A Vintage Summer

by Cathy Bramley

  My pulse raced. ‘What do you mean?’

  I stood beside him, leaning against the fridge, close enough to feel the heat from his skin.

  ‘Outside you asked me a question. The truth is …’ He sipped his water and set his glass down. ‘If I could stay longer this evening I would; I’d really like to whisk you off somewhere for dinner and get to know you a bit better.’

  I glanced down at my tummy. ‘You’ve seen bits of me that have never been seen before.’

  His gaze softened. ‘That was amazing. I thought it would look like a little blob, but it was all there. A proper little person.’

  My stomach swooped as I remembered my baby bouncing about looking like it was having a lovely time. ‘It is.’

  He turned to face me. ‘Lottie, you being pregnant did throw me for two reasons. Firstly, because I’m worried enough about Gran here on her own and what might happen if I’m not around, but now I’ve got two of you to worry about.’

  ‘Betsy and I are fine. We hardly ever climb trees or practise our knife-throwing these days,’ I said, unable to resist teasing him, but secretly flattered that he cared.

  ‘Don’t joke, I’m serious.’ He had a crease between his eyebrows that appeared when he was worried; it was there now.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said, meaning it. ‘But I promise you we won’t do anything stupid.’

  His eyes held mine for a moment before he glanced away uneasily. ‘There’s an opening coming up at work; it would be a big step up for me and if I get it, I’ll be travelling more, a lot more, so I need to know you’re safe. Both of you.’

  ‘Is that why you’re going to Cape Town?’

  He nodded. ‘We’re finalizing the costings for a global project. If I impress the directors, there could be another promotion in it for me.’

  ‘Of course you’ll impress them.’ I nudged him playfully, even though the thought of seeing him even less than I did now was frankly depressing. ‘And I’ll be here, acting sensibly for as long as Betsy will have me. What’s the second reason?’

  He glanced at me briefly then rubbed a hand through his hair.

  ‘Look, from what you’ve said, you had a great childhood, stable and loving, two parents who doted on you. I had love but no stability and I believe every child deserves both. I guess—’ He faltered, as if struggling to find the right words, and gulped at his water.

  My heart sank; so that was the end of that. It was obvious he didn’t want things to go any further between us. He’d seen the baby as a real tangible being on the screen today and it must have made him realize just what he’d be getting himself into.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I said, plastering on a smile. ‘I understand. Let’s say no more about it. Perhaps you should be going.’

  He spluttered on his water. ‘No, no, that’s not what I mean!’

  I frowned. ‘Then I’m confused.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he smiled contritely. ‘Told you I was rubbish at this sort of thing. What I mean is that I feel like I should step back and put my own feelings to one side, give you time to patch things up with your ex. Because if there was any chance you could work things out with him and be parents together, a family, I don’t want to get in the way of that.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re not stepping back because I’m carrying another man’s baby?’ I asked quietly. ‘Because no one would blame you if you were; it’s a big ask. Think of all the comments we’d get in public when I get bigger; people will assume it’s yours.’

  ‘Only people who don’t know us, and who cares what they think?’ His gaze softened and the look in his eyes melted my heart. ‘None of that bothers me at all.’

  ‘You are kind, Mr Butterworth.’ I leaned my head against his shoulder. ‘In a perfect world, I’d like to be doing this with the baby’s father. But it’s not going to happen.’

  One corner of his mouth lifted. ‘Is it really bad of me that I’m quite pleased?’

  ‘Very bad,’ I teased. ‘Anyway, you kissed me last Sunday, that wasn’t stepping back.’

  ‘I’m only human.’ He turned to face me, and took the glass out of my hand. ‘And you are adorable.’

  To my total horror I replied by burping in his face. ‘I am so sorry. I’m very gassy these days.’

  ‘Spitting and belching,’ he said, laughing. ‘Remind me again why you’re still single?’

  I shrugged playfully. ‘It’s a mystery.’

  ‘To me too,’ he said softly.

  I held his gaze and felt my heart thump against my ribs. My feelings for this lovely man were getting harder to hide and suddenly I wanted him to know everything, to put his mind at rest about Harvey and to know with absolute certainty that he was no longer part of my life.

