Freeing Grace (22 page)
‘Oh, never mind about my hip. I don’t even know why she mentioned it, never been better. You’re going to be a mum, that’s the important thing.’
‘And you’re going to be a grandpa—yet again.’
‘So I am! Don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such a fate. Oh, my goodness, your mother’s gone completely mad, I’ll have to call the doctor. She’s crying and laughing like a cat that’s drunk the whisky. She wants to commandeer the phone and tell everyone.’
‘I’d better get off the line then.’
‘We’ll call you later, Leila, all right?’
‘Right.’
‘My darling daughter. This is a great moment. Remember it. Life will never be the same again.’
It
was
a great moment, the happiest Leila could ever have imagined. And yet, deep beneath the warm surface of her joy ran a thin, cold current of unease. After all the years, all the waiting, she felt there had to be a catch.
Forcing the thought away, Leila pressed down the bar, intending to dial again immediately and tell Maggie, but the thing rang, vibrating under her hands as though it were alive. She hesitated, suddenly afraid of bad news from the adoption team, bracing herself as if for a physical blow.
‘Leila Edmunds speaking.’
‘Ah, Leila. Good evening.’
Leila instantly recognised the authoritative tones of David’s sister, Monica. Relief. ‘Monica! What a surprise! How are you?’
‘I’m very well indeed, thank you. I’ll make this a quick one, Leila, because I’m just measuring up the Lord Chancellor’s croquet lawn for a marquee.’
‘Gosh.’ Leila tried to sound awed. ‘Er . . . big lawn?’
‘Well, you know. The usual. I’m standing on the helipad as we speak. Now. I’m trying to get the final numbers together for Ma and Pa’s do. And as yet I’ve heard nothing from you two.’
Catching sight of herself in the hall mirror, Leila glanced at her chin, then stared intently. There was a spot coming; she could see it looming menacingly.
‘Their . . . er, do?’
Irritation crackled down the line. ‘I canvassed your views months ago. The ruby wedding.’
Oh, bugger. They hadn’t thought of an excuse yet. Leila swore silently and made belