A Home in the Sun

by Sue Moorcroft

  He snatched his hand from under hers with a growl and Judith knew, with despair, that a mushroom cloud was going to appear over Brinham now that Tom knew about the baby.

  What a day it had been, she mused after patting her ex-husband’s shoulder with mixed sympathy and exasperation and quitting the noisy, smoky atmosphere of the pub. She strode back to the market square, where she’d parked the car, thinking longingly of the peace and quiet of Lavender Row. She could have a long, hot bath and read her book …

  But then, when she drew up outside her house, she found Caleb and Matthias Leblond waiting on her garden wall, hunched into a thick army parka (Caleb) and a red Marmot Alpinist jacket (Matthias). She knew Matthias now. He was staying with Caleb while he was on garden leave between jobs, as Caleb had his own place these days. Soon Matthias would join his new company on the Scottish coast, just after fiancée Davina became his wife. She had a new job to go to in Scotland after their honeymoon, too.

  The brothers slid from the red brick and onto their feet with matching grins as she climbed from her little car. ‘Seen Dad?’ Caleb called into the chilly air, his breath turning white.

  ‘I was hoping for a last chat about the wedding photos, but we can’t find him,’ added Matthias, the wind ruffling his neatly cut hair. Matthias was completely calm about his wedding, though the great day was less than two weeks away. Not for him half-meant jokes about only being able to sleep with one woman for the rest of his life or grumbles about not wanting to hear another word about bouquets, bridesmaids and black cars. Judith had never met a bridegroom so happy with his situation.

  Caleb, as usual, looked crumpled and bemused, as if he’d come from a rock festival. The upper section of his dark hair was pulled into a tail at the top of his head and his jeans were slashed. In contrast, Matthias, with his sharply short tawny hair and ironed jeans, looked as if he’d just stepped from a Next catalogue.

  She locked the car with the remote. ‘I saw him at a shoot today, and left him at his flat after I downloaded the pics.’

  Caleb’s forehead furrowed. ‘Wonder where he’s gone.’

  Huddling further into her coat against a wind that felt as if it were slicing her to shreds, Judith frowned. ‘Is his mobile off?’

  Matthias nodded. He really was a terribly good-looking man; he had Adam’s cheekbones. ‘Mobile off, answer machine picking up at his flat.’

  ‘Maybe he’s with a woman?’ Caleb grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

  Matthias shrugged. ‘No reason why not. Mum’s had boyfriends.’

  Caleb gave Matthias a nudge. ‘He’s such a gent, he’s bound to turn the phone off during—’

  ‘Have you tried your mother’s house?’ Judith interrupted, making for the front door. The street was too chilly for her. No fan of cold weather at any time, this first winter back in England was proving particularly unbearable, even after the purchase of an enormous duvet-thickness coat in emerald green that Adam laughed at and called her cocoon.

  Caleb allowed himself to be distracted from prurient speculation. ‘He’s not there.’

  Both young men hovered as Judith wriggled the key into the lock. She grinned at their transparently hopeful expressions. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Brilliant!’

  ‘Cool!’

  They jumped up the two steps and crowded into the warm house behind her, bursting with young-man energy. ‘Tot in the coffee?’ suggested Caleb, extracting a half-bottle of whisky from one of the many pockets of his khaki parka and wagging it in front of Judith.

  Judith tutted in mock disapproval but nevertheless slid it from his hand. ‘You’re a lot like your father.’

  ‘Dad puts a tot in his coffee?’ he asked interestedly.

  Judith decided it might be better to be vague on that point. She and Adam had a shared liking for whisky and found a tot warmed you through when you got home after a chilly outdoor shoot.

  Once coffee mugs were steaming fragrantly on the low table, she pressed play on the answer machine as she dropped into a chair.

  ‘You have two messages. First message: “Oh, Mum! Aren’t you there?”’

  She rolled her eyes and addressed the voice on the machine. ‘I can’t be here all the time, Kieran.’

  The second message began with a lot of clicking and beeping. And then Adam’s voice, measured and deep. ‘Jude, I tried your mobile, but it went straight to voicemail. I’m at the hospital. Bethan’s in labour and panicking like mad. Kieran’s gone to bits and has asked me to try to locate you. Bethan’s parents are being hostile towards Kieran. I’ll hang around till you get here.’

