by Karen Swan
‘Jesus, Meg! This place is too remote. I know you love—’
‘I know, I know,’ Meg said quietly.
Ronnie sighed and took another swig of her beer. ‘Well I can’t believe she made that journey, even with what she thought were Braxton Hicks.’
‘We’d had a fight and she’d heard I was leaving so—’
‘So she came up to stop you?’
‘No,’ Meg said patiently. ‘She came up to clear the air between us before I went. Look, she made a bad judgement call. She delivered early, Ron. There was no way she could have known it was going to happen – Tuck was in Toronto, and let’s face it, the last place you’d want to deliver a baby, without any kind of medical support, would be up here.’
Ronnie tutted and shook her head but she couldn’t deny the logic. No expectant mother would have willingly put herself in that position. Her fingers drummed the glass bottle lightly. ‘So what was this fight about then?’
‘Huh?’
The sound of running water had stopped now, and the plumes of steam that kept wafting around the side of the cabin were dissipating.
‘The one she had to come and clear the air about. You never mentioned you’d fallen out.’
‘It wasn’t a big deal,’ Meg mumbled.
‘So tell me then.’
Meg’s shoulders slumped. She knew Ronnie wasn’t going to let this go; she was like a sniffer dog, always able to track the scent of blood. ‘I told her about Hap and she got angry. She said I’d betrayed Mitch.’
There was a long, stunned silence.
‘Are you kidding me?’ Ronnie asked, her voice dangerously low. ‘She stood in judgement of you for what she thinks you’ve done to Mitch? Who the hell does she think she is?’
‘She was just being protective. Look, I get it, I do. We were a foursome for a really long time. I’m not the only one who’s having to adapt to him being gone. Everything’s changed now. It all feels different.’
But Ronnie shook her hands in the air, dismissing Meg’s protestations. ‘No, wait – I can’t believe this. So you’re telling me, she can go ahead and have a baby and be with her husband and live a happy life? She’s allowed to move on, but you’re not? You’ve got to stay in aspic the rest of your freaking life because you were once engaged to her husband’s best friend?’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Meg flinched.
‘God, don’t you get it, Meg? Can’t you see what she’s doing to you? She’s making you feel guilty, stopping you from getting on with your life, because she’s jealous of you! She’s so terrified you’re going to go on to something bigger and better and leave her behind. Don’t you see it? She’s always desperately trying to keep you down.’
‘Lucy is not jealous of me! Don’t be so ridiculous,’ Meg scoffed. ‘She’s got everything she ever wanted – Tuck, a baby. One day they’ll have the Homestead, Titch is going well . . . And then take a look at my life! What could she possibly want that I’ve got? Badger?’
The loyal dog raised his head at the mention of his name, ears up and a little whine in his throat.
‘No, it’s OK, boy,’ Meg murmured, dropping a hand down to stroke his muzzle.
‘I can’t believe you don’t see it,’ Ronnie said, shaking her head sadly. ‘She’s toxic, Meg. She’s no good for you. I know you’ve been friends a long time and you think I’m jealous of her because she took you away from me, but I’m so not,’ she said, her hands pressed to her chest. ‘You’re too close to see it.’
Meg groaned exasperatedly. ‘Just be honest, Ron, you’ve never liked her. But can’t you see how painful, how difficult, it is for me that my sister and best friend hate each other?’
Ronnie stared at her for a long moment, her eyes making tiny side-to-side movements as though trying to peer into Meg’s mind, before she turned back in her chair, her eyes on the slowly rising moon. ‘Fine. I don’t want us to fight,’ Ronnie said quietly. ‘I’ve been so looking forward to this.’
‘Me too.’ Meg reached her hand out, already regretting her outburst. ‘Look, I know it was probably a shock to hear that New York didn’t happen. It was terrible timing! But you’ve got to be philosophical about these things. I never went looking for that job. It kind of landed in my lap from nowhere and then . . . it just got taken away again. Both events were kind of out of my control. I have to accept that perhaps it wasn’t meant to be.’
