Two Weddings and a Baby

by Scarlett Bailey

  Sue had put an old-fashioned ceramic wash bowl and a jug full of water on the dressing table, and a flannel, which Tamsyn soaked in the thankfully cool water and pressed to Catriona’s head. There was an unopened packet of paracetamol on the top of the chest of drawers next to bed.

  ‘What?’ Catriona turned her head, her eyes taking a moment to focus.

  ‘Is it still raining?’ Catriona asked Tamsyn. ‘I can hear rain coming down, so hard. It’s not right, it’s not right, you know.’

  ‘You’ve got a fever, a really bad one,’ Tamsyn told her, not sure if Catriona knew who she was, or if it mattered. ‘You didn’t take any paracetamol?’

  ‘I don’t believe in it,’ Catriona said, coming back to herself a little. ‘I’ve never believed in masking symptoms. You should always be able to listen to what your body is trying to tell you. Tamsyn? How is the little one?’

  ‘Fine,’ Tamsyn said. ‘Considering. But how are you?’

  ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ Catriona dragged herself up a little. ‘I don’t want you here.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Tamsyn said. ‘I’ll shower and change my clothes before I pick up Mo again. And Cordelia’s got this antiviral hand stuff she buys in bulk. She says children are essentially disgusting and should be considered a potential biohazard at all times.’

  ‘It shouldn’t be you who’s here,’ Catriona insisted. ‘Where’s Jed?’

  ‘Coming; he’s bringing the doctor.’

  ‘I don’t need a doctor,’ Catriona told her. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me. A touch of flu, that’s all. I’m forty-four, and the only time I’ve ever needed a doctor was the time I broke a wrist leading a rambling expedition over Bodmin Moor, and that was all a lot of fuss and bother. It’s not as if I couldn’t have walked back home. I didn’t break my leg.’

  Tamsyn smiled. ‘You’re very stoic, Catriona.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with that,’ Catriona nodded. ‘That’s the trouble with the modern generation. They think that everything is a drama, every little hiccup that happens makes them the centre of the universe and that everyone has to look at them. God wants us to take our trouble on ourselves; he wants us to be strong, to endure. To accept the consequences of our actions, and then he will forgive us. If he knows we have repented, he will forgive us.’

  ‘There’s no harm in asking for help,’ Tamsyn said, thinking of Jed’s mini-sermon. ‘Love thy neighbour as you love yourself.’

  ‘That’s all very well and good,’ Catriona said. ‘But what if you hate yourself?’

  ‘Here we are,’ Jed said. ‘Sorry it took so long. I was just getting Dr Parsons a very strong coffee.’

  ‘Right then, Catriona, how are we?’ Dr Parsons, a very affable man, especially after a cider or two, sat down on the chair next to the bed.

  ‘Well, you look a little the worse for wear,’ Catriona told him. ‘I am fine. It will pass. All this too will pass, Mother used to say.’

  ‘It would pass a lot quicker if you’d take paracetamol to bring down this fever, and keep up your fluids,’ Dr Parsons told her. ‘You need to help yourself, Catriona.’

  ‘Fever is nature’s remedy,’ Catriona insisted.

  ‘To a point,’ Dr Parsons agreed. ‘But there’s no need to feel as bad as you do. Take the paracetamol every four hours. Jed tells me you came down with this yesterday evening, so hopefully in the morning you should start to feel better. But we need to drink plenty, don’t we?’

  ‘Well, it seems that you’re taking care of that side of things for us,’ Catriona said, turning her face away.

  ‘Isn’t there anything else we can do?’ Jed asked. ‘Antibiotics maybe?’

  ‘You know as well as I do that antibiotics won’t do a thing for a virus. She needs rest and fluids. She’ll be on the mend again soon enough, Jed.’

  Remembering the commode, Tamsyn opened the lid, but found that the ceramic bowl it contained was bright, clean and unused.

  ‘You haven’t needed the loo?’ Tamsyn asked her, concerned, because although the extent of her medical knowledge mostly came from watching Grey’s Anatomy dubbed into French, she had a good idea that it might mean something was wrong with Catriona’s kidneys.