  After a second’s shocked immobility, Judith snatched her mobile phone from her pocket and was met with a blank screen. She must have forgotten to put it back on after the shoot.

  ‘So that’s where Dad is.’ Caleb sounded pleased to have the mystery solved.

  Matthias looked interested. ‘Who’s Bethan? Does Dad mean your Kieran, Judith?’

  But Judith, a sudden victim to the shakes, was handing back the whisky and hunting down the emerald-green cocoon.

  She whizzed her car through the frosty evening to where the blocky grey shapes of the hospital buildings huddled at the edge of town. At least there were parking spaces available at this time of night, she thought, reversing raggedly into one. Parking was murder during the day and if you eventually found a space it cost you three quid.

  Gathering her bag, she fumbled to press the lock button. If she was nervous, Kieran must be strung up with excitement and nerves. Amazing to think of him as a father. She felt too young to be even a step-grandma … She sighed. If the baby was to be given up for adoption, she wouldn’t really be. Did she have a sneaking wish that they’d change their minds and keep the baby? Excitement and regret warred in her at the thought of Kieran’s baby as she hurried over the windswept car park.

  Adam awaited her in the brightly lit lobby of the maternity building. He met her with his usual calm smile as she dashed into the serene cloying warmth and antiseptic smell of hospital. ‘He rang my flat, trying to find you.’

  ‘My phone was still off from the shoot.’ Judith laughed, dragging off her coat at the onslaught of the powerful central heating of a public building. She felt like a fizzy drink that had just been shaken, ready to explode in a fountain of bubbles. ‘You’re a saint, Adam, thanks for being with him. Is he in the delivery room?’

  ‘Bethan’s parents have been doing their best to freeze him out but he’s hanging in there. I expect he’ll be out looking for you any time now.’ His eyes looked dark in the night-time lighting. ‘When he called me he was in a state so I offered to drive them both to the hospital, as I was only a few minutes away.’

  ‘Both? They were together when she went into labour, then.’ She found herself bouncing on the spot, her words falling over themselves. ‘You are kind, Adam. Thank you. Crikey, this is exciting, isn’t it? Although I still feel for poor Tom … I think Bethan and Kieran will keep the baby once they’ve had it in their arms, don’t you? How could they not? A baby will bring joy and perhaps the tension between Kieran and the Sutherlands could fade as they realise they all have the same baby to love.’

  Adam picked up his jacket. He looked tired and strained, she thought, noticing the deep lines beside his eyes and mouth. Maybe he was feeling under the weather? It would explain his crankiness earlier this afternoon, after the shoot. But then he gave her a hug, taking her by surprise. Adam wasn’t a casual embracer; they didn’t kiss cheeks when they met or link arms if they were walking. She wasn’t certain whether he’d always been reserved or whether it was the after effects of Shelley’s disgust for his maimed hand.

  Uncertainly, she watched him turn away. ‘Matthias and Caleb were looking for you. Matthias wants to talk about the wedding photos.’

  As he headed towards the big glass doors he raised a hand and nodded to show that he’d heard, but didn’t turn around. She guessed he felt not connected enough to the birth to hang around.

  The
lobby, which was also the waiting area, was very still after he’d gone. Still and almost silent. Judith caught a bustling midwife, who promised to tell Kieran that she was there, then settled herself on a blue plastic chair to study her surroundings. Twelve blue chairs, the hard kind that bit into the buttocks until they found bone. A broad green line leading from the front door to guide labouring women to the sanctuary of the delivery suites, a silent understanding that brains sometimes turn to custard under the onslaught of childbirth and following a floor plan might be too difficult. Judith turned to a stack of creased magazines to pass the time.

  Periods of silence were punctuated by the sounds of doors swishing open and closed. She caught the faint groan of a woman and then another, crying jaggedly. The drinks machine gurgled, making her realise she’d come out without any change.

  And suddenly there was the glad sound of the wail of a newborn baby, thin and wavering.

  Was it … Kieran and Beth’s baby?’

  But then half an hour passed slowly.

  And another.

