One Glass Is Never Enough

by Jane Wenham-Jones

  Sam massaged her toes gently. “She felt pretty bad about everything. Thought she’d talked you into something you’d regret for ever.”

  Gaynor shook her head. “I was getting a bit maudlin but I wouldn’t do that. Chloe phoned at seven and woke me up. She’d gone into labour suddenly and couldn’t get hold of anyone. Oliver was away at a conference and didn’t hear the call. Marie, her mother, is on holiday in France and she hasn’t spoken to Victor since he told her he was also Gabrielle. Oliver got the message and made it to the hospital eventually, of course. But Chloe was panicking, so I went.”

  Sam stroked her instep. “You’re lovely.”

  “I was ever so worried about seeing her,” Gaynor said. “But when I got there, I was just worried for her. Oliver was in there and I was waiting outside and it just went on for hours. I heard her screaming at one point. She looked at Sam, stricken. “I felt so helpless.”

  “But the baby’s gorgeous,” she went on in softer tones. “Ever so tiny of course – he’ll be in an incubator for a few days, but he’s perfect!”

  “And so will yours be,” said Sam. “Ours,” he corrected himself gruffly.

  She pulled her feet away. “Look, you don’t have to…”

  He grabbed both ankles and pulled them back again. “Don’t be silly.”

  “What about Debra?”

  “I’ll tell Debra.”

  “What did she say to you?”

  “Nothing much. She just made it sound as though you’d come round, shoved the note back at her and didn’t want to see me.”

  “She told me you didn’t…” said Gaynor indignantly.

  “I know and I’ll speak to her. She’s very protective but this is my life. Mine and yours. She’ll be fine when she sees how happy I am.”

  “Will you be happy?”

  He hesitated for a moment, and then gave a long, thoughtful sigh. “I can’t tell you I shall never get low, Gaynor. I am, as your friend Lizzie so eloquently puts it, ‘a flake’.”

  “You’re not, she didn’t mean that!”

  “I am and she did and that’s OK.” He began to roll a cigarette. “I do get depressed. It’s usually worse in the winter. It’s like the light goes out. Everything is suddenly grey and bleak and my mind is clouded. It’s a sort of blindness. I know the sun is there, colour is there. But I can’t see it. It’s a strange feeling.” He paused. “But I come back out of it. I fight it. It may never happen again. Or it might. But I will still love you. I will still be here.”

  “It frightened me,” she said. “It frightened me when you were sitting there in that chair when I came back from taking David home. When you were talking in that voice.”

  “I know.” He began to stroke her feet again. “But all I can say to you, Gaynor, is that I am not David, I am not your father. I am me, and me is different.”

  He turned his face to look into her eyes. “You see, I understand it now. I know what happens. And that’s how I know I am getting better. For years I didn’t realise what it was. At times, especially at the end of my time at work, I could feel myself spinning down and a great fear would engulf me. I’m sure now I was badly depressed in my teens but nobody noticed. And then my marriage and Eleanor dying finished the job.”

  Gaynor leant out and took his hand. “You don’t have to say all this.”

  Sam nodded. “I do. You need to know everything – what you are taking on.” He reached for his lighter.

  “Anyway, to help yourself with depression, you’ve got to accept it, which is the reverse of what you might think. So I do. But I fight it as well. Not by trying to walk through walls but by realising what is happening to me, then trying hard to go on again. Learn to live with it, not in it, they told me. I try to do that.”

  “I know.” She felt guilty, as though she had been selfish and unsupportive.

  “I get depressed and I wish I wasn’t, but the great thing is I can say that to you. Even a few months ago, when we met, I was just belligerent and would have gone into denial rather than have this conversation. Now I can admit it and tell you what’s going on, or try to.”

  “Yes,” said Gaynor. “And then I can cope with it.”

  “I do understand your position,” he said seriously. “Your history. Your present as regards David. And your fears for me and you and the fears you must have for our baby. Given both sets of scars and the history, there are going to be times when our needs clash – that’s inevitable.”

  He was holding her hand tightly. “But I am always here for you. I hope you know that. I’m very much in love with you, Gaynor. With you I think I will be OK. I think I will find contentment. I think I will play music again, see the sun and feel its warmth…”

  He smiled at her. Tears were running down her face. She nodded.

  “I’m in love with you too,” she said.

  * * *

  Sam had lit a fire. “I should really get this chimney swept,” he said, as a belch of smoke came back into the room. They both sat looking at the flames.

  “I felt terrible when I was so awful to you when you told me you might be pregnant,” he said. “I felt a real bastard.”

  “I think that was the expression Lizzie used.”

  “I bet it was.”

  “It doesn’t matter now.”

  Sam picked up another log and tossed it into the smouldering grate. “It does. But it was only because I hurt so much. Sometimes with me, that turns to anger. I wanted you so much. I couldn’t bear the idea of you with Victor. It was just a shock, the thought of you still having sex with him. I’d been in your house. I’d seen your bed…” He stopped and said more quietly. “And I shouldn’t have said that about Danny. I’m sorry.”

  Gaynor suddenly giggled. “He came in the wine bar the other night and still tried it on. He is such a dick! Ooooh!” She squealed as Brutus leapt on to the sofa and landed in the middle of her stomach. “Oh you darling,” she said with real pleasure. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Why haven’t you got a cat, if you like them so much?” Sam asked, leaning over and stroking the grey furry head.

  Gaynor pulled a face. “Victor isn’t an animal person. Thought a cat would leave hairs on the furniture.” She ran a hand down Brutus’s spine. He purred loudly. “But I always wanted a Burmese. I told you, my Godmother had one called Sidney – he looked just like this. He used to chase bits of screwed-up paper all over the room.”

  Sam leant out and tore a corner from the newspaper on the small table next to them. He scrunched it up in his hand, watching as Brutus immediately sat up, alert. “Go on!” he said tossing it away to the other side of the room. Brutus leapt after it.

  Gaynor smiled. “I used to do that for hours with Sidney. I used to love going to stay with Eve. She was my absolute refuge from home. The person I could turn to when everything got too awful.”

  She suddenly felt sick. “Sam – there’s something I have to tell you too. It’s horrible and I’m ashamed of it but you have to know. So you know what you’re dealing with, as well.”

  He looked at her calmly. “Go on.”

  “I was pregnant once before.”

  He sat very still. Just his fingers moved, gently caressing her ankle.

  She said quickly: “It was when I had started my relationship with Victor. You know, just started – I was still in this grotty bedsit and I don’t know how it happened – I was on the pill – but I think I’d had a bug or been sick or something and anyway…” She stopped. Sam’s fingers went rhythmically on.

  “Anyway, I told Victor and he said straight away he’d pay for everything – it was like there was no question and I did say, perhaps… but he said we’d have one later – that he wanted to have some time first with just the two of us. Because we were so special…”

  Her voice broke a little. “And I told myself that was best too because I didn’t know what was going to happen then – if we’d even last – and I had no money and nowhere nice to live and…” She stopped once more and ga
ve a bitter laugh, trying hard not to cry, “…funny how things come round again. And then, back then, it seemed more important to keep Victor – I know that sounds awful.”

  Sam shook his head silently.

  “And then later,” Gaynor rushed on, “when I thought we were trying to have one – when I thought that it was my fault that we couldn’t, that there was something wrong with me, then I thought it was my punishment… I don’t know how he could do that to me…” She began to sob.

  Beside her Sam’s hand had stilled. She looked up, dreading the expression she might see on his face. But he had tears in his eyes too. “Oh you poor, poor thing. He took her in his arms. “It’s OK, darling. It’s OK…”

  “Why did he do it?” Sam asked, when Gaynor had blown her nose and he’d piled more wood on the fire. “To have a vasectomy without even consulting you? It’s pretty unforgivable.”

  Gaynor shrugged. “Said he didn’t want any more children and couldn’t trust me not to get pregnant. He was too busy working through his ‘gender issues’ to have a screaming brat in the house. I don’t know…” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe it either.”

  She lay back in the cushions. “But I don’t want to think about him. I feel like a drink. I haven’t had a glass of wine for weeks.”

