by Della Galton
‘I’m good. I like your family. I’ve told you that.’ He hesitated. ‘What were you going to say?’
She’d been going to say she hoped they weren’t too much for him, but that suddenly felt disloyal. So she just shrugged. ‘I forget. Nothing important.’
She hadn’t yet met Phil’s mother. In the eleven months they’d been dating, Phil had only visited her a couple of times too. The first time had been on her birthday, at the beginning of November, and the second, at Christmas.
The first time he’d gone up to Lancashire for a weekend when Olivia had been rushed off her feet, icing what had seemed like endless Christmas cakes for clients. The second time he’d just gone for a night and a day. They hadn’t put it into words at the time, but Olivia had known that it was probably too soon for him to be taking her up to meet his mother. They’d still been dealing with the slowly unfolding realisation that they really liked each other. That this might not be a flash-in-the-pan thing, borne out of the closeness of doing live theatre together.
Ruby came back into the dining room. ‘I’m just about to dish up,’ she said, glancing from Phil to Olivia with a slightly questioning expression which made Olivia wonder what she was thinking, but it was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. Olivia put it out of her head.
Dinner was a riot. It was filled with chatter and laughter and everyone talking at once. If Phil had heard what Olivia had said about wanting to have seven children, he certainly didn’t seem to have reacted to it. He was the only one who wasn’t drinking wine. When Ruby had invited him to the dinner, she’d also said he was welcome to stay over too if he liked. But when Olivia had passed this on, he’d said he’d rather get back.
Olivia hadn’t been surprised. He was working for the rest of the weekend, so it made sense that he’d want to spend some time on his own. Phil often said he needed to be in his mancave, which, roughly translated, meant that he wanted to hole up and watch YouTube. He spent so much time around people, that he needed to recharge. Olivia liked that about him. No one could ever accuse Phil of being needy or controlling. When it came to acting, he was as happy to work as a team, spending all his spare time with people, as she was, but he was also happy to spend long periods alone.
It was just before ten when he finally got up to go. They had finished dinner and had all tried more than one dessert, followed by coffees and mints, and Olivia was feeling comfortably stuffed.
‘I should make tracks,’ Phil said, catching her eye. ‘I’ve got a lot on tomorrow.’
‘I’ll come and see you out.’
As he said his thank yous and goodbyes, Olivia could feel her mother’s approving gaze.
In the hall, when it was just the two of them, he put his arms around her. ‘I’ve had a lovely time. Thanks for inviting me.’
She looked into his dark eyes, but before she could say anything else, he beat her to it, ‘Do you really want seven kids?’
So he had heard, after all.
‘Um no. But maybe one or two?’ she hedged, emboldened by the wine. ‘How about you?’
‘I’ve always thought I’d have a family one day.’ His voice was light, but his eyes had darkened a bit as he pushed her gently away. The atmosphere was suddenly strained.
Olivia forced composure, even though there was a part of her mind that had flown straight back to Tom. That was pretty much the exact same phrase that he’d used. He’d also said it in the same non-committal tone of voice. He had also pushed her away. It was like déjà vu.
She wanted to add something else – to question Phil. But this wasn’t the time and it definitely wasn’t the place. She had an image of herself being that needy, desperate, biological-clock-ticking woman she’d always felt slightly sorry for and suddenly all she wanted to do was escape.
‘Night, Phil,’ she said, forcing herself to harden her voice.
‘Night, Olivia. We’ll catch up next week, yeah?’
She nodded and then he took a step back and her heart ached as she closed the door.
15
Olivia and Aunt Dawn both headed back in their separate cars early on Saturday. Aunt Dawn left first thing because she had a shop to open and Olivia left around lunchtime because she had a tasting-session appointment with a woman who wanted a cake for her upcoming hen night.
As she kissed Ruby goodbye, her sister said, ‘I’ll see you Tuesday then,’ while her eyes said, ‘Don’t judge me.’