  Where was Kieran? He’d asked for her, why didn’t he come to tell her what was going on? And, now she had time to think about it, why had he asked for her at all? What was Judith doing here? Surely the place for her was at home, on tenterhooks for news? If Bethan had only just gone into labour it might be twenty-four hours before the baby arrived. Maybe she should assume Kieran had asked for her as a knee-jerk reaction, and go.

  Then she heard low voices heading towards her and looked up. The Sutherlands! Nick’s arms were around Hannah. There were no beaming grins of joy or even relief but still her heart leapt with anticipation and she hopped to her feet. ‘Any news?’ She heard herself adopt un-Judith-like hushed but soppily thrilled tones.

  The couple sank into seats, both of them looking strained and drained. Nick glanced up at Judith. The only colour in his face was the blue of his eyes and the purple shadows beneath. He hesitated as if not sure if he wanted to answer. Then, ‘I’m afraid the news is bad. You’d better sit down.’

  Bad. Bad? Dread formed in her chest, ice cold and solid. Her knees weakened and she plumped down heavily, her voice emerging as a croak. ‘What?’

  ‘They can’t find the baby’s heartbeat,’ Nick stated baldly. He licked his lips and ran his palm over his thinning hair. ‘They went for a quiet drink, Bethan and your lad.’ That would be Kieran. ‘Her waters broke. Me and Hannah were out for the evening, near Cambridge. Bethan rang in a flap and I told her it would take us about forty minutes to get to her, so to phone an ambulance and we’d meet her at the hospital.’ He glanced at his wife, as if he needed her confirmation of his story.

  ‘But Kieran rang your friend,’ Hannah put in.

  ‘Adam.’ Judith nodded. ‘He told me he kindly drove them to the hospital.’

  Hannah cleared her throat. Her face was chalky, her eyes bright with dread. ‘Things started out OK but …’

  Nick blew out a broken sigh. ‘Suddenly there was no heartbeat on the monitor or the portable scanner. They’ve gone in for a full scan.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Judith felt as if her own heart was trying to flutter to a halt in sympathy. ‘Kieran’s with her?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Nick stiffly. His expression suggested he’d rather Kieran wasn’t. Whether he liked it or not, though, Kieran was the baby’s father and what Nick Sutherland wanted didn’t count.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Judith felt as if time had ground to a halt but, eventually, a midwife came to fetch Nick and Hannah. The full scan had only confirmed the worst possible fears.

  There was no foetal heartbeat. No foetal movement.

  Nick and Hannah disappeared back into the delivery suite. Judith felt she couldn’t follow without a summons. She sat on in the lobby, drinking machine-made coffee as the maternity wing awoke. Cars or ambulances brought in women in the throes. Some were serene, some were frightened, some were joyful. Their partners’ anxious arms hovered or friends trotted alongside, bright and heartening, and all followed the green line on the floor as if it were the yellow brick road.

  Judith sat on as morning visiting hours began and visitors made a track up the open-tread stairs out of the lobby to the wards, clutching bouquets in pastel colours for new mums and cuddly toys for new babies.

  But there would be no celebration teddy for Kieran’s baby.

  No ceramic clown for Bethan, his hat stuffed with glossy yellow freesias.

  An excited new grandma chattered by, clattering her court shoes, clutching flowers clustered around a white wire stork. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ she asked her male companion. ‘I told the florist to fill the basket with pink rosebuds and white baby’s-breath. Baby’s-breath makes all the difference …’

  Judith flinched and her fingers found their way to Giorgio’s crucifix. It was unbearable to be a spectator to the joy of others this way. A sympathetic auxiliary came along but when she heard Judith’s relationship to Kieran the best she could offer was the chance of joining the Sutherlands in a proper waiting room, one that seemed to be set aside for those needing privacy. Though initially glad of the offer, when Judith found the Sutherlands clasping hands and muttering, ‘Bethan shouldn’t have to go through labour when they know it’s going to be a stillbirth,’ and wasn’t certain she hadn’t been better in the foyer.

  So far as Bethan’s parents were concerned, Kieran was the black villain, the utter bastard, the cavalier rogue. Judith didn’t point out that he couldn’t have made a baby alone because she sympathised. Kieran should have taken responsibility.

