Chapter 25
‘Oh my God, oh my God!’ Shocked and delighted, as well as vastly relieved that it wasn’t anything to do with Kerr — at least, she certainly hoped it wasn’t — Maddy threw her arms round Marcella. ‘Really? That’s fantastic ... it’s just the most amazing news ever!’
Simultaneously laughing and crying, Marcella said, ‘I know. I think I’m still in shock.
Poor Vince, he really should have been the first to know — oh, thanks, darling.’ She beamed at Jake, who had thrust a box of Kleenex into her hands. ‘But he’s on one of his fishing trips and his phone’s switched off and I just couldn’t wait to tell you. I still can’t believe it. I’m pregnant, I’m actually having a baby, it’s my biggest ever dream come true ...’
Tears of joy were streaming unstoppably down Marcella’s cheeks now as Jake hugged her and they made their way through to the kitchen. Wiping her own eyes, Maddy said, ‘I’m so happy for you,’ and meant it. This had been Marcella’s fantasy for so many years; she had been a perfect mother to them, yet the longing for a child of her own had never faded. And now she was going to have one: It was like a miracle.
‘I had absolutely no idea! Guess how I found out?’ Pulling out a chair at the scrubbed oak table, Marcella said eagerly, ‘What do I smell of?’
‘Um ...’ Mystified, Maddy sniffed. ‘Well, nothing.’
‘Exactly! And I’ve been into Bath!’
Maddy twigged at last; Marcella’s regular shopping jaunts invariably included a trawl through the perfume hall of Jolly’s department store, squishing herself with enough scent to fell an elephant.
‘They banned you from Jolly’s?’
‘Ha, they wouldn’t dare! No, I went in there as usual, all ready to start squishing, and it was so weird, I just kept picking up the bottles, sniffing them, then putting them down again. I didn’t feel sick exactly, I just couldn’t bring myself to actually squirt any perfume on me. Well, it was just the strangest thing; even the sales girls thought it was odd. In the end it was Daphne, from the Estée Lauder counter, who said, "You’re not pregnant, are you?" and I just laughed, because she’d only said it as a joke.
But then I went for a coffee at that nice place on Pulteney Bridge — you know, the one where you’re actually allowed to have a fag — and when I pushed open the door it was so smoky in there I had to come out again.’ Marcella waggled her hands in disbelief. ‘Well, that’s something that’s never happened to me before, so I began to think hey-up, what’s going on here? So I went to the chemist, bought one of those tests and popped back to Jolly’s because their loos are so nice. And ... then I did the test, and it was ... it was ... p-positive, and I realised I was ... p-p-pregnant. God, look at me, off again, I’m like the Trevi fountain.’ Dragging another handful of tissues from the box she rubbed away her tears. ‘It’s the hormones, Dr Carter told me. They’ve just swirled up and knocked me for six — oh, thanks love.’ Smiling gratefully up at Jake, she took the mug of tea. ‘We should be cracking open the champagne really, but Dr Carter says no alcohol, to be on the safe side.’
‘Hang on, how can you have seen Dr Carter already?’ Maddy frowned, because it was easier to get an audience with the Pope than it was to persuade Dr Carter’s dragon of a receptionist to give you an appointment this side of Christmas.
‘Oh, it was fab. I made the receptionist an offer she couldn’t refuse.’ Marcella looked pleased with herself. ‘I turned up at the surgery and she tried to fob me off with an appointment in twelve days’
time, so I told her that wasn’t good enough, and that I was going to sit there in the waiting room until I was seen. Then the old trout tried telling me I wasn’t urgent and I said I’d spent the last twenty years trying to get pregnant and now that it looked as if I might actually be pregnant I wanted it confirmed this minute.’
‘ You’re brave.’ Maddy was filled with admiration.
‘Not really, just desperate. Then I started crying again, really loudly, and that was when Dr Carter came out and took me into his office. He’d been in there dictating his letters, listening to the whole shouting match and having a good laugh, the sod.’ Marcella’s smile was rueful. ‘He said nobody’s ever stood their ground quite like that before now. Usually his receptionist boots them out. But when he heard me say I was pregnant he had to come and get me for the sake of my blood pressure.
Anyway, so he examined me and confirmed it, and we both got a bit emotional because he knew how much it meant to me. Then he gave me all these leaflets and a big lecture on how to look after myself, because things can still go wrong, especially with me being so ancient.’
‘Ancient,’ Maddy scoffed, because Marcella had always looked so young for her age; she had the face and figure of a thirty-year-old.
‘I’m forty-three.’ For a moment Marcella’s smile slipped. ‘I’ve never been pregnant before. Dr Carter warned me about the risk of miscarriage. No cigarettes, obviously. No alcohol.
No unpasteurised cheese or raw eggs or climbing ladders. He made a point of telling me I should be taking things easy, avoiding any stress. No physical exertions and definitely no emotional turmoil.’
With a beatific smile, Marcella sat back and gently patted her flat stomach. ‘Just inner calm and relaxation classes and general blissfulness.’
Oh Lord. Maddy inadvertently caught Jake’s eye and instantly wished she hadn’t.
‘Hear that? No stress.’ Jake raised a meaningful eyebrow and Maddy glowered back at him.
‘Yes, darling, I was going to talk to you about that anyway,’ said Marcella. ‘Call me shameless, but I’m taking advantage of my delicate condition. Promise me you’ll stop seeing this married man of yours.’ Leaning across, she gave Maddy’s hand a squeeze. ‘Sweetheart, I’ve never asked you for anything before, but I’m asking you now. Please give him up. For this baby, if not for yourself.’
It was ten past seven. Back in the cottage, Jake was busy cooking a mushroom risotto while Marcella, with enormous relish, read aloud scary passages from the copy of You and Your Pregnancy she hadn’t been able to resist buying in WH Smith. Maddy, who had volunteered to pick Sophie up from her Thursday night dance class in Batheaston, rang Kerr as soon as she was safely inside the car.
He answered on the third ring, as she was heading out of the village.
‘D’you want the good news or the bad news?’
‘Well, you aren’t here,’ said Kerr, ‘so I can guess the bad news.’
‘I can’t see you tonight. We’ve got Marcella with us. She’s pregnant, can you believe it? You’ve never seen anyone so happy.’
‘That’s fantastic. I’m glad for her.’ Kerr knew all about Marcella’s years of longing for a baby.
Ruefully he added, ‘Even if she does wish I was dead.’
‘Not dead. Just ... preferably not on this continent.’ Maddy smiled as she said it, but her fingers tightened round the steering wheel.
‘So was that the good news, or is there more?’
Good news? Apart from Marcella’s pregnancy, when had there been any good news? Longingly Maddy pictured Kerr in his flat, stretched out across the sofa, drinking a lager and flicking through the TV channels, winding down after a hard day’s work, waiting for her .. .
‘ Hey,’ Kerr prompted, breaking into her muddled thoughts. ‘When am I going to see you? And I’m not talking about delivering sandwiches to the office,’ he added. ‘I mean when am I going to really see you?’