Just the Two of Us

by Georgie Capron

  ‘I hope you know how much it means to me that you are supporting my decision,’ said Lucy.

  ‘We know, darling,’ said Gus.

  ‘If you’re really sure it’s what you want…’ added Ginny, still not entirely convinced by the whole thing.

  ‘It is. Has Granny told you that I’ve spoken to her about it?’ asked Lucy.

  ‘No!’ exclaimed Ginny. ‘I had no idea… good heavens!’

  ‘What did she say?’ asked Gus.

  ‘I told her on the train. I didn’t know whether she would talk to you about it, she’s so old-fashioned about these things. I think she has chosen to simply forget I ever mentioned it.’

  ‘So she was against the idea?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘Oh darling, I’m sorry, but I’m not surprised. I must be honest… I still find the idea hard to get my head around, and she is my mother!’ said Ginny. ‘These things just wouldn’t have been acceptable in her day.’

  ‘I know, I know…’said Lucy. ‘It’s just that her opinion means the world to me, so it’s hard for me to know I’m going against her wishes.’

  ‘Darling, it’s your life,’ said Gus. ‘You have to do what feels right for you.’

  ‘You’re right, Dad,’ said Lucy, giving her parents a big hug and thanking them once again for their support and generosity.

  Annie was staying in Cornwall for a few more days to spend New Year’s Eve with Gus and Ginny after Lucy left, while Ollie was going to a friend’s house party in Gloucestershire. Lucy spent New Year’s Eve as planned with Tor, Will and Otto. They had a very pleasant and relaxing evening, and as she had promised herself, she woke up on January the first feeling as fresh as a daisy, full of excitement about the New Year ahead. She began to count down the days from day one of her cycle, ready to telephone the clinic to let them know when she needed to be booked in for round three of her treatment.

  In mid-January she went back to the clinic, now a familiar journey for her, and sat once again in the clean, white waiting room, flicking through a magazine and waiting for her name to be called. The fertility specialist came to collect her and led her up the spiral staircase to one of the treatment rooms. She lay on the bed, her legs in the stirrups, and tried to relax, unclenching her muscles and visualizing the fertilization process, willing it to succeed.

  Lucy sat in the chair for ten minutes after the insemination was over and done with, praying for the miracle that she so desperately wanted. She then got dressed, flung her handbag over her shoulder, and set off to catch the bus towards home.

  She decided to keep to her tradition and stop off at Holland Park for a chai latte and a wonder around the gardens on her way home. She pulled down the sleeves of her green cashmere jumper underneath her trusty duffle coat, a pair of black skinny jeans tucked into leather boots. The air was bright but icy and she wriggled her toes to stop them feeling numb, they already felt blue with cold despite the angora socks that she was wearing. She was feeling the beginnings of a winter cold and knew that catching a chill wouldn’t help her chances of conceiving.

  As she arrived at the café, she pulled open the door, enjoying the warm air from inside as it made contact with her chilly cheeks. She approached the counter, taking her place in the queue and eyeing up the pastries and cakes behind the glass, wondering whether she should treat herself. Suddenly she felt herself sneeze, she reached into her pocket to try and find a tissue.

  The man in front of her in the queue turned his head slightly to say ‘Bless you.’ As he did so, a flicker of recognition passed over his face, and he said, ‘Oh hello! It’s Lucy… isn’t it?’

  Lucy remembered their last meeting as clear as day and was mesmerized for a second by his piercing blue eyes. Realizing she hadn’t answered him but had instead been staring at him rather obviously, she quickly stammered, ‘Rory… Hi! How are you? And where’s your lovely dog?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, I’m not sure that he deserves to be called lovely, but he’s tied up outside. I won’t be letting him inside here again in a hurry, don’t you worry!’ said Rory with a smile. ‘I still feel terrible about him spilling your drink that time. Please, allow me to buy you a coffee today, I’d like to make up for it.’

  ‘You really don’t have to do that!’ Lucy said, touched by his thoughtfulness.

  ‘I insist!’ said Rory. ‘What’ll it be?’

  ‘A chai latte please. It’s very kind of you!’

