by Susan Lewis
‘I think we all are,’ Binkie added, coming to clasp Susannah’s hands. ‘I hope you’re not really that devious or bad-tempered,’ she teased, ‘but somehow I don’t think so.’ Then, turning to Michael, ‘It was good of you to let us watch the first programme here, dear. Thank you. If you have time in the morning, I’d like to have a chat about next weekend, when the children are here.’
‘I’ll pop over before I leave,’ he smiled.
Ten minutes later everyone had gone and Michael was leading the way back along the hall through to the other end of the house, where an enormous kitchen and breakfast room, with a mezzanine library, occupied virtually the whole of the wing.
‘You have a beautiful home,’ Susannah told him, as he drew back a vast sliding glass door that opened out on to a vine-covered terrace. ‘How long have you lived here?’
‘Maybe not as long as you might think,’ he replied. ‘Just over six years, and most of the renovation was done by the previous owners. I’ve added a few things, though, such as the media room and the tennis courts. Everything else is more or less the way it was when I bought it.’
‘For such a large house it has a wonderfully intimate sort of feel,’ she said, stepping on to the terrace. She was immediately entranced to see a reflecting water garden, and walked over to look at herself and the sky in one of the ponds. There were koi, swimming around like slivers of ivory and gold, and frogs were performing a lazy sort of sunset chorus. She could hear Michael moving around in the kitchen and lifted her head to gaze out at the deepening reds and purples on the horizon. She thought of the others back at the Centre, celebrating and relaxing after the long haul to the start, and Marlene reminding them that they still had a long way to go. She wished she was there, if only because it would be so much easier than being here.
‘Would you like some wine?’ he called out from inside.
Going back to the door she said, ‘Just a little, thank you.’ She wanted to be sociable, even though her stomach was already rejecting the thought of it.
Bringing her a glass he tapped it with his own, and as he took a sip he kept his eyes on hers. She looked back and felt her heartbeat slowing, then quickening, as too many emotions gathered inside her. Her lips parted but no words came out. She almost couldn’t bear this.
‘Unless I’m gravely mistaken,’ he said gently, ‘there’s something bothering you, so would you like to tell me what it is?’
She gave a mirthless little laugh. ‘Am I that transparent?’ she said. ‘As an actress, I should be doing better.’
‘I’m not sure anyone else will have noticed,’ he told her, and the intimation that he was watching her so closely made her turn her head away.
‘What is it?’ he prompted kindly.
She looked down at her glass, then turned to walk back on to the terrace. ‘Before I tell you,’ she said, ‘I want you to know that I had absolutely no idea until two days ago. I wish to God I still didn’t know, or better still that it hadn’t happened, but it has and I just don’t know what to do about it. My conscience is so torn …’
‘Susannah,’ he said softly.
She stopped and turned round to look at him. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said, and to her dismay her eyes filled with tears. Quickly she blinked them back and swallowed a mouthful of wine. It tasted foul and she almost retched, but somehow managed not to.
He was very still. His eyes were telling her nothing, but his silence was terrible enough. In the end he turned back into the kitchen and poured more wine into his glass. ‘I’m not going to pretend,’ he said as she came to stand in the doorway. ‘The timing of this could hardly be worse … How far along are you?’
‘I’m not entirely sure. About eight weeks, I think. It’s not too late for a termination, the trouble is …’ She broke off, not really knowing what she wanted to say. ‘You can’t make me feel any worse than I already do,’ she told him. ‘I swear, it’s the last thing I wanted, or expected. I haven’t even told my partner yet, that’s how undecided I am about what to do, but obviously I’ll have to. It wouldn’t be fair, or right, to do something he wasn’t aware of.’
‘Of course not,’ he said.
She couldn’t look at him, she could hardly bear to be near him, she felt so raw and despairing.
In the end, putting his glass down, he came to stand in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘You have a very difficult decision to make,’ he said, ‘but maybe it will help if I tell you that if you do keep the baby we’ll find a way to shoot round it, or even to script it in.’
Biting her lip to try and force back the tears, she let her head drop forward. ‘Thank you,’ she said brokenly.
‘I think I should take you back to the lodge now,’ he said, ‘and in the morning I’ll make Marlene aware of the situation.’
Susannah’s head came up, her eyes wide with alarm.
‘She won’t be happy, of course,’ he said, ‘but she’s pragmatic, and right now you need her on your side.’
‘Neve, love, are you awake?’ Lola whispered, pushing Neve’s bedroom door ajar. ‘Gosh, it’s hot in here. What are you doing with all the windows closed in this heat?’ When there was no reply, ‘Mum’s on the phone wanting to know what you thought of the programme.’
There was still no movement in the bed.
‘She’s asleep,’ Lola said down the line to Susannah. ‘Do you want me to wake her?’
‘No,’ Susannah answered. ‘Get her to call me in the morning.’
‘Tell her she was great,’ Neve croaked from under the sheet.
‘Why don’t you talk to her?’ Lola said, going closer to the bed.
‘I can’t. I’m too tired. I’ll ring her tomorrow.’
‘What’s she saying?’ Susannah asked.
