Which, to put it mildly, had thoroughly annoyed her. It still did, and with a fresh wave of annoyance flaring within in her, she forced herself to relax. Fretting, as she knew from everything she read about trying to conceive, was massively counterproductive.Deep breaths, she told herself,slowly in, slowly out. On the out breath, she stood up and went over to the window. The pigeon was busy with a mouthful of twigs, adding them to the growing nest, making it perfect for when it would contain an egg, or maybe two eggs.
Watching the conscientious bird bobbing its head up and down as it went about the business of setting up home, Martha suddenly felt tearful. The thought of that bird preparing so carefully for its offspring, and in such a precarious spot, filled her with wretchedness.
Added to the physical ache of her unhappiness was the certain knowledge that her apparent inability to become a mother was turning her into a crabby bitch. Every thought in her head was a negative thought. Worse than that, she was consumed with a need to criticise and condemn those around her. She couldn’t think well of anyone. Least of all herself. It was as if she hated the world right now.
Tom had suggested that maybe they should book a few days away, a mini-break. But she couldn’t raise so much as a flicker of enthusiasm for the idea. There was nowhere she felt the need to visit. Nowhere.I just want a baby!she had screamed inside her head as Tom proposed a few days in Florence, or maybe Venice, or what about New York, a return to where they’d got engaged in Central Park?
Now, and watching the pigeon fly off to gather more twigs, and at the thought of Tom trying so very hard to please her, to show how much he loved her, her hatred for herself multiplied. Her arms folded across her chest, she thought how vile she had been to Willow on the phone yesterday evening. She had known it the moment she’d spat out the words – ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake stop going on and on about Rick being such a tidy freak! Count yourself lucky he’s not a slob who leaves his toenail clippings on the carpet and empty pizza boxes under the bed!’
‘I wasn’t going on and on,’ Willow had said.
‘Yes you were, and before that you were boring me senseless about the cat you’d lost and how relieved you were that Simon and Lucy weren’t as upset as you’d dreaded because Lucy was pregnant and that’s why they’d come home earlier than planned. Well, whoopty-doo!’
That, of course, was the real cause of her anger and frustration,hearing of somebody else’s ability to conceive. Not that Willow had actually gone on about her friend being pregnant; in fact Martha had had to drag that out of her sister.
‘So why did they come home earlier than expected?’ she’d asked Willow, sensing her holding back on something. She always could pick up on when her sister was keeping something from her.
Eventually Willow had said that Lucy was pregnant. The way she’d said it, a sort of mumbled apologetic admission she’d rather not share, because she was worried it would upset Martha, only added to Martha’s irritation. It was Willow’s obvious desire not to poke at her weak spot that was the worst of it. That her sister could be so sensitive made Martha feel a hundred times worse.
Why had she forced the admission from Willow? Why couldn’t she have left well alone? As their mother used to say – ‘Martha, sometimes you really are your own worst enemy. You need to learn when to stop digging yourself into a hole.’
With Rick at work, Willow was alone in his flat still in her pyjamas. A hand playing with the gold four-leaf clover necklace he had given her, she was browsing baby clothes on her laptop.
It was a stupid thing to do, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself, and the more things she looked at, the more adorable they all seemed. Initially she had only wanted to find out what might be in store for her, like when the nausea would pass. But before she knew it, she had been sucked down a black hole and was scrolling through Bugaboo prams that came with eyewatering prices,and then teeny-weeny bodysuits and sleepsuits, and the cutest wrap-over jackets. Oh, and then there were the mittens, hats, leggings and tights and funny little bibs.
But there was more to babies than a sweet sleepsuit that made a baby look like a fluffy bunny rabbit, she warned herself. There was far more to it. There was actual responsibility involved, a lifetime of responsibility and grown-up behaviour. Was she capable of that?
She reckoned she had to be about nine weeks pregnant now. She still hadn’t told Rick; she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. To tell him would make it real and she wasn’t ready for that. The truth was, she didn’t want it to be real. She wanted to kid herself that she wasn’t pregnant, that she hadn’t messed up so spectacularly.
The thought was always there in her head that it would simply be better to end things now, to have the problem removed and to keep her life nice and simple and worry-free. Rick need never know. It would be her secret.