Olivia hugged her, knowing she was hardly in a position to judge anybody. Ruby wasn’t the only one who had trouble with difficult conversations. Phil had been his usual lovely self on the phone this morning when he’d called to say could she please pass on his thanks to Ruby for the lovely meal. He had also apologised that they wouldn’t see each other for a while as he’d be full on at work over the busy Easter break. Olivia already knew this – he was being maître d’ for the musicians and he’d missed a few shifts lately to do the audiobook so he was on catch-up – yet somehow it still felt like a rebuff.
She put it out of her head as she drove to her appointment with a quick stop off at hers to pick up the cake samples.
The woman who wanted a cake for her hen night was called Sarah-Louise Miller. Olivia had expected someone older because of the name, but the woman who opened the door of the terraced house to her was young and bubbly.
‘Come in. I’m so excited. I think I’ve decided what I want, but I can’t wait to try the cake. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve asked my bridesmaids to join us.’
‘Of course I don’t mind.’ This was fairly common practice.
Olivia followed Sarah-Louise along a narrow hall that opened out into a surprisingly large kitchen, where three other women – two who must have been in their early twenties and an older one – were chattering around a table. The conversation stopped when they saw her and their faces became expectant.
Olivia put her bag of samples, and the brochures with the various options, on the table. There was much giggling as she showed them the naughty cupcake range and then some oohs and ahs as she went on to the more romantic ones with red sugar paste hearts on the top.
There were a lot of appreciative mmms as they tried the slivers of cake she’d brought as samples. Chocolate, vanilla and lemon sponge. She also did more exotic flavours, but most brides wanted one of these mainstream flavours.
She’d expected Sarah-Louise to choose something from the naughty cupcake range, but she didn’t. She went for the ones in the romantic range.
‘It’s good to know that romance is not dead,’ Olivia told her client as she made a note of the order and took a deposit.
‘Oh, it definitely isn’t,’ Sarah-Louise said enthusiastically. ‘I think it’s possible to meet your soulmate and to get married and stay with them for life.’ Her pretty face went pink. ‘I love Andrew more than anything and I know he feels the same. I think we’re going to stay the course.’ She cleared her throat. ‘My grandparents were the same age as us when they got married and they’ve just celebrated their diamond wedding anniversary.’
‘That’s amazing,’ Olivia said, feeling warmth stealing up through her.
The older bridesmaid, who was called Marianne, Sarah-Louise’s elder sister, let her out of the front door. ‘Is it OK to have a quick word? Out of earshot of Sarah-Louise.’
‘Absolutely.’
Marianne fell into step beside her as Olivia walked back to the spot where she’d parked her van.
‘I didn’t want to say anything in front of Sarah-Louise for obvious reasons, but I wouldn’t mind a cake for my divorce party. I’ve got a few ideas. It could feature me breaking out of a cage.’ She hesitated. ‘Or maybe it could involve a picture of my adulterous ex with his head in a dustbin. I’ve seen that one done. Or even a cake with an axe through the middle, separating me from him.’ She was clearly warming to her theme. ‘I once saw a cake where the guilty party had his head cut right off and there were red chocolate-button drops of blood all down the side. That one also ended bad
ly – not that I think there’s any such thing as a good divorce… Although we did have fun eating the chocolate buttons.’ She put her head on one side and looked at Olivia thoughtfully. ‘Could you do something like that?’
‘I certainly could.’ Solemn-faced, Olivia gave her a card. So much for her theory that romance was alive and well then. Although this wasn’t the first divorce cake she’d made, sadly.
‘It hasn’t put me off getting married again,’ Marianne added idly. ‘I think it’s definitely possible to find a soulmate.’
‘You do?’ Olivia said, surprised.
‘Oh yes, it’s just that mine wasn’t Scott – the two-timing bastard thought I didn’t know he’d been playing around for months. I don’t blame the women – he used to take them to his brother’s house and pretend that’s where he lived – he lied to them and he lied to me, but he’s going to pay through the nose for it now. My cousin’s a solicitor and we are going to wipe the floor with Scott.’
