Finding Hope at Lighthouse Cove

by Jessica Redland

  ‘No! Did you make a doctor’s appointment?’

  I shook my head. ‘I got as far as picking up the forms to register with a new surgery, but I’ve been so busy with back to school that I never got round to it. I will, though, because it’s not improving.’

  ‘Good. Illness aside, are you okay after… well, after that little game?’

  I shrugged. ‘I’m pretty mad at Curtis right now. He’s convinced that Michael and Stevie both fancy me, and I know he contrived that game to put them on the spot and embarrass the hell out of them. It embarrassed me, though. As if they’d both fancy me.’ I turned the hand drier on.

  When the drying cycle finished, Sarah said, ‘I think he may be right.’

  ‘Really? Why? Have they said something to you?’

  ‘Not as such. Or at least not something outright, but now that I think back, they’ve both asked after you quite a bit recently. When I was at Bay Trade on Monday, I got the distinct impression from Michael that something might have happened between you and—’

  ‘We nearly kissed the night I found out about Daniel.’ I leaned back against the sink unit and briefly told her about the night in the car park. ‘What about Stevie? You said he’d been asking after me too?’

  ‘Just general interest and concern for you, which I didn’t really think anything of until I saw the way he was looking at you tonight which was mirrored by the way Michael was looking at you.’

  Damn! How had that happened? I put my hands over my mouth and shook my head. ‘What a mess.’

  ‘You don’t like either of them?’

  I removed my hands and looked at Sarah. ‘That’s the messy part. I think I may like them both, but I don’t want to have jumped from Gary to Daniel to one of them. I want some time alone. I need some time alone.’ I shook my head. ‘I think we’d better be getting back. ‘Curtis is going to hate me for it, but I just want to go home. Would you mind me leaving early?’

  ‘Of course not, especially when you’re ill. You get home and get an early night. You look done in.’

  I felt it. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘And maybe you’ll feel clearer about things after a good night’s sleep. You know where I am if you want to talk.’

  ‘Could be a plan. How about The Chocolate Pot at some point tomorrow afternoon, providing I haven’t been sick again? I might need a sounding board to make sense of things.’

  ‘What about Curtis? Won’t he still be here?’

  I shook my head. ‘He’s got something on so he’s booked on the nine-forty to York.’

  Sarah smiled. ‘I’ve got no plans so I’m happy to help. I may even bring my Post-it notes. People laugh, but they’re really helpful.’

  I smiled as I reached to open the door. Sarah had made a couple of major life decisions using Post-it notes and I have to say that they were two of the best decisions she’d ever made. Perhaps there was a method in her madness. ‘You know what, that might actually be a good idea.’

  28

  Curtis was surprisingly compliant when I told him I wanted to call it a night. I didn’t even have to plead illness; he accepted the suggestion immediately, saying that he had a headache and could do with an early night himself. He also apologised if he’d taken things too far. Curtis never apologised. He’d done some pretty bad things over the years like abandoning me when he’d pulled, spiking my drinks to the point where I lost use of my legs and he had to call Gary to my aid, and making me spend the night in a neighbour’s shed after he lost his keys in a club in Glasgow. He’d always laughed and called it ‘an adventure’ rather than actually saying sorry, so this was unchartered territory. I decided to accept his apology with good grace and not have a go at him, especially as I suspected Sarah might have already done that before she found me in the toilets, judging by the dark looks they’d exchanged when we said goodnight. Good for her!

  As I finished removing my make-up back at Seashell Cottage, Curtis knocked on the bathroom door. ‘I know I came with luggage this time, but I’ve forgotten my toothbrush. Can I borrow yours? I promise I have no dodgy mouth infections.’

  ‘I can do one better than that. I’ve got a spare. I’ll leave it out for you.’

  I opened the under-sink cabinet. Kay had cleared a shelf so I could store my spare make-up and toiletries. ‘Come out, come out, wherever you are,’ I muttered as I rummaged around at the back of the cabinet, trying to put my hand on the toothbrush. ‘Ah, got you!’ As I closed my hand around the toothbrush, I knocked a bottle of shower gel and a box of tampons out of the cupboard. Tutting, I picked up the gel and put it back, then picked up the tampons… and my stomach lurched.

