SEVENTEEN
Lucy arranged the large glass jug of flowers on the table in the sitting room, while Camille paced the wooden floor in front of the fireplace.
‘You need to try to keep calm,’ she reminded her, while trying to ignore the slick of sweat on her own palms and her flustered pulse.
‘I feel sick and I don’t know if I can do this. Can’t I just hide upstairs and come down when you’ve done it?’ Camille pleaded, as she folded and unfolded her arms.
‘No. If you and I sit side by side, it not only shows that you are supported, but that you are strong enough to sit and face him. I know it isn’t an easy thing to do, but it’s exactly those qualities that will get you through this tricky time. You are stronger than you think.’ She twisted the Peruvian lilies so that they looked their very best, and she stoked the fire with the wrought-iron poker before returning it to the little stand on which it hung next to a mini shovel. She then popped another seasoned log on to the glowing embers, ensuring a warm welcome for her husband in every sense.
‘I need the loo again.’ Camille rushed from the room.
With perfect timing, no sooner had Camille locked the bathroom door on the floor above than Jonah’s taxi pulled up outside the house. Her heart lifted at the sound of his voice thanking the driver.
She raced to the hall and opened the front door, pulling her cardigan around her form and trying to ignore the whistle of cold air that came in from the street. She waved at him as he paid the cabbie and grabbed his suitcase.
‘Hello!’ he called out, grinning at his wife as he made his way up the front path.
‘Hello, you,’ she responded, as he abandoned his case and wrapped her in his arms. ‘Two weeks is a very long time,’ she whispered against his ear.
‘It felt like a lot longer. I missed you.’ He pulled back and kissed her face. Time apart had softened the tension between them; it felt good to have him back. She tried to calm the nervous swirl in her stomach over what was about to unfold.
‘So how was China?’ she asked eagerly, as she held the door open and ushered him into the familiar warmth of home.
‘Well, the bit I saw’ – he looked up and shook his head, as if searching for the words – ‘was vast, exhilarating, fragrant, modern; the people were kind and welcoming and the weather warm and dry. I think you need to go more than once or travel more widely to fully appreciate it, and I think we should go together. I can be your guide.’
‘I’d love that.’ She smiled.
Jonah walked ahead into the sitting room. ‘Oh, the house looks lovely. A fire! Perfect. Tell me there’s a steak somewhere with my name on it and a large glass of red wine and I will be the happiest man alive.’
‘Close – a roast chicken and chilled white, but I did make a pudding.’ She was aware of the celebratory tone of their conversation and decided to pull back on the jollity, as if she might in some way be able to set the mood for what was about to happen. ‘How about a cup of tea?’
‘Sounds good! Where’s Cam? How’s college going? Has she settled in?’ He unzipped his computer bag as he spoke, and pulled out a light green silk kimono robe, decorated with pale grey cranes standing in azure pools with a large pink moon hanging hauntingly behind them.
‘Oh, Jonah!’ she gasped. ‘That is so beautiful.’
‘I’m glad you like it.’ He held it up to reveal the full beauty of the gossamer-like silk. When she reached for it, it slipped through her fingers like water.
‘I shall treasure it.’ She smiled as she draped the light fabric over her arm and then stowed it on the arm of a chair. ‘Thank you for my gift. I’m glad you’re home.’
Lucy made her way to the kitchen and put the kettle on, placing three mugs on the worktop and making the tea in silence.
‘Are you okay?’ He sidled up behind her and kissed her neck.
She nodded.
‘Thought we might have an early night, so you can show me just how much you have missed me,’ he whispered, kissing her again.
‘Yes.’ She turned, offering him a brief smile, as she once again concentrated on making the tea.
‘Have you and Camille had words again? Something’s up, I can tell,’ he pushed. She gave a small smile at this assumption and felt her stomach roll in anticipation.
‘Hi, Dad.’
He turned at the sound of his daughter’s voice in the hallway. ‘Hey, Cam! How are we doing?’ He walked towards her and hugged her loosely. ‘I got you a present; boring old perfume I’m afraid. I’ll grab it in a bit. I didn’t know what to get, so I picked a bottle up at Heathrow. Hope it’s the right one. I have to confess, they all look and smell remarkably similar. The assistant thought it was hilarious that I could only describe it as being in a glass bottle with a funny-shaped lid.’
