, one pulling backwards a wheelie bin with a metal lid. The other smiled at them both, and said, ‘He’s all yours …’ and, because the door was open and Gigi could see James, pale and asleep in the wide bed, she moved instinctively towards him. When she turned back to bring Richard with her, he was already gone.

  Tess

  ‘It’s like a film …’

  ‘I know. I can’t stop thinking about how incredibly sad it is.’

  Tess and Holly were in one of the new nail bars that had proliferated on the high street. The prettiest one. Holly had decreed that they couldn’t give up their regular outings, but that they should probably give up the pubs and wine bars that were their habit – and so they were having their toes ‘done’. On a school night. ‘While you can still see yours, that is,’ she’d joked to Tess, when she’d rung to confirm the booking she’d made.

  Tess had told Holly about the letters.

  ‘And how extraordinary for Iris never to have said anything. I mean, she’s got to have told your granddad, right?’

  Tess shrugged. ‘How would I know?’

  ‘And there’s no one to ask?’

  ‘No one.’ Tess thought about Iris’s face, when she’d asked her.

  Holly was watching her. ‘Do you wish you hadn’t found them, in a way?’