‘Willow, are you asking me these questions because you’re worried you’ve made a choice you regret, or think you might come to regret?’
Taken aback by her mother’s question, how intuitive it was, she tried to think how best to answer it. She badly wanted to be honest, to tell the truth and admit that she had got everything wrong and it was all her fault,just as it always was. But she was terrified that if she did say the words out loud, everything would come tumbling down around her and then what?
‘It’s perfectly natural to have doubts about all sorts of things when you’re pregnant,’ Mum said, saving her from having to respond.
‘Yes,’ Willow said quietly, ‘you’re probably right.’
‘But on the other hand, it doesn’t do to dwell on things when you’re pregnant. Would you like me to come and see you?’
‘What about Auntie Geraldine?’
‘Don’t give her another thought. She’ll be quite happy here bossing Ellis around. Shall I come today? I could be there in time to take you for afternoon tea, if you like. Somewhere decadently smart as a treat for us both. What do you say?’
The fact that her mother was suggesting she dash up to London straight away made Willow realise that she must be worried about her. ‘That’s a lovely idea, Mum, but it’s my last day at work. I’m going in at two o’clock and then when the shift is over, a group of us is going for farewell drinks.’
‘Shall I come tomorrow then? Seeing as you won’t have work to go to? Or better still, why don’t you come down here for a few days? Have a mini-break with us.’
‘Without Rick?’
‘Why not? It would be lovely for me to have some special time with you. It’s ages since we’ve been able to do that, just the two of us. Ellis will happily amuse himself. What do you think?’
The thought of spending time down at Anchor House, and before motherhood swallowed her up whole, was wonderfully tempting. To lie in bed in her old bedroom listening to the seagulls and the waves lapping at the shore would be just perfect.To go for a long walk and feel the autumn wind in her hair. To shelter in the sand dunes, and just have space to think. But what would Rick think about her spending time away from him? He’d hate it.
‘I’ll check with Rick and get back to you,’ she said, already accepting she wouldn’t be going anywhere, that it wouldn’t be worth upsetting Rick. He’d been so touchy lately, the slightest thing setting him off. He said it was because he was under a lot of pressure at work and that she didn’t understand the first thing about how tough it was for businesses to survive, that the effects of the pandemic on the global economy were still with them and would be for a long time yet, blah, blah, and then some more blah, blah. It wasn’t her fault any of that happened, but the way he banged on anyone would think it was. He had kicked off again last night because he’d insisted that she needed to make a will. She’d made the mistake of laughing and saying there was no hurry, she’d get around to it one day.
‘That’s so typically irresponsible of you, isn’t it?’ he’d said, ‘always putting something important off.’
‘I’ll do it,’ she’d said.
‘You should do it soon.’
‘Yes,’ she’d said, only half listening.
‘After all,’ he’d gone on, ‘you have that trust your father left you, and those shares.’
Rarely did she think about the shares Dad had left her, and Martha as well, probably because she was determined to follow Tom’s advice and keep them until the stock market picked up. But because she wasn’t paying attention to Rick when he was badgering her about making a will, he had suddenly grown angry and gone off on one and shouted at her and thrown the TV remote so hard against the wall it had smashed.
‘If it’s a problem, Willow,’ Mum said, bringing her back to their conversation, ‘and really it shouldn’t be, because why on earth would Rick mind you spending time with your mother, I’ll come and see you for the day? He couldn’t object to that, surely?’
‘Of course not, it’s just that he worries about me.’
‘Yes, darling, and I worry about you too, which is why I think it would be good for you to have a short break down here for a few days.’
‘It would be nice,’ Willow conceded. ‘But don’t you have your hands full with Auntie Geraldine?’
‘I can send her packing back to Brian. I’m convinced she’s just making a point to him.’
‘Maybe Uncle Brian might not want to have her back so soon, perhaps he’s glad of the peace and quiet.’
Her mother laughed. ‘And who would blame him for that? Now meanwhile, whatever it is on your mind that’s troubling you, don’t fret unnecessarily. Do you promise?’
‘I promise.’
When she’d said goodbye to her mother and had plugged in her mobile to recharge the battery, she wandered through to the room that Rick had had redecorated in readiness for the baby. Willow had wanted to paint it herself and stencil something cute around the walls, like a line of fluffy ducklings. Mum had taught her how to do stencilling years ago and it would have been fun for Willow to make more of a personal contribution to their daughter’s room, even if it hadn’t been perfect. But Rick wouldn’t hear of it. ‘I’m not having you clambering up stepladders only to topple off and hurt yourself,’ he’d said.
The room now was fresh and bright with pale lemon walls finished off with white woodwork. Beneath her bare feet was a new ivory-coloured carpet that had only been put down a few days ago and still had that new woolly smell. Where there had once been a large bookcase, there was now a cot and above it was a mobile with dangling stars and moons in silver and gold. Willow went over to it and set it off playing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’. While it tinkled away, she opened the top drawer of the chest of drawers and ran her hands over the neatly folded baby clothes she and Rick had bought together. They were all so impossibly tiny. She picked out a white body suit and tried to imagine a baby inside it. She couldn’t.
She put it back in the drawer, closed it, then went and sat in the low chair next to the cot. She tried to picture herself sitting here at night while feeding the baby. She planned to breastfeed, just as she’d been encouraged at the antenatal classes she and Rick had attended, but knowing her luck she’d be rubbish at it. Rick had said she wasn’t to worry about that, that he wanted to do his share of feeding their daughter, so it might actually be better to bottle feed anyway. It would save her any needless stress.