  Heart racing, I sat down heavily on the toilet seat. Relax and think. I’d started my period the day I moved in with Kay. I was near the end of my next cycle when I’d tried on the bridesmaid dress for Sarah’s wedding because I could remember Clare joking about my big black knickers showing through the material. What date was that? I shook my head. Mid-July? And now it was the middle of September. I flashed back to Callie in the toilets at Minty’s asking me if I was pregnant. No. The sickness was that gastric flu sticking around and the skipped period was simply the stress of splitting up with Gary and selling the house. I had form with that. The situation with Mother had wreaked havoc with my periods but, within months of leaving home, I’d settled into a regular cycle. I’d skipped periods since then at times of heightened stress such as applying for my departmental headship and a couple of particularly problematic school plays.

  I jumped up and tossed the tampons back in the cupboard, shaking my head. ‘Not pregnant. Just stressed,’ I muttered. ‘Very stressed.’

  It was raining the following morning so I drove Curtis to the train station rather than walking.

  ‘You’re very quiet this morning,’ he said as we waited at some lights.

  ‘Am I? Sorry.’

  ‘You’re not still mad at me for last night?’

  I gave him a reassuring smile. ‘Consider it forgotten. I just have a lot on my mind at the moment.’

  He nodded. ‘Aye. I get that. You know where I am if you want to offload.’

  ‘Thanks, Curtis. You’re a good friend.’

  After I dropped him off, I drove to a nearby supermarket to get something for dinner. Wandering aimlessly with a basket hooked over my arm, I found myself in the health and beauty section, staring at the pregnancy tests on the shelf in front of me. What the heck. I was certain I wasn’t pregnant but, for a tenner, I could confirm for sure. I grabbed a single test and hid it under a bag of grapes.

  I paid for my shopping, then nipped to the toilets. No time like the present.

  Staring at the testing kit in my hand moments later, I took a few deep, calming breaths. Not stress, then. And not gastric flu either.

  I drove to the car park at Lighthouse Cove and switched off my engine as I stared across the road towards the sea. Rain battered my windscreen with increasing ferocity and the waves ahead of me seemed to leap in protest at the addition of more water. It seemed apt that the waves were in turmoil – a fitting metaphor for my life.

  A beeping from my phone disturbed my trance.

  ✉︎ From Curtis

  Sorry again about last night’s game. Maybe it is time I grew up a bit. Been single too long. Makes me tamper in other people’s relationships, oblivious to their feelings. For what it’s worth, they both seem like great wee fellas. But remember you don’t have to pick either if they’re not right or you’re not ready for a relationship! Hope to see you soon, Red. Any time you fancy a trip to Glasgow and the best haircut you’ve ever had, give me a shout ((((hugs))))

  ‘Not ready for a relationship?’ I muttered. ‘Oh Curtis, you have no idea!’ I placed my phone back into my handbag, beside the box containing the positive pregnancy test, and stared out at the wild sea again.

  ✉︎ From Unknown

  Hi Elise, it’s Michael. Hope you don’t mind, but I made Daniel give me your number. Just wanted to drop you a quick text to
say I hope you’re OK. You didn’t look well when you left last night. Hope you managed to get a good night’s sleep and feel better for it this morning. I know I probably should ring to do this, but you might be having a lie-in and I don’t like to disturb you… would you like to go out for a drink with me one night next week? Hope to hear from you soon. Michael x

  * * *

  ✉︎ From Stevie

  Morning. How are you feeling? Was really worried about you last night. Sarah says you’ve still got that gastric flu. Can you face a visitor this afternoon or this evening? Would love to see you if possible xxx

  I leaned back in the car seat and flicked between the two text messages. Michael was definitely asking for a date, but was Stevie? Hard to tell. Stevie and I knew each other better so perhaps it was just the more informal approach of his text. I could easily put Stevie off a visit today by citing illness, but how would I tell Michael I couldn’t see him at any point next week? And, speaking of not seeing people, I couldn’t meet up with Sarah this afternoon. I needed some alone time to get my head around things:

  ✉︎ To Sarah

  Hope you had a brilliant evening. Sorry again for bailing early. And another apology… can we take a rain-check on Operation Post-it Notes today? I’m feeling a bit rough so think a duvet day’s in order. I’ll see you after school as usual on Wednesday. Spend the day with that gorgeous man of yours instead. That’s an order! xx

  My shoulders sank. I hated lying. Hated it. But what else could I say? I wasn’t ready to tell anyone that I didn’t really still have gastric flu because, surprise, surprise, what I actually had was a little more long-term than that.

  I flicked back to Michael’s and Stevie’s texts and reality hit me. Michael had just asked me on a date, oblivious to the fact that I was pregnant with his brother’s baby. The brother he hated. The brother who’d impregnated Michael’s fiancée then married her while he was overseas. The brother who’d made her abort her second pregnancy. That all-round nice guy. I certainly didn’t do things by halves.

  I stared out at the sea again, twiddling my phone round in my hand, and eventually came to a decision. Gary had effectively strung me along for years. I wasn’t going to do the same to Stevie or Michael. Before my discovery, I’d already been 90 per cent sure I didn’t want another relationship, but now I was 100 per cent sure. I’d arrange to meet them and let them down gently. If it was a date, that was. Stevie’s message could be read either way and, coming to think of it, Michael could just be showing friendly concern after his brother’s infidelity.

  ✉︎ To Stevie

  Thanks for your concern. Still feeling a bit icky today so just want to rest. How about we meet up on Tuesday night?

  * * *

  ✉︎ To Michael

  Thanks for your concern. Feeling a bit sick today, but hopefully better soon. How about we meet up on Wednesday night?

  Switching my phone to silent, I stared at my stomach and shook my head. I’d finally got what I’d desired for years, but this wasn’t the way I’d planned or expected. I recalled telling Gary that, if I had a baby, it would be with a husband who cared about me rather than the sperm-donor situation he’d suggested. That hadn’t happened. Maybe I should have taken him up on his offer after all as I might not have had a husband that way, but at least my baby would have had a devoted father. My current situation brought me neither. There was no way Daniel would want to be involved; just look at his track record with babies. And I certainly wasn’t going to get involved with him again but I couldn’t get involved with anyone else either because that would hardly be fair on them. Well, I’d just got the me-time I wanted and I’d better make the most of it because, in seven or so months’ time, it would be in very short supply!

  I drove back to Seashell Cottage where I rummaged in my drawers for an A4 notepad and pen. Sitting on my bed, I wrote ‘THE NEW ELISE’ at the top of a fresh page. Right. What did I want to achieve between now and the birth? What had I always wanted to do that was purely for me? Hmm.

  I stared at the blank page as the minutes ticked past. I put the pad down and stared out of the window. I picked it up again. Put it down. Picked it up. I sighed and began doodling in the margin while I willed some sort of plan to present itself. Half an hour later, the page was full… of doodles. Great. I was about to scrumple it up when my eyes were drawn to an image in the centre of the page. An image from the past.

  ‘The sword of Ellorinia. Oh my goodness. That’s it! I want to write again.’

  29

  For someone who hates lying, the following week seemed to be one lie after another as I embarked on my two evenings of ‘dates’ with Stevie then Michael, and fed Sarah yet another excuse for not visiting after school on the Wednesday.

  I enjoyed both ‘dates’ and, under other circumstances, would have found myself torn as to whom I was most drawn towards. Stevie was great fun and my sides had actually hurt from laughing so much. Michael also had a good sense of humour, but he had an intensity to him so the evening wasn’t quite as light-hearted. That was no bad thing, though. I liked that he could be serious about things when his brother clearly viewed life as a big joke.

  Keeping focus and steering the conversation to avoid any sort of acknowledgement that we were on a date had been pretty exhausting. I’d then probably confused them both with a speedy end to the evening, citing fatigue and work the next day.