Snapping shut her laptop, she rose abruptly from the black leather sofa she had occupied for the last hour and crossed the room to the kitchen. She had known before she moved in with Rick that he liked things kept tidy, but since last weekend after moving in with him, she now knew that he was practically OCD about everything being put away. He didn’t like the worktops cluttered with anything more than the kettle. Once a mug, glass, plate or piece of cutlery was used, it was placed straight into the dishwasher and from there it was put in the cupboard or drawer.
Being tidy and organised didn’t come naturally to Willow, but she was determined to become better at it. As Rick said, how difficult was it to put the jar of coffee away after using it?Although, what was the problem with leaving it by the kettle where you knew you were going to use it an hour later? The same for the box of teabags. But this was Rick’s flat and she just needed to adjust to his way of doing things. That’s what couples did. And she had to admit, his open-plan, loft-style apartment was pretty cool. It even had a narrow balcony with just room for two chairs and a small metal table. They’d eaten supper there last night, which Rick had cooked. He’d done it all himself, banning her from helping. He said she’d made too much mess the evening before to risk letting her do it again. She’d laughed and told him that that was her cunning plan all along, to get out of ever cooking for him.
Now, as she made herself a mug of instant coffee – she didn’t dare use his expensive machine for fear of making a mess, or worse, breaking it – her thoughts returned to the baby she and Rick had created and which was slowly but surely growing inside her. It was, she suddenly thought, like a time bomb ticking away inside her with the potential to cause an explosion of emotions if she made it known that she was pregnant.
Just telling her sister last night that Lucy was pregnant had been bad enough; it didn’t bear thinking about how Martha would react if Willow admitted that she was also pregnant. She had only herself to blame, of course. She shouldn’t have said anything to Martha about being so relieved that Simon and Lucy hadn’t gone mad with her over losing Cedric; it had only then led to her having to explain why.
In contrast to Willow’s panicky fear of being pregnant, Simon and Lucy could not be more delighted or excited at finding themselves expecting a baby earlier than planned. She was pleased for them and such was their infectious happiness she had almost blurted out her own news.‘Guess what, but I’m pregnant as well and haven’t a clue what I’m going to do!’
And wasn’t that the truth.
Chapter Seventeen
From the large balcony that led off from her bedroom, Naomi watched a sailing dinghy making its way out to sea by means of its motor. There wasn’t a breath of wind to be had, and in the surprisingly sultry stillness of the May morning, the puttering noise of the engine carried easily across the smooth surface of the water.
It was on such a day that Naomi, along with the girls and Tom, had gone out in Colin’s boat – theMarlow– to scatter his ashes. They’d taken it in turns to empty the urn, and with no breeze to speak of, there’d been no danger of Colin’s ashes flying back in their faces – something that always seemed to happen in films – they had quietly said their goodbyes. Afterwards, and with Tom at the helm, and with the engine running, they’d made their way round the headland to Bosham harbour and had lunch at the Anchor Bleu. By the time they’d arrived back at Tilsham, the sky had darkened, and the first heavy drops of rain began to fall. Within minutes, thunder boomed overhead and for the next hour a storm had raged. Naomi had watched the lightning fill the sky and imagined Colin, always a lover of a grand gesture, stage-managing the lowering of the final curtain on his life.
Turning away from the sea view and the memory of that day, she went inside to finish getting ready, hoping that today wouldn’t end in a storm. A storm of words and emotions, that was.
They arrived together a little after midday, just as Naomi had put the finishing touch of a vase of lilac blooms on the table on the verandah and Ellis was placing an opened bottle of white wine in the wine cooler. It would have been just the sort of scene Tom and the girls would have walked in on countless times before, except it would have been their father seeing to the wine. And Naomi wouldn’t be a mass of fumbling nerves. So much so, she knocked over a glass on the table in her rush to greet them, sending it crashing to the ground. In the ensuing kerfuffle as Ellis bent to help her pick up the pieces, they not only bumped heads, but managed to cut themselves on the broken glass.
It was not the relaxed way she wanted her children to meet Ellis, but it did serve as an icebreaker. So with plasters applied and drinks poured, and formal introductions now superfluous, they sat down around the table. It was then that Naomi commented on Rick not being with Willow. ‘I thought he was looking forward to a day by the sea,’ she said, ‘a chance to get out of London.’
‘He … erm … he changed his mind at the last minute,’ said Willow, her gaze sliding towards her sister.
‘What Willow means is that he thought it best that it was just the three of us today,’ said Martha.
