My phone vibrated against my hip, and the baby responded before I could with an indignant kick against my ribs. There was far less room for the creative gymnastics I’d experienced in the second trimester, but there was still a feeling of wonder every time a miniature elbow or a tiny knee reminded me that I was on the final home stretch of my pregnancy.
Of course, the indigestion, aching back and multiple trips to the loo during the night were pretty accurate reminders too. I stole a glance in the hall mirror as I walked past it now, smiling as I saw the changes to my body, which Josh claimed only made me more beautiful. He was pleasantly biased.
We’d taken things very slowly in our relationship after that first visit. There were years of gaps in our history, and we’d taken time to rebuild all the bridges that we’d once let burn to the ground. We were stronger now because of it, I knew that, but it always made me happy to hear that realisation echoed by the people who were important to us.
My dad had called Josh ‘son’ for the first time on our last Sunday lunch visit, and I knew how much it had meant to Josh, because he hadn’t been able to say anything for several minutes afterwards.
‘Adam’s going to be a hard act to follow,’ Josh had told me the first time I’d taken him home, which in itself had felt odd, considering the number of times we’d been in and out of each other’s houses during our teenage years.
‘God knows how the next one is going to cope after you,’ I teased, enjoying the smile that crinkled the edges of his eyes as he pulled me in for a kiss.
‘Not going to happen. You’re stuck with me now,’ he said. Our lips had still been locked when my dad opened the front door, and that should probably have felt all kinds of awkward, but strangely it didn’t.
It was months before Josh had told me about his plans to act upon a suggestion I’d made. ‘What suggestion?’ I asked, wondering if baby brain was the reason why I had no idea what he was talking about.
‘What you said to me last year, about turning a section of the forest into a luxury treehouse retreat. Now that I’ve seen what Eddie and Cath offer at the farm cottages, I think we could do that in the forest too.’
More than the enthusiasm in his voice, or the light of excitement in his eyes, I loved the use of ‘we’ instead of ‘I’.
My only concern was how much extra time he would need to spend in Scotland with the new enterprise, but Rory had been keen to go into partnership with him, and Rory’s wife – who used to work in hospitality – had practically begged Josh to let her manage the new business for him when he relocated down south again.
Everything had fallen into place,we’dfallen into place, and the time had come when I’d finally had to admit that climbing three flights of stairs to reach the mansion-house flat felt more like a daily ascent up Everest. The baby was due in six weeks, and just when we were beginning to panic about where we’d live, a beautiful timber-framed house, not far from The Old Dairy, had come on to the market. The building had a rustic charm and there was a huge garden where a dog and a child could one day run side by side and play. But more than that, the garden had a huge sycamore tree. We’d come to a halt directly in front of it during our first viewing of the property. Our eyes had travelled from the base of its trunk right up to the uppermost branches. It was almost identical to the one we used to climb as children.
Josh’s hand had found mine, or mine had found his, and without any doubts or hesitation we’d shared a look that meant only one thing. ‘We’ll take it,’ Josh had told the slightly bemused estate agent.
Leaving the flat would be hard, but deciding to rent it out rather than sell it allowed me to feel like Adam was still with me. Another sharp kick, this time in the region of my bladder, was a timely reminder that a part of Adam wasalwaysgoing to be with me.
The front door buzzer rang, and I crossed to the intercom to release the latch, consciously trying to walk and not waddle. Josh might find my duck-like gait delightful, but I remained in doubt.
The letting agent had been surprised when I’d insisted on showing the flat myself. But it was important to me that the right people came to live in the home my husband and I had shared.
‘The Zhengs are a charming couple. They’re from Beijing, and his company have relocated him here for two years. They loved the look of the place on the video, and they can move in straight away.’
Two minutes into the viewing and it was clear that Mr and Mrs Zheng were entranced by the flat. I could see their excitement growing as I led them from room to room, and it was obvious how much they wanted to call this place their new home. I was glad; I wanted the new residents to be as happy here as Adam and I had been when we’d first moved in.
‘This is exactly what we were hoping to find,’ Mr Zheng told me delightedly. His wife was somewhat quieter, but I could see she felt the same.
They followed me into the master bedroom, where I opened cupboard doors and did my best to sell them something they’d already mentally decided upon. They paused in the corner of the room to admire the beautiful crib that Josh had completed for me. He’d brought it down from Scotland months ago, and although Iwas probably biased, I thought it was the best thing he’d ever made. He could probably have earned a fortune selling similar cribs, but he was adamant that this was to be a unique, one-off piece, just for me.
‘This is exquisite,’ Mr Zheng said admiringly, running his hand over the intricate carvings of the woodland creatures.
‘Thank you. My partner made it,’ I said, hearing the pride in my voice.
‘He is extremely talented,’ Mr Zheng said, straightening up and giving me a warm smile. ‘And you are having a little girl. Congratulations.’
My confusion must surely have been written all over my face.
‘Actually, we don’t know the sex of the baby. We decided to leave it as a surprise.’
This time it was Mr Zheng who looked confused. ‘I’m sorry. I just assumed you were having a little one called Lily.’
‘Lily ismyname,’ I said, feeling my heart take a tiny skip, almost as though it knew what was coming next.
Mr Zheng looked a little flustered as he bent to the crib again and ran his hand over the Chinese characters that Josh carved into every piece of Wildwood furniture. The same characters that were inked over the scar on his shoulder.
‘I’m sorry. My mistake. But this,’ he said, running his fingers slowly over the carving, ‘... this says “Lily”.’
Every piece Josh had ever made, going back years and years. Every single piece had my name on it. It wasn’t a random symbol like he’d told me; it was a heartfelt declaration, a testimony to his feelings, and it brought a lump to my throat.