  “I should think not.” Sam looked ruefully at his tobacco. “I suppose I’ll have to stop smoking.” Gaynor suddenly sat up again. “Sam, what are we going to do?” “Looks like we’re going to have a baby.” “I’m a bit scared.”

  He leant out and pulled her towards him again, putting her feet gently on to the floor so he could put his arms right round her.

  “So am I,” he said.

  27. Dom Perignon

  Smooth and full-bodied with a lasting finish.

  Happy Christmas from Greens. Kiss. Happy Christmas from Greens.

  How lovely to see you. Kiss. A happy Christmas from Greens.

  Happy Christmas to YOU. Kiss. From all the management. Kiss.

  Mulled wine on the bar. Kiss. Do help yourself to a mince pie…

  “Can I have one?” Sam appeared at Gaynor’s side, holding a large orange juice. He put it in her hands. “Got one of those kisses for me?”

  She put her arms around his neck and hugged him. “Not half.”

  Sam kissed her lips. “Sarah says there’s no need to stand here for hours – she says go and circulate and enjoy yourself.”

  Gaynor raised her eyebrows. “And?”

  “She wants you to hand round the mince pies.”

  What was left of them. Down in the kitchen Bel and Charlie stood with bulging cheeks over a large plate of pies that Benjamin was trying, unsuccessfully, to decorate with icing sugar before they took any more.

  “Richard’s got an ENORMOUS Christmas tree,” said Bel with her mouth full.

  “And,” said Charlie, excitedly. “We’ve opened our presents from Dad already. He said we could. I got a Playstation Two and Luke got an iPod!”

  Gaynor put her arm around him, catching Sarah’s eye over the top of his head. “How lovely!”

  Sarah nodded meaningfully. “Did you see Luke upstairs? I told him to help clear some glasses – do something useful. I bet he’s slunk off instead.”

  Gaynor shook her head. “Didn’t notice him.” She smiled at the two smaller children. “Would you both go up to the flat and see if Chloe’s OK? Ask her if she wants a drink or anything?”

  “Oh, she said to tell you she’ll have to go as soon as she’s fed Edmund,” Sarah said. “Isn’t he adorable? It’s made me all broody again.”

  “That reminds me,” Gaynor said, when the kids had scuttled off for a last glimpse of the baby and Benjamin had ceremoniously borne another tray of sausages up the stairs, “you still haven’t told me what the doctor said.”

  Sarah pulled a rack of garlic bread from the oven. “He was really nice. Very understanding. He said it’s more common than you’d think and not to panic or anything. I think Richard thought I was on the road to junkydom but I’ve got to just try and cut down.”

  She laughed and said, in exaggerated tones, as if reciting, “I must not do it suddenly. I am on a ‘reducing regime!’” Then she grinned. “I’ve got this chart to follow…”

  Gaynor grinned too. “Not a chart! We could have filled them in together. Except mine’s rather academic now.” Gaynor ran a hand over her stomach. “I’m so glad you went

  – I was really worried about you.”

  “I’m fine, honestly.” Sarah took off her oven gloves and gave Gaynor a sudden hug. “In fact I’m happier than I have been for ages. The kids are more settled, Richard’s wonderful and roll on January the fifteenth.”

  Gaynor looked at her quizzically. “What’s happening then?” “The new chef arrives. Roderigo! Sexy, Latin and with

  a filthy temper, he tells me.” Sarah looked pleased. “He will probably give Benjamin a nervous breakdown, but I...” She held up her hands in a gesture of triumph and delight, “will be out of this fucking kitchen!”

  Chloe was sitting on the window seat with Edmund asleep against her chest. Gaynor sat down beside her and looked at his blissful little face and tiny curling fingers. “I can’t imagine what it’s going to feel like,” she said.

  Chloe yawned. “Totally shattering,” she said. “Oh, for a night’s sleep. Thank God Ollie does the three a.m. shift.”

  Gaynor smiled. “I’ll get you some more of that eye-lift gel – extra strength for the new mum.”

  “Can you get me some for my stomach and bum too?” said Chloe. “Everything seems to be sagging. As for my breasts –” She looked ruefully at her firmly-encased bosom. “Don’t even go there.”

