She never allowed herself to think of what might have been if she had responded to Colin’s confession by ending their marriage on the spot and seeking a divorce. Nor did she think of what might have been if she hadn’t been already pregnant with their first child when she slept with Ellis.
What tangled lives we lead, she thought as she pushed the wheelbarrow of weeds along the brick path and added them to the compost heap.Ripping off her gardening gloves, she decided she would plant the French beans when the day had cooled down, for now she needed a drink.
Some minutes later, and with a refreshing glass of orange juice in hand, she walked down to the wooden bench seat that overlooked the beach. It was some time since she had occupied the bench, afraid that Ellis might pass by and she would have to speak to him.
That was another example of her cowardice: hiding from Ellis.
He had done just as she’d asked, given her space to decide what it was she wanted. She now knew what that was, but was worried how he might react.
When she’d finished her drink, she placed the empty glass on the ground next to the bench and closed her eyes. Before long, and without meaning to, she was drifting off to sleep, the cry of seagulls and the voices of happy children playing on the beach slowly fading into the distance.
She woke from a restful sleep to the tinny sound of far-away music playing. It was the jingling siren call of ‘Greensleeves’ coming from the ice-cream van on the jetty in the harbour. The languid tune was so very synonymous with the long, slow days of summer.
After checking her watch, she realised she had been asleep for half an hour. Time for some lunch, she thought, getting to her feet. That was when she saw Ellis walking by and when he turned and looked at her.
Her jittery smile met his more cautious one, and in a heartbeat she knew now was the time she had to summon all her courage and tell him what she had decided.
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘Martha,’ Tom called out, ‘it’s your mother on the phone!’
Carrying the ringing mobile with Naomi’s name clearly showing on the screen, he went in search of Martha. The last he’d seen of her she was back from a run and heading upstairs for a shower.
She had started going out for a run the moment she returned home from work. This had begun three weeks ago, the day after they’d learned that Willow was pregnant. Tom had suggested that they run together, but Martha had said she wanted the time to be alone so she could clear her head of work. Despite feeling the sting of her rejection, and knowing it wasn’t just work she needed to clear from her head, he hadn’t pushed it any further. In fact, it was probably what they both needed, an hour in the day when they could catch their breath and not think about work. Or their attempts to conceive.
Upstairs, and hearing the shower running in the bathroom, Tom wondered about answering the ringing mobile himself. The thing was, they had an understanding, just as they didn’t open one another’s emails or post, or read each other’s texts, nor did they answer one another’s mobiles. But ever since his mother’s death and before that, Colin’s, always at the back of Tom’s mind was the concern that the insistent ringing of a telephone signalled bad news,or some kind of emergency. Was this an emergency? Was Naomi in trouble and in need of their help?
As numerous scenes flitted through his mind, the mobile went quiet. If it was something important, he told himself, Naomi would ring again. More than likely it was a far more prosaic reason for her call, just the usual kind of family catch-up chat.
Although for the last month there had not really been any proper Miller family catch-up chats, which was in direct contrast to his own regular FaceTime calls with his sister and father. It seemed that for differing reasons, the Miller Girls – as Colin had often referred to his wife and daughters – were keeping their distance from each other. It was, Tom supposed, the combination of Willow’s pregnancy which she wasn’t telling anyone about and Naomi’s relationship with Ellis that was putting a strain on family communications.
Tom felt sorry for Naomi. Privately he was of the opinion that if Ellis filled the void left by Colin’s death and made her happy, good luck to her.
Martha didn’t see it that way, of course. In her eyes, nobody was ever going to be good enough to replace her father. Which was understandable. It was anybody’s guess what Willow really thought about Ellis; she was always so vague about things and could easily swap and change her views for no apparent reason. Having said that, there was nothing ambiguous about her change of heart regarding Martha’s suggestion that Naomi sell Anchor House to move nearer them.
Tom was very fond of his sister-in-law; he always had been. He often felt like a protective big brother to her, and hand in hand with that was the occasional feeling of exasperation that she didn’t have a clear sense of purpose to her life.But he had to applaud her thoughtfulness in wanting to keep her pregnancy from her sister; it was a typically kind gesture on her part. However, he felt less generous towards Rick for breaking the news about the baby to Martha the way he had. Had he done it deliberately to pay her back, as she believed? If so, it didn’t bode well for the future for them as a family. It was a shame their opinion of Rick had altered so quickly and so dramatically. Did that say more about Tom and Martha, or Rick, he wondered?
He was still standing in their bedroom with Martha’s mobile in his hand, when he realised the shower had stopped running some minutes ago. He tried to think when they’d last showered together, or more precisely, when they’d had good old-fashioned up-against-the-tiles sex in the shower and for the sole purpose of the erotic pleasure it gave, rather than the creation of a new life.
Would sex ever be like that for them again?
Despising himself for such a shallow and self-centred thought, he was about to go downstairs to start cooking supper when he heard what sounded like a yelp coming from the bathroom.
He went over to the door. ‘You okay, Martha?’ he asked.
When she didn’t answer, and anxious she might have slipped and hurt herself, he opened the door. With her back to him, a towel wrapped around her head and another around her body, she was standing in front of the vanity unit. His gaze took in what lay on the top of it – the tell-tale ripped open packaging – and he knew straight away why she had let out a yelp. His heart went out to his wife, but at the same time he felt irrationally cross with Martha.Stop putting yourself through this!he wanted to shout.Just let nature take its course.
‘Sweetheart,’ he said, putting the mobile into his pocket and going over to her, ‘please don’t be upset.’ He turned her round to face him, bracing himself for an outpouring of grief. For he knew that was what it felt like for her each month that came and went and with still no sign of a baby. To make her feel better, and although it really wasn’t the step he wanted to take, he said, ‘let’s make an appointment tomorrow to see a specialist. We’ll—’
He stopped himself short when he realised that Martha’s face wasn’t consumed with misery as he’d seen so many times before, but with something quite different.
She held up the white plastic stick. ‘It’s positive,’ she said, her voice little more than a whisper, as though to say it any louder was tempting fate.
He stared at the stick and saw the line for himself.
‘But I want to do a second test,’ she said, before he could say anything. ‘Just to be sure.’
He knew there was no point in talking her out of it. Not when he could see that she had a second kit already lined up. But deep down, he also wanted as much evidence as Martha did to prove that the first test hadn’t given a false reading. That would be just too cruel. He said nothing of this, merely left Martha alone to follow the instructions and then came back into the bathroom when she said he could.
