by Caron Allan
I’m curled up in a chair in the corner of the room, well away from poor old Rev Steve and – ooh, front door!
Same day – later – 8.35pm
Phew – Mavis and Henrietta did the right thing and turned up at my place. And once they’d made a start on Stephen, Matt stuck his head round the door and called me.
“We’re going out,” he said when I joined him in the hall. And he grabbed my hand and pulled me after him out through the kitchen, past Cynth who was saying to Lill in tones of disbelief, “what and it’s your son’s baby? I can’t credit it, I just can’t. It’s like a bleedin’ hippie commune – free love and all that malarkey. Do they smoke Pot or something?”
Like I said, she won’t stay.
We jumped into the little runabout and drove off. I felt as though I was playing truant. It was another gorgeous day. Matt drove out into the countryside, through meandering greenery until we reached the village of Lower Slaughter. (Can’t help feeling that will win the Least Appropriate Village Name Of The Year award) We parked and had a leisurely wander round the village, walked along the river Eye, looked at the lovely old cottages. It was peaceful and very pretty. We went into the pub for lunch.
“That Cynth woman won’t stay,” I said. He agreed.
“What are we going to do about getting more help in the house if no one stays?” I said. He shrugged. Took another sip of his apple and blueberry juice. He’s driving, bless.
“We’ll think of something. Forget about it for now.”
“Are you all packed for going to Scotland on Sunday?” I asked. He shrugged again. Mr Laid-back.
“Not much to pack. Couple of t-shirts. Some jeans. That’s it. Toothbrush.”
“Hmm.” I said, thinking, what the hell is he talking about? He’ll need at least one jacket. T-shirts indeed. But – I reminded myself - still plenty of time before I need to start trying to change him. All the same, conversation as a bit of an up-hill struggle. I decided to try again.
“Where do you think we’ll stop?” He just looked at me as if I’d addressed him in Punjabi. “On the journey up to Jess and Murdo’s, where do you think we’ll stop? For a break?”
“Wherever we feel like stopping, I guess.”
Mentally I threw up my hands and stormed out. Physically, I took another bite of my chicken panini and looked out of the window. I decided to leave the rest of the conversation to him. Felt I’d done my bit. After all, it was his stupid idea to come out. Somehow I had assumed that would include conversation. Silly me, not checking the small print again. There was a protracted silence.
“I know why we’re going to Scotland.” He said, several minutes later. I still didn’t feel like playing ball so I merely quirked an eyebrow at him and said, “Oh?” See how he likes it, I thought.
“You’re going to see his grave.”
“There is no grave.” I said, snappy now, “he was cremated. We scattered his ashes in Jess and Murdo’s garden.”
Side-tracked, he wrinkled his nose. “In their garden?” I’d forgotten he hadn’t been there.
“It’s a bloody enormous garden,” I said. “There’s a beautiful little closed–in bit with roses and such. About half a mile from the house.”
“That is an enormous garden.” He agreed. There was the ghost of a smile. “But that’s why you’re going, right?”
“More or less. But I also wanted Jess and Murdo to meet you – and for you to meet them, of course, and I thought it would be nice for Lill and Sid to have a few days on their own, and for us to take the children.”
“Is that the only reason?” He asked with a smug grin. I didn’t know what he knew or thought he knew, but I wasn’t ready to reveal my hand this early in the game.
“Yes.” I said and balling up my napkin I left it in the middle of my plate, got up and went off to the ladies’.
When I came back he was still smug but not quite so irritating. We drove back home, in silence, but at least it was a comfortable silence. He irks me, that Matt Hopkins, but there’s definitely something about him …
When we got home again, everyone had gone apart from Lill and Sid and the kids. Even Cynth had gone. No big surprise, she had said she wasn’t coming back. I was fairly relieved about that. It’s so stressful having strangers about one’s house.
I sat at the kitchen table with Lill. She was upset about Cynth, apologising over and over again.