‘Thank you.’ Camille dusted the floor, moving her socked foot in an arc.
‘Here we go, three teas.’ She handed a mug to Camille, holding her eyeline, and then gave one to Jonah, who had gone quiet, matching the mood that enveloped him.
‘Let’s go and sit in front of the fire.’ She took a deep breath and shuffled behind the other two as they made their way to the sitting room. Jonah took the chair, stretching his legs out in front of him, as she and Camille sat next to each other on the newly plumped sofa cushions.
Jonah took a sip of his tea and exhaled, happy to be home.
‘So, what have I missed?’ He smiled, drumming his fingertips on the side of the mug.
Lucy exchanged a glance with Camille and sat up straight. ‘Well, we’ve had quite a fortnight.’
‘Work busy?’ he interrupted.
‘Yes.’ She nodded, not wanting them to get distracted with small talk.
‘Well, it’s tough at the top.’ He winked. ‘I’ve already told you: quit your job and come and work for me. The pay will be rubbish but the perks, fantastic!’
Camille sat forward slightly on the seat. ‘The thing is, Dad . . .’ She paused.
‘Oh no! You don’t want a job too? Lucy we can cope with. Setting up in China, a piece of cake. But you, Camille?’ he joked. ‘I don’t think Jonah Carpenter Motors is ready for that!’
Lucy stared at him, wishing he would sit quietly and let them speak. She decided to take the bull by the horns. ‘Jonah—’
‘Oh shoot! Just give me one sec and I promise that I will be all ears. I told Rod I’d let his wife know about his train arrival time. Apparently he was low on battery. Let me just fire off a quick three-word email. I’ll only be a second.’ He jumped up and hurtled up the stairs.
Lucy placed her hand on her stepdaughter’s arm and gave her a squeeze of reassurance and a nod of encouragement, her message loud and clear: You can do this!
Less than a minute later Jonah appeared in the door with a wide grin on his face. ‘Oh, Lucy!’
She exchanged a look of confusion with Camille.
‘What?’ She turned to face him, trying to read his emotion, watching as he shook his head in disbelief.
‘Do you know,’ he went on, ‘I knew something was up.’ He waggled his finger at the two women. ‘I could feel it. My mind’s been racing and I suspected it was bad news, but I’ve just found this, propped up on my screen! I can’t believe it!’
She felt her stomach drop and her eyes widen as she caught sight of the grainy square image in his hand. A scan picture of a beautiful, healthy baby boy at a little over thirteen weeks. They had never had a scan picture, never made it that far.
‘You clever girl!’ He rushed forward and crouched on his haunches in front of her, placing his hand on her lap. ‘I’m in total confusion over the dates, goodness knows it’s been easy to lose track, but look!’ He stared at the picture. ‘Here we are. How about that, Cam? You are going to be a sister!’
Lucy stared at Camille as the blood drained from the girl’s face.
‘No, Dad.’ She swallowed. ‘No, I’m not.’
‘Now, don’t be like that. This is a wonderful thing. You need to get on
board and be happy. If only you knew the journey that Lucy and I have been on to make this possible,’ he offered earnestly, now gripping his wife’s limp hand. She opened her mouth, but no words came. It was as if time had slowed.
‘I’m not going to be a sister, Dad.’ She swallowed. ‘I’m going to be a mum.’
There was a beat or two of silence while Camille’s words, spoken with eloquence and serenity, filtered into their consciousness.
Jonah threw his head back and let out a loud laugh as Lucy and Camille stared at him. ‘Very funny!’ He straightened and placed his hands on his hips.
‘It’s true, Jonah.’ Lucy knew it was her time to speak.
He poked out the tip of his tongue and placed it on his top lip as the smile on his face faded and he looked from one to the other.
‘This is a joke,’ he stated.
Lucy shook her head. ‘No, it’s not. Camille is . . .’ She swallowed. ‘Camille is pregnant.’
