59 Memory Lane

by Celia Anderson

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Andy’s in his usual place slumped in front of the TV with a mug of tea and a slice of cold pizza when the doorbell bell rings. Through the frosted glass he can see a slim figure and his heart leaps. Is it Em? He flings the door open and beams at the sight of Emily standing on the front step clutching a carrier bag.

  ‘Come in,’ he says. ‘You have no idea how much I was needing adult company. Tamsin’s fast asleep and has been for ages.’

  Emily hesitates, and Andy notices how pale she is. The shadows under her eyes are nearly as dark as May’s.

  ‘Are you sure you’re not busy?’ she says.

  ‘Not in the slightest. Tea or coffee?’

  ‘Oh … erm … have you got any peppermint tea? I’ve not been feeling great. My stomach’s doing weird things.’

  Andy rummages in the cupboard and digs out a battered tin. ‘I don’t know if this’ll be any good. It’s been there for ages. I don’t drink fancy tea. Do you want to give it a go?’

  ‘Yes, please. I guess it was Allie’s?’

  He looks down at her and sees that the blue eyes are desperately sad. ‘Emily, what’s up? I don’t mind you having one of Allie’s mouldy teabags,’ he says. ‘They tasted of socks when they were new, so they probably won’t be much different now.’

  She sighs. ‘You must miss her very much.’

  ‘Well, the first years were hard, but now I … I’ve kind of got used to it.’ As Andy says the words, meant to reassure Emily more than anything, he realises that they’re true. The searing pain of life without Allie almost finished him off for a while, but gradually, gradually, his heart has begun to heal. Now her loss feels like an old scar – it hurts sometimes but mostly he’s pretty much OK. He struggles to explain, not wanting Emily to think him unfeeling.

  ‘They say grief’s like stepping on a rake,’ he says, pausing in his tea-making to try and get this right.

  ‘A rake? As in a garden tool? You’ve lost me.’

  ‘It’s easy, imagine you’re walking through a meadow of long grass, enjoying the sunshine and the flowers and the birdsong and so on, and then you step on a rake that someone’s left there, prongs upwards, and it flips up and smacks you in the face. It bloody stings for a moment or two. Afterwards it aches for a bit and then the pain fades and you carry on walking.’

  ‘Yes, I sort of see what you mean. But it’s always there, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s there, but you learn to live with it and work around it. You have to.’

  Emily looks down at the steaming mug he hands her. The teabag’s floating around sadly, and the original scent of the mint seems to have disappeared completely.

  ‘Come and sit down in the living room. You look shattered,’ Andy says.

  She follows him into the next room and puts her mug down on a coaster very carefully. Andy sees that her hands are shaking.

  ‘Now are you going to tell me what’s worrying you, or am I meant to guess?’ he says, smiling.

  Emily takes a deep breath. ‘Tamsin showed me the photo by your bed,’ she blurts out, ‘and told me that you kiss it every night, and stuff.’

  Andy scratches his head. ‘Um … you’ve lost me. Why is that important now?’

  ‘Well, it made me realise that you’re still grieving so much that there’s no room for … for me, I guess. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It’s too late.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter? Of course it does! Look, Em, I keep the picture there to reassure Tamsin, that’s all. Fair enough, I needed it just as much as she did to begin with, but now it’s just one of those things you do at bedtime to make life easier. A kind of ritual.’

  ‘You don’t have to say that. I understand how you feel.’

  ‘No, you really don’t. Look, I’ve been thinking lately that I’ve been letting myself wallow. May has said as much, too. It’s time to move on. I’ll never forget Allie, but I’m sure she wouldn’t want me to spend the rest of my life moping around wondering about what might have been.’

  Emily looks up at him, incredulous. She heaves a sigh of relief and gets to her feet. ‘Thank goodness you’re not angry that she showed me the picture. I’ve been really worried. It seemed so private. I felt like a Peeping Tom.’

  She’s still ashen, and Andy puts his hands on her shoulders to reassure her, very conscious of her warmth and nearness. She feels fragile tonight, as if she’s only just holding herself together, and her whole body is trembling slightly now. Surely the photo can’t have made her feel this awful? ‘There’s no need to stress about it any more,’ he says, ‘and, as a matter of fact, if you want to make amends, I can think of a way.’