  ‘A chai latte?! What on earth’s that when it’s at home?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s a sort of spiced milk, it’s delicious! You should try it!’ Lucy laughed.

  ‘Nah, I’ll be sticking to my coffee till the day I die,’ said Rory, ‘I’m a creature of habit, I’m afraid!’

  Rory ordered their drinks, looking to Lucy to confirm her choice, and then paid for them. He bought her a little bag of wafers tied with a ribbon in a clear plastic bag as an extra treat. Lucy popped the biscuits into her coat pocket, thanking him for his generosity. They made polite conversation as they collected their drinks in takeaway cups.

  As they made their way out of the café, Rory held the door open for Lucy. She stepped out into the cold, noticing Rufus waiting patiently. He was tied up to a metal hook on the wall, and Lucy went over to him to stroke his long, brown nose, running her fingers down the soft hair on his neck.

  ‘Hello Rufus!’ she said. He wagged his tail and tried to lick her fingers as she stroked him, nuzzling her with his nose, his almond eyes twinkling mischievously. Carefully holding her drink aloft, she stood up, saying, ‘He’s such a gorgeous dog!’

  Clearly disappointed not to have her attention anymore, Rufus emitted a high-pitched whine, looking pleadingly at his owner.

  ‘All right, all right! We’re going for a walk now, Rufus, don’t you worry, old boy!’

  Rufus began to wag his tail frantically at the mention of the word walk. Rory bent down to let him off his lead and he immediately darted off towards the orangery, relishing his new-found freedom.

  ‘Lucky Rufus! I love walking around Holland Park,’ said Lucy. ‘I come here most weekends and I never seem to get bored of the gardens. I love watching them change as the seasons come and go.’

  ‘Well, you’re welcome to join us,’ said Rory. ‘I’m a big fan too; the gardens are so well designed. I particularly love the Kyoto garden, it’s so calm, though I certainly don’t take Rufus in there, he would ruin everyone’s peace and quiet!’ he laughed.

  Lucy and Rory fell into stride with each other, wandering away from the orangery and along the winding path that cut through the Dutch gardens. Lucy sipped the delicious chai as she walked, she could feel it warm her from the inside out.

  ‘The gardens are beautiful,’ agreed Lucy, ‘but I think I almost prefer the wild parts of the park.’ They walked past a water feature trickling peacefully into its pool. ‘It’s amazing to think that a couple of hundred years ago all of this land was rural. It’s hard to imagine now but in the woodlands you can almost catch a glimpse of how it would have looked in the past!’

  ‘I once entered a competition calling on architects to submit plans for a giant tree house for children to play in. It was going to be constructed in the wild woodland here,’ said Rory gesturing to his left. ‘I don’t know what happened to the idea in the end; I think it must have been pulled by the council.’

  ‘Oh, what a shame! That would have been amazing! Are you an architect?’ asked Lucy.

  ‘I am indeed. I wanted to follow in the footsteps of my mad great-uncle, Seamus. He built the most incredible tree house for me and my brothers and sister to play in. It was deep within the woods that surround our house in Ireland,’ explained Rory. ‘Though had I realized architecture would take seven years of training I might have reconsidered my childhood ambition!’

  ‘Seven years, wow! I thought a three-year degree course was long enough!’ agreed Lucy sympathetically.

  They paused along with another group of onlookers to watch a pea
cock as it shimmied its magnificent, iridescent feathers. The vibrations made a strange, low thrumming; a mating call. Rory summoned Rufus to his side so as not to pester the bird and he sat obediently at their feet, looking quizzically at the peacock’s bizarre ritual.

  ‘Tell me about the tree house,’ said Lucy, as they walked away from the crowds amassing around the exotic creature. ‘I always longed to have one as a child. It seemed like the coolest thing!’

  ‘Ah, the tree house… now it truly was a work of art, a labour of love some might say. The minute Uncle Seamus finished it, me and my brothers and sister spent every waking minute of our childhood there. My mother must have loved him for the peace and quiet she got!’ he said, smiling at the memories.

  ‘I’ll bet!’ Lucy agreed.

