by Jo Lovett
Hi James. How’s Maine? Early, I know, but we’re just thinking about Christmas. Would you like to come to us? We’d love to see you! The girls are well. They loved the alpaca pictures!
Christmas. Seriously. Ella’s invitation wasn’t as early as last year’s, granted, because it was already early August now and last year she’d asked him about Christmas in June, but it was still ridiculous. Although he couldn’t criticise her; clearly it was just a different manifestation of the urge they both obviously had, to make their adult lives as organised and unchaotic as possible; as different as possible from their childhoods, basically.
He wasn’t going to go. There’d be too much niceness and thinly veiled concern from Ella and her husband, and the worry on his part the whole time that the conversation would turn to their mother and Leonie. It would be much better to join a group of single friends skiing or go to Matt’s.
He swung himself up onto a sturdy branch of one of the big trees in the field and took a couple of photos of the alpacas from above, and sent them to Ella with a message.
Hey. Here are a couple more alpaca photos for the girls. Thanks so much for the Christmas invite. Would have loved to come but already agreed to go to friends. Sending more chicken photos in a minute.
The photos might distract them all from the fact that he’d turned down yet another invitation. And the girls would like them.
Love the photos. No worries about Christmas. Offer’s always open if you change your mind.
More guilt.
Fishing wasn’t the best activity for when you didn’t want to spend too much time with your own thoughts, and Don Brown, James’s now-regular fishing companion, wasn’t the best company when you’d like to be distracted. Don hardly ever ventured beyond a grunt in response to any conversation opener.
It had just occurred to James that one day Ella might stop asking him over. He never went any more, but he still wanted her to keep asking. Just in case one day he wanted to accept one of her invitations. Shit. He’d reflexively jerked his fishing rod. If Don’s wisdom was right, he wasn’t going to be catching anything for hours now.
‘Why don’t you join us at our poker evening on Tuesday?’ Woah. Don had spoken when he didn’t have to.
James opened his mouth to say no and then clocked Don’s rare smile. He was a nice man. James didn’t think he issued invitations that often. Couldn’t do, given how infrequently he spoke.
It wouldn’t hurt him to go. It wasn’t a big deal like Christmas with Ella and it wasn’t like he had other stuff to do in the evenings this week. He’d been down to Boston several times recently but he didn’t need to go again for a while. Although, a poker night. Really? Was he that desperate? Don was smiling again. Okay, fine, he’d go once.
James looked around the room. Laura, Dina, Don and Isla Brown, and two other men, Harvyn Jones and Bax Marley. Harvyn was probably mid-fifties, and Bax a little younger than James. James was hazy on the actual rules of the game, but he was pretty sure that he was going to smash this out of the park. For a start, he’d be outstanding on the poker-face front. Years of high-stakes business meetings had to have been an excellent training. None of the others would have had the life experience that he’d had.
‘Raise.’ Laura was a different woman with a handful of playing cards and a pile of chips in front of her. Her eyes were fired up but they were the only mobile part about pretty much her entire body. She had the poker-face thing down to a tee.
Or did she? James leaned in very slightly. He was sure her eyes had flickered to the furthest left of her cards. Did that mean something?
Three rounds later, and a lot of chips down, mainly in Laura’s direction, he was sure of two things. One, he’d under-estimated the likely skill level of the others. And two, Laura couldn’t help sneaking too many little peeks at her hand when she knew she held a winning card. Now James just had to get on top of the rules.
So close. So bloody close.
‘I nearly won that round,’ he told everyone, in case they hadn’t noticed.
Laura patted his hand. ‘You did very well, sweetie,’ she said. ‘For a beginner.’ What? He was being patronised by an eighty-year-old Jessica Fletcher-lookalike?
James narrowed his eyes. ‘When’s the next poker evening?’
‘Tuesday next week,’ Bax said. ‘You got the bug?’
James considered. He was supposed to be going down to New York on Tuesday afternoon but he could switch it to Wednesday. ‘I wouldn’t say I have the bug. But I will be beating you all and I will not stop until I do.’ He was going to look forward to next week.
‘I hear you’ve taken up poker,’ Cassie said the next time he called her. The gardener had told him there was a glut of greengages in the orchard part of the field and he had no idea what to do with them. Cassie had suggested either making jam and chutney, or freezing them for when she got back. ‘And that you think you’re going to beat Laura. That will never happen.’ James shook his head. Not because of the gossip factor – he was used to that now – but because she was wrong. He’d totally beat Laura. He wasn’t going to admit it to a living soul but he’d been practising online – thank God, for many reasons, that the Wi-Fi worked now – and he was definitely improving.
‘We’ll see,’ he said.
‘Have you been practising?’
‘Maybe.’
‘You know she came in the top ten in the over-seventies US poker championships last year and she’s pretty sure that she’ll be in the top three of the over-eighties championship this November? And then she’ll qualify automatically for the over-eighties world championship?’
‘I did not know that.’ Wow. His fellow islanders were clearly a lot more interesting than he’d originally given them credit for. And a lot more of a challenge. ‘How did she do all of that without practising online? Before you had working Wi-Fi?’