  ‘Then I’ll tell you: I’m single because Harvey was controlling and erratic and I was scared of him. So I left him. I don’t want him to be part of my life, or the baby’s. We could never be parents together.’ I blew out a breath. ‘So now you know.’

  Jensen looked stricken and stared for a second.

  ‘Oh my God, I had no idea. Come here.’

  Then he pulled me towards him and held me tight, and I buried my head in his neck while he pressed kisses to my hair and I dared to think that maybe if he cared for me like I was beginning to care for him, then one day home for him would mean coming home to me. We stayed like that, holding each other, until the sun slipped from the sky and the owl started to hoot and he regretfully peeled himself away, made me vow to look after myself and promised to meet me before my radio interview in London and take me for lunch.

  All of which was heavenly but made me very late getting round to ringing my dad.

  Conscious of the time difference between England and Germany, as soon as Jensen had gone, I got comfortable on the sofa and dialled my dad’s mobile number. He must have been waiting for my call because he answered on the first ring.

  ‘Hello, Dad!’

  ‘Hello, love. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten your old man.’

  ‘Sorry I’m late. I’ve had a visitor and he’s only just left.’

  ‘A gentleman caller, eh?’ Dad probed.

  ‘Not like that,’ I said vaguely, not wanting to go into details. I knew what Dad was like: he’d be wanting chapter and verse if I didn’t nip it in the bud. Besides, I really wanted to tell him about the baby. ‘It was my boss Betsy’s grandson, Jensen. But enough about him, how are you?’

  ‘Good, I think. At least, Agnes says I’ve got roses back in my cheeks.’

  ‘She speaks good English, then?’

  ‘She speaks four languages. She claims to be a little rusty at English, but I think she’s amazing,’ he said proudly. ‘She used to be a translator but she’s retired now. Well, I say “retired”, she runs a dog rescue centre and has a field she rents out to campers.’

  ‘She sounds lovely, not to mention very enterprising.’ I smiled; it was so good to hear the enthusiasm in his voice. It seemed he had found a foxy frau after all.

  ‘I think she’s marvellous, and she’s great company; if I’d known how much fun you could have being retired, I’d have done it years ago. Up until my accident she was acting as my tour guide. I’ve been to places that tourists would never normally go to.’

  Such as the inside of an operating theatre, I mused. ‘And how are all your broken bits?’

  ‘Recovering nicely,’ he said briskly. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

  ‘No more motorbiking, okay?’

  ‘Don’t worry; I’ll stick to Agnes’s sidecar from now on.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing!’

  ‘I’m teasing,’ he said with a chuckle.

  ‘You do sound happy.’

  ‘I am,’ he said brightly. ‘I’ve missed having someone who cares about me.’

  ‘Oh Dad,’ I said quietly. I cared about him and so did Evie, but I knew what he meant. He missed having someone to share life’s ups and downs with, or simply someone to mull over the minutiae of the everyday. Even though I wa
s rarely on my own for long, I missed that too and I’d only been single for a matter of weeks; Dad had been on his own for over a decade.

  ‘And I’ve missed someone to fuss over in return. Not that I can do much at the moment; I’m a liability. But she calls me “Schatz” – I wasn’t sure about that at first, it sounded a bit rude, but it means treasure. It’s a long time since I’ve been anyone’s treasure.’

  ‘Evie and Darren said she’s very nice.’

  ‘She is. She’s made the last couple of weeks very enjoyable.’

  My heart squeezed for him and in that moment I don’t think I’d ever missed Mum more. But it was good that he was moving on. He deserved happiness.

  ‘So,’ I said, remembering why I was phoning him, ‘when do you think you’ll be home?’

  ‘Can’t drive for another few weeks, so Agnes is stuck with me. But she’s got a few jobs lined up for me; I doubt I’ll have time to get bored. And,’ he paused to clear his throat, ‘I’ve heard that Munich at Christmas is lovely so I’ll probably stay until at least then.’

  My eyes nearly popped out on stalks; Christmas was four months away. ‘Gosh, you really do like her, don’t you?’