  ‘It was like a castle for us, the sort of thing you might see in a Disney film. He built it across several trees, with platforms, ropes, rooms and real, working lights. But the best thing by far was this high-sided tray that was on a sort of pulley system, it could be raised and lowered from the ground underneath up into the tree house itself. Mum would bring us jugs of fresh lemonade and biscuits and put them on the tray, and we would haul them up for our tea.’

  ‘Oh my goodness that sounds like every child’s dream! Is it still there?’ asked Lucy, intrigued.

  ‘Yes! Overrun by my nephews and nieces mostly nowadays!’ laughed Rory.

  ‘And Uncle Seamus?’

  ‘Oh, he’s still around too, at the grand old age of ninety-two; he’s still more with it than most! He’s quite a character,’ said Rory. ‘He certainly enjoys a drink or two, and he still fishes and plays golf every week. You’re most likely to find him down the local pub, singing some old Irish tunes to entertain the tourists!’ he chuckled. ‘He loves to be the centre of attention.’

  ‘I’ve got a grandmother who sounds just like him,’ laughed Lucy. ‘Granny Annie, rarely to be seen without a glass of wine or a G&T! They would be a match made in heaven!’

  ‘We should introduce them,’ agreed Rory, before dashing over to stop Rufus who was getting suspiciously close to a toddler sitting on a rug, munching a soggy Rusk biscuit.

  Rory and Lucy carried on walking and chatting for a long while, looping all the way around the park and then back again. They swapped stories about Granny Annie and Uncle Seamus, laughing at their similarities in eccentricity. As they drew near the turning to Rory’s house, which he explained was only a few roads away from Holland Park, he stooped down to attach Rufus’s lead. As he stood up, he said, ‘It’s been really great talking to you,’ looking directly at her with those piercing blue eyes, and Lucy really believed that he meant it. She felt the same. It was so easy chatting to him, he was mesmerizing company. He was witty and amusing, but not at all over the top; just so laid-back and down-to-earth. What is more they just seemed to get on so well. She realised to her surprise that she hadn’t even thought about that morning’s treatment the entire time that they had been talking. Lucy found that she was reluctant to leave him, and she hovered for a moment or two longer than was necessary, holding his gaze.

  ‘It has been really great,’ she agreed smiling up at him, her blue eyes shining.

  Rory cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot a little awkwardly. ‘Look, this might sound a bit strange, but do you fancy walking together again sometime, maybe?’ he asked, a sheepish grin on his face, his eyes downturned slightly towards the ground.

  ‘I’d love to!’ said Lucy, feeling herself flush at the very thought of him wanting to see her again. Hiding her blushes, she bent down to say goodbye to Rufus, whose tail was wagging at a rate of knots.

  ‘Same time, same place next weekend?’ he asked.

  ‘Sure!’ she said, and then she took a step towards him to kiss him on the cheek, amazed at her own bravery. His stubble grazed against her skin, sending a thrill of micro shivers down her spine. She caught the scent of his aftershave, such a delicious, musky smell, it drew her towards him and she had to force herself to tear away. They grinned inanely at each other, saying ‘Bye!’ neither one quite ready to leave the other.

  In the end, it was Lucy who turned first and began to walk off towards home. After several metres, she spun around to give Rory a cheery wave and was thrilled to see he was still standing there, so handsome, with Rufus by his side, watching her walk away. He gave her a wave back, and she continued on her way, a smile spreading across her cheeks that lasted all the way home. She had never felt so at ease in a stranger’s presence. She felt as though they had known each other for years. There was just something about him that made her feel completely relaxed in his company. She found him completely intriguing.

  As soon as she got through the door, Lucy rushed over to the mirror above the mantelpiece, checking her appearance. She was suddenly paranoid that she might have had smudged make-up or a bright red nose from the chilly weather. She told herself off for being so silly; after all, she was supposed to be off men for good, wasn’t she? Even so, she was happy to see that she looked all right, her blonde fringe fell prettily over her eyes, her freckles had faded somewhat since they had last seen the sun but there was a healthy, rosy glow to her cheeks and her eyes shone brightly.