‘She switches her TV off when she’s playing online so that she can concentrate.’
‘Wow. Feels like the mystery of the broadband could have been solved a lot sooner.’
‘I know. Gutting.’
James laughed. He enjoyed these conversations with Cassie; it’d gone beyond just being about her land. He almost didn’t want to ask her again about that in case it caused a barrier between them. He’d leave it for the time being. Maybe until he left. And, if they did agree a deal, maybe he could come back for a visit.
Sixteen
Cassie
Cassie wanted a baby so much. She stirred her de-caf latte again. She could murder a real coffee – insomnia had been just one of the many side-effects of the fertility drugs – but when you might be growing a baby inside you, you had to try to do everything right.
She looked out of the café window. Across the road, there was a little girl helping her mother brush the steps up to their house. The girl was maybe four or five and she was dressed in leggings and a T-shirt, a superhero cape and what were presumably her mother’s high-heeled, leopard skin boots. The look of concentration on her little face was so cute. Even cuter was the way she smiled up at her mother when she finished each ineffectual push of her broom. And her mother smiled back at her like they were the only two people in the world. There weren’t really enough words to describe how much Cassie wanted that.
Nearly time to go and take the test. Apparently some clinics advised you to have a blood test with them to find out. Cassie’s was happy for you to do a home test, which was better because she’d rather be home, on her own, when she found out.
She wanted to know the result so much.
But, also, she couldn’t bear to do it.
No, she was going. It was time.
Negative. Not even a hint of a super faint line that she could hold in a super-bright light and kid herself might be the shadow of a positive test. Completely, unambiguously, negative. She’d weed for the right length of time. She’d waited for the right length of time. She’d done everything right. She heard a horrible wailing sound and then realised that she was the person who�
��d made that sound.
She was so stupid. Imagining for the past twelve days that she’d been pregnant and for months before that that she was going to get successfully pregnant. Doing everything right for the non-existent baby. So stupid.
And so bereft.
This wasn’t as bad as the miscarriage. This time she’d never seen a healthy baby on a scan before something went wrong. The whole thing from her first consultation had only been just over three months. She just needed to have an enormous cry and then get over it.
Except, God, it really hurt.
How did people cope with doing this several times? So unbelievably difficult. And how did they cope when they knew it was their last-ever attempt?
She sniffed, hard. She needed something to distract her, something else to think about other than her failed IVF and work.
She should take a wee trip home to go to Laura’s eightieth next weekend.
Cassie looked out of the windows at the front of the ferry. The island was getting closer. She’d be setting foot on it in under twenty minutes. She’d been away for four months. Strange to be home when someone else was living in her house.
She was glad, though, that she’d come back now. How could she have missed Laura’s big party? Laura had been the most wonderful friend to her over the past four years. They’d met the day that Cassie viewed the property and she’d been ecstatic that Laura was so friendly, because she’d fallen in love with the island and the house but living in such a relatively isolated place you did need to get on with your neighbours.
This weekend she was just going to have fun with her friends and put the baby thing out of her mind. She’d decide next week whether she was going to go for another round of IVF while she was in London.
‘Honey, I missed you.’ Dina had been waiting at the dock for Cassie, jumping up and down as the ferry berthed. ‘I’m not going to lie, getting to know James has been great,’ she said as they humped Cassie’s suitcase into the boot of Dina’s car, ‘but I really miss you when you’re away. Do not stay in London. You have to come back at the end of the swap.’ They got into the front seats of the jeep. ‘I’d like to think I can persuade James to stay, with me. I think tonight’s gonna be the night.’
‘Dina.’ Cassie adored her friend. She already felt better for seeing her. And she suddenly couldn’t believe she hadn’t told her about the IVF. Maybe she’d tell her tomorrow before she went home on Monday. ‘Of course I’m coming back after the swap. And you have such a dirty cackle.’
‘Believe me, honey, if you knew what was inside my head, then you’d see and hear dirty.’
‘Are you okay?’ Dina handed a mug of tea to Cassie, who was sitting on the sofa in the corner of Dina’s kitchen, and stepped back, hands on hips, and looked very closely at her.
‘Yes. No, not exactly.’ Why hadn’t Cassie ever told Dina about the IVF? Why hadn’t she told anyone? She was going to tell Dina right now, not tomorrow. ‘I did IVF in London and it didn’t work.’ She heard her voice go all high and screechy on the word work. ‘With a donor sperm.’
‘Cassie. Honey.’ Dina sat down next to Cassie and put her arms round her. ‘Oh my God. That’s huge. And so difficult. I’m so, so sorry that it didn’t work out.’
Cassie felt tears start to trickle out. Dina pulled Cassie’s head onto her shoulder and then Cassie just sobbed.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said eventually, sitting up straight.
‘Hey, there’s so nothing to be sorry about.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it. I’m sorry that I’m crying all over you now.’
‘Do not apologise. It’s a huge thing, and sometimes huge things are too hard to talk about. I know how affected you were by your miscarriage and what a shit Simon was. It took you a long time to tell me about that after we met, and I got that. And I get now that you didn’t want to talk about this. And I’m honoured that you’ve told me now. You shouldn’t ever have to talk about anything with anyone unless you want to.’