“I don’t know what’s the matter with me,” she said, “I used to be such a good judge of character, I’d know straight off if I was going to hit it off with someone. Wiv bofe these women, I fort they was bofe perfect, just what we wanted. But I was as wrong as wrong can be.”
I patted her hand.
“Third time lucky, Lill. We’ll try again. Just make sure they know it’s a slightly unusual set-up here. Don’t let it worry you. Did you see anything of Mavis or Henrietta?”
“Not really. Mavis, she stuck her head round the door and said they was taking the vicar to the hospital and then on to the police station. Poor bugger, didn’t seem like he knew what time of day it was.”
“It must have been horrible for him.” I agreed. We sat quietly for a while. Lill got up to feed the cats who were milling around, their stomachs telling them it was dinner-time.
When she sat down again, after filling the kettle for yet another cuppa, she said, “and what do you think we should do about your old friend Monica Pearson-Jones?”
I sighed. “I have absolutely no idea.”
Sunday 10 August – 11.15pm
We’ve had two days of sorting, packing, resorting and repacking and now we are finally ready to set off in the morning for Scotland.
I’m sitting up in bed. The two boys – in this case Darcy and Bingley, not Matt and Sid – are sprawled across one side of my bed snoring loudly. Good thing I don’t need much room! (Although I now need more room than I used to – feel like I’m the size of the average pilot whale). Have spent ten minutes rubbing very expensive cream into my belly to try to prevent stretch marks – seems to be working so far, but I suppose the tricky bit is after the baby’s born, when I will be hoping that my belly will miraculously spring back to its previously youthful flatness. (LOL!!!! That will never happen, not with all those hot chocolates with ‘all the trimmings’.)
We’re planning on leaving at about nine o’clock tomorrow morning. I do hope the children will be all right on such a long journey. They should be fine so long as I give them a couple of books and their Teddies. I have dug out an old copy of Vogue that Billy hasn’t seen yet, so that should keep her quiet for a couple of hours.
I’m both looking forward to and anxiously dreading the trip. Fingers crossed, it’ll all turn out okay.
It will, won’t it?
Looking forward to seeing Jess and Murdo again. V. nervous though. Must stop thinking about this occasion as some massive and life-changing event (which it is) and try to keep it in perspective and see it as a nice little summer break plus a chance to introduce ‘the family’ to Jess and Murdo. And vice-versa, of course.
Huff. Must try to get to sleep.
Same day – 0.45am
Have been lying here for over an hour in the dark trying to get to sleep and all I can hear is those damned cats snoring, mocking me with their deep, refreshing sleep and devil-may-care attitude to life. What it is to have no worries and a clear conscience!
So came back downstairs again to have a drink and a good moan in my journal. I wonder what Madison is thinking, sitting there in her prison cell. Lying there on her bed-bug infested, vomit-and-urine-stained lumpy police-issue mattress. With her stainless steel toilet with no seat, lid or bathroom walls around it. I only hope she doesn’t fashion a noose out of her knicker-elastic and hang herself, that would be horrible, not to mention rather too embarrassing to tell one’s friends. Assuming she makes it through the night, she should be coming home tomorrow, apparently she’s being released on bail. I wonder if she will actually go to prison when the case finall
y comes to trial? I wonder if either Vanessa or Sacha will actually press charges when it comes down to it? Probably not. But if they do, it should be a fairly short sentence, I would think, as she didn’t really do that much damage.
Meanwhile our heartbroken vicar is pining away at home all alone – Vanessa left the marital home this afternoon as soon as she was released from hospital. She was literally just in the house long enough to grab her toothbrush and a lipstick, then off she went in her car, the poor vicar running after her, sobbing that he loved her and that he was sure he could come to forgive her in time. Apparently there was a bit more about seventy-times seven, whatever the hell that means.
Lill predicts a stream of hopeful single women with casseroles over the next day or two.
“Surely not!” I said but she was adamant.
“He’s a chick-magnet.” Was her pronouncement. “You mark my words.” Where do they pick up these phrases?
