At the age of sixty-five, Mimi’s mum, a former food stylist, had decided to open a cookery school in the Yorkshire village of Plumberry, half an hour outside York, where she was originally from. It was from her mum that Mimi inherited her love of cooking and I guess it had rubbed off on me too. Not that I cooked any more. Not since Mimi died.
‘You don’t approve?’ I looked at him sharply.
He wrinkled his nose. ‘I think she’s taking on too much at her age.’
‘I hope you haven’t told Gloria that?’ I grinned.
Mimi’s mum was one of the most independent women I knew; I couldn’t see her taking kindly to that sort of comment.
He lifted a shoulder. ‘No. But she’s too busy to see us these days, too busy even to make it here this evening because the fitters are late putting the ovens in or something. And the building she’s taken on . . . it’s an old mill; well, half one. That’s some responsibility.’
I nodded sympathetically but I could see both sides. Gloria had felt so bereft after losing her only daughter that she couldn’t bear not to be busy. She’d been involved with food her whole career and when I’d spoken to her at Christmas, she said opening a cookery school would be a new way to use her skills and spread her passion for cooking.
Funny how grief affects us all differently. Mimi and I used to post videos on YouTube of ourselves making stuff in the kitchen. It was just a bit of fun – neither of us was professionally trained – but we had a laugh doing it. But as soon as she died, I closed the channel down and deleted the videos. My passion for cooking died with Mimi; there was simply no pleasure in it without her.
We turned off the towpath, crossed the wibbly-wobbly bridge where Noah insisted we threw sticks into the water and then waded through long grass to the edge of Mimi’s woods.
Spring has definitely sprung, I thought, as we delved under the canopy of the woodland. The trees were covered in a froth of pink and white blossom and now and then petals floated down through the shafts of sunlight, giving a magical illusion of snowflakes in springtime. The path was lined with tall stems of frilly white cow parsley and zingy lime ferns and I let my fingers brush gently against their feathery fronds as I walked.
Noah raced around, zigzagging in front of us, pretending to be a racing car, and Gabe fell into step beside me, resting his arm casually on my shoulder. The ground was dry thanks to several days of unbroken sunshine and the air was filled with the pungent smell of wild garlic and an earthiness which, in that random way that one thought can lead to another, somehow made me think of fertility, which in turn sent a shiver of something along my spine.
Hope.
It was hope, I acknowledged. My internal debate during my drive over here had centred around the practicalities of being pregnant and what Liam was going to think about it and what to do about work. But deep down, I knew that if I was expecting a baby, it would make me happier than I had been for years; probably since I’d heard that Mimi’s IVF had worked and that one of the eggs we’d all got our hopes pinned on had been fertilized.
‘Toad!’ yelled Noah with glee.
‘Where?’ I stopped in my tracks.
Gabe squatted down for a closer inspection but courtesy of a poke with a stick from Noah, the creature crawled off into the undergrowth.
‘How do you know it’s a toad and not a frog?’ I asked, impressed.
Three-year-old Noah gave me a look layered with sympathy and triumph.
‘Aunty Vetty,’ he sighed, dropping his stick and sliding his pudgy little hand into mine. I felt my throat tighten; I hoped he’d never grow out of doing that. ‘His back was all lumpy. Frogs are smooth. Everyone knows that.’
‘Silly me,’ I said with a giggle, and lifted his hand to my lips for a kiss. ‘It’s a good job I’ve got you to teach me these things.’
‘Look, Verity.’ Gabe pointed through the trees to where a ray of golden sun picked out the nodding heads of bluebells in the clearing. ‘Thousands of them; I’m sure there are even more than last year.’
He was right and the beautiful sight took my breath away.
‘Mummy’s favourite flowers were bluebells,’ I said to Noah, swallowing the lump in my throat.
He nodded, retrieved a torch from his pocket and wriggled away from me to shine its beam under logs, looking for more toads. ‘Cos they are blue like her eyes.’
‘That’s right, dude.’ Gabe ruffled his son’s hair. ‘And Mummy had the prettiest, bluest eyes in the world.’
Noah stuck the torch back in his pocket and crouched down to examine the underside of a fallen log.