Olivia had bells ringing in her head. Oh my goodness, what were the chances of her bumping into the wife of the man who’d got Ruby pregnant? She bit her lip, aware that Marianne was still speaking.
‘I’d risk it again,’ she added with a glint in her eye. In fact, I’ve already got my eye on someone else.’
Olivia couldn’t think of a suitable reply. ‘I’ll look forward to hearing from you then,’ she said quickly and made her escape.
She told Ruby about it on Tuesday afternoon when she picked her up to take her for the scan, more to take her mind off things than anything else. Ruby had looked quite anxious when she’d got in the car.
‘I’m glad the scumbag’s getting his comeuppance,’ Ruby said, narrowing her eyes. ‘He might think twice about two-timing in future.’
‘That’s exactly what I thought.’
For a while, there was silence and then Ruby gave a deep sigh.
‘I wish—’ she said and broke off.
‘Tell me what you wish,’ Olivia gently encouraged.
‘I wish things were different. I wish I’d had the guts to tell Mum and Dad before they went back. I wish I was looking forward to today instead of dreading it because it’s going to make it all real. I wish I was a normal excited mum-to-be. I wish everything was different.’
‘Could things be different?’ Olivia kept her voice as neutral as possible. She didn’t want to say anything that would put even more pressure on her sister. But it was really hard.
‘I don’t see how. I can’t keep this baby. I can’t be a single parent. I just can’t.’
Olivia bit her lip. ‘Let’s just get today done, sweetie. See how you feel then.’
She couldn’t imagine her sister could fail to be moved by seeing her baby’s heartbeat on the screen. She had thought about that moment so many times. She had visualised herself and Tom with their gaze fixed on a monitor, watching the miracle of technology that allowed you to see another human growing inside you… It had never happened, of course, and she’d closed down that dream when they’d split up.
She really wanted to be here by Ruby’s side, but she knew that today was going to be odd for her too.
‘I guess I didn’t bargain for the hormones,’ Ruby went on. ‘I feel as though a million little maternal hormones are whizzing around my body, making me feel broody. I suppose that’s nature, isn’t it.’
‘I suppose it is.’
Olivia pulled into the hospital car park, found a space, and the two sisters walked across to the main entrance. It was one of those breezy spring days where everything felt fresh and new and full of hope, and Olivia hated seeing Ruby look so sad. But she couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would help, so she just squeezed her fingers.
A short time later, Ruby was laying on an examination bed with her tummy bared while a radiographer smeared a jelly-like substance on it and moved the scanner into place. ‘In just a moment we should be able to hear baby’s heartbeat,’ she said brightly.
They all concentrated on the screen and then there it was, the soft boom boom boom of another heartbeat in the room.
For a second, it was impossible to look anywhere other than at the miracle that was taking place on the screen. The rhythmic beating and the outline of the foetus. Then Olivia stole a glance at her sister’s face.
Ruby’s eyes were round with wonder and she’d stopped breathing. Olivia knew in that moment that there was no way on earth Ruby was going to be able to give this baby up. She blinked back tears.
‘Do you know what sex the baby is?’ Ruby asked.
‘Not yet, my love. It’s a little early. But we should be able to get that on your next scan. How have you been feeling?’
‘A few twinges and quite sick. Is that normal?’
‘I’d say so. Everything looks absolutely fine.’
Half an hour later, they were back in the car park once more.
‘What would you like to do?’ Olivia asked. ‘Straight back home or somewhere else?’
‘Do you think we could go to Pebble Beach,’ Ruby asked. ‘And walk for a little while.’
‘Of course we can.’
Pebble Beach was actually the name they used for ‘Chesil Beach, one of Dorset’s most famous landmarks. But no-one in their family had used its correct name for years. At least not when they were referencing it to each other. When Ruby was little, she hadn’t been able to pronounce Chesil and had always said pebble instead. The name had stuck and was now part of their family’s own unique language.
