by Isabel Wolff
‘Yes,’ I said indignantly. ‘It is.’
‘But I did do it deliberately,’ said Bella quietly. I looked at her. It was the first time she’d spoken since I’d arrived.
‘What?’ said Bea.
‘I did do it deliberately,’ she repeated calmly. ‘I told him I was on the pill. It was a lie.’ I looked at Bea. Her mouth was an ‘o’. ‘But I wasn’t trying to trap him,’ Bella explained. ‘I just wanted to have a baby; and now I am. To be honest, now it’s sunk in, I’m not really that bothered that Andrew’s gone.’
‘But I thought you were nuts about him,’ I protested.
‘Well, yes, that’s true. I was. But then, recently, I’d come to realise that I wasn’t quite as nuts about him as I had been to start with.’
‘Well you gave a jolly good impression that you were,’ said Bea crossly.
‘That’s because I was hoping it would improve. So if I appeared enthusiastic it was because I was trying to convince myself, as much as him. But I did want to get pregnant,’ she concluded, ‘and now I have.’
‘That’s a bit cynical,’ Bea sniffed.
‘Not really—because I’d be quite happy for him to stick around. But the fact that he’s run a mile doesn’t particularly bother, or even surprise me.’ I mentally anagrammatised his name again. ‘I’d begun to realise how immature Andrew is,’ Bella went on. ‘So I guess fatherhood would shatter his delusions of youth. I mean, why do you think he’s forty-seven and still single?’
‘Hmm,’ I said. This was true. ‘When’s the baby due?’
‘In early November. I conceived when we went skiing. That’s why I went,’ she explained. ‘I know it was terribly selfish of me to go, Bea, and I’m very sorry, but I knew I’d be ovulating that week—and I did. I peed on those sticks, and I ovulated, and I got pregnant, and now I’m happy; so don’t worry about me. And if Andrew wants to be a proper father that’s absolutely fine—but if he doesn’t, well that’s fine too. I’m thirty-eight,’ she added. ‘I knew there weren’t going to be many more chances of getting pregnant and so I decided I’d better grab this one while it was there.’
So Bella hadn’t gone mad after all. Far from it. She’d been perfectly rational in her pursuit of her goal.
‘Oh,’ said Bea quietly. ‘I see.’
‘That’s why I got cross with you for coming on the dates,’ Bella went on. ‘I was worried that you’d drive Andrew away before I could get pregnant—you nearly did.’
‘I was only trying to protect you.’
‘From what?’
‘From disappointment.’
‘I’m far from disappointed,’ Bella said.
‘But why didn’t you tell me this before?’ Bea demanded crossly.
‘Because I thought you’d disapprove. You’re much more conservative than I am, Bea, and I think you would have done. But I began to see that marriage wasn’t on the cards, because if Andrew had never married anyone before, then why on earth would he marry me?’
‘Well…,’ I shrugged. ‘What a…turn up.’
‘So you don’t…mind being dumped then?’ asked Bea.
‘Mind? No. Not really. I was a bit shocked at first, but now I’m just happy that I’m pregnant,’ Bella explained equably.
‘But what about the business?’ I asked. ‘Won’t it be tricky with the baby?’
‘No,’ she replied calmly, ‘it’ll be fine. We’ll need someone to cover for me for a few weeks, but after that I’ll be back. As luck would have it there’s a nursery just round the corner, so I’ll put the baby in there. Don’t worry, Bea,’ she went on. ‘I’ll still work with you. I’ll do the accounts and I’ll look after the shop, I shan’t mind now, so it’ll be fine.’
‘Well, that’s brilliant,’ said Bea, visibly brightening. She blew her nose. ‘And I’ll go to the antenatals with you, and the NCT classes, and I’ll help you look after the baby. We’ll bring it up together.’
‘Yes,’ said Bella. ‘We will. We’ll bring it up together, and we’ll both be its mother. We’ll be a double mum. It’s going to have two mothers, it’s going to be a terribly lucky baby, it’s—’ Her self-control had suddenly vanished, and her eyes were shimmering with tears. ‘Oh, Bea!’ She looked at her sister, then flung her arms round her, and now they were both crying.