‘It was just such a great opportunity for you,’ Ronnie sighed. ‘I feel so strongly that there’s something more for you than this.’ She squeezed Meg’s hand tightly. ‘And I’m not saying this isn’t beautiful, because it is. It’s one of the most special places on the planet. But you’re not living here. You’re just . . . existing. If anything, it feels like you’ve gone backwards. When we said goodbye at the airport, you felt like a different person to the one I’d picked up there a few days earlier. You were so energized. I really felt you got it, you know?’
‘And I did! I do.’
‘So . . . ? What happened?’
Meg fell quiet and drank from her beer again. How could she say that Lucy had happened? Lucy’s protectiveness over Mitch . . . Lucy’s baby coming early . . . None of it was necessarily Lucy’s fault – she wouldn’t have any idea of the impact those encounters had had on Meg’s life – but to put voice to it would be to fan the flames of Ronnie’s jealousy theory. ‘Well, it’s too damned cold to risk falling in the lakes at this time of year, for one thing,’ she said lightly instead. ‘I’ll pick up the SUP boarding in the spring, thanks, if it’s all the same.’
Ronnie arched an eyebrow quizzically but didn’t press the matter. ‘Fair enough.’
Just then, Jack walked through, looking quite the lumberjack in Timberland boots, jeans tucked into woollen socks, a plaid shirt and cable-knit sweater.
‘Oooh, my handsome logger,’ Ronnie grinned, reaching her arms out to him as he went over to her for a kiss.
‘Enjoy your outdoor shower?’ Meg smiled, handing him a beer from under her chair.
‘It was incredible.’ He looked across at Ronnie and held out a hand, pulling her to standing. ‘We should get one in the new place.’
‘Yeah, because the neighbours would just love that!’ she laughed, as he sat down in her chair and pulled her back onto his lap.
Meg smiled, watching them, knowing she’d been like that once too.
‘I can’t believe you don’t use it,’ he said, looking back at Meg.
‘I work to a basic rule – no outdoor showers if there’s snow on the ground.’
‘But—’
He was about to point out the luscious green grass on the lower slopes but she beat him to it, pointing to the frosted mountaintops on the other side of the valley. ‘Snow on the ground. No negotiating.’
Jack grinned. ‘So, the film festival kicks off tomorrow night?’
‘Yep, highlight of our town calendar. Every hotel is booked.’
‘Well, I bet nowhere compares to this. Seriously, this place is stunning,’ Jack said, his eyes on the tented sky that was now richly studded with stars. ‘You ever thought about renting it out?’
Meg shrugged. ‘That was the original plan when we were building it but . . . we fell in love with it up here. It felt like our corner of the world and no one else’s.’
‘Don’t blame you. I’d keep this all for myself too,’ Jack smiled.
‘Well, you’re welcome any time you like,’ Meg said. ‘Ron said you’re big on climbing?’
‘It’s my great love – aside from your sister,’ he said, squeezing Ronnie’s waist.
‘Well, tomorrow there’s a flashback screening – you know, of films they’ve shown in previous years and then after that there’s a kick-off party in the Square and then on at Bill’s. But then on Saturday, they’re screening the Opening Weekend films. There should be plenty of mountain action to get you itching to put on your crampons.’
‘Crampons? You know your stuff.’
‘Well, of course. I d
o work in a mountain rental store, remember.’ She didn’t dare glimpse Ronnie’s face as she said this, though she wasn’t ashamed of the fact. ‘I am so going to have to introduce you to Dolores while you’re here. She’ll love you. She’s obsessed with the mountains too. She doesn’t have blood running through her veins, she has granite.’
‘Ha! Ain’t that the truth,’ Ronnie chuckled.
‘I can’t wait. And who goes to the party? All the townsfolk? Am I going to be the token outsider?’
‘Far from it. People come from all over the world – film producers, explorers, photographers, athletes, you name it. Anyone who loves the big outdoors, basically. It’s a riot.’
Jack frowned. ‘We should have asked Hap along. It’s not like he’s that far from here and I bet he’d—’
‘No!’ Meg said, too quickly. She smiled nervously, well able to imagine him speeding over the mountains in his souped-up car, shades on and designer jeans. ‘I just mean, it’s too late, that’s all. Everything’s sold out.’