‘Turn the torch off, Noah, or the batteries will run out,’ I reminded him.
The little boy straightened up immediately and switched it off. ‘Like Mummy’s.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘My mummy’s batteries ran out,’ he explained, blinking up at me with those green eyes that tugged at my very soul.
Oh my God. That boy.
My heart might explode. I heard Gabe clear his throat and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.
‘Come on,’ I said gruffly, giving my godson’s hand a squeeze. ‘Why don’t we pick some flowers to take back to the boat?’
Noah and I busied ourselves collecting bluebells while Gabe lowered himself on to a tree stump and disappeared into the memories of his happy marriage for a few minutes.
I reached for a tissue and dabbed my eyes.
Gabe’s doing a great job, Mimi. He is the best dad ever and I know I’m biased, but seriously, Noah is a child genius! I didn’t know the difference between frogs and toads and I’m thirty-two.
The novelty of flower-picking wore off as soon as Noah had a plump handful. I looked at Gabe; he had a bunch in his hands too.
‘We’d better get those in water,’ I said softly, touching his shoulder.
Gabe stood and nodded and the three of us headed back towards the bridge.
‘Are you coming to ours for tea?’ Noah asked. ‘Beef stew will be there. And sweetcorn,’ he added, hopefully.
‘Yes, please come, Bloomers,’ Gabe added.
I gave him a hard stare for using my teenage nickname.
‘Sorry, couldn’t resist,’ he said with a grin. ‘Seriously, some conversation not about the comparative size of dinosaurs would be hugely appreciated. And I’ll share that bottle of beer with you?’
‘I’d love to,’ I shook my head apologetically, ‘but I’ve got to get home, I’m afraid, boys.’
‘Oh,’ Noah whined.
Gabe’s face fell too and my heart twisted with guilt.
‘Wise move,’ he said stoically, gesturing for me to go across the bridge in front of him. ‘My cooking’s not a patch on Mimi’s.’
The guilt deepened then; poor Gabe, he was getting better in the kitchen, but before Mimi died he barely knew how to turn the oven on.
‘Sorry, but I’ve got a big day tomorrow, I need an early night.’ And I’m not drinking beer before doing a pregnancy test, I added to myself. ‘But I’ll come back soon. Promise.’
‘Good, because I need lessons with a needle.’ He grinned. ‘Noah asked me to sew up a hole in his pyjamas the other day. I sat down on his bed and ended up sewing them on to his duvet by accident.’
As we walked back along the towpath towards The Neptune, I wrapped an arm around Gabe’s waist.
‘I’m so proud of you, Gabe; Noah is a credit to you.’
‘Thanks.’ His step faltered and he took a deep breath. ‘Verity?’
I turned to face him. ‘Yes?’
He swallowed before murmuring, ‘He needs his mum.’
My heart heaved in my chest and I was the first to look away.
I could so easily climb into Mimi’s life like a pair of jeans that fit perfectly. I loved Gabe dearly and between us we’d do a fantastic, if slightly unconventional, job of bringing up that little boy who meant so much to us both. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do; Noah might need a mum, b
ut Gabe and I could never be more than just friends.
I tightened my arm around him. ‘I’ll be the best godmother I can be, Gabe, I promise. But I can never replace Mimi.’
I hugged and kissed them both warmly before they climbed back on board their boat and I made my way back to the car, wishing there was more I could do to help out that darling, lonely man.
‘What’s in the bag? Chocolate?’ Rosie grabbed the plastic carrier bag from me as soon as I came in the door.
So much for the detox.
‘Er . . .’ I looked at her shiftily as she pulled my ninety-nine per cent accurate pregnancy test from the bag.
‘Holy cannelloni!’ Her dark eyes stared, saucer-like, in the gloom of the hallway.
‘Probably a false alarm, but yeah, I might be having a bambino,’ I said, going pink. ‘And seeing Noah tonight has made me realize that I hope I am.’
Rosie gave me a huge hug. ‘If that’s what you want, then I hope so too.’
I hugged her back. That’s what I loved about Rosie; she was completely non-judgemental. She knew my job was precarious and I had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn’t that keen on Liam, but despite that I knew she’d always be my cheerleader.
