Page 45 of Coming Home to Inishbeg Cove

Chapter 29

Sarah

Tears pricked at my eyes as I made my way down the path from my cottage towards the post office. I immediately regretted snapping at Greg as soon as I had stepped outside the door. As I looked out at the sea, it matched my mood with its wild and raging roar. The wind whipped my hair around my face and rang in my ears. Greg and I rarely fought, and I hated it when we were on bad terms with one another. Of course we had disagreed over things in the past, like every couple do, but they had been minor things, like when I wanted to paint our bedroom marshmallow pink and Greg had overruled me. In the end, we had laughed about it. We shared the same views and outlook on the big things – the stuff that really mattered. Except for now. It felt as though I was sitting on the deck of a boat in a stormy sea; my whole world was tilted at a funny angle and I didn’t like it. I just wanted us to be on the level again, the way we usually were.

I was feeling smothered. Greg wanted to wrap me up in cotton wool, but I had always worked in the post office. It was all I had ever known. Although I was really excited to be a mother, I also didn’t want to lose my identity. I loved how the villagers relied on me to do their daily business or even just to come in for a chat. Either way, they were treasured customers. The truth was, no matter how much the villagers needed their post office, I needed them just as much.

As I sorted through the mail sacks that morning, I still hoped that Greg would drop by the post office, as he usually did, at one o’clock so we could head into Ruairí’s for lunch together, but when the minute hand showed quarter past, then half past, and he still hadn’t arrived, I knew he wasn’t coming. I was so deflated. It seemed we were both entrenched in our views. I really thought that once he’d had some time to think about it, he would come around to my way of thinking. The hardest part was that I knew he wanted the best for our babies, just like I did, so it was hard to accept that we had such different opinions. And I wasn’t sure how we could compromise. Our relationship had been such a whirlwind, and it was now being tested for the first time.

‘Hello, Mrs Manning,’ I said, when she came in on her daily visit. She usually dropped me in a few eggs laid by her hens, but more often than not it was just for a chat. ‘It’s a wild day out there, isn’t it?’ I did my best to try to sound cheery. She had full make-up on as usual: blue eyeshadow brightened her eyes and ruby-red lipstick coloured her lips. She looked as glamorous as always with her scarlet-red hair set in soft curls around her face.

‘Well, I’m still here and that’s a bonus at my age.’ She chuckled. As she got nearer to the counter, she narrowed her eyes. ‘What’s wrong with you, love?’ she asked. ‘You look like you could go ten rounds with Mike Tyson and win.’

I could never hide anything from her. She knew me too well. Maybe it was because it was Mrs Manning, or maybe it was her choice of words, but the tears started then and I couldn’t stop them.

‘Heavens above! Let me in there to you this minute,’ the older lady ordered.

I opened the security door to let her come in behind the counter. She shuffled in and when she reached me, she steadied herself before taking me in her arms. ‘What is it, my dear? It’s not the babies, is it?’

I shook my head.

‘Is it Greg? I hope nothing’s wrong.’

I told her about our trip to the hospital the previous day and explained how Greg wanted me to stop working.

‘But the doctor said I can keep working for now if I take it easy,’ I added.

‘Oh dear, I’m sorry. You will work it out,’ she counselled. ‘He’s just worried about you, Sarah. You know he’s doing it with a good heart.’

‘You’re right.’ I sighed, wiping tears away with the back of my hand.

‘He means well, Sarah – he just wants to take care of you. But I also know how independent you are, and how important the post office is to you.’

‘I’m practically sitting down all day and I’ve stopped lifting anything heavy – I just don’t see what difference it makes whether I’m sitting in the post office or at home.’

‘I guess he’s worried about the effect stress could have on the babies.’

‘Come on, Mrs Manning, running the post office is hardly stressful. If the queue is more than three people long, that’s about as stressful as it gets. I just wish he’d see that arguing over it is causing me far more stress than going to work does.’

Mrs Manning nodded. ‘You still have a while to go yet, so unless your doctors have advised you to stop working then surely Greg can see he’s being a little over-protective?’

‘That’s not how he sees it,’ I said.

‘Greg is a reasonable man; do you want me to have a word with him?’

I shook my head. ‘Thanks, but I think we need to sort this out ourselves.’

‘I think that’s probably wise, my dear.’

∞∞∞

That night I lay in bed as Greg snored softly beside me. We hadn’t spoken as we ate the dinner he had cooked, and we had gone to bed without speaking.

He let out a loud snore and turned over in bed. I wondered how he was even able to sleep when my mind was so full of worry. I sighed, pulled up my pyjama top and placed my hands on my ballooning abdomen. I could feel our babies turn and twist beneath my fingers, their angular arms and legs jutting out of me. They really were a miracle. Our miracle. I just wished we could both enjoy this special time instead of ruining it by arguing. For the first time in our lives we were not on the same page – we weren’t even on the same chapter.