Head Over Heels

by Felicity Price

  Sarah paused and took a swig of water from the Pump bottle on her desk.

  ‘You must have been terrified.’

  ‘The adrenalin was pumping so much I didn’t have the chance to feel anything except determination to stop this total idiot blowing up my library and everyone in it. I was absolutely furious with him.’

  ‘So what happened next?’

  ‘He started pacing back and forwards between the window and the counter and fiddling with his jacket. I didn’t know if he was going to pull the cord or what. And then the phone rings again and he tells me to pick it up and it’s the mayor. So I handed it over. I don’t know what he said — Alan took it behind a row of shelves — but they were talking for what seemed like ages. When he finished, Alan handed me back the phone, stuck his face right up to mine and said “No thanks to you, I’m keeping my job. You’d better watch your back — they’ll get rid of you instead.” He was spitting again, I was covered in it, but I daren’t wipe it off my face. Then, calm as anything, he saunters out the front door of the library, like a lamb to the slaughter.’

  ‘It was over?’

  ‘Almost. This hooded man dressed all in black came out of the travel agent’s with a gun pointed at Alan’s head. And then from out of another building came a cop with a gun, and then another cop. Alan was surrounded. They disappeared around the corner and out of sight. So there I was left standing at the counter all alone, suddenly feeling like I was going to pass out. Right at that moment all these police start swarming into the building. I think I must have fainted because next thing I know I’m in the back of an ambulance with this paramedic fussing over me.’

  ‘Were you okay?’

  ‘Physically I was fine. But emotionally, I’m still a wreck. You don’t realise just how much of an effect that sort of thing can have on you.’

  Suddenly I was back in Marmaris, in a state of complete desperation, hoping that Simon would miraculously walk into the hotel room, hoping that he hadn’t been killed in the bomb blast. I could feel myself trembling just at the thought of it.

  ‘Actually, I can imagine,’ I said, but didn’t go on to explain. Sarah was on a roll.

  ‘Of course, they’re offering me counselling, but I’m holding off for a bit. I’ve got so much to do here now, what with the media and the councillors and everything. I’ll worry about the counselling when all this has died down.’

  ‘What about Alan?’

  ‘Well, he appeared in court the next morning. It’ll go on forever now. There’ll be a court case and the whole nine yards.’

  ‘That’ll be tough for you.’

  ‘I guess. But our lawyer says he’ll probably plead insanity.’ She grimaced and raised an eyebrow quizzically. ‘Somehow I doubt that certificate he produced saying he was perfectly sane won’t be worth the paper it’s written on anymore!’

  I laughed. ‘No. But then, you knew that already.’

  ‘It’s been a relief to be able to talk to you about it,’ she said. ‘I haven’t been able to talk outside work about what really happened because it’s sub judice now. And of course I missed the aftermath, when they got all the kids out. Apparently they all started crying as soon as it was over. It was mayhem. I’m quite glad I was unconscious!’ She looked reflective for a moment then snapped back to the present.

  ‘Enough of all that,’ she said briskly. ‘I’ve got to prepare for this council meeting and I need your help with what to say.’

  We got to work on it, and I promised to talk to the council’s comms team about a statement for the media for after the meeting.

  ‘You’re looking really good,’ Sarah said as she farewelled me at the door. ‘Nice and brown. I wish I could be somewhere in the Mediterranean right now instead of having to deal with all this nonsense.’

  It was getting late by the time I got back to the office. There was only time for a few quick calls and emails before it was time to head home. I was looking forward to a restorative family dinner where everyone’s problems would be quickly and happily resolved.

  And pigs might fly!

  Getting back into the rush-hour traffic was a shock. I’d missed the morning traffic because I’d been late, my jet-lagged body sleeping through the alarm and several of its snooze reminders. But going home, the hold-up at the on-ramp seemed to last forever, with both lanes crawling so slowly I had plenty of time to file my nails and make several calls on the hands-free. Finally, with nothing else productive to do, I found myself thinking wistfully back to the Mediterranean idyll I’d left just three days earlier. Looking around at the idling traffic, Rosie’s lights on against the encircling dusk, horns honking impatiently every now and then, I realised sadly it was another world away, a world I might never see again.