  “Ah, but he’s worth it, isn’t he,” said Gaynor soppily, sliding her little finger into the baby’s tightly-closed fist. “I can’t wait…”

  Chloe nodded. “I’m pleased for you,” she said, stiffly. Then in a sudden rush she went on: “We’re having Christmas dinner with Dad tomorrow.”

  “Good,” said Gaynor, still gazing at Edmund’s sleeping face. “He’s still your father, after all.”

  “I’ve told him I don’t want to see… you know…”

  “That’s a part of him too,” said Gaynor. “It wasn’t that Chloe, that made me leave him. If it had just been that….”

  “He wasn’t even going to tell me at first,” said Chloe, “he was just going to let me think you’d gone and got pregnant with someone else.”

  “Well, I did but…” “I wish I didn’t know,” Chloe burst out. “I can’t really bear it.” “Give it time.” Gaynor put an arm around her shoulders. “And thank you for coming to see me.”

  * * *

  Gaynor stood on the pavement and kissed Chloe as Oliver brought the car up alongside Greens. Chloe hadn’t wanted to be introduced to Sam and Gaynor hadn’t pushed it. It was enough for now to have Chloe back in some way. Whatever had happened with Victor, Chloe still felt like family.

  “I’ll visit in the New Year,” Gaynor said, touching Edmund’s pink cheek beneath his designer wool cap.

  Chloe looked emotional. “Shall I say anything to Dad?” she asked. “Shall I give him a message?”

  Gaynor nodded. “Wish him a happy Christmas.”

  Inside, Claire looked equally watery-eyed. It was the first time, Gaynor reflected, that she had ever seen her standing still. She stood by the fireplace with a mince pie and a haunted expression. Above her the speakers banged out the collection of festive songs and carols that she had insisted should be played non-stop.

  “Making the most of your last traditional Christmas?” Gaynor said chirpily, and immediately regretted it.

  “It’s going to be very strange, but we’ll come home for visits of course,” Claire answered, with forced cheer. “And to see how this place is getting on.”

  “Of course you will.” Gaynor matched the tone. “With air travel these days, the world’s really very small.” She squeezed Claire’s arm.

  “Ap
parently,” said Claire brightly, “Kyoto is very pretty.”

  Gaynor leant out and picked up some glasses from the mantelpiece. “What happened to Tokyo?”

  “There were several cities Jamie could choose from. There’s a bit more space in Kyoto and the Emperor lives there and he has lots of dogs.”

  “Oh yes, I meant to ask. Who’s going to look after Henry and Wooster while you’re gone?”

  Claire looked horrified. “They’re coming with us.”

  A short, stocky man in his late fifties joined them. Claire sprang into action. “Gaynor, this is my father, Grant. Dad – Gaynor.” She disappeared to empty ashtrays.

  Grant looked Gaynor up and down appreciatively and then let his eyes travel around the bar. Gaynor followed his gaze. It looked good. Holly and ivy festooned the beamed ceiling, a Christmas tree decorated in red and gold filled the front window. Tiny white lights sparkled along the top of the bar. All around them, clusters of glittery-topped young women and whackily T-shirted guys, in groups and couples, were laughing and chinking glasses. There was a warm and festive buzz to the place. Many of their regulars had turned out to have a Christmas Eve drink with them. She gave Maurice a brief wave – noting that he was at least drinking the free mulled wine and not demanding fancy coffees tonight. Neville Norton looked as though he’d got the Christmas spirit about three weeks ago and hadn’t stopped drinking since. Amanda was wearing a fuchsia pink dress and clutching the arm of her hapless boyfriend as if she were afraid he might try to escape.

  Gaynor blew a kiss towards Jeffrey, the chartered accountant who’d had Sunday lunch here every week since they opened, and raised a glass towards Terrie and Anita – the two glamorous women of her own age who could always be relied upon to work their way through the entire stock of Cloudy Bay the moment it hit the Specials board.

  “Lovely, isn’t it?” She waved a hand around her and smiled at Grant. She thought with his thickset shoulders and rounded stomach, he looked the archetypal landlord. “First time you’ve been here?”