‘Oh, Bella,’ said Bea, ‘I’m so happy! I thought you were going to leave me.’
‘Don’t be silly. I’d never do that.’
‘We’re going to have a baby,’ Bea sobbed. ‘We’re going to have a baby!’
‘Yes,’ wept Bella happily. ‘We are.’
I felt wrung out by my latest encounter with the twins and by the various convulsions in their lives. And I found myself envying that baby having two devoted mothers in its life. I imagined it being bounced on both their knees, and being fed by their alternate hands, and having its bed-time story read to it in motherly stereo, one on either side; I imagined them both playing with it in the bath and doing ‘one, two, three, wheeee!’ in the street. It would have double helpings of maternal love, the lucky little thing. And I thought again now of my mother, and wondered whether we’d ever meet. I’d begun to believe that we probably wouldn’t; time was getting on. The ad had been in for a month—it was nearly May—and there hadn’t been a single reply.
‘Do you want to keep it in for a few more issues?’ Theo asked me when I went back to Camberwell yesterday evening.
I shook my head. ‘Four’s enough.’
He got a beer out of the fridge and then offered me one. ‘You’re probably right. And did you phone NORCAP?’ he asked as he got down two glasses.
‘I did. They said my chances of finding her were virtually nil.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. Because most women who’ve abandoned their baby have lived with this sorrow and remorse all their lives. They’re not going to want to have it all churned up again decades later, are they? It’s such a can of worms. I mean, how could my mother ever look me in the face, knowing what she’d done?’
‘Hmmm. And are you sure you don’t want to do any national publicity?’ he asked as he leaned against the worktop.
I shook my head. ‘I could easily write a feature, or get someone to interview me, but I don’t want people to know about it in case they judge her; I want to protect her from that. And I want to protect myself from disappointment in case we never meet. I wouldn’t want people asking me about it for evermore, I’d rather they’d never known.’
‘But I still think someone must know something,’ Theo said as he sipped his Becks. ‘I mean, you can’t hide a child. By the way,’ he added, slightly awkwardly, ‘I went to see a flat in Stock-well today.’
‘Oh,’ I said casually. ‘And?’
‘And I liked it.’
‘Uh huh.’ I stared at my shoes, aware that my heart was racing.
‘In fact I’ve put in an offer on it.’
‘I see.’ I felt as though I’d stepped into quicksand.
‘But it’s a silly offer,’ he shrugged, ‘so I know the vendors won’t accept it.’
‘Well…fingers crossed.’
‘But I get the cheque from my wife’s solicitors in a few days, so I thought I ought to start looking for a place of my own. I’ve here been here six months,’ he added. Six months? It felt like six weeks. And at the same time it felt like he’d been here forever. He’d somehow got under my skin.
‘So you’re leaving then?’ I murmured, desolation sweeping over me.
‘Well…yes. I guess I am. But in any case, Rose, your life seems to be changing.’
‘Does it?’
‘I mean, you spend a lot of time with Ed.’
‘That’s only because of his accident.’
‘Is it?’ I nodded. ‘But you’re practically living with him again.’
‘Well, that’s because he needs my help. It’s only temporary.’
‘Really?’ I nodded again. ‘But you were already beginning to see quite a bit of him before h
e broke his arm and so, well…’
‘Well, what?’
‘Well it makes me feel a bit…unsettled, I suppose.’
‘But why the rush to move out?’
‘Because, well… Look, Rose,’ he said forcefully, ‘I’m about to start my next book and I don’t want any emotional upheavals in the middle of that.’
‘Emotional upheavals?’
‘I mean, upheavals,’ he corrected himself. ‘So I thought it would be best all round if I found a flat now.’
‘Okay,’ I sighed, ‘it’s up to you.’ I comforted myself again with the thought that it would probably take him several weeks to move in. ‘You must do whatever you think.’
‘But you’ll let me know if you hear anything about your mother, won’t you?’ he went on quietly.
‘Yes, of course. If I ever do.’
‘It must be hard for you, waiting, but try not to think about it.’
