The Cornish Guest House (17 page)

She tried again to remember when she’d had her last period but couldn’t. It must have been a while ago, though, well over a month. The dates would probably fit with that evening when Robert had got a bit carried away…

Of course they’d discussed having a baby, but had both agreed that now wasn’t the right time. Rosie had been through so much with her illness, then there had been the wedding and getting used to having Robert around permanently. No, they’d decided, there was no hurry and, what’s more, they were blissfully happy as they were. A baby wasn’t on the agenda.

The result of the test only took five minutes but it seemed like for ever. Liz couldn’t bear to sit and watch, so she paced around her bedroom, glancing out of the window every now and again to distract herself. She saw Barbara scurry past in a plum overcoat, carrying two heavy shopping bags. Then Jean trundled by, wheeling a double buggy. Liz jumped back, not wishing to prompt a visit.

She plumped the cushions on her bed and checked her watch for the umpteenth time, feeling quite light-headed. What if it was negative? She’d get rid of the evidence immediately. She wouldn’t tell Robert, or anyone. She’d feel a fool. Maybe she couldn’t have another child. Perhaps Rosie was destined to be the only one.

What if it was positive? Robert might be appalled. Rosie had begged for a brother or sister but might not be so keen if it actually happened, and what about cerebral palsy? In her head, Liz knew that it wasn’t genetic, it was just incredibly bad luck, most likely caused by lack of oxygen during the pregnancy or birth. In her heart, however, she feared that if she were to conceive another child, she’d be anxious for the entire nine months.

She looked at the time again and nearly ten minutes had gone by. Was she going to chuck it away without even checking? She was made of sterner stuff. Steeling herself, she ventured into the bathroom, where the white stick was balanced innocently on the edge of the washbasin where she’d left it. Who would have thought that such a simple piece of technology could hold the key to your future?

She picked up the applicator, grasping it between finger and thumb, and walked gingerly next door, settling on the end of the bed where the light was good. She took a deep breath – this was it – and squinted at the oval window, half closing her eyes as if hoping the information might seep in more slowly.

PREGNANT. One little word, eight letters. She looked once more, eyes wide open this time, aware of the pulse vibrating in her temples, her wrists, the sweat prickling on the back of her neck. PREGNANT again. There was no mistaking it.

She remembered how she’d felt when it had happened all those years ago, when she’d thrown up for the third morning running and popped out in her lunch hour to the chemist. Then, she’d more than dreaded Greg’s reaction. With reason, as it had turned out. He’d been horrified, urging her to have an abortion, but she wouldn’t. Having lost her mother at just sixteen, she couldn’t destroy the new life inside her that might look a little like her beloved mum, sound a little like her even. That might just ease the loneliness inside that time couldn’t seem to heal.

And how right she’d been to continue with the pregnancy! Rosie was the light of her life and now she had Robert, too, gorgeous, loving, kind, generous Robert, who’d made her life complete.

She shivered, thinking that perhaps a baby would destroy what they had; it would certainly change their family. And yet… She grinned, hugging her arms around herself, feeling as if her heart might burst with fear and delight wrapped into one.

Frantic suddenly, she jumped up and ran downstairs to her bag, which she’d abandoned in the hallway when she’d come in. It was terrible timing; he’d be in the middle of serving lunch. There again, he’d never forgive her if she waited. She fumbled for her mobile, only to remember that it was dead, so she grabbed the landline with trembling fingers instead.

There were two, three, four rings then at last she heard his voice. ‘Hey, darling.’ His pleasure warmed her through.

‘Oh, Robert,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’

There was a sharp inhalation. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Yes! At least, I think so. Don’t worry, I’m fine!’

She could hardly bear it any longer. She wanted him there, with her, or she might explode like a shaken soda bottle.

‘I can’t speak on the phone. You’ll understand why. You’ve got to come home
now
!’

As soon as she hung up, Liz regretted her haste. She should have waited till he returned at four-ish. It wasn’t fair to disturb him at work and she’d no doubt worried him. She picked up one of Rosie’s books, which was lying on the sofa in the front room, and tried to read, thinking that a cool, calm, collected woman would have bided her time until the right moment, preferably when her husband was sitting down at the end of the day with a glass of wine or a stiff whisky.