‘Thanks, Rosie. Liam said he might come over after the party tonight, so we can do the test together.’
One of the remaining women in personnel at Solomon’s was having a fortieth birthday party in town. Everyone from work was going, even Ruthless Rod, but I’d promised to see Gabe and Noah so I’d declined the invitation. I’d stay awake until he arrived and then tell him the news. We were in this together, after all.
‘No, no, no. Listen to me.’ Rosie took a step back and prodded my shoulder in time with her words. ‘You. Say. Nothing.’
I began to protest. ‘But Liam has a right—’
‘Agreed,’ she said, folding her arms. ‘Tell him after the presentations tomorrow. I know you. If you’re pregnant, he’ll persuade you to let him get the job, on the basis that you’ll be leaving soon anyway. You’re too generous for your own good. And if you are expecting a baby, it will be a damn sight more difficult to get another job before it arrives than to keep the one you’re in.’
‘OK, OK,’ I agreed.
Anything for a quiet life. But I didn’t mean it. I absolutely could not wait to pee on that stick . . .
Chapter 3
I woke the next morning to the cheerful sound of birds chirping outside my window and bright sunlight seeping through the curtains. Not a bad start to a Monday. I lay still for a few moments, with the duvet pulled up to my chin, aware of my steady heartbeat. I was all alone: Liam hadn’t arrived after all. I must have fallen asleep around eleven without taking the pregnancy test. Perhaps Rosie was right, I decided, flinging back the covers and going to make tea; if he had come over on the way back from the party, slightly worse for wear, watching his girlfriend pee on a stick might not have been the ideal end to his evening.
I laid my hand gently on my stomach while I waited for the kettle to boil. Weird really: until yesterday afternoon, becoming a mother wasn’t on my agenda at all. Now it was all I could think about. The timing wasn’t perfect. Liam and I hadn’t even discussed moving in together, let alone starting a family. And if I was being completely honest with myself, did I truly love him with all my heart? Enough to make a go of it with him? We’d been together such a short time, I supposed it was impossible to tell. Anyway, one thing was certain: I’d be keeping this baby, whether Liam wanted it or not.
Rosie was always out of the house for seven – she called in to check on the builders before work – so I had the house to myself. I took my tea to the bathroom and turned the shower on full blast.
Perhaps I should send Liam a quick text now, or Face-Time him? I could do the test and we could share it.
I caught a glimpse of my morning face in the mirror. Maybe not. Besides, he was probably rushing to get ready for the big pow-wow with Rod. Talking of which, I should be doing the same.
Within forty-five minutes, I was ready for anything in a smart black dress and heels. My laptop was packed and I’d even managed to eat some toast. I bent down in the hall to tuck the pregnancy test into the side pocket of my laptop bag – I would find a quiet moment to do it at work – when the landline rang.
‘Morning, Verity. Oh excuse me.’ Mum yawned down the phone at me. ‘I’m so tired.’
‘Goodness! I’m not surprised; it must be three in the morning in Canada!’
‘Wanted to wish you good luck for today. So I set my alarm.’
My hand tightened around the rectangular box. How did she know? How?
‘You’ll be lost without the job,’ she continued.
Oh, she meant the meeting with Rod. I smiled at myself in the hall mirror. Of course she did.
‘Thanks, Mum, good of you to remember.’ I felt my face soften. It was good to know that even though we lived miles apart she hadn’t forgotten me.
‘Although, I suppose it’s worse for men to be made redundant, isn’t it? Thinking about it, perhaps you should let Liam get the job and drop hints about settling down together. Perhaps find a little part-time job instead.’
‘I think I should give it my all and let the best man or woman win, Mum,’ I replied, through slightly gritted teeth.
‘That’s what your father said.’
My heart squeezed; good old Dad.
‘But I can’t help hearing that old tick-tock, love,’ she went on with a sigh.
Mum worried about me, she thought that at thirty-two I was leaving family life too late. Dad was laissez-faire in his parenting style and kept his opinions to himself. Mum was much more vocal, even though she didn’t need to be; I was painfully aware of the fickle nature of women’s fertility, having been through it all with Mimi.
