It takes me ten seconds to decide: if I get in first and spread news of the mishap myself, I get to control the narrative. As soon as I’m home I hug my large white furry dog, Angel, who launches himself across the room at me, and once he’s licked my ears we head out to the terrace above the back of the house where Mum is pegging out the washing.
She looks up from the pillowcase she’s shaking out. ‘How did you get on down at the harbour?’
I laugh. ‘Normal for me. I tripped over a petrol can and fell in.’
‘In the wedding dress?’ My mum’s peg stops in mid-air. ‘I know you’re accident-prone, but even for you, that’s a lot.’
I nod. ‘I soaked Tia’s too. We dropped them in at Iron Maidens; they’re hopeful they can save them.’ I brace myself for the next bit. ‘That wasn’t the worst of it. Lando Nancarrow appeared and jumped in to save me.’ Hopefully that’s flagged up that he was there while playing down that we actually spoke.
Mum’s eyes open wide. ‘What does he want in St Aidan?’
I cut straight to her main concern. ‘He’s only here briefly. I seriously doubt he’ll bother Salvador.’
‘Let’s hope not.’ Mum’s shoulders drop. ‘Lando hasn’t changed; he’d always leap to your rescue. After so long away, he probably forgot how well you swim.’ She looks at her watch. ‘I’ll pop in and see Dawn later and check on the dress.’
It’s a relief she’s moved on from Lando’s presence so quickly. It’s also a relief she doesn’t have any idea about the wider significance of him turning up. Even when Nemmie arrived, I could never bear to admit to Mum that Lando and I had spent the night together. I hate telling lies, but I let her think I’d had a slip-up at a party and she never pressed me on it.
People find it hard to believe that it’s possible to be seven months pregnant and have no idea; that the first you know about it is when you go into labour and have the baby. Since Nemmie was born, I’ve seen other women telling stories of the same thing, and they all agreed they had no clue because the usual symptoms simply weren’t there; it’s actually a recognised medical condition. My periods had always been irregular, and though I’d gained a bit of weight, I’d put that down to being back home.
When I had tummy cramps all through my evening shift at the bingo hall, I put it down to rushing my tea. As they got worse, I thought about gallstones. I was lucky that my manager saw me doubled up by my car at the end of the night and drove me to the hospital a few streets away. I rang Mum to tell her I was getting checked out, and Paul took charge at home so she could come to be by my side.
I was on an ultrasound bed having jelly spread on my stomach when Mum arrived. She dabbed my forehead with a tissue, clutched my hand, took one look at the screen, and murmured, ‘Thank goodness it’s not appendicitis. There’s always room for another baby, Maevey.’
Awful as it sounds, with the waves of agony sweeping my body, I didn’t fully take it in. All I wanted was for the pain to end, but that only happened hours later when they decided the baby was in distress and I was wheeled into an operating theatre for an emergency C-section.
Somewhere in the fog of the next few days I was alert enough to feel distraught. Of all the people this could have happened with, I was mortified it was Lando. He was so out of my league, he might as well have been in a different universe, and the entire village knew that as well as I did.
Deep down I feel very guilty that he doesn’t know about Nemmie, because I like to think I have integrity, but there are good reasons why he still doesn’t know. And whatever crazy and misplaced feelings I had for him years ago, I’m desperately hoping they will have disappeared now I’m a proper adult.
I smile at Mum as she unfolds a damp sock. ‘Lucky for me you have a bestie at the cleaners.’
She laughs. ‘I have besties in most places. It’s the upside of never having lived anywhere else.’
It’s funny. You assume parents will always stay the same, and my whole life Mum’s been there for me, with her wonderful mix of warmth and reliability, completely unflappable, and utterly content with her lot. But the last few weeks she’s faltered and gone rogue. I’ve noticed her questioning certainties, and at times it’s as if she’s lost all confidence in who she is.
She’s also taken to following an unhealthy number of camper van travellers posting on Insta, and I constantly have to tell her that we’re not missing out being where we are. I look out over the rooftops now, to the shimmering blue ocean streaked with white waves beyond, then back at Angel’s wagging tail bumping my legs, and wonder how Mum could possibly think this wasn’t enough.
I step in to reassure her. ‘So long as you don’t mind our West Country burr, there’s nothing wrong with being Cornish through and through.’ I search for more. ‘Even Devon really wasn’t all that great as a place to live. I soon came back again, didn’t I?’
Tia and I spent three years at uni in Plymouth, which was only possible because her aunt had a holiday let and gave us rock bottom rates.
I go again. ‘And the kids won’t be young forever; there will be plenty of time for you and Paul to embrace van life once they grow up.’
Mum marrying the man next door made her something of a local legend. He’d popped round to change a fuse one day when we were all younger and never went home again. It’s meant they’ve had plenty of room to expand, which is good with so many of us living here.
She picks a pair of jeans from the huge basket of wet clothes. ‘You’re probably right, Maeve. The world will still be waiting when my bottomless laundry basket is finally empty.’
Mum, Paul and I share out the chores between us, each taking responsibility for the area we enjoy most. Mum’s always revelled in a home that’s bursting at the seams, which is a good thing as she and Paul have my half-siblings, Dale and Zara, who are eleven and eight, as well as a revolving door of wonderful foster kids. I completely relied on her when Nemmie arrived and I went to pieces for a while, but I can’t help feeling that Nemmie and I being here might be pushing things now.
I frown. ‘It might be time Nemmie and I found somewhere of our own.’
She jumps straight in. ‘Absolutely not! Whatever gave you that idea?’
I purse my lips as I think how else to help. ‘Would you like to swap laundry for meals?’
She lets out a laugh. ‘No one would stand for that!’ She wrinkles her nose. ‘Don’t mind me, Maevey. This trouble with Sav has knocked me right off my game, that’s all.’
I hate how much worry Salvador is causing her, but I’m still hopeful that he’ll be able to sort himself out. We’ve all pitched in to help him when he’s asked us, and without that ridiculous car his outgoings must be smaller.