  At nearly midnight, the ordeal finally ended. A midwife came, very grave and sympathetic, to confirm the stillbirth.

  Hannah wept for her daughter’s sorrow in great gulping sobs that threatened to wrench her slight frame apart while Nick looked as if he’d like to kill someone.

  Then suddenly Kieran came bursting in through scarred blue doors, red blotches and swollen eyes of endless crying marring his pallor. ‘Mum? Oh, you are here!’

  ‘Of course, darling. What a horrible time for you and Beth. I’m so sorry.’ Judith jumped to her feel and pulled him fiercely to her, his chest heaving as he gave in to hopeless, roaring sobs; her son, no matter what the lawful status, who needed her.

  He choked, ‘He was already dead, like a statue baby, all white and silent, but perfect. We’ve called him Aaron.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she repeated tenderly, heart wrenching at the thought of the young couple sitting in the delivery room and choosing a name for the child who’d never answer to it. She was conscious of the Sutherlands watching on without making a single attempt to communicate with Kieran, let alone comfort him.

  ‘I kept hoping the doctors were wrong.’ Kieran gave a great, snorting sob.

  ‘So did I, darling. So did I.’ Judith couldn’t have hugged him any harder. Hot tears streamed down her face.

  His shoulders heaved. ‘I left a message for Dad. Have you seen him?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Judith murmured, wondering how on earth Tom would deal with such an emotional situation.

  After several minutes of hugs, Kieran gathered himself, blew his nose and went back to his poor Bethan. The sympathtic midwife returned to ask Bethan’s parents if they’d like to see the baby now that he was dressed. When the midwife glanced enquiringly at Judith, Nick murmured something about ‘not actually her grandson’ and, stunned, Judith watched Bethan’s parents follow the blue uniform away. Her heart contracted painfully.

  Not actually her grandson?

  Kieran was shut into that nightmare of a room with his young girlfriend and his dead son. She imagined the Sutherlands continuing to give him the silent treatment, or spitting agonised accusations at his young, bewildered head. She clenched her fists, pacing in frustration as she tried to decide what to do.

  If they couldn’t acknowledge her right to be there for the baby, couldn’t they find it in their hearts to let her be there for Kieran?

  But her parenthood was ex.

&nb
sp; And step.

  And she didn’t know where that left her.

  But then a familiar figure was shown through the door and came to an abrupt halt before her. Tom’s furious eyes seemed to have shrunk into his puce face, his hands made big fists at his side. ‘What are you doing here?’

  She rubbed her eyes, weary of his resentment. ‘Kieran asked for me. Oh, Tom.’

  Suffering her sympathetic hand upon his arm, his voice hoarse with grief, he nodded. ‘They’ve just told me. About the baby. I was away, I didn’t get Kieran’s message until now. And it’s all over?’

  She nodded. ‘Beth’s parents have gone to see the baby and be with Bethan.’

  Tom charged off immediately, of course, to demand that he be allowed to see the baby, too. Minutes later, a midwife at his side, he thrust open the door to the waiting room. ‘Come on,’ he ordered. ‘Kieran will want you there, too.’

  So, finally, once Tom was there, Judith was admitted. She and Tom comforted their son, who’d just lost a son of his own, for once able to push aside all acrimony and emotional baggage.

  When she finally emerged from the hush of the delivery room and the beautiful, soundless baby, Judith was dazed by grief, by the unfairness that life could peter out for no apparent reason.

  She dragged one foot in front of the other until she stood beside Tom on the edge of the car park that stretched away from them. ‘Thank you for letting me see Kieran. And Aaron.’ She felt now the unreality and lightheadedness that comes with missed sleep and being wrung by emotion. Every inch of her ached and she suspected the base of her spine wouldn’t be the same for weeks after so many hours on the moulded plastic seats of that grim waiting room. Probably none of her would.

  The Sutherlands drifted past like ghosts, without looking across or speaking. A harsh ray of light pierced the silver clouds on the horizon over the distant houses on the main road.

  Tom thrust his hands into his pockets and stared over Judith’s shoulder at the silver clouds heralding a cold dawn. Grief and anger laced his voice. ‘It’s always you. Always you he wants.’