  She looks up at him and he sees alarm in her eyes. ‘I need to go home to Gran, she’ll be wondering where I’ve got to.’

  ‘Can’t you just stay a few more minutes, Em? We’ve got unfinished business, haven’t we? Remember?’ He bends down and kisses her cheek very gently, feeling her instinctively move towards him.

  In seconds, Andy has his arms around Emily so tightly that they feel like one person. The heat between them is intense and for a few moments they lean together in complete silence. Then, without warning, she breaks away, pushing him with both hands. Her cheeks are flushed now and her eyes are wide with alarm.

  ‘Stop it. We can’t do this,’ she says huskily, pushing her hair back and stepping back a pace.

  ‘But, Em,’ Andy can hear the panic and confusion in his voice, ‘don’t go. I’m sorry if I freaked you out. I’ll back off. We can just talk.’ He takes a deep breath. Something’s obviously rattled her, but what could it be? She was responding, he knows she was. What’s gone wrong?

  ‘I think I’m pregnant.’

  The words are so unexpected that for a minute Andy can’t take them in. When he realises what Emily’s just said, he stares at her, his jaw dropping open like a cartoon character in shock. She waits for him to reply but he’s speechless.

  ‘Well, say something,’ she mutters, biting her lip. ‘I haven’t told anyone else. I only let myself begin to consider it after something May said, but if this is the reaction I’m going to get I’ll keep the news quiet.’

  Andy blinks, and rubs his eyes. ‘Ah … well … do I need to congratulate you?’

  He feels a huge lump in his throat. He’s never been the sort of person who says ‘Why me?’ when shit happens, but this is beyond a joke. To finally have the eureka moment that tells him it’s time to move on and then to be told that the woman he so wants to be with is having another man’s baby?

  ‘No. If I’m not wrong – and I haven’t done a test or anything, so I could be, I suppose – then it’s one massive mistake.’

  ‘Max?’

  ‘Of course. And it’s been over between us for a while, if I’m honest.’

  ‘But, a baby? Were you not listening when they did family planning at school then?’ The acid in his voice shocks Andy and brings tears to Emily’s eyes again. He curses himself for his nastiness and tries to apologise, but she’s leaving. It’s too late to take the words back. There are so many questions he needs to ask but Emily’s already in the hall.

  ‘Em, stay and talk, please. Don’t just drop a bombshell like that and leave me hanging.’

  ‘Leave you hanging? How the hell do you think I feel?’

  She’s gone, and he can’t stop her.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Emily sits on the rocks at the top of the beach, arms tightly round her bent knees. She’s wearing an ancient pair of jogging pants, two T-shirts and a huge sweater, but she’s still freezing. Her hair’s in a tight plait because it’s so greasy and she’s got a purple knitted hat pulled down over her ears. Not a good look, but who cares? There’s nobody to see her at half-past four in the morning. Even Tristram’s not up yet.

  The queasiness that’s been plaguing her off and on is back today, big time, and she feels bloated and lethargic. If this really is what being pregnant’s like, it’s the pits already.

  It must have ha
ppened that last evening they spent together. Max turned up unexpectedly at a book launch she was hosting, with flowers and chocolates and a million excuses why he’d been out of touch for a while. Emily knew she should have resisted. She’d pretty much decided to end it by then, but work had been gruelling that week and the thought of going out with Max after the party and being spoiled with champagne and delicious food that she didn’t have to cook for herself was tempting.

  They ended up in bed in Max’s plush hotel room, and of course he hadn’t any condoms. He’d always left buying them to Emily, saying that he couldn’t risk Marcia finding the evidence when she went through his pockets. It was a stupid risk to take, but by then Emily was exhausted and very tipsy. She fell asleep immediately afterwards and woke up in the morning feeling so hungover that it was all she could do to get herself home, ring in sick and go to bed for the day.

  Emily presses her face against her raised knees and hides her eyes, like a child pretending to be somewhere else. An hour passes and the early morning chill bites deep into her bones, but she hardly notices.