  ‘None of your business,’ Catriona snapped, sighing when all three of the intruders in her room continued to wait for an answer. ‘Look, I’m not so sick that I can’t walk to the toilet. And I am not so old that I am ready to let other people clean up my … business.’

  ‘I think she’ll be fine,’ Dr Parsons said. ‘I think you just need to check in on her. It looks to me like it’s the same bug that everyone’s got. Some people just get it worse than others, that’s all. It’s horrible but not life threatening. Perhaps arrange a rota, but be careful of the children, babies and the elderly. Anyone with asthma who hasn’t had a flu jab should stay away. It can be very nasty.’

  ‘I don’t need anyone to check on me,’ Catriona said.

  ‘Well, a full packet of paracetamol and an undrunk glass of water would say otherwise,’ Dr Parsons said. ‘Come on, take two while I’m here. It’s just gone eleven, so you should take some more after five.’

  Tamsyn waited for Jed and the doctor to leave.

  ‘Catriona, is there anything you can tell me that you don’t want to say to a man?’ she asked. ‘I mean, you seemed to be in quite a lot of abdominal pain yesterday. Are you passing urine OK?’

  ‘Of course I am,’ Catriona said, affronted. ‘I’m fine, really.’

  ‘OK,’ Tamsyn said. ‘Well, I’d better get back; got a lot to do and I’ve barely started. I’m making new dresses for Alex and the bridesmaids. Her old ones got trashed in the flood.’

  ‘And the baby?’ Catriona asked her. ‘What’s happening to the baby?’

  ‘We’re still hoping the mother will come forward,’ Tamsyn said. ‘If not, they will start looking to find her a more permanent home. But Sue made the social worker let her stay with me until that time comes.’

  ‘There will be a couple out there,’ Catriona said, ‘who will cherish her. Who will see her as a gift from God, and she will have a wonderful life.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Tamsyn said. ‘Perhaps, but perhaps there is still a chance for Mo and her mum. I hope so.’

  But Catriona had turned her face to the wall again, and after a few more moments of silence Tamsyn supposed she was sleeping again.

  Just as she was leaving she caught sight of someone moving outside, and taking her moment, Tamsyn let herself out of the front door and into the courtyard. The wind howled around her and the air crackled and crashed in fury, and sitting on the steps next to a very bedraggled bay tree, was Kirsten.

  ‘I’m not sure you should be out here,’ Tamsyn said, having to shout to make herself heard.

  ‘Why not? I’m not sitting under a tree or anything,’ Kirsten said. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s amazing, yes,’ Tamsyn agreed, ‘but come inside. Please. I feel nervous, leaving you out here.’

  Reluctantly Kirsten got to her feet and followed Tamsyn inside, another crescendo of thunder unleashing just as Tamsyn managed to push the door shut against the wind.

  ‘You don’t fancy the party?’ Tamsyn asked, having to catch her breath a little.

  ‘No one in there likes me,’ Kirsten said, matter-of-factly.

  ‘Or is it just that you push them away?’ Tamsyn asked her.

  ‘No. They don’t like me. They think I’m a skank. And you know my mum chose my stepdad over me and my brother … It does kind of undermine your self-esteem. That’s what Tess says, but she doesn’t know that I’m glad to be rid of her. It’s better to have no mum than one who hates you.’

  ‘Oh, Kirsten,’ Tamsyn looked down the corridor, past the noise and laughter of the party, and wondered where Mo was; suddenly she wanted to hold her close. ‘Your mum doesn’t hate you. She might not be very good at being a mum, but she doesn’t hate you.’

  ‘And how do you know that?’ Kirsten asked her. ‘You weren�
��t there when she told me … oh, what was it now? Oh yeah, that she hates me.’

  ‘You feel quite crappy, don’t you?’ Tamsyn said. ‘But you know, you are not alone. There are loads of people who …’

  ‘Care about me?’ Kirsten’s laugh was mirthless. ‘Like you, you care about me, do you? You turn up out of the blue and decide to care about everyone you bump into? Look, you might have bunked off school a bit when you were a kid and had one too many ciders in the park, but that is nothing like what’s happening to me. And the thing you people really don’t get is that I don’t care. I would rather be on my own than at home with that bitch, or in there with those fake cows. I’m not pretending not to care – I actually don’t. Now please, just go and take an interest in someone else. I don’t want to be your holiday project.’