She means well, I reminded myself, as I thanked her, promised to keep her posted and rang off. I bet she wouldn’t dare say anything like that to my sister-in-law.
Mum was in awe of my brother Matt’s wife. Matt went to Canada for a temporary engineering contract five years ago, lost a filling eating almond biscotti and ended up falling in love with his dentist, Celia. He got married, had two kids and never came back to the UK. Mum and Dad wasted no time in moving to Canada to help out. And where I’m concerned, Mum can’t help dropping boulder-sized hints about my failure to swell the family numbers. I normally bat them off and laugh, but today I felt my insides go all tingly. Maybe today she’d get her wish.
I arrived at Solomon Insurance at eight forty-five. Just over two hours until my meeting with Rod. There was still no sign of Liam and he hadn’t answered any of my texts. I hoped he was OK; he was probably up all night working on his presentation. I turned on my laptop, opened up my One, Two, Three Plan and tried to rehearse my pitch.
I lasted two minutes; it was no good. I couldn’t concentrate on anything until I’d taken that test. I grabbed my bag and headed for the ladies’ loos. I locked myself into one of the cubicles, sat down and flicked through the instructions.
I remembered doing something like this with Mimi once. She was a whole day late for her period and deliriously excited. We’d gone to Sainsbury’s to buy a test and raced straight to the customer toilets. The test had been negative and we’d stayed in that cubicle, mopping up her tears, until someone banged on the door and threatened to call security.
Anyway, I blinked away the memory. Back to me . . .
Wee on stick, wait three minutes, look for a blue line. Easy peasy. I peed on the stick. Checked my watch and waited. A wave of nausea rippled through me. Morning sickness or simply nerves?
Before I had a chance to decide, the door banged open and stiletto heels tippety-tapped across the tiled floor.
‘Coo-ee? Verity, are you in here?’
‘Hi, Melanie,’ I said with a grin.
Melanie was our most glamorous member of staff, permanently tanned and perfectly coiffured. She had been the previous managing director’s secretary and now worked for Ro
d. She was twenty-five and had worked here since she left school at sixteen; she knew all the gossip and had super-long nails, which clattered on the keyboard as she typed.
‘Oh, Vee-Vee!’ she squealed.
I grimaced. I’d lost count of the times I asked her not to call me that. I’m sure she didn’t mean it to, but it sounded like a pet name for lady-bits to me.
‘Oh God, that was loud,’ she groaned. ‘Can a person be too loud for their own head?’
‘Good night, was it?’ I smirked. Melanie had gone out with the rest of them last night. It sounded like she had had a good time.
‘You going to be long? Only . . .’ Was that a pregnant pause? I allowed myself a second smirk. Melanie cleared her throat. ‘I need to talk to you. This is a bit . . . you know?’
No, I didn’t know. And right this moment, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know either. I was in the middle of something rather important.
I glanced at my watch.
Two minutes to go.
Seriously? This must be the longest three minutes in history. I looked at the stick but the little window on the end wasn’t giving its verdict yet.
‘No, not long. Two minutes? I’ll come to your desk, shall I?’
‘Listen,’ Melanie said breathily. It sounded as if she was pressed right up to the other side of the door. I wriggled on the loo seat uneasily. I’d hoped for a little privacy, but Melanie wasn’t one for picking up on hints. ‘Liam said you’d be cool about it, but I just wanted to check. I mean, you guys were together for, like, months!’
Cool about what? What was she talking about?
‘Vee-Vee?’
Her voice jolted me back to the present. ‘Six months, actually,’ I replied, still unsure where this was heading. Had she overheard something about redundancies in the marketing department? And how did Liam know? He hadn’t even arrived yet.
‘Yeah. I’ve had a crush on him ever since he started at Solomon’s, but you got in there first.’
I knew that. Melanie and I had even had a bit of friendly banter about it when Liam first asked me out. I’d told Liam, who’d professed to being flattered but said he preferred women who were his intellectual equal. I remembered feeling hurt on Melanie’s behalf at the time.
The Plumberry School of Comfort Food Page 2