  ‘What am I going to do?’ she whispers to a seagull that’s edging closer to see if there’s any chance of food. ‘I’m not ready to be a mum. Max doesn’t want me and I certainly don’t want him.’

  She gets to her feet as she hears Buster’s morning greeting. The dog bounds up to her and jumps around madly, barking his joy at seeing Emily. Tristram follows more slowly with Bruno at his heels looking up at his master adoringly.

  ‘I hoped you’d be here,’ he says, as he approaches. ‘Come back to my place with me and I’ll make us some breakfast.’

  Emily’s stomach lurches at the thought of food, but she knows she ought to eat. Maybe she could manage some toast? They walk along the beach towards The Shellfish Shack. Emily isn’t in the mood for polite conversation today but Tristram doesn’t seem to mind. He skims the odd stone, and picks up a shell or two for Emily, but other than that he’s in his own world. Emily briefly wonders what he wants to talk to her about but her mind is so full of baby worries that she doesn’t give it much thought.

  ‘Come on in, love,’ says Tristram, switching on a couple of low lights. ‘I’ll just go and shut the dogs up round the back. Buster’s in disgrace.’

  ‘Really? What did he do?’ She looks down at Buster, who’s sitting on the step wearing his best angelic expression. He wags his tail and almost seems to smile.

  ‘I was just watching the TV last night – Nigella, if you’re interested – and the phone rang. It was Geoff from the pub saying Buster had called in.’

  ‘Buster had gone to the pub all on his own? For a pint, presumably?’

  ‘If only that was all he’d gone for. No, he managed to slip out of here while Gina was looking the other way, dashed up to The Level and sat outside the bar until someone opened the door.’

  ‘I like his style.’ This is just the distraction Emily needs. Buster looks up at her and wags his tail happily.

  ‘Don’t smile at him, Emily. He’s a very bad dog. He dashed right through the bar and into the lounge, jumped up onto a chair and then a table and polished off a good dollop of three people’s dinners.’

  ‘He didn’t!’

  ‘He did. And not content with that, he then went upstairs to the kitchen and stole a couple of fillet steaks off the hot plate. I had to go and fetch him home in disgrace. This has cost me a slap-up meal for Geoff and his missus when they’re next in here.’

  Tristram takes the dogs round the back and Emily, still giggling, goes inside. The restaurant feels like a warm cave and she gradually begins to relax for the first time since May was ill, as Tristram comes back and potters around preparing breakfast.

  ‘Where are Gina and Vince?’ she asks.

  ‘They’ve gone to see Vince’s mum for the day – they’ll be back in time for dinner tonight. I can do a mean breakfast but I’m not up to whacking out thirty or so plates every evening these days. Toast? Brown or white?’

  ‘Have you got any thick-sliced white bread?’ says Emily, suddenly knowing that is the only thing in the world she wants to eat.

  ‘Of course.’ He pops four slices into the toaster and starts to grind beans for coffee. The rich scent of the beans as they release their fragrance sends Emily hurtling from the room to the toilet. When she comes back, Tristram’s looking thoughtful.

  ‘Are you not feeling so good, petal?’ he says. ‘Upset tummy? I’ve got camomile tea instead of coffee. It’s nice with honey.’

  She nods gratefully, and he passes her a plate of toast and the butter dish. They eat in silence for a while. Tristram’s put the radio on and Emily can hear the soft sound of his favourite classical music station.

  When only crumbs are left on the plate, Tristram reaches for Emily’s hands. ‘So, I brought you here to talk to you, but I reckon you’ve got something to say to me first. Yes?’

  ‘You know what’s up, don’t you? I think I’m probably having a baby.’

  ‘Max’s, I’m assuming?’

  ‘Of course. Unfortunately. And there’s no future for us together. It was a huge mistake.’

  ‘Have you made any plans yet?’

  ‘I haven’t had time. You probably think I’m really dim but I’ve only just started to figure out what was wrong. I must be about three weeks late, but I didn’t really register it because life’s been so chaotic lately. Surely you don’t start throwing up that early? It might just be a tummy bug.’

  Tristram pulls a wry face. ‘Gina’s mum was sick almost from the moment we did the deed and for the next nine months.’