I thought it was too bizarre to contemplate, but between 1.30 and 5.30 pm no fewer than four women have arrived at the vicarage with loaded Tupperware, my source (Mavis) tells me.
This baby is moving about a lot more now. I never tire of it. It’s really very exciting if a tad strange to feel some odd, separate creature rummaging about in there. Will deffo soon be clad in the voluminous blouses and leggings that typify those in my plight with a massive bulge to drape comfortably. I sat looking at the little pic from the scan again. I keep it in my bag now so it’s always with me. Tried showing it to other people, but apart from Matt and Lill and Sid, no one else gives a stuff. And even they are getting a bit fed up.
Tiny little snub nose. Tiny little fingers, delicate but precise. Toes. Arms. Legs. The heart throbbing away in there, the eyes. It seems like every second I think of the incredible burgeoning child in my belly. This is both different to my imaginings of a year ago, and exactly how I thought it would be.
Had a peek in at the children. It’s odd to think that in a couple of years there will be a child – my child – who is Billy’s size. And by then, Billy will be Paddy’s size and Paddy – he will be – what, six and a half? A big boy! OMG!!!!
In two years’ time there might even be another baby, another one after Thomas Sidney – we could have a second child???? Who knows what the future will bring. Until a year ago I thought I could see my whole future life stretched out ahead of me like a long, unbroken golden thread. I thought I knew exactly how it would be and exactly what would happen. But I learned how quickly that thread could be snapped and the known become unknown.
Which brings me back once more to Monica. My thoughts have gone in circles. I can’t stop myself thinking this way at the moment. I think about those I love, my family around me, and suddenly I remember Monica and I am aware of just how much I have to lose now. I’m obsessing about her. Just when I thought that part of my life was hidden in the past, here she is again.
I just know it, I’m going to have to kill her again.
Wednesday 13 August – 4.30pm
What an odd few days – and so, so hectic, this is the first time I’ve had a few minutes to myself to take the opportunity to write in my journal.
Today has been just surreal – I’m an emotional wreck, but am happy now, and feeling a sort of divine inner peace. For the first time in twelve months.
To begin with – the children – bless their little cotton socks! – were as sick as dogs on the way up. I feel terrible that we put them through such an ordeal, but it just didn’t occur to either Matt or myself that neither of them is used to such long car journeys, and it was ridiculously stuffy in the car, even with the windows open – there was barely a breath of air until we got over the border into ever-present winter.
We made a couple of stops on the journey but it was a really long day for all of us. Paddy and Billy had a little potter round the kiddies’ areas at the service stations, once we had rummaged through all the bags to find them fresh clothes and I had given them both a standing-up bath in the ladies’. Both kids smelt rather revolting, though, having been sick all down themselves, and they were a bit wobbly as they valiantly ran about in the fresh air. We topped them up with some sensible food that wasn’t likely to react badly with car travel and obviously, lots of water. Poor little things. I was so relieved when we finally arrived at Jess and Murdo’s and unpacked our two little invalids. Actually I really admired the children’s resilience. And I know Matt really admired how quickly I became all practical sympathy and sorted the kids out whilst he queued up for our food.
Then, both kids were terrified of Murdo – well, he is six foot six with a massive black beard the size of Essex, and bears a slightly uncanny resemblance to the dearly departed Mick Quimper. Poor Murdo.
Jess was astonished – she told me later - to see how I had blossomed into a practical Mum. She was an angel, helping us to bath both the children and then she heated up some nice, comforting soup and made little bread soldiers for them. Kids were in bed asleep by six-thirty. And there was me thinking we’d never get them to go to sleep in a strange place. But they are in my room, and Matt is in the room next door. (I had already let Jess know we didn’t really share a room at the moment – which she found a bit odd, and understandably so, given my current ’predicament’.)
It feels so odd to be here without Thomas – I keep expecting to turn around and see him coming through a door. It constantly feels like he’s just stepped out of the room for a moment. And at first things were a bit odd with Matt. Of course he’s not a Hooray Henry like the rest of us, and he doesn’t shoot or hunt which disappointed Murdo. But then Murdo found Matt was a huge fan of fishing and - well - consider that ice well and truly broken.