‘Oh. That’s a shame.’
Meg nodded, keeping the smile on her face. But there would be no double dates this time.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Friday 10 November 2017
Lucy stood at the window, jiggling Baby Mitch on her shoulder. She’d fed him for over an hour, burped him for half that again, but still she couldn’t get him to settle. Every time she thought he was asleep and she laid him down, he woke screaming four minutes later. She was exhausted. It had been exactly like this yesterday and all night too, and her arms were leaden and stiff from the weight of constantly carrying him.
‘Sleep, please sleep,’ she whispered desperately, rubbing her cheek against his soft-furred head.
Across the courtyard, she could see the lights on in every single one of the hotel rooms, almost all of them getting ready for the kick-off party in the square in a few hours. There was no chance of Lucy being able to get out for it; she couldn’t take a newborn (and a premature one at that) out into a heaving mass of revelling strangers. Besides, she didn’t have the energy. Barbara had been so run off her feet she hadn’t even been able to do her usual pop-in at lunch to allow Lucy a quick sleep, and even Tuck – who was notoriously hands-off with the running of the hotel – had been drafted in first thing to help with getting all nine of the fires flaming; they had awoken to an unexpectedly hard frost and the hotel’s rather aged central heating meant roaring fires were needed for more than just decoration.
Lucy had thought he’d just be out for the hour or so it took to sweep the ash and snap the kindling and set the logs, but that had been hours ago and she hadn’t even glimpsed him since – and she’d spent most of the day standing by this window.
Still, it wouldn’t always be like this, she told herself, desperate to believe it. As soon as the contracts were delivered (expected next week) and Tuck had a chance to tell Meg the good news – they were both certain she’d jump at the chance to be financially secure; why wouldn’t she? The business had never interested her beyond the design side – they could start planning the rest of their lives. And first on the list would be looking for somewhere new to live; somewhere where she’d have a better view than those goddam bins and the back of a hotel. She could maybe get a nanny, or at least a night nurse, although she still couldn’t believe that was a job – that someone was prepared to sit up through the night with another woman’s screaming baby. If she was honest, it was all she could manage to do it for her own. She loved her son; she loved him desperately, but how did people do this? Take the baby out of the equation and it was just a year-long round of torture, plain and simple. How did they never talk about how back-breakingly awful it was? Was it deliberately kept as a secret to stop from putting other women off? She hadn’t planned this baby but if she’d had any idea how hard it would all be . . . the pregnancy, these early weeks. She felt battered and broken down. Everything was such a struggle. Why couldn’t she be cut some slack, just for once?
Tuck was trying hard again. He’d changed a few diapers, walked around with the baby strapped to his chest when she’d attempted to get on with other household duties that needed attending to – like the washing and ironing – but he too often got it wrong, putting the diaper on backwards once and leaving the baby unattended on the changing table when he’d run out of talc and had to get more from the bathroom. She couldn’t trust him to get it right.
Lucy leaned against the wall, staring out at the courtyard that felt increasingly like a prison yard. She felt as though the world was closing down, folding inwards on itself like a collapsible box. In the past week, she had left the bungalow only twice (once to drive Tuck’s belongings to the studio, and then again to pick them up before he noticed) and she’d barely seen another soul. Apart from Barbara crossing the courtyard a couple of times a day, and Dolores stopping in once or twice, she’d had hardly any visitors. Lots of cards, yes, balloons, gifts . . . But precious few people had actually come over to hold the baby for her or make her a coffee whilst she bemoaned the utter lack of sleep, her close-to-exploding boobs, the almost constant bleeding ‘down there’ as Barbara put it. And Meg . . . well, she was stonewalling her now, seemingly sulking about their choice of name and ignoring Lucy’s friendly texts suggesting coffee.
The sound of the hotel fire-door slamming made her look up and she watched with relief as she saw Tuck jogging across the courtyard. Her heart skipped at the sight of him. She wouldn’t be alone now. He could help. She could sit down and straighten her arms, maybe close her eyes . . .
