She turned to him. ‘How do you know that?’
Sean shrugged. ‘I’m the King of Cups. I know these things.’
Laughing and sighing at the same time, Cherry muttered, ‘Fucking King of Cups. Fucking tarot.’
‘It’s all bollocks. We’ll be fine. Who cares what the cards say?’
‘It is, isn’t it? Bollocks.’ The darkness in her eyes said she desperately wanted to believe this.
‘Of course it bloody is. I had my cards read once by some “mystic” in the local pub. She told me the love of my life had curly red hair and I’d meet her at sea. None of it came true.’
‘See, that’s the thing… Some of the things Mum has seen in her cards have come true.’
‘Such as?’
‘She told me not to get with Dale, said we had heartache ahead. I ignored her, and she was right. But when it went wrong, all I got was: “I told you he wasn’t the man for you, Cherry.”’
Sean sucked in a breath. ‘She never said that about us, though.’
‘No, no, she didn’t. She likes you, and the cards like you.’ Cherry softened. ‘As weird as it might sound, I’m glad the cards like you.’
‘Okay, so what’s the problem?’ He would admit to being confused. It seemed Cherry wasn’t hesitant about him; it was something in the cards that had unearthed events from her past. Hopefully, she would talk. ‘I know we don’t know each other all that well, but…’
‘I know enough to know you’re incredible. But I’m scared. It’s that fucking death card. Why did she have to do that reading?’
‘Why does it matter? It was all general waffle... Hey, wasn’t that the name of one of your mum’s gnomes?’
A watery smile escaped Cherry’s lips. ‘It matters because… Can I hold your hand while I talk?’
‘Of course you can. You’re my wife. Hold my hand anytime you like. Tell me why that card bothered you so much.’
She took up his offer, and he noticed her lip quivering. ‘Remember when I told you I’d like a pasta portrait of me in the Met?’
‘Aye. I loved that idea.’
‘Well, sometimes it feels like making that happen would be easier than the whole happy family thing.’
‘Ah, okay. Is this to do with men?’ Sean’s family background, specifically his mother’s history, made him acutely aware how hard things were for some women. Cherry had spoken of a troubled ex. There could be trauma there.
She rubbed at her mouth. ‘Kind of men, but not really. When I was with my ex, I had…a few…’ Each word landed likea weighted pebble dropping into a deep dark pond, the last one coming heaviest of them all. ‘Miscarriages.’
Before Sean had time to think, she had tagged on an apology. ‘Sorry, I know that’s not what you want to hear. Believe me, it’s not what I want to be telling you. I should have mentioned it in New York. I’m an idiot, and I apologise.’
But Sean was more blindsided than anything else, his head buzzing like he’d been dealt a blow to the temple. When he managed a response, it came out as sympathy. Far easier than considering if there were implications in this for him. Easier than packing all that in alongside the grief for his dad still sitting so fresh inside him, not to mention jet lag.
‘Jeez, I’m sorry you went through that, Cherry. Really sorry. How do you even cope with one, never mind a few?’
With the palm of her free hand, Cherry massaged her heart. ‘You cry,’ she said. ‘You cry so much. Search the internet for support. Play and lose a lot of poker. Slowly, the pain burns less, but you cry when you get triggered or it happens again. It stays with you, the grief, growing into your daily life. Miscarriage happens more than is ever talked about; it’s just that it happened to me four times.’
‘Four times?’Bloody hell!‘May I ask how far along you were?’ Sean wanted to understand what she’d gone through. What she was dealing with.
‘Two months for one and three months for the other ones.’
‘Fuck, I’m so, so sorry.’
‘Thank you. I don’t deserve your understanding. I’m truly regretful I didn’t mention it before. Everything felt so amazing in New York, like we were on a yellow brick roadwhere everything would work out. Seeing my mum has brought me back to earth with a bump.’
‘Aye, I can see that.’