  By Friday night, I was exhausted, confused, and very much looking forward to a relaxing evening while Kay was out taking photos with Philip. A WhatsApp message popped up on my phone from Callie:

  ✉︎ Hi Elise & Clare

  Hen do update: Contacted that adult playground and I’ve managed to negotiate a great deal that I’d like to run by you both.

  Clare – I’m assuming you’ll be over in 2 weeks’ time for Sarah’s birthday meal. Can we meet up then? Unless you’re over sooner????

  How are you both getting on with your tasks? xx

  Damn! I’d been so wrapped up in my own little world that I’d completely forgotten that I had bridesmaid responsibilities. After our aborted meeting, Callie had set up the WhatsApp group so we could agree on the format for Sarah’s hen do. I scrolled back up the messages to shed some light on what I’d been allocated, because I couldn’t for the life of me remember. Oh yes, I was apparently going to look into reasonably priced accommodation and meals for two nights. It wasn’t exactly a difficult task. Best get my act together.

  Another message arrived from Clare:

  ✉︎ Moving into my new flat tomorrow so this weekend’s out and got a work thing the one after. Will deffo be across for Sarah’s birthday meal. I wasn’t planning to drive over till Saturday afternoon but can come across earlier. Done my research.

  Clearly I was the weakest link on Team Bridesmaids. I cringed as I typed my response:

  ✉︎ I’m free that day. Research is going well x

  More lies, but I couldn’t face the risk of a lecture from Clare if I confessed I’d forgotten. We needed to maintain that truce. Callie replied:

  ✉︎ Brilliant! How about 10.30am in The Chocolate Pot two weeks’ tomorrow? Bring all your info and we’ll get it finalised. And I’ll bring red cards in case you two kick off again! xx

  I responded with a laughing emoji then put my phone down and rolled my weary shoulders. It was only eight, but my PJs were beckoning. I padded upstairs and changed, then loosened my hair clip, shaking my curls out. That felt good.

  As I wiped cotton pads over my eyes to remove my make-up, I reflected on my midwife appointment after school. It had felt so alien actually saying the words, ‘I’m pregnant’ to someone for the first time, especially a complete stranger. I’d always imagined the first time I said those words aloud would be to Gary, having discovered I was expecting his baby. How things had changed.

  I headed down to the lounge with a notepad and pen, flicked the TV on, then lit a couple of scented candles before curling up on the sofa. I wrote the dates on the top of the
page but my mind kept drifting. I imagined the conversation with Daniel to tell him I was expecting his baby and how he might react. Definitely not very well. I imagined telling Sarah and having her lecture me for stealing the thunder from her wedding. I imagined not being able to fit into the bridesmaid dress we’d ordered and made a mental note to discreetly ask Ginny if she could change mine to a bigger size. That was a point. How pregnant would I be at the wedding?

  I rolled off the sofa, wandered into the kitchen, took Kay’s calendar off its hook and counted down the weeks. Twenty-one weeks or thereabouts. Five months. Did you show at five months? Jess was nearly that with the twins at her wedding and barely showed, but I had no idea if that was typical.

  Logging onto my laptop, I asked Google. After checking out several sites, it seemed that, for a first baby, I probably wouldn’t show too much although, of course, every pregnancy was different. Then I remembered a colleague looking heavily pregnant at that stage. Hmm. My baby would weigh about three quarters of a pound, be about twenty-six centimetres long and be properly kicking. I lifted my PJs top and stroked my stomach. Wow! That was hard to imagine. I wondered what baby was doing now. Clicking on another link, I discovered that, at about eight weeks pregnant, baby would be the size of a kidney bean.

  ‘It’s just you and me, baby bean,’ I whispered. ‘I promise I’ll be a good mummy. I’ll be completely different to my mother. I’ll be such a good mummy that you won’t miss having a daddy because I doubt very much that Daniel’s going to want anything to do with you. In fact, I bet he’ll want me to get rid of you like poor Amber’s baby and there’s no way I’m doing that. It’s not your fault. I don’t think we’ll tell him for a long time yet. I don’t think we’ll tell anyone. We’ll keep it as our little secret.’