‘Hang on.’ After closing Neve’s door Lola took the phone back into the sitting room. ‘I thought she’d already called you,’ she said. ‘She told me she’d done it straight after the programme.’
‘She did. I got a message saying she’d seen it and I was great, but she sounded so … flat. I’m starting to get really worried about her, Lola. How does she seem to you?’
‘Well, I have to admit, she hasn’t been her usual self lately,’ Lola replied steadily, ‘but she’s had that much homework. She’s always in her room studying, and downsurfing stuff from the Internet. I think they overload them these days. You keep hearing about it on the news, and it’s not right that she should be feeling the pressure already, when her GCSEs don’t start till next year.’
‘I know,’ Susannah sighed. Then, ‘Do you think that’s all that’s bothering her? I’ve never known her to be withdrawn like this before.’
‘It’s probably a bit of a phase she’s going through,’ Lola said comfortingly, ‘and with you not being here all the time I expect it seems worse than it is.’
‘I was afraid you might say something like that. Do you think I made a mistake taking this job? If she …’
‘No, of course I don’t. We all just need a bit of time to adjust, that’s all. She misses you, but she’s thrilled to bits with all that’s happening to you.’
After a pause Susannah said, ‘So you don’t think there’s anything seriously wrong?’
‘No, not at all, so don’t you go worrying yourself up there. You’ve got a lot on your plate now, my girl, and you’ve waited a long time to get where you are, and you deserve it. Everyone thought you were marvellous tonight, and I was that proud of you I had to keep putting a hand over my mouth to stop myself saying so. Now, it’s getting late, and I expect you’ve got an early start tomorrow, so off you go to bed, and Neve’ll call you in the morning.’
After she’d rung off Lola put the phone back on its stand and sank down in her favourite armchair. The truth was, she’d been worrying about Neve quite a bit lately for all the same reasons as Susannah, but there was no point admitting it to her when she was all that way away, and when the next thing anyone knew Neve would be bouncing back like noth
ing had ever been wrong. It went like that with teenagers. Lola still remembered it from when Susannah was the same age. One day up, the next day down, and in between it all, spots, hormones and more attitude than you could sail down the Thames in a barge at high tide. No, Neve would be all right. She had too many people looking out for her not to be, but all the same, Lola might have a quiet word with Alan the next time he was round, because he wasn’t only really good with Neve, he was also a bit of an expert in these things.
Chapter Twenty-Four
IT WAS FRIDAY evening, and Susannah was on the train back to London. With all her heart she wished she was looking forward to getting there, but she was completely dreading it. Since Michael Grafton had dropped her back at the lodge on Tuesday evening she’d spoken to him only once, when he’d called to let her know that he’d spoken to Marlene who was now waiting for Susannah to inform her which course she was proposing to take. She’d like to know, she’d told Susannah on Wednesday evening, as soon as possible after the coming weekend.
Ever since, Susannah had been on such a roller coaster of emotions that she could only thank Marianne and Silver for her parallel existence. Without it she might have rushed into a decision they’d all end up regretting.
As the train hurtled towards King’s Cross, she felt so weighted with trepidation for what came next that she couldn’t even open her eyes when the steward asked if she’d like a drink.
‘You can’t spend your life with Alan if you don’t love him,’ Pats had objected on one of the many occasions they’d discussed this impossible dilemma over the past few days. ‘It wouldn’t be fair to either of you.’
‘I’m not saying I don’t love him,’ Susannah protested. ‘I’m just, I don’t know, confused and … He’s a good man, Pats, and he really loves me and Neve and Lola. I know he’ll always be there for us, and this is his child. He has a right to be its father, not just sometimes, when I happen to be in London, but always.’
Those words were ringing in Susannah’s ears as she hailed a cab outside the station and began the journey back to Clapham. Alan was already at home, preparing a candlelit supper, and Neve was at Lola’s. So tonight was the obvious time to tell him … But to tell him what? She knew in her heart that she could never cheat him of his own child, so she guessed the decision was made.
Perversely, after the near exhaustion she’d suffered these past couple of weeks, Susannah didn’t feel at all tired by the time she and Alan had finished eating. She could always fake it, of course, but that would be a cowardly thing to do, and besides, he deserved better than that. She was about to make him the happiest man in the world, so she should at least try to join in his elation.
He was loading the dishwasher now, stacking the plates neatly, large ones at the back, smaller ones to the front, while humming along to one of his Country and Western tunes. She wished she could hit the off button, not only because she detested the music, but his humming was grating on her nerves.
Carrying a stack of dishes to the counter, she looked down at the soft whorls of hair on his scalp, and seeing the pale pink flesh beneath she realised it was starting to grow thin. It made him seem vulnerable somehow, less invincible than she’d always considered him to be. He was only human, she reminded herself, and as capable of being hurt, or broken, as anyone else. Considering the power she had over him now, she felt her heart fold around a wave of pity and tenderness – and a guilt that was fierce enough to undo her. She thought of how different things would be now if she’d known three months ago what life had in store. But she hadn’t, so there was no point tormenting herself with futile what-ifs.
In her mind she’d rehearsed several ways to tell him about the baby, but none had included her blurting it out the way she suddenly did. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said, while running hot water over a dessert bowl.