So – I think it might actually work out! When I helped Jess to do the after-dinner drinks, Jess quickly whispered to me, “I’m a bit surprised to say I like him, Cress, I mean, he’s not Thomas but ... well, he’s nice, actually, and very funny. Not to mention sexy as hell. Not surprised you’re knocked up.” That made my day. The rest of the evening was gentle and relaxing. The stress fell from my shoulders like a wet anorak. Paddy woke up and had a little grizzle later on but Matt went and got him and brought him back with him. He sat the little chap on his lap and carried on talking to Murdo about bait, and pretty soon, Paddy had nodded off again. Very family. Very warm and pleasant.
Yesterday was all about catching up. Murdo was off shooting with his pals, but Jess entertained us, taking Matt and the children on a little tour of the house and grounds, and a couple of times she and I managed to get a few minutes alone to chat and I filled her in on the children’s background, and again, she expressed her approval of Matt, of the children, of the bloom in my cheek and my baby belly. She was outraged at how the children have suffered and strong in her approval of adopting them. And she didn’t once comment on Billy’s mixed-raceness. I am so relieved she likes Matt, I don’t know what I would have done if she didn’t. At one point I said to her, “do you think I did this too soon?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter what I think, Sweetie-Pie, it can’t be changed. And you’re happy, I can see that.” Then a bit later she said, “I thought at the time it was rather soon. But now I’ve had a chance to think about it, it wasn’t too soon. You didn’t go looking for anyone, it just sort of happened. And it’s been a year, that’s the traditional length of time to wait before starting out again. And sorry to be harsh, but life does just go on. You weren’t in love with him when you got pregnant, though, were you?”
“No.” I said. “That’s happened gradually over the last couple of months. To begin with he was just a nuisance, I resented him because his parents took their attention from me to fuss over him. But then he became a friend, and then it sort of blossomed. Not that we really spend much time together. It’s still in the early stages, but I think it might work out.”
“You idiot,” she said with a laugh, and hugged me and kissed my cheek. “Of course it will bloody well work! He’s fabulous!”
And I
think he likes them, too.
This morning I awoke with a feeling of apprehension. This was the day. It is one year today since Thomas died. Felt a bit sick and headachy.
I saw both the children’s beds were empty, so I went down to the kitchen and found everyone already there having breakfast. Murdo was gulping down the last of his before heading out. As he was leaving the room, he took my hand.
“I hope you don’t mind us doing this today of all days? It’s not lack of respect, you know, and we will drink a dram to his memory later on. Are you okay with it going ahead?”
“Of course,” I said, and I was touched that he thought to ask. After all, the shoot brings in a lot of money to the estate every year. “It’s fine. Go ahead and enjoy yourself. With my blessing. I know Thomas would have wanted you to carry on.” And I stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.
“Well, maybe he’ll be there with us in spirit.” He patted my arm and left.
I left soon after breakfast. I hadn’t been able to eat anything, and as the children were engrossed in a spot of painting, following which I knew Jess and Matt had plans to take the children out to look at the animals, and even though I would have loved to see their faces as they attempted to wrangle the chickens or the pigs, I could not put this off any longer. This, really, was what I was here for, after all.
There is a little copse beside the lake, a hundred metres from the house. That is where some roses have been planted, and there is a bench. It’s not where he died, but it’s where we scattered the ashes so that he would always be a part of this place he had known and loved since childhood.
I sat on the bench and felt awkward. Suddenly I felt that I was in the wrong place. I was tense, couldn’t seem to get the words out. I wanted to speak to Thomas, I wanted to feel close to him, to feel as if he was there and I could talk to him. But the place felt all wrong somehow, and isolated and – empty. So, feeling rather ridiculous, I laid the flowers I was carrying under a rose bush and just walked away without saying a single word barely ten minutes after I sat down.