  I thought back to those lazy days on the boat, dreaming, reading a whole book in one day, lying on a deck lounger and staring out to sea or, if I was feeling energetic, working out on the cross-trainer. I smiled to myself. By the time I left the ship I was an expert on the mad machine; even better, it no longer made me cross. It had been almost easy at lunchtime.

  A loud honking behind brought me quickly back to reality. There was a big gap in front of Rosie and I was holding up the traffic. I accelerated, glancing apologetically in my rear-vision at the honker behind me, and soon found myself on the motorway heading homewards.

  Tigger almost knocked me over, he was so pleased to see me. I dumped my bag on the bench and went to the hallway to call up the stairs, ‘Anyone fed Tigger?’ Silence.

  I went back into the kitchen and filled his bowl with Meaty Bites and a splash of water and set about getting dinner: defrosting, chopping, stir-frying and saucing. While it was cooking I went upstairs to change and round up the troops. Adam was in his room — surprise! — at the computer. Dad came out of his room, looking reasonably cheerful for a change, and offered to help. I took him up on it and asked him to set the table. Charlotte was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘She’s gone for a run,’ Dad said.

  Charlotte returned soon after and went upstairs for one of her interminable showers. By the time she came back down, dinner was ready and Adam was hanging around, saying he was starving while looking in the refrigerator for something to graze on. I called Dad, who was watching the news. I insisted we turn off the telly and eat at the dining table, herding them all to their waiting plates. It was time for a family conference, I’d decided, but I knew I would have to time the start of the discussion carefully.

  We chatted about incidentals during dinner, skating judiciously around anything that might cause a row. I provided the potted highlights of my trip; Dad brought me up to date on the events in Coro and how we were doing in the rugby; Adam claimed he’d got a good mark for his last science test; and Charlotte complained that Jacinta was still making a pig of herself on cheerios.

  ‘I still like them with lots of tomato sauce,’ Adam said.

  ‘You’d eat anything with tomato sauce,’ I said.

  ‘Jacs drowns them in tomato sauce too,’ Charlotte said. ‘And not even the lite sauce. I just don’t believe it. She’s going through mountains of fatty cheerios and rivers of calorific tomato sauce. It’s not like her at all. She’s like a different person.’

  ‘It’s because she’s pregnant. Don’t you remember me telling you that would happen?’

  ‘Well, she’ll have to stop eating like that. She’s putting on weight,’ Charlotte said sanctimoniously. ‘She said she was eating for two. I said she certainly was — two countries.’

  ‘It probably won’t last very long,’ I said, suppressing a smirk. ‘Cravings usually come and go really quickly.’

  ‘I think they’re all in the mind,’ she said. ‘I’m sure I’ll never have any.’

  ‘You wait till you’re pregnant and then see if you still feel that way.’

  There was what you might call a pregnant pause while Charlotte went pale and looked like she was going to cry.

  ‘I am pregnant,’ she said at last. ‘And I don�
�t feel that way at all.’ Realising what she’d just said, Charlotte looked horrified. She clamped her hand over her mouth but she was too late. The thunderbolt had been dropped.

  I stared at her, stunned, hoping I’d heard wrong.

  ‘You’re not?’ I gasped.

  She kept her hand in front of her mouth, her eyes wide.

  ‘Are you?’ I could hear the quiver in my voice. Still she said nothing, and stared at her plate. I felt like shrieking, but managed to restrain myself so all that came out was a sort of squeaky ‘Charlotte?’

  I could see she was starting to shake. At last she looked up at me and there were tears trickling down her face.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I’m pregnant. I’m the one having morning sickness now.’

  Chapter 25

  There was a horrified silence. I just sat there mouth open, eyes popping. Adam looked totally embarrassed, the sort of look he gets when Charlotte mentions tampons or period pains. Charlotte was staring fixedly at her plate.