  ‘But what about …?’ Tamsyn stopped herself just in time from asking about Mo outright. Kirsten was angry, hurt. But at least she was here. The last thing she wanted to do was chase her away. ‘How about you come and help me out with the dresses? I’ll need someone to help me organise my threads, my beads, sort out materials, maybe even do some cutting. I’ll need a dogsbody. What about that?’

  ‘Sounds like shit,’ Kirsten said, turning her back on Tamsyn and walking up the hallway, past the party and into the darkness.

  ‘So you’ll think about it then, yes?’ Tamsyn said.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was almost three in the morning when Tamsyn could take a step back and know that everything was ready for sewing. At the far end of the tables was Alex’s dress, the pieces all cut and laid out, next to the pattern and ready to go. In an idea world Tamsyn would have made a calico toile first, to make sure that the pattern fitted, but there was no time; it was an almost impossible task as it was. All she could do was hope that the Poldore sewing and embroidering circle was as good as Jed and Sue claimed it was. The trick was going to be to work out what was best to do first, as the sewing, embroidering and beading all needed to happen at the same time. Panels would have to be embroidered and sewn in a particular order, that meant the dresses could be assembled at the same time as being embellished. Tamsyn was sure there would be a solution but her head hurt, and her brain was clouded from being so focused on her task and Mo, currently sleeping in her carrycot, was due a feed in three hours. It was time to get some sleep, perhaps make a cup of tea and go and find their room. After her shower, Tamsyn had raided Cordelia’s closet once again, found several pairs of her sister’s staple black leggings and a fine-knit grey sweater. It was really more like two squares sewn together, and was happily loose, because Tamsyn wasn’t as blessed as her little sister in the chest department, so it made more sense to go braless rather than put something on that would look like two deflated balloons under her clothes, unless she packed it with tissues, something she had vowed never to do again after the terrible date disaster of 2003.

  The kitchen was lit only by lamps dotted around and about, and the odd flash of lightning, the last remnants of the storm that Mo somehow seemed to sleep happily through, although it had still taken Tamsyn about eighteen goes to put her into the carrycot without her noticing at once and protesting, vociferously.

  By two in the morning, the last of the partygoers had left and the motley crew of remaining house guests were quiet at last, most of them trying to come and take a peek at what Tamsyn was up to on their way to bed, including her mother and sisters. She’d chased her sisters away with threats of making them look fat and frumpy in their dresses, if they crossed her. At last she had the means to control them.

  Putting the carrycot down, Tamsyn found a mug and a camomile teabag and waited for the kettle to boil. Which was when she saw the figure lurking below the table. She stifled her scream back into her mouth with her fingers as she realised what she was looking at. It was Jed: Jed was under the table.

  Crouching down, Tamsyn couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. His eyes were wide open and unseeing, his arms clenched tightly around his legs.

  ‘Jed?’ Glancing at Mo, who still slept, Tamsyn pulled aside a chair and knelt on the floor in front of him. Whatever he was seeing, it wasn’t her, and wherever he thought he was, it wasn’t under a kitchen table. He looked terrified, his teeth were chattering and he seemed to be caught in an endless moment of fear, and it was agonising to watch. Tamsyn dithered, uncertain what to do. Perhaps there was something she could do to soothe him, without shocking him.

  Sliding herself under the table, Tamsyn managed to arrange her long limbs so that she was opposite him. Reaching out, she touched his shoulder, withdrawing it when he flinched.

  ‘Go away,’ he said. ‘Please, Tamsyn, go away. I don’t want you to be here.’

  ‘No,’ Tamsyn said calmly, this time talking as she touched him, keeping her voice low and soft. ‘No, I’m not going to go away. I don’t understand what’s happening, but I do know when someone needs a friend. So I’m staying.’

  Jed buried his face in his knees, his shoulders shaking with dry sobs. What was this?

  ‘When I was a little girl,’ Tamsyn said, ‘my friend Merryn and I, we used to make camp under tables and pretend we were pirates. Once we tied Cordelia up and put her in the broom cupboard, which might be where her love-of-bondage thing comes from.’ The lightning came again, but this time there were seconds, perhaps as many as ten, before the rumble of thunder. The storm was passing, hopefully for good this time.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Tamsyn said, running her hand down his arm and repeating the gesture at once. ‘It’s OK, you’re safe. You are safe, and everything is OK.’