But as his hands reached for the door knob, a small movement in the upper corner of her eye made her look up again, just in time to see the lace curtain drop back down at one of the hotel windows.
She froze, oblivious to Tuck’s wave as he saw her standing there.
‘Hey!’ he panted a moment later, slamming this door shut too, although at least this time he had the grace to wince, remembering his error that second too late.
But Lucy didn’t notice. Heart pounding, cheeks pinched, she was already counting in the number of windows from the corner to the window where the curtain was still fluttering slightly. Sixth window in, third floor . . . Room 36 then?
‘How’s he been?’ Tuck asked, coming over to her and crouching down to stroke his son’s cheek.
Lucy turned away from him and walked over to the phone, awkwardly – with only one hand free – setting it down on the side table and punching in the numbers.
She could feel Tuck’s puzzled stare on her back.
‘Here, let me take him,’ Tuck said, taking the baby from her before she could tighten her grip. She watched apprehensively as he positioned him on his shoulder, still handling his baby as though he was made of glass.
‘The Homestead, hello?’ The sound of the voice on the other end of the phone startled her. She turned away again.
‘Oh, hi, Linda. Is Mom there?’
‘Hey, Lucy. She’s just in the kitchen. Want me to get her? Is the baby OK?’
‘No, no, it’s fine. I mean, the baby’s fine, I don’t need to speak to her. Could you just check the register and tell me who’s booked into Room 36, please?’
Linda sounded surprised but Lucy could hear the sound of a keyboard being tapped. ‘Sure.’
Tuck frowned. ‘Luce? What’s going on?’
But Lucy wouldn’t look at him, instead turning her back and staring up at the ceiling, one hand on her hip. If he was cheating on her again . . . She closed her eyes. God help her, she would leave him this time. She would just go and to hell with waiting for those contracts to be signed. She’d fight for her half in court if she had to.
‘Hi, Lucy? . . . Yes, it’s a Mr and Mrs Hughes from Denver. Repeat guests. They came last year for the festival too.’
Lucy bit her lip. Mr and Mrs Hughes? Yes, Lucy remembered them; they had come last year. Every year since Mr Hughes had retired, in fact. They were in their mid-seventies; she knew Mrs Hughes walked with a stick. ‘Great, t
hanks, Linda.’ She hung up and turned back to face Tuck.
‘Lucy? Wanna tell me what’s going on?’ Tuck was staring at her, the baby somehow, expertly, positioned on its tummy across his arm in the ‘Tiger in the Tree’ position that Barbara had demonstrated the other day. And of course, the baby was now fast asleep.
She gave a wan smile, trying to come up with an excuse. She’d been so sure. ‘I . . .’ Her mind blanked.
‘You what?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Why did you want to know who’s in that room?’
‘I . . .’ Still she couldn’t answer. He’d been gone all day. The hotel was full. She’d been on her own with a crying baby. Didn’t it make sense that he wouldn’t want to come back here? That any other woman would look better, be more inviting, than her right now?
She looked back at him and he saw it all in her eyes.
‘Oh, what? . . . Jesus, Lucy,’ he hissed, looking away, rocking the baby gently from side to side.
‘I’m sorry!’ she pleaded. ‘But you’ve been out all day. I-I thought you were going to come straight back here.’
‘They’re flat out over there,’ he said angrily, jerking his head towards the window. ‘Your mom’s running on empty, trying to get everything done in half the time so she can get over here to help you. If you must know, after I’d finished helping out there, I went over to the store to do some paperwork, then to the lawyer’s, before going back to help your mom because the freezer’s packed in.’
‘Oh.’
She watched him – so handsome, rocking a baby she hadn’t been able to settle all day, making it look so easy suddenly, and she had to resist the temptation to take baby Mitch from him. What was wrong with her? All day she’d felt so claustrophobic, trapped, unable to get away from him, but now that they were physically separated, she felt curiously weightless without him, as though she might just float up and drift far away from here, a balloon without string that no one could catch.