  I was having palpitations, my heart racing, my head in a spin, instantly regretting swanning off to Europe, leaving Charlotte in the midst of a disastrous relationship that I knew could only lead to Trouble with a capital T. If only I hadn’t gone, I chastised myself, this would never have happened. Although, if she knew she was pregnant now, when I’d only been back for two days, I realised she must have already been up the duff before I left. I struggled to work it out but I couldn’t seem to think straight.

  Dad was the one to break the ice.

  ‘Well, lassie, your gran would be interested to hear that.’ He wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed away his plate, his meal only half eaten. ‘But don’t you think you’re a wee bit young to be having a bairn?’

  Charlotte shook her head, still staring at her plate.

  ‘And who might the father be?’ I asked, fearing the answer.

  Charlotte shook her head again.

  ‘I bet it’s that old lecturer she’s been after at uni,’ Adam chipped in, predictably stirring the pot.

  I expected Charlotte to fight back or, at the very least, stomp out of the room, but she continued to sit, frozen to the chair, twiddling her fork, eyes fixed on her half-eaten chicken. This time she nodded.

  Half of me wanted to scream and rant and rage at her; the other half wanted to put my arms around her and give her the comfort she so obviously needed. But I was so shocked all I could manage to do was stay sitting, rooted to the spot, twisting my napkin into a mangled knot. I looked at Dad, who was shaking his head and tut-tutting quietly.

  ‘I think I’ll clear the table,’ Dad said, standing up and picking up his plate. ‘Adam, you can help. Come on.’

  Adam looked up at him questioningly. I could tell he was about to say no; I imagined he wanted to stay and hear Charlotte get what-for.

  Dad cleared his throat loudly. ‘Come on, Adam. We’ve work to do. And your mother told me there’s some ice cream in the freezer.’

  That did the trick. ‘Goody Gum Drops?’ he said, gathering his plate, mine and Charlotte’s and leaving the room behind Dad.

  I wanted to shut the door but didn’t think my legs would hold up. I waited until Dad and Adam were making clattering noises, but still couldn’t think where to begin.

  At last I said, ‘Does Peter know?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said very quietly.

  ‘And?’ I prompted. ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘What do you mean? He can’t have said nothing.’

  ‘I don’t think he believed me.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘He said I was trying to trap him and he wasn’t buying it.’

  By a superhuman effort, I managed to stop myself from saying what I felt about that.

  ‘Really?’ I said once I’d got a grip. ‘And that’s it?’

  ‘As I was leaving, he said if it was for real, I’d have to have an abortion.’

  ‘Oh.’ He sounded the typical sort of lecherous lying bastard you’d expect of a two-timing lecturer luring his naïve young students into bed while he had a wife and kids waiting at home. I felt like marching round to his happy home and letting him have it. Not that I was biased, you understand.

  As Charlotte had raised the touchy subject of abortion, I thought I should continue down that track. ‘And will you?’

  ‘Get rid of the baby? Never!’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Never? You see …’

  ‘But …’

  Charlotte looked up at me, all defiance and determination, but there was a softer light in her eyes, a look I’d not seen before. ‘No, Mum. I’m definitely going to keep the baby.’

  I stood up and moved to her, putting my arms around her.

  ‘You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?’

  Her shoulders shook and she put her elbows on the table, holding her hands over her eyes. She began to weep in earnest. I let her go for it, holding her and stroking her hair until the shaking stopped.

  ‘Perhaps you see this baby as a symbol of your love for him.’

  ‘It’s not a symbol of anything,’ she said, looking up at me, tears still trickling down her face. ‘It’s my baby, and I’m going to keep it.’

  ‘Oh, Charlotte, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Please don’t waste it on this man. He doesn’t love you and you’re going to end up looking after this baby all by yourself.’

  ‘I don’t care. I can manage just fine,’ she sobbed.

  ‘When is it due? Do you know?’

  ‘Yes. The doctor said the middle of April.’

  ‘Oh.’ As quickly as my fuddled brain would let me I did the maths. ‘That means you’re just over eight weeks gone.’ I realised there would still be time for an abortion if she changed her mind. I had a feeling twelve weeks was the cut off.