He laughed again. ‘I don’t . . .’ he huffed, and turned towards the fireplace, where the flames flickered. ‘I can’t . . .’
Lucy stood and placed a hand on his back. ‘Sit down, darling. It’s very important for everyone that we all stay calm.’ She watched as he half staggered to the chair and sank into it, loosening his tie and undoing the top button of his shirt, as if he needed air.
‘Is this true?’ He looked at Camille, who had shrunk back against the sofa.
She nodded as her tears welled.
‘Sweet Jesus!’ He ran his hand over his face. ‘So this . . . ?’ He looked at the picture in his hand.
‘Yes, that’s my scan,’ the girl whispered.
‘Camille is being very brave, Jonah,’ she added with a warble to her voice, speaking quickly, as if this might put a lid on the head of steam she could see building. ‘I wanted to talk to you, we both did, but you were so far away, and we decided there was no point in worrying you while you were in China. We thought it best to wait until we could all sit down like this and talk things through, calmly.’
Jonah shook his head, looking first at the floor and then back to his daughter.
‘Where’s that boy?’ he spat.
‘Dex?’ Lucy didn’t know why she felt the need to qualify, knowing perfectly well who he meant.
‘Yes! Dex! Who else?’ he shouted. ‘That kid who lay on my furniture, ate my food, sat in my company, celebrated her birthday! Him!’ He had raised his voice, and this was the cue for Camille’s tears to fall.
‘He’s in New York, Dad,’ she warbled.
‘I bet he bloody is!’ He bit down on his bottom lip and his fingers formed a fist that he rested on his thigh. ‘Does he think I can’t get to New York? I can be there before he wakes up!’ he shouted.
Camille snivelled and sniffed. ‘He doesn’t know. I haven’t told him yet because I didn’t know what to do or what to say and Lucy said I needed to get my head straight and it’s still not straight,’ she managed, running her fingers over her forehead.
‘What did Geneviève say?’ His tone was curt.
Camille looked down. ‘I haven’t told her either. She’ll just freak out.’
‘Well, maybe this is the time to freak out. Maybe she has every bloody right to freak out!’ He stood and paced the room.
Lucy sat next to her stepdaughter.
Jonah wasn’t finished. ‘She sent you over here to straighten you out, said she was worried about your behaviour.’
‘I didn’t need straightening out!’ Camille shouted, finding her voice.
‘Oh, well I think that’s up for debate, don’t you?’ he fired back.
‘You don’t know what she’s like!’ Camille shouted, gripping the arm of the chair.
‘You might be right, but I do know that we have bent over backwards to accommodate you, redecorating your room, cooking your vegetarian food while that fad lasted, helping you find a job, sorting out college, not batting an eyelid when you said you wanted to stay permanently. Good God, we even let that boy come into our home, and this is how you repay us? This is your idea of a future?’ he yelled now.
‘Please, Jonah, we can’t all get angry. We don’t want to say anything that we might regret, and it’s no good for Camille and it’s certainly no good for the baby.’ Lucy tried to calm everything down. Her palms were slick with sweat and her breathing a little irregular. Despite the different setting and a new set of players, this was a familiar exchange, and the memory left her flustered.
‘Jesus H Christ, can you hear yourself? No good for the baby?’ He gave a loud, insincere chortle. ‘What’s going on here, Lucy? How can you be so calm? You have been one of Cam’s biggest critics – all of her slovenly habits and lack of gratitude – and yet here you are waving the flag for this ridiculous situation!’
She shrank from his words, embarrassed and angry that he had raised this in front of Camille, exposing confidences she had shared with him, especially now she and Camille seemed to have bonded over the pregnancy. It angered her that Camille might feel less than supported by her at a time when she would need all the support she could get.
‘She’s a child! My little girl!’ He pointed at her. ‘How the hell is this going to work? Where does a baby fit in? How does she support it? Where do they live? Jesus Christ, she is ruining her life!’ he yelled. Lucy and Jonah stared at each other, aware of how he had asserted his parentage. It hurt.
Lucy closed her eyes and could hear the phrase, screamed an inch from her face: ‘You are a child! And you are ruining not only your childhood but your future too! What have you done? What on earth have you done?’
‘She’s not a child, Jonah. She is young, granted, but she is a young woman, a young woman who is pregnant and who needs us. She needs our support,’ she rationalised with a measure of dignity that belied their exchange and his hurtful accusation.
‘Oh God! How can you be so calm? She is only just seventeen, a few weeks ago she was in full-time education in the south of France, and after five minutes here she’s running wild and is pregnant by some little prick who has run off to New York!’
Camille placed her hands over her ears and closed her eyes. ‘Please stop! Please just stop! I didn’t mean it to happen and I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Dad!’ she sobbed.
‘I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Mum!’
Lucy cocked her head and smiled at the tearful little girl in the corner of the sofa. She might have been looking at Camille, but it was herself she saw, curled into a ball in her school uniform with her heart beating fit to burst and her distress threatening to drown her. ‘She wasn’t running wild! She fell in love, that’s all. She fell in love and she was unlucky!’ She shouted her response, caring little who could hear.
‘Unlucky, I’ll say! Bloody unlucky! Geneviève said she was getting out of hand. Maybe this is what she meant.’
‘No, Jonah!’ she yelled. ‘That’s not how it was.’
‘What do you mean “no”? How do you know?’ he spat. ‘How do you know she fell in love and slipped up? How do you know this wasn’t exactly what her mother was talking about?’ His face was red with anger.
‘Because it happened to me! It happened to me,’ she screamed.
It felt as if the air had been sucked from the room. Wrapping her arms around her shaking form, she looked at Jonah and then Camille, who both stared at her. ‘It happened to me. I was sixteen when I had a baby. My little girl.’
Jonah let out an involuntary laugh of incredulity. ‘Is it true?’ he asked, slowly.
‘Yes.’ Lucy lowered her head, letting her chin fall against her chest as she cried. She could feel the heated stares of her husband and stepdaughter boring into her. Camille was struck dumb.
‘Your . . . your little girl? You have a child?’ Jonah managed. It was as if the fact just wouldn’t sink in.
‘Yes.’ She looked up finally and nodded at him.
‘I don’t believe it,’ he breathed, followed by a silence that seemed to carry physical weight. ‘How could you no
t tell me something like that?’ he whispered, before staggering backwards until his legs found the chair by the fireplace and he sat down.
Lucy watched as he placed his head in his hands before looking up at her with an expression that she was unfamiliar with – it bordered on dislike. To see him look upon her in this way caused her insides to shrink. He looked like a stranger. Lucy let her eyes close briefly and recalled the words he had spoken in love as they sat on the damp ground. ‘What I am trying to say is that you are like a glorious second chance that I didn’t think I had any right to, and I will treasure you every day . . .’ It felt like a thousand years ago.
‘Who are you?’ he asked. She jumped at his words and stared at him. ‘I said who the hell are you? Because I sure as hell don’t know!’ he yelled now.
‘Don’t shout at me!’ she responded. ‘I have had enough! I can’t cope with that.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I refuse to feel any more shame for the fact that I fell in love at the age of sixteen and was unlucky. I got pregnant! I got caught out, that was my crime, but right now, I can tell you I feel more shame in the fact that I have never found the courage to say the words out loud, not until now.’
Jonah looked away.
Camille’s sobs filled the air. Lucy stared at her, knowing the best thing she could do was remove herself from this situation. Her presence was like the fuel that fed the flame. It would be better for Jonah, and certainly better for Camille, if she were to leave; the last thing the girl needed at this difficult time was to watch the two of them explode.
She left the room, making her way on shaky legs to the bedroom, where she once again gathered her suitcase and unceremoniously dumped clothes, a few belongings and her make-up bag into it. It took great effort to lug it down the stairs; her limbs, in fact her whole body, felt weakened by the earlier exchange. Taking a deep breath, she walked forward, hovering in the door frame. Neither Camille nor Jonah had moved. Both seemed to be sitting in quiet contemplation. Jonah still held the scan picture in his hand.
The Idea of You Page 25