  ‘Early days, but, yes I do.’ He sounded so worried I could have hugged him. ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Not at all; I’m thrilled … but, Dad …’ I bit my lip. ‘Please can you be home by February, because I’d like you to meet someone.’

  ‘But not until February? That’s very precise. You’re not getting married, are you?’ He chuckled. ‘Is it that boy – what was his name? – Jensen?’

  ‘It might be a boy.’ I swallowed. ‘Or it might be a girl. I’m having a baby, Dad.’

  There was a silence down the other end of the phone. I held my breath and eventually heard him blow his nose.

  ‘Dad, are you there?’

  ‘Stone the crows, I’m going to be a granddad,’ he cried with a watery laugh. ‘Congratulations, love! I’ll definitely be back for February; try keeping me away. And tell me how you are; is everything okay? Have you been poorly?’

  Relieved, I told him how far along I was and that I had a tiny bump already. And that I hadn’t really lost my passport, but that I’d had to go for my scan. I described how the baby had kicked and waved its arm. Then he shared the news with Agnes who came on the phone and wished me well. I heard her kiss his cheek and I shed a tear at the enormity of everything.

  ‘And what does Harvey have to say about it?’ Dad asked when things had calmed down a bit.

  ‘He doesn’t know yet.’ I sighed. I would have to tell him, I knew that; but how? I didn’t want to see him face to face and I couldn’t imagine delivering this sort of news in a letter. ‘I’m dreading him finding out; I don’t want him to have anything to do with it.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ Dad growled. ‘Maybe you could do nothing for now, wait until the baby’s born and if you decide you want him to know then I’ll go and visit him first.’

  I blew out a long breath. ‘Would you? I’d like that; thanks, Dad.’

  ‘Don’t mention it; you’re still my little girl, you know.’

  We fell silent for a few seconds and then I asked him something that had been bothering me.

  ‘Dad, do you think Mum would have been disappointed in me, because I’m unmarried and bringing a baby into the world as a single mum?’

  ‘Don’t be soft,’ he chuckled. ‘She’d have your scan photo enlarged and mounted above the mantelpiece and she’d be knitting bonnets for England. She’d be as proud as Punch.’

  I let out a trembly breath. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’d better go,’ he said, and I could hear him shuffling in his chair ready to sign off. ‘Goodness knows how much this call is costing you.’

  ‘You’re worth it,’ I said, laughing. ‘Look after yourself, Granddad.’

  Chapter 24

  ‘Don’t throw that away,’ said Marjorie indignantly as Betsy consigned another of Ted’s T-shirts to the bin bag I was holding open for her. ‘There’s plenty of wear left in it and it might fit me.’

  Betsy retrieved it and sighed dramatically. ‘Here you are, Cinders, you shall go to the ball.’ She tossed the faded T-shirt to her sister-in-law. ‘But I will point out that I bought that on a trip to Valencia and I paid for it in Spanish pesetas. So it’s at least twenty years old, and quite probably older.’

  ‘Even better,’ said Marjorie, stretching it across her bosom and twinkling her eyes at me. ‘That means it’s vintage. It’s what all the cool kids are wearing this summer.’

  Betsy tutted her disapproval and shoved a handful of men’s pyjamas into the bag before Marjorie purloined those as well. Starsky had made a nest for himself in one of Ted’s old jumpers and had fallen asleep on his back, paws in the air, with the most adorable doggy smile on his face. He was probably dreaming of happy days spent with his master. The thought made my eyes sting and I laughed to myself. My brain had turned to mush recently; I never used to be this soppy. I gave myself a shake and pulled a pretty white broderie anglaise dress from the pile. It had soft gathers under the bust line and three pearly buttons down the front. ‘This can’t be Ted’s!’

  Betsy looked up and tried to focus on what I’d found. ‘I’ve thrown some of my things away too. It’s a nightdress, but it was always too short to be decent on me. Might suit you, though.’

  I agreed, thinking it would be perfect in the months to come.

  Marjorie harrumphed. ‘So Lottie gets your lovely cast-offs and I have to beg for Ted’s old T-shirts.’

  ‘She is going to need some bigger clothes soon,’ Betsy said reprovingly, ‘whereas you take great delight in dressing like a bag lady.’

  Marjorie hooted with glee. ‘True on both counts.’