Instead, she’d lost her way, then summoned poor Robert with no explanation. She stared at the words on the page, all the while listening, ears pricked, for the sound of his feet coming down the hill, the turn of the key in the lock. Wondering what his response would be, unable, hard as she tried, to picture his expression when she broke the news.

It didn’t take him long to arrive and as soon as he entered the house she abandoned any last shred of composure and ran to find him.

‘Liz!’ he said, holding out his arms to catch her as she hurled herself in. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait…’

Then she practically dragged him into the sitting room, took his hands in hers and stood, facing him, before the unlit fire.

A cold winter light flooded in, illuminating a vase of creamy white lilies with pale green leaves on a table in the corner, and the air smelled sweet, heady and alive with expectation. Mitzi, the cat, who was snoozing on a warm patch of carpet underneath, flicked her tail and sneezed.

‘We’re going to have a baby,’ Liz whispered, gazing steadily at her husband.

‘What?’

‘I just did a test.’

His expression froze, his body tensed and his hands tightened in hers. What was he thinking? The silence seemed to last for ages, though in reality it was only a few seconds, then she noticed that his eyes were damp, though whether with gladness or dismay she couldn’t tell.

‘Is it true?’ he said at last. ‘Are you sure?’

But there was no time to reply, because all at once his handsome face broke into a smile that made her think the sun had toppled from the sky and made a home in his heart; it was so dazzling that it practically gave her sunburn.

‘Oh, my!’ he cried, crushing her against his chest. ‘I never thought…!’ Then he leaned down and kissed her on the mouth with such tenderness that it seemed as if his very soul had slipped inside to mingle with hers. This, she thought, feeling her own eyes fill with emotion, was how it was meant to be.

‘Are you positive you don’t mind?’ she asked, when she’d pulled away at last. She was checking for the tiniest chink of doubt, the merest hint of misgiving. ‘I thought you might say it’s too soon. I mean, we’d decided to wait.’

‘Mind, Lizzie?’ She loved it when he called her that because it’s what her mother used to say. Never Eliza, her real name, always Liz or Lizzie. ‘I only suggested waiting because I didn’t want to pressure you. You’ve made me the happiest man alive!’

Then he took her in his arms again and did a sort of waltz round the room, and by the time they came to a halt she was exhausted and her sides ached from laughing.

‘You must get back to work,’ she said breathlessly. ‘They’ll be wondering where you are.’

But whether he heard or not was unclear because the next thing she knew he was half pushing, half pulling her to the sofa, where he grabbed a cushion and jammed it behind her back, before dragging up the little footrest by the fire and placing her legs, one by one, on top.

‘You must relax… What was I thinking? Would you like some tea – or juice? You must eat. Protein. That’s it, steak… I’ll buy some…’ He was talking so fast, more to himself than her, that she could scarcely keep up. ‘Fish, too, and plenty of milk, cheese… no, not cheese.’ He scratched his head. ‘Is it only soft cheese you can’t have? Pickles!’ he cried suddenly. ‘Gherkins!’ He frowned. ‘Or are you craving something else? Bananas? Curry?’

Liz giggled. ‘Stop it! I’m not ill! And, no, I don’t have any cravings yet.’ She looked at him seriously. ‘You mustn’t tell anyone. Not a soul. Not even Rosie until we’ve had the three-month scan. Promise me you won’t.’

Robert paced the room, swinging his arms to and fro like one of those Nordic walkers, minus the poles. He looked as if he needed to let off steam, otherwise he might burst like an overfilled balloon.

‘Not tell anyone? It won’t be easy… the boys are sure to guess… and Loveday…’ His voice trailed off as he completed another circuit.

Liz smiled. Communication had never been his strong point, at least not until he’d met her. In the old days, he’d have had no trouble keeping his thoughts to himself; in fact, half the time it was impossible to work out what was on his mind. Now he sounded like a leaky tap.

‘Well, you’ll just have to try,’ she said firmly.

*

Loveday started her new job the following Monday. She was very nervous, but fortunately her first day proved an unmitigated success. She rushed round to Liz’s that evening to tell her all about it, and said that she and Tabitha had got on like a house on fire. Luke hadn’t been there, but Oscar was gorgeous and she adored him. All in all, she claimed, the new post was a dream come true.

