“‘Theatre’ in the loosest sense of the word,” he whispered back. She chuckled and moved closer, watching drama unfold.
The actress who portrayed the mother was squinting at the actor-father.
“Are you certain he likes that, dearest?” the mother said in flat, long-suffering tone. The actor swung the baby to and fro in a mad sort of rocking motion that bordered hysteria. Somewhere offstage, another actor mimicked the sound of a baby crying. The audience roared with laughter.
The next scene depicted the baby falling to sleep just as the sun rose; another showed the father heaping the baby with blankets before a stroll on a snowy day. Each scene played off the exaggerating drollness of the mother, the ineptitude of the father, and the reliably interfering advice of the grandmama.
“They’ve almost got it right,” someone whispered in Tessa’s ear. She jerked her head to see a middle-aged woman sharing the edge of the crowd. She was flanked by a grinning companion, likely her husband, and the two nudged each other conspiratorially.
Tessa nodded. “Oh yes, they are quite good.”
“You two young people know something of family life, I’ll wager,” said the woman. She pointed back and forth between Joseph and Tessa.
Tessa shifted uncomfortably. She smiled tightly, meaning to end the conversation.
The woman was not deterred. “Newlyweds?” she guessed. “I can spot them from a mile.”
“She can spot them,” confirmed the man.
Beside Tessa, Joseph went tense.
“We married in December,” Tessa rushed to say.
“Oh, God bless you,” the woman crooned. “Is there a happier pair than a couple just wed? Good for you...” she gestured to the lantern-lit park “...for taking in a bit of pleasure while you can. When the babes come...” She trailed off but gestured knowingly to the actors on the stage.
Tessa struggled to form a pleasant expression. Joseph took a step back.
“When the babies arrive,” repeated the woman, “the two of you will fare better than this lot. My advice? Be honest in all things. And allow for mistakes, large and small.” The old woman chuckled and gave Joseph a knowing wink.
Tessa glanced at him. He had the pained expression of a man waiting for a tooth extraction.
“Do you mind if I go back for the pasties?” he whispered to Tessa. “What would you like?”
Tessa searched his face. “Whatever smells good. Thank you.”
He nodded once, glanced at the woman, and then disappeared down the path. Tessa stared at the shadowy spot where he stood. She was cold, suddenly. Darkness had fallen in earnest, the mild September day dissolved into a cool autumn night. She searched her reticule for her gloves and tugged them on, returning her attention to the stage.
Another domestic blunder unfolded, evoking peals of laughter from the crowd. The young wife reclined downstage with a fan and a tray of biscuits. She devoured the sweets with loud, sensual abandon. The husband, meanwhile, clutching the infant in his arms, darted round the stage, voicing his desire to find some place to safely rest the child so that he might steal a few amorous moments with his wife. As he clamored and tripped, and the actor off-stage wailed louder, affecting the sound of the crying baby.
The audience laughed, and Tessa supposed there was some humor to the stolen moments of the wife, stuffing herself with biscuits. The husband was particularly adept at looking hopeless with a crying baby. But something about the scene struck Tessa as distressing and sad rather than funny. Suddenly, she felt a little like crying herself. When the audience roared again, Tessa looked away, tears stinging her eyes.
Joseph had not returned, but she felt an urgent compulsion to get as far away from the fake crying as she could. She took two steps back, and then three, and then she spun and hurried to the path.
The noise of the crowd had attracted more onlookers, and she was forced to dodge left and right to weave her way through the stream of revelers. All the while, the droning cry of the pretend baby followed her. She was swamped with thoughts of Christian, left at home with Perry. The nursemaid was perfectly capable, and her son loved Perry, but suddenly Tessa wanted the baby inherarms, she wanted to feel the weight of his warm, pink body and smell his baby smell and see for herself that he wasn’t crying like the baby on the stage.
Breathing over a painful lump in her throat, Tessa reached the main path and looked left and right. From which way had they come? She was jostled by a painted-cheeked woman who bumped her from the side. Tessa spun and staggered.
“Sorry, love,” the woman called, and her friends snickered. Behind them, the audience erupted into another wave of laughter. Underlying it all, the persistent wail of the stage baby droned on and on.
Go,Tessa ordered in her head and she turned left on impulse. Her skirts tangled in her haste, and she stumbled and hitched them up to run. Her hat sagged and she reached up and yanked it from her head. The trail curved left and then right, eventually giving way to a small clearing dominated by a square pergola. The wooden structure formed a high grid that hung heavy with wisteria vine.
Tessa came up short, her attention caught by the thick vine climbing each pillar like a serpent. The leafy canopy was a natural ceiling of green and autumn gold that obscured the night sky.
An outdoor room,Tessa marveled, spinning a little. A yew hedge surrounded the little square, with an opening for the pathway in and an opposite pathway out. Glowing lanterns hung at the corners of the pergola, four adjacent swinging orbs of yellow light. Best of all, the thick vines had a muffling effect on the mix of sounds of the park, and the wail of the infant could no longer be heard.
“Thank God,” Tessa breathed, leaning against a vine-knotted pillar. She was being silly, she thought. How much more emotional she’d grown since Christian had come. Rampant sentimentality made her weep at sunsets and hymns in church.
Thinking of Christian, she pushed off the pillar and began to amble beneath the vines. She paced the length of the pergola twice and dropped on a bench at the far end. She had just begun to mentally retrace her steps back to Joseph, when she heard voices. A shout, a laugh, three bars of a song. She looked up.