Chesil Beach was actually a very long shingle spit connecting Portland Bill to West Bay. According to the history books – and to their parents, obviously both experts on the subject – there was strong evidence to suggest it may once have been two beaches. Apparently, there were different geological characteristics on the Portland Bill to West Bay part than there were on the West Bay to Abbotsbury part.
The beach itself was made up of a towering bank of shingle and was only accessible in certain places by car thanks to the huge lagoon that separated it from the mainland. Fleet Lagoon was quite something in its own right. It was a thirteen-kilometre stretch of water that was an absolute haven for nature and famous for the Abbotsbury swans. Both Chesil Beach and Fleet Lagoon were part of the World Heritage Jurassic Coast.
But to Olivia and Ruby, ‘Pebble’ Beach was just part of their childhood and Olivia knew exactly which bit of it her sister wanted to walk on – the Portland end, on the causeway, which was the only road that connected Weymouth to the Isle of Portland. They had gone there a lot when they were children. Olivia had vivid memories of scrambling over the shingle, which shifted away beneath their feet, making it impossible to walk. More often than not, they would be hoisted onto their parents’ shoulders or they’d never have got anywhere at all.
She drove past the Ferrybridge pub, onto the causeway. Sometimes when she was feeling energetic, she ran along the causeway to the Isle of Portland itself. There was a footpath on the left-hand side of the road and a pavement on the right. The sea was on both sides, but on the right, it was obscured by the bank of shingle that was Chesil Beach so she preferred running on the left.
If Olivia was feeling really energetic, she ran up to the top of Portland Bill, but that didn’t happen very often because it was a flaming long way uphill, and it seemed like an endlessly steep climb. Although, she had to admit, the view from the top was stunning. There were two lighthouses up there. There had been two lighthouses since 1716 and the original ones had operated as a pair to guide ships between Portland Race and the Shambles sandbank. Judging by the number of shipwrecks out in the bay, they hadn’t always succeeded. Only the taller of the two lighthouses was still in operation today, although Olivia thought that both were open to visitors.
A cough from beside her jolted her back into the present as she drew into the car park next to Fleet Lagoon.
‘Are you OK, Rubes?’
‘Yes. I’m fine,’ her sister said quietly as they got out of the car.
; It was always windy at Chesil. Today, on the left-hand side of the causeway, the kiteboarders were out in force. Their bright sails – scarlet, black and gold – dotted the sky, and their boards skimmed across the sea at top speed.
‘They must be bonkers,’ Ruby said, glancing across at them. ‘Have you ever tried that?’
‘No,’ Olivia replied, following her gaze and feeling the wind tugging at her ponytail and chilling her ears. ‘I had enough trouble with windsurfing. Apparently, with kiteboarding, you can end up several feet in the air.’
‘Mad buggers,’ Ruby said.
They headed towards the wooden footbridge that crossed Fleet Lagoon and onto the beach. There were carved wooden birds on the plank handrails each side, that blended so well into the light pine you could easily have missed them, but Olivia loved the fact that someone had gone to the trouble of hewing them out of the wood.
Today, the lagoon either side of the footbridge was rippled with tiny wavelets from the wind because it was relatively sheltered in the dip. It would be a different story when they crossed the bank of shingle to the open sea beyond.
Climbing up was like walking on a moving shingle platform, because with every step you took, the pebbles shifted away beneath your feet as the ground reformed. Good job they were both wearing trainers. Olivia wondered if Ruby had planned to come here after the hospital. She wasn’t usually a trainers kind of girl.
There were a few people dotted about. In the distance was a man with a dog and a couple holding hands further away. Olivia was surprised it wasn’t busier, but then again, there were more hospitable beaches than this one, where walking wouldn’t make your calves ache madly after a few minutes. This was a wild beach, untamed and majestic, despite the National Trust plaque by the footbridge. If you wanted a white sandy haven for sunbathers you didn’t come to Chesil. On the other side of the shingle bank, down by the shoreline, sat a couple of intrepid fishermen with their lines.