I decided that Theo was right. In any case, something else had begun to prey on my mind—another emotion to add to the weird mix of conflicting feelings I was currently experiencing. The fact that Bella was pregnant had made me feel…not quite myself. And now, as the days passed I recalled how I’d felt when Bea had first told me the news. My initial, instinctive reaction wasn’t shock, or even surprise. It was envy. It took me aback. But Bella was having a baby, and I realised for the first time in my adult life that I’d like to have one too. I found myself looking at babies in their buggies, and noticing pregnant women on the bus, and reading baby articles in newspapers and magazines and looking at baby books. Bella had been let down not with a ‘nasty bump,’ but with a rather nice one it now seemed to me.
Since discovering I’d been abandoned I’d felt that I could never have children. How could I, I reasoned, knowing what my mother had done? I’d somehow imagined that I might abandon my baby: it was as though I couldn’t trust myself. So I’d shut my heart to the idea of kids but now I could hear the door creaking ajar. I was thirty-nine, almost forty, so there wasn’t long. Perhaps Ed is my best bet, I reasoned. We’ve had our problems but he wants me back, so maybe I could have a baby with him. On the other hand, he’d never been keen on having kids; but maybe, like me, he could change…
In the meantime he was slowly recovering, although he was still in a great deal of pain. I took him to outpatients and they put on a new cast and said that his bones were beginning to heal. He was adapting quite well by now to being one-armed, and was hoping to go back to work the following week.
‘But it’s so lovely having you here, Rose,’ he said, affectionately as we sat in the garden on Thursday morning. I looked at the camellia with its fat pink blooms and at the scarlet flowers of the Japanese quince. He leaned forward and kissed me. ‘I don’t want you to leave me again.’
‘Maybe I won’t,’ I said. I watched a blue tit fly into the nesting box hanging from the lilac, a short, fat worm in its beak.
‘I hope you stay.’ Ed kissed me again. ‘I hope you stay for good.’
‘Ed, can I ask you something about Mary-Claire?’ He nodded. ‘Something that’s been bothering me?’
‘What?’
‘She wasn’t pregnant was she?’
‘No. She wasn’t.’ I’d shocked him. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Well, I just wondered whether that might have been the real reason why you split up with her.’
‘No, I told you, she just…whined all the time. In any case it wasn’t a real relationship, Rose. It was…,’ he ran his left hand through his hair, ‘…a mess. But why did you want to know that?’
‘Because I think I’d like to have a baby.’
‘Really?’ He turned towards me. ‘You didn’t before.’
‘I know.’ I watched the blue tit wriggle out of the box and fly off. Its mate must be sitting on eggs.
‘Is it because Bella’s having one?’ he asked.
‘Well, yes, partly, if I’m honest—but not just. It’s simply that I feel different about motherhood now. I wasn’t bothered before, but now I think I am; but you’d always said you didn’t want kids.’
‘Well I didn’t really,’ he sighed. ‘I just remember what a dreadful struggle my own childhood was. There were so many of us competing for so little, because of my mum being widowed so young. Family life was horribly stressful, so I’ve never wanted to replicate it.’
‘But we wouldn’t have those stresses, Ed. We have enough money, don’t we?’
‘Hmm. But even so…’ he screwed up his face. ‘I mean, a colleague of mine has three-year-old twins and their nursery fees alone cost twenty grand a year. Twenty grand a year, Rose—and they’re still only infants! Think how much more they’re going to cost. We wouldn’t be able to have such a nice lifestyle if we had kids would we?’
‘I wouldn’t care. I think I would like to have a baby,’ I said. ‘So if I were to come back to you permanently—which is still a big “if”—then that’s something you need to know.’
‘Is that a condition?’ he asked.
‘That makes me sound manipulative. Let’s say it’s simply a wish.’
‘Well, okay, then, I’ll think about it.’ He reached for my hand. ‘I’m just so glad you’re here, Rose. I think I had a lucky break, falling off that ladder, because it brought you back home.’ Home? ‘Are you glad you’re here, Rose?’ He stroked my fingers. ‘Are you?’
‘Of course,’ I heard myself say.
The next day I left food in the fridge for Ed and went into the office as Beverley was off sick. She’s got the flu poor girl. I wearily trawled through letters about difficult in-laws, bedwetting, gambling, jealousy, teenagers, head lice and drink. The monotony of it was broken only by several text messages from Ed—he’s really into it. VVCAMCS? I read just before lunch. What the hell was that? I looked it up in Serena’s dictionary: Voulezvous couchez avec moi ce soir? UDoIt4Me popped up half an hour later. No translation needed there. TDTU appeared at three-thirty—Totally Devoted To You: and at four, CW2CU.