  ‘Thanks, that makes me feel so much better. Anyway, what did you want to say to me?’

  ‘Oh, that. Well, I wanted to ask you if you’d go and see May as soon as possible. I’ve got the feeling she needs to talk to you, and soon.’

  Half an hour later, Emily is opening the back door into May’s cottage, still feeling awful. Her head’s aching now and her heart is heavy. She doesn’t want to tell May about her suspicions. Pregnancy isn’t for idle chit-chat when you are in the depths of despair, but Tristram was adamant, so here she is.

  ‘Hello, May,’ she calls, trying her best to sound cheery. ‘Are you up?’

  May comes through from the bedroom. She’s leaning on a silver-topped walking stick and is dressed for the outdoors. It’s the first time Emily’s seen May in trousers. They are smart, black ones, teamed with a chunky Arran jumper. A bright scarf is wrapped around her neck, and a puffy blue jacket is hanging over the back of a chair.

  ‘Hello, my bird,’ she says, smiling in delight. ‘I was wanting to see you most particularly.’

  ‘Why are you all wrapped up like that?’ asks Emily, jolted out of her gloomy thoughts for a moment.

  ‘Tristram’s taking me for a walk along the beach soon. He’s got his hands on a wheelchair. The sand’s always firm when you get nearer to the sea and I can get out and walk a little way.’

  ‘But … but why? Are you sure you’re well enough?’

  ‘Now don’t you start fussing, too. I’m fine. It’s something I need to do, that’s all. Sit down, dear. It’s time we had a proper chat.’

  Emily flops into a chair, exhaustion sweeping over her.

  ‘I was right, wasn’t I? You’re having a baby.’

  May’s words make Emily sit up straight, wide-eyed. ‘What? How did you guess?’

  ‘Ha! When you get to my age, you’ve seen enough girls in the family way to spot the signs. Now, what are we going to do about it, that’s the question?’

  For a moment, Emily is speechless, and May leans forward to pat her hand. ‘Don’t look so stricken, it’s not the end of the world. I think the best thing all round would be for you to tell your boss what’s going on. Colin, is it? And what did you say his surname was?’

  ‘Dennis. Colin Dennis. Why?’

  ‘Names are important, aren’t they? I wanted to be able to visualise him. So, tell Mr Dennis and then settle down here for a while. What ab
out that?’

  ‘Hmm. I don’t know if that’d work, May. I don’t even know if I really am pregnant.’

  May sniffs. She doesn’t seem in any doubt about it.

  ‘Go and talk to Julia first, that’s my advice, and then ring Colin. He’ll understand, won’t he?’

  ‘I’m not so sure about that.’

  ‘At least give it a try. Emily, you’re in danger of making mistakes here – big ones. I’ve been there so I know. When I married Charles, I let myself in for … certain things I wasn’t expecting. I made my bed, as they say, and I was determined to lie on it, but he wasn’t the man I thought he was. Not at all. It ended badly.’

  ‘Really? Tell me more.’

  A shadow passes over May’s face. ‘I can’t. There are things that must never be discussed, for any reason. But what I’m saying is, follow your heart and make some strong decisions for yourself, before you miss the boat completely. Now, off you go. Tristram will be here any minute and I need to put some lipstick on and a dab of rouge and powder. No need to let myself go. Keep me posted.’

  And with that, she kisses Emily and potters off to her bedroom again. Emily lets herself out, shaking her head in disbelief. She feels as if she’s stepped right into Alice’s Wonderland or Looking-Glass World. There are no white rabbits, but everything else is seriously odd.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Julia is sitting at the dining-room table sorting letters when Emily comes back from May’s cottage. She’s pleased to see her granddaughter is looking better than she did earlier. Julia’s been quite alarmed at how pasty Emily’s been the past few days.

  ‘You seem brighter, darling,’ she says. ‘Have you been to see Tristram?’

  Emily nods, and sits down opposite Julia with a thump. ‘Yes, we had breakfast at The Shack. Then I went across the road to Shangri-La.’

  ‘Oh.’ Julia pastes on a smile and tries to pretend she doesn’t mind Emily being such good friends with May.