‘Thank you.’ Cassie sniffed. ‘Love you.’ She reached her arms round Dina and squeezed.
‘Love you too. So, and please don’t answer if you don’t want to talk about it, is it too early for you to have decided whether you’ll try again?’
‘Yes, I’m not sure. I think I probably will. I think I’ll probably regret it if I don’t. Although there are obviously other options that I could explore, like adoption. And it was hard.’
They sat in silence for a few minutes, and then Dina said, ‘So were the side effects horrible?’
‘Yeah, they really weren’t great. Physical and emotional. Bloating, sore boobs, bad sleep, all of that, but also I was so hormonal. One day going through a ticket barrier at a train station I was asked for my ticket and I yelled Bugger off at the ticket inspector. I was furious that he’d dare to ask me, because obviously I have a ticket, like look at me, I’m not a train-ticket-scammer. Honestly. Not exaggerating. But none of that was the worst thing. The worst was the waiting. Time passes so slowly. You analyse every single physical feeling that you have for possible pregnancy symptoms, even though you know there’s a very strong chance that everything’s actually down to the drugs you took. You count the days to when you’re due to take the test. Time passes so slowly and it’s so hard to think about anything else. And then of course if it’s negative, you’re devastated. Really not great.’
‘I’m so impressed that you did it,’ said Dina. ‘I’m so sure that it’ll work out for you one way or the other in due course.’
‘Thank you.’ Cassie sniffed again. ‘Do you have any painkillers?’
‘Headache from crying?’
‘Yep.’
‘Coming right up.’ Dina stood up.
‘Thank you. And thank you for listening. It helped.’
‘Hey. No thanks necessary.’
‘We have a couple of hours before we need to get ready for the party, don’t we? I might just text James and check that he doesn’t mind if I walk through the garden and then go and say hi to the animals.’
‘It’s so weird that you don’t know him.’
‘I know.’ Cassie did feel as if she knew him, though. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t really mentioned their phone chats to Dina.
Cassie stood still in her – well, James’s – drive, next to where he’d parked her car. It wasn’t where she normally parked it. It was really strange standing on her own property but it being occupied by someone else.
She should have decided whether or not she was going to knock on the door, speak to James if he was home. He’d texted ‘Np’ – still annoying – when she’d asked if he’d be happy for her to go through the garden to see the animals. He hadn’t said whether or not he was around. If he was here, would it seem odd if she didn’t say hello on her way past?
Eek. What if he was home and could see her standing here like a lemon? She needed an excuse to stand still while she thought. She took a few steps to the side and buried her face in the blossom of the nearest large bush. It was totally normal to stand and admire flowers for a few moments.
She should have chosen a different bush. This one was beautiful to look at but it did not smell good. It was cloying.
Anyway. To knock or not to knock?
She didn’t want to say hello. After seeing him in Luigi’s a few weeks ago and talking to him pretty much every day now, she’d thought about him a little too much, although he’d been a good distraction from the IVF misery. She was pretty sure she’d be a little awkward around him now that she’d registered all the raw masculinity that he had going. She was fine talking to him on the phone, but seeing him in person would be different.
She was going to be sick if she spent any more time sniffing this bush. Honestly, disgusting. She moved over to the next one along. Better.
Okay. What would she do if she were normal and did not have an irrational attraction to James that she really shouldn’t have because her best friend was in serious lust with him? She would k
nock on the kitchen window as she went past and wave airily if he was in there, and then walk on past. Knocking on the door might be over-friendly.
So she was going to knock on the window and hope that he wasn’t there.
It was very odd walking down the side of the path. It felt slightly intrusive, like she was spying on James or something.
He had the chairs arranged differently round her table outside the kitchen. She never left them like that. He had the cushions in different places too.
As she walked round the corner of the house and up to the window, her heart was actually thudding away. Ridiculous. She wasn’t usually a nervous person.
And, oh no. He was in the kitchen. Okay, fine, not a problem. Np. As planned, she was going to knock on the window, wave and walk off.
With the best will in the world, if you were knocking on a relatively low window, it was hard not to look through that window and into the room. James was doing something at the table, with his back to her. Dina wasn’t wrong about his physique. He was wearing a faded black T-shirt and as he worked at whatever he was doing – what was it? – she could see the muscles in his shoulders and upper arms flexing under the T-shirt. Rippling. Unlike on the other two occasions she’d seen him, his blond hair was appealingly un-styled and messy. His neck and arms were tanned. Gorgeous, basically. Exactly the kind of man who always appealed physically to Dina. And Cassie, if she was honest. Except, while Dina kept going back for more, Cassie had learned not to from bitter experience.
Right. She’d better knock on the window immediately or she’d look as though she was just standing leering. Peeping Cassie.
She should really have thought this through before she left Dina’s. She hadn’t had a shower yet or changed after her journey and she also hadn’t re-done her lipstick, re-brushed her hair, anything. Really quite stupid. James was looking sexily dishevelled and she was looking very unsexily scruffy. And she was still staring into the kitchen at him. What if he could see her in a reflection or something? Or sensed her there?