‘Can’t wait to see you too,’ I said as the letters scrolled lazily across the screen.
Then at six I went back to Hope Street to feed Rudy and to pick up my post. As I opened the front door I saw the answerphone winking away: on it was thirty seconds of uninterrupted stertorous breathing, this time with an odd clicking sound. I rang the telephone company again to talk to them about barring the calls but as usual I couldn’t get through; and I wasn’t prepared to listen to Für Elise for forty-five minutes so I hung up and read my post. There was a card from Henry, still in the Gulf, and a reminder about the new kick-boxing class. I looked at the flyer. Come and kick ass with Stormin’ Norman’s Advanced Tae-Bo class: I decided I couldn’t be fagged. I went into the kitchen to feed Rudy and saw Theo’s mail on the table in a small pile. On the top was a letter, open and unfolded, from an estate agent, Liddle and Co. It said that his offer on the flat had been accepted, ‘subject to contract’. Oh shit! As the vendors are moving abroad they would like to exchange as quickly as possible and have therefore requested a ten day exchange. A ten day exchange? Ten days? It normally takes at least ten weeks.
‘I don’t want him to go,’ I muttered as I cradled my cup of tea. ‘Theo’s lovely. I want him to stay.’ I glanced at the notice-board—there was the invitation to his book launch at the Royal Astronomical Society the following Wednesday. I stared at his name. Theo Sheen…then suddenly I heard the trill of my mobile phone—it was Ed. He sounded excited and happy and wanted to know when I was coming back. So I cleaned Rudy’s cage, fed and watered him, then drove back to Blenheim Road. As I dawdled at a red light I remembered how irritated I’d felt when Theo had moved in, and how I’d wanted to be with Ed. And now I was rather irritated at the idea of moving in with Ed, and wanted to be with Theo.
‘I’m such a mess,’ I muttered dismally as the lights changed to green. ‘I should write to an agony aunt.’ How would I sign it—‘Confused of Camberwell’?
I parked the car in my usual place,
and was just rummaging in the detritus of my handbag for the keys when the door opened.
‘Rose,’ said Ed. ‘Come here.’ He folded me to him with his left arm, kicked the door shut, then kissed me. ‘It’s so nice to see you again,’ he murmured into my hair.
‘You only saw me this morning,’ I laughed.
‘I know, but I’ve really missed you. And there’s something I want to say. I couldn’t wait to tell you.’
‘Tell me what?’
‘Well, I’ve spent all today thinking about what you said and—’ He smiled, one of his heartbreaking smiles. ‘The answer is “yes”. I think we should have a baby.’ I stared at him.
‘You do?’
‘I’ve been turning it over in my mind all day. And if that’s the price for staying with you, then I’m more than happy to pay.’
‘Do you really want a baby though, Ed?’
‘Yes, I do. If you do.’
‘But you must want it for yourself, not just for me.’
‘I want it for us,’ he said. ‘Does that convince you?’ I nodded, slowly. ‘So come on, then.’ He grabbed my hand. ‘We might as well make a start.’
‘Ed,’ I said, as I followed him upstairs, ‘I don’t want you to get me pregnant just to keep me with you.’
‘I’m not. I want to get you pregnant to make you happy, and to make me happy.’ He kissed me again. We went into his bedroom, and he drew the curtains with his left hand. I remembered how desolate I’d felt when I’d seen him draw them last November: it was as though he was shutting me out. But now here we were again, and I was inside, helping him to undress. He winced as I removed his shirt, carefully pulling it off his right shoulder. Then I undid his trousers, and he pushed them down and stepped out of them and kicked off his shoes. And now I pulled my cotton jumper over my head and wriggled out of my skirt. He kissed me, then we lay down on the bed, and he guided my hand downwards, and his breathing began to increase. Then he kissed me again, and tried to slide on top of me, and I felt the fibreglass cast scrape my skin. Suddenly his face contracted with pleasure. No, not pleasure.