Liz couldn’t help wondering how she’d cope with the domestic side of things – making Oscar’s meals, doing his washing and ironing and keeping his room tidy – but could only hope that she’d manage somehow, or that Tabitha would be a patient teacher.

She’d also been told how to take bookings, so that when Oscar was having a nap she’d be able to answer the phone and field emails. The Stables was due to open for business on the first of February and apparently there had already been a fair amount of interest and a few firm reservations. It was unlikely that the place would start filling up immediately but, with luck, word would soon spread.

Robert was convinced that this could only be good news for A Winkle In Time and Liz hoped that he was right. The village pubs served simple food like ploughman’s lunches and steak and chips, but if you wanted something more adventurous, A Winkle In Time was the place to go. Otherwise you’d have to drive to one of the surrounding villages or venture into Plymouth.

On Red Letter Day, Liz was on her way back from the supermarket at about 11 a.m. when a big silver Mercedes pulled in outside Bag End and nabbed her space, so that she had to do a loop, stop up the hill and walk down. Just as she passed Pat’s cottage, a tall, elegant woman with a chestnut-brown bob emerged from the passenger seat and buttoned her long camel coat to the collar. She was wearing black sunglasses, which seemed rather unnecessary on a grey winter’s day, and high tan boots. As she closed the door a man got out as well, walked to the rear of the car and proceeded to pull out two big black suitcases.

‘This way,’ he said to his partner, as he headed towards Fore Street. The woman followed, walking gingerly in her heels on the uneven road surface before turning right by Jean’s place, Dynnargh.

Liz guessed that they were the first guests, and tried to imagine how nervous Tabitha, Shelley and Loveday must be. Luke too, maybe, though he was more laidback. Loveday had mentioned that she’d been instructed to keep Oscar well away from the reception areas downstairs as Tabitha wanted an air of calm, sophisticated relaxation.

‘They’re coming here for a holiday,’ she’d explained to the girl. ‘They won’t want a small boy running around making a noise. He needs to get used to behaving a bit differently with guests.’

Loveday had been asked to arrive extra early in the morning so that she could entertain Oscar while Tabitha and Shelley finished the preparations. She’d been intending to take him to the park, but then it had started raining and before she knew it there was a loud rap on the door so she decided it would be best to wait while the guests settled in.

In the end, she didn’t leave until after lunch, resolving not to disturb Tabitha, who was busy in the kitchen and had quite enough to think about. She couldn’t, however, resist peeking into the main reception room to see what the newcomers looked like. She’d heard that they were from London, which was pretty exotic as far as she was concerned as she’d never been there.

The door was ajar and she could see the guests, sideways on, settled in front of the glowing fire, having already visited their room and unpacked their bags. Either Tabitha or Shelley had taken them a tray of coffee and cakes, which was placed on a little table between the pair, and they were now studying some leaflets about local places of interest. The woman had removed her high heels and was rubbing her feet together. You could almost hear her purring. The man, in a thick navy cable-knit sweater, pushed up at the sleeves, was talking to her in a low voice, occasionally interrupted by the crackle and thud of a log splitting and falling as it surrendered to the flames.

‘This walk looks beautiful,’ he said. ‘Along the coast.’ He passed her a leaflet. ‘I could do with some sea air.’

‘I fancy a trip to the Lost Gardens of Heligan,’ the woman replied. ‘Looks as if we’ll need a whole day, though.’

Oscar squawked in Loveday’s arms and the couple turned their heads.

‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘we’re just going to the swings. We didn’t mean to disturb you.’

The woman smiled. ‘What a cutie!’ The little boy did look very appealing in his red hooded jacket and matching pompom hat, his round face flushed from wearing so many clothes indoors. ‘Is he yours?’

‘Oh, no! I’m the nanny.’ Saying this made Loveday glow with pleasure. ‘This is Oscar. He’s Tabitha and Luke’s son, I mean Mr and Mrs Mallon’s.’ She kissed him on his squidgy cheek for the umpteenth time.

‘Sweet,’ said the woman, turning back to her leaflets. Loveday fetched the pushchair from the cupboard to the left of the front door and strapped her charge in, before heading up the cobbled street. It was a revelation to be given so much responsibility and although the job was hard work sometimes, she was blissfully happy.