She’d taken herself so much by surprise that she didn’t immediately realise he hadn’t heard. When she did, she wondered if this was life giving her the opportunity to go back. If it was, should she, could she, take it?
‘Pass the long plate,’ he said, glancing up from the dishwasher, ‘I think it’ll probably fit at the back there.’
Susannah handed it over, then returned to the table to clear the remaining dishes. He’d prepared a delicious meal, she was sure, but she’d hardly tasted the few mouthfuls she’d managed. If only he’d become angry about it, or even appeared hurt. Instead, he’d been understanding. She was tired, and had probably overindulged on all the wrong things during the week, so she needed to let her system relax. Why had that irritated her, she wondered. He was only being kind and trying to make excuses for her to prevent her feeling bad, so why, suddenly, was his concern leaving her cold?
‘Shall we watch some TV?’ he suggested, wiping his hands on a tea towel as he stood up. ‘I wouldn’t mind seeing your programme again.’
Her smile was thin as she forced herself to meet his eyes. ‘Actually, I have something to tell you,’ she said, reaching for his hand.
He looked intrigued. ‘What’s that?’ he asked, kissing her briefly.
Reminding herself again of what a wonderful father he would make, and how much he deserved this, she said, ‘We’re going to have a baby.’ The instant the words were out she was sure she’d made a mistake. She shouldn’t have told him yet. She needed more time, but she couldn’t have it now. The truth had slipped from her to him and was already blooming inside him, just as his baby was growing in her.
His changing expressions started to melt the hardened edges of her heart. She watched as his initial uncertainty – had he heard right? – yielded to hope that he had, and then to inexpressible joy. He tried to speak, but emotion choked him as tears swamped his eyes.
Putting her arms around him, she held him close. She didn’t seem to be feeling anything now, except, perhaps, a certain sense of gladness for him, the way she might if she were watching a stranger react to good news.
‘How long have you known?’ he finally managed to ask.
‘Since Monday, but I didn’t want to tell you on the phone.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t,’ he said, holding her face in his hands and gazing fiercely into her eyes. ‘This is how it should be, the two of us together, so I can look at you and tell you how much I love you and how happy you’ve made me.’
Her insides stayed neutral as he kissed her. She was thinking of a scene she’d played earlier in the week, when she’d done exactly this with George Bremell. She was acting again.
‘I want to celebrate,’ he declared, ‘but I guess alcohol’s out of …’ He broke off as his eyes widened with understanding. ‘That’s why you’re not drinking wine,’ he said, and looking down at her abdomen he ran a hand over it, whispering, ‘Thank you for taking care of our baby.’
She wasn’t sure why she was crying, but he took it to be for joy and hugged her again. ‘There are other ways of celebrating,’ he said huskily, ‘and I’d like to be as close as I can to you tonight.’
She allowed him to take her hand and lead her up the stairs, knowing already that she was going to plead tiredness, but not yet able to find the words. When they reached the bedroom she watched him undress and found herself registering, still in a detached sort of way, how physically attractive he was. She could do this, she told herself, and she should, because the closeness might help bring her back to her senses.
‘I forgot to ask,’ he said, turning round with a big smile, ‘how pregnant are you?’
‘About two months, I think.’
He laughed delightedly. ‘He or she is going to make quite a gift for the next New Year.’
How strange that she hadn’t worked out the dates herself. Realising what that told her, she quickly tried imagining the next seven months with her belly swelling and her breasts filling with milk. A part of her was fighting against it, trying desperately to pull away from the other part that was moving on to the first precious moments of holding a new life. If she stayed with that image a moment longer
she knew she’d start crying again. Could she really be considering killing her own child? But it wasn’t an issue now. The decision was made. She’d told Alan, which meant she was having the baby.
‘Have you seen a doctor yet?’ he asked. He was stripped down to his boxers by now and came to sit next to her on the bed.
‘No, but I will,’ she answered.
‘I’d like to come too when you go.’
She smiled. ‘Of course.’
He put an arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder. ‘Are you going to get undressed?’ he whispered.
She nodded, but didn’t move.
‘It’s OK if you’re not feeling up to it,’ he told her. ‘We can just lie together and I’ll hold you.’
Swallowing hard, she turned to look at him and touched her fingers to his face.
‘We should decide when you’re going to tell them at the Centre that you’re leaving,’ he said softly. ‘They’ll need to know soon, I guess.’
She became very still, so thrown by the assumption that not a single word offered itself up for a response. How could she not have seen this coming? It was so obvious, and yet she was completely unprepared.
‘Lucky you’re not too far into the series,’ he continued, ‘they can probably write you out again without too much trouble.’
He knew nothing. Had no understanding at all of how anything worked in her world. ‘I won’t be leaving,’ she told him huskily.
He smiled and smoothed back her hair. ‘But you’ll have to,’ he said. ‘I can see it’s probably going to cause a few problems, with you only just joining and the first programme already out, but apart from anything else, you can’t possibly ride a horse now you’re pregnant.’
‘I won’t – I mean, they’re going to shoot around it, or maybe write it into the script.’