  ‘I need bigger clothes now,’ I said, tugging at my T-shirt. ‘For something the size of an onion, this baby certainly seems to be making its presence felt.’

  ‘Wait until you get heartburn,’ said Betsy. ‘And swollen ankles.’

  ‘You look radiant, Lottie,’ Marjorie cut in. ‘Don’t listen to the prophet of doom over there.’

  I shook my head fondly, left them bickering and went into the kitchen to make us all a drink.

  It was the second week in September and four weeks since my scan; I was eighteen weeks’ pregnant and according to the baby website I was addicted to, the baby only weighed 190 grams. I, on the other hand, had put on considerably more and I wouldn’t have been able to hide my pregnancy even if I’d wanted to. We’d had a team meeting a couple of weeks ago and I’d told everyone my news and handed round the scan photo. I’d become almost tearful at their display of kindness and excitement, feeling much loved, and to everyone’s surprise, Roger had welled up too and promptly offered his babysitting services when the time came. Matt had popped the cork on a bottle of 2015 Blanc de Noir and topped one up with a splash of orange juice for me and they’d all drunk to my health. Since then, they’d treated me with kid gloves, making sure I didn’t lift anything too heavy and spying on me to check I was taking a lunch break and eating properly. It was like having a flock of aunts and uncles tucking me under their wings and I considered myself very fortunate.

  My so-called housekeeping duties had never really materialized and had dried up altogether once Betsy found out I was pregnant. Things had eased on the cash flow front, she assured me. A cleaning firm with a military-style attention to detail now came in once a week to ‘do’ for her. At the moment I was still enjoying being in charge of the cottage garden and veg patch, although Betsy had warned me that as soon as I struggled to bend down to pick the lettuce, she was getting a gardener in. However, Marjorie had phoned yesterday to tell me that she and Betsy were planning on tackling some of the wardrobes this morning and had asked if I’d be able to carry things downstairs to make it easier for them both to manage.

  I took a tray of tea back into the living room and found both ladies fanning their faces with table mats.

  ‘Have you finished?
’ I said, handing Marjorie a cup.

  ‘For now,’ said Betsy, adding a drop of milk to hers. ‘The wardrobe in the spare room is completely empty.’

  ‘Three bags full for charity, two for the bin and four new T-shirts for me,’ said Marjorie happily.

  ‘Hmm,’ Betsy sniffed. ‘We’re supposed to be sweeping away the old to make room for the new, remember?’

  ‘They are new to me,’ said Marjorie, crunching on a custard cream.

  ‘Making room?’ I asked. ‘Are you both planning a shopping trip?’

  The two old ladies looked at each other shiftily.

  ‘Sort of,’ said Betsy, twisting her wedding ring round, not meeting my eye. ‘Have you heard from Jensen?’

  If she was trying to distract me, it worked; my heart was pierced with a tiny dart of joy at the mention of his name. Only two weeks until I was due in London for the radio interview and, more importantly, a lunch date with Jensen.

  I nodded. ‘He Skyped me last night; he’s there for another three days and loving every minute. Apparently Cape Town is amazing and the project is going well.’

  ‘Drat,’ said Marjorie, furrowing her brow like a cartoon baddie. ‘Looks like your dastardly plan might fail, Betsy.’

  Betsy sighed. ‘Yes, how tedious. We really need him to hate it there.’

  I smiled at their comical plotting. ‘Why?’

  ‘His boss has hinted that if he does well with this project it could lead to a promotion to head up the Cape Town office.’ Betsy folded her arms crossly. ‘And that would mean a permanent move to South Africa.’

  ‘A permanent move!’ I gasped, completely unable to mask my dismay.

  This must have been what he’d been referring to when he’d said he might be away more in the future. I hadn’t realized that he’d be away all the time. No wonder he hadn’t repeated his offer to take me to dinner. He’d probably only invited me to lunch because I’d forced him into a corner. How embarrassing. Was it really bad of me to hope that he didn’t do well with the project …?

  ‘And of course he’ll do brilliantly,’ said Marjorie, regarding my expression shrewdly. ‘So our only hope is that he’ll decide he doesn’t want the job even if he’s offered it.’