  Jed looked up at her as she repeated herself over and over again; she saw the fear in his eyes recede a little, his breathing gradually eased and the tension in his muscles slowly dissipated, until finally he rested his forehead on his knees once again and closed his eyes. They stayed like that for a minute or two until she heard his breathing deepen and she guessed he had fallen into a restful sleep. Tamsyn watched what little she could make out of his face in the low light; the straight nose, the precision-cut jaw. He looked so certain, so strong, yet Tamsyn didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone, man, woman or child, as genuinely frightened as Jed had been just then. What had happened to him? What was it that he had come to Poldore to hide from?

  ‘Jed,’ she said, a little louder. ‘Jed, what’s happening?’

  ‘Tamsyn,’ He looked at her. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I …’ But before Tamsyn could say anything more, Jed had taken her hand from his shoulder and pulled her forward into his arms, virtually onto his lap, put his arms around her waist and held her close to him. Sensing that he needed to know she was real, Tamsyn returned the embrace, winding her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. It was by no means comfortable; her legs were cramped, her body was twisted at all the wrong angles and yet she didn’t try to move; she didn’t want to. It was impossible to know for how many minutes they stayed like that, wordlessly holding each other under the table in the kitchen of Castle House, and it wasn’t important. All that was important was, as each second passed, Tamsyn could feel Jed’s body relax around hers, and she became aware of the strength in his arms, the muscles under his shirt flexing under her fingertips. Neither one of them moved their hands or touched each other, except for the places where their bodies met, and yet Tamsyn had the overwhelming emotion that this was the most truly intimate moment of her life.

  ‘Thank you,’ Jed said eventually, making no attempt to release her. ‘I’m so glad it was you who saw me like this, and no one else.’

  ‘What happened?’ Tamsyn asked him, whispering. ‘You looked so …’

  ‘Frightened,’ Jed finished the sentence for her. ‘I’m glad it was you, but I also wish it wasn’t you. You are the last person I wanted to see me this way.’

  ‘What way?’ Tamsyn shifted herself back a little, touching the palm of her hand to his cheek.

  ‘I thought, I believed that it was over, that I was … They said
that there might still be flashbacks, but it’s been so long, I thought they were gone for good. I was wrong.’

  ‘Jed, what are you trying to hide, because you know, whatever it is, your friends and the people who respect you will feel just the same. Well, unless it turns out you are a licensed to kill, secret MI5 agent. That might change things a little bit.’

  Jed managed a small smile, and Tamsyn was so relieved to see it she found herself leaning forward, pressing her lips to his cheek and feeling for one delicious moment the graze of his stubble against her skin.

  ‘It was my last tour with the army before I left,’ Jed said. ‘In Afghanistan. Us padres, they went to great lengths to keep us out of harm’s way, to keep us safe. I spent most of my time on the base ministering to the troops, and security was tight. Checkpoints, double checkpoints. It was a base near Camp Bastion: the unit I was with were training the local police to take over when the army pulled out. It was a good day. Morale was high, a lot of the lads were about to go home. I was about to go home. I’d enjoyed it. Not many of them were particularly religious, but they liked having me around. They thought of me as their lucky mascot. The bomb-disposal boys would all come and put their hands on the top of my head before they went out. ‘Get a bit of God off the padre,’ they’d say. I always said prayers for them, each one of them, as they rubbed the top of my head …’

  He faltered, and Tamsyn found herself entwining her fingers in his, holding his trembling hands steady as she waited for him to continue.

  ‘One of the guys they’d been training came on duty as usual, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There were no signs, none at all, that he’d turned up that day seeking to become a martyr.’

  ‘He was a suicide bomber?’ Tamsyn asked, her voice barely audible.

  Jed nodded. ‘He killed three soldiers. There were five injured, life-altering injuries, they call them. And the noise, you think you know what a bomb is going to sound like from TV or films or news reports, but really you have no idea how very loud it’s going to be, or that the smoke will get so deep in your eyes and your lungs that sometimes you think you can still taste it.’ Jed swallowed.