  She may not look too frozen, but in reality she felt like her internal organs had become blocks of ice. On a cold winter’s day there was nothing she liked more than to have a warming bath before settling in for the evening. She turned on the hot tap and soon the room began to fill with clouds of steam as the water ran into the enamel tub. Lucy lit an aromatherapy candle and added a few drops of lavender oil into the water. She lowered herself into the bath and the intoxicating fragrance washed over her, relaxing her tense muscles. As she lathered soap over her body, she allowed her mind to wander back to Rory and she found herself once again blushing at the very thought of him. She had never met a man with such rugged sex appeal; her imagination ran away with her and she found herself picturing his stubble grazing her chin as he kissed her, her hands running down the lithe muscles on his back. The sensible part of her brain tried to stop her, but she was unable to resist.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Over the rest of the weekend, Lucy’s mind swayed like a pendulum between chubby-cheeked babies and distracting daydreams about Rory. Pondering the potentially imminent prospect of motherhood, now a familiar thought at the forefront of her mind, she noticed that she felt slightly different. Deep within her, in her gut, where the usual sense of anxiety normally nestled, an inner sense of calm resided, as though everything was working out just as it should be. She wondered whether this might have something to do with a certain handsome Irish man – the perfect distraction perhaps. Or maybe she had just got used to the process of trying for a baby; that with her third cycle of treatment under her belt she wasn’t so nervous anymore. She knew that she would have to wait until the following weekend to do the test and find out whether the latest insemination had worked, so she tried to shut out thoughts of pregnancy and focus on work and the menial tasks that filled her days. At night, however, when she had less control of her subconscious, she would dream endlessly of having her own baby, of holding her own tiny son or daughter in her arms. She woke up experiencing such pangs of longing for her imaginary child that she could hardly bear it. She was so ready for this next stage in her life.

  Lucy arrived at work on Monday morning to a noticeably quieter office. Lettie, always the first to arrive at their pod and as reliable as clockwork, was nowhere to be seen. Even by the time Simon rocked up, casually as ever, just as the clock struck nine, Lettie still hadn’t made an appearance. As always first thing on a Monday morning, having caught up on the weekend news of her Facebook friends over breakfast, Lucy liked to spend the first half hour of her working week perusing the right-hand column of the Daily Mail website. She was in the middle of scrutinizing some particularly fascinating images of Kim Kardashian’s derrière, trying to decide for herself whether or not she had had butt implants, when Lettie came scurrying o
ver, clutching three cinnamon lattes wobbling precariously on a Starbucks tray. Having not yet seen her colleagues since she returned from an extended Christmas break at home, Lettie was clearly bursting to tell them her news. Lucy helped herself and Simon to a coffee, and instructed Lettie to sit, take a deep breath, and spill the beans. Simon trained his expert eye on her, giving her his full attention, ready to critique the latest hopeless man she was undoubtedly dating.

  Both Lucy and Simon had sat through endless stories of Lettie’s first encounters with all sorts of different weird and wonderful men over the years, and they diligently prepared themselves for the usual saga. However, this time, things appeared to be somewhat different.

  ‘So the elongated lie-in has a male explanation, no doubt?’ asked Simon.

  ‘How did you guess!’ asked Lettie, blushing a deep red that clashed with her hair.

  ‘There’s only one reason why you’d look this excited!’ laughed Lucy.

  ‘You’re right! Oh my goodness, you are so right!’ said Lettie.

  ‘Go on then, spill the beans…’ said Lucy.

  ‘You can’t keep us in suspense,’ agreed Simon.

  ‘I suppose it could have something to do with the fact that I’ve got a boyfriend!’ blurted Lettie, unable to keep the pride from her voice.

  ‘Whaaat?!!’ shrieked Lucy and Simon.

  ‘I know! Can you actually believe it! A real boyfriend!’ said Lettie, ecstatic. ‘He’s called Luke.’

  ‘Ooh, Luke!’ said Simon.

  ‘Great name,’ said Lucy.

  ‘Who is he? How did you meet?’ asked Simon.

  ‘I met him at a Christmas drinks party back home in Worcester. He’s an old family friend, when I was younger I used to babysit him and his little sister.’