  ‘Mum, I really do want to have this baby. I feel so protective of it already. I can put up with feeling sick. It’s not too bad — only in the evenings really — not nearly as bad as when Jacs had it. And I know from what happened to her that it doesn’t last forever.’

  ‘Does Jacinta know?’

  ‘Oh God no, I couldn’t tell her. She’d be appalled.’

  Well, that threw me. My darling daughter had got herself into this total mess and felt she could tell me about it but not the pregnant Jacinta. It occurred to me they could have formed a cosy little baby club together, but for some reason Charlotte didn’t feel able to confide in her.

  ‘But you told me.’

  ‘It just came out. I wasn’t going to tell you yet, but I was going to tell you. You’re my mother!’

  I felt like crying myself when she said that. And I started to doubt my initial thoughts of abortion. Maybe she should keep the baby and honour the sanctity of the tiny life she was carrying. I knew from experience just how strong the nurturing urge could be when you had a tiny being growing inside you.

  Then it dawned on me: I could be a grandmother!

  That single word aged me several decades in a few seconds.

  I rolled the thought around my head. I wasn’t at all sure I had the right stuff for being a granny. Weren’t they supposed to bake and knit and be at home to look after the grandchildren?

  ‘I’m glad you did tell me, honey. And I want you to know that whatever you decide to do, I’ll be there for you.’

  ‘Thanks Mum.’ She picked up her paper napkin and blew her nose, then gave my hand a squeeze.

  ‘Come on, we’d better see what state the boys have left the kitchen in.’

  As I’d feared, it was a mess, with plates piled on the bench above the dishwasher, the leftover food forming into glutinous lumps. Pots and pans remained scattered across the stovetop, their contents congealing nicely.

  ‘I’ll clean up, honey. You go and have a rest. You look really tired.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’ Charlotte trudged slowly upstairs, the weight of her tiny unborn child upon her.

  Dad and Adam had disappeared, leaving Tigg
er waiting hopefully, eyes raised pleadingly to the exact spot where the leftovers sat.

  ‘It’s your lucky day, boy,’ I said, scraping Charlotte’s chicken, vegetables and rice into his bowl. It was gone in a flash and he was back looking for more, tail wagging expectantly.

  I’d almost finished cleaning up and had just put the jug on for a cuppa when the phone rang. I went to answer it but it wasn’t on its cradle. In fact, it was nowhere to be found. It stopped ringing, meaning one of the kids must have got it.

  A few moments later, Adam appeared with it, held it out to me and said, ‘Don’t be long, Mum, I’m in the middle of something. I need the line again.’

  ‘Yessir!’ I said, mock saluting with absolutely no intention of rushing it back to him.

  ‘Hello, Penny speaking,’ I said.

  ‘Hello sailor,’ Simon chuckled. ‘How’s life back on land?’

  ‘Not good. In fact I wish I’d never come home.’

  ‘That bad, huh?’

  ‘I’ll tell you about it one day. But not right now and not over the phone.’

  ‘Ooh, now you’ve got me intrigued.’

  ‘How about we catch up tomorrow after work? I could do with a drink and a shoulder to cry on.’

  ‘Friday, at, say, six? Sounds good. Where shall we meet?’

  ‘Somewhere with a sea view. I miss the sea. It was so restful seeing it every day in Turkey.’

  ‘Sounds like you’ve lost that restful feeling.’

  ‘That’s for sure. How about we meet at that bar down by the marina?’

  ‘I know the one. Let’s do that.’ I thought he was going to end the call, but after a pause he said, ‘Is there anything I can do to help, Penny? You sound a bit down.’

  I forced a laugh. ‘No, I’ll be fine. It’s been a whirlwind day, that’s all, straight back into work and family fun and games. It’s as if they’ve all been waiting for me to come back so they can unload their problems onto me.’

  ‘Tell me about it. I feel like I need a break already! I’ve come back to some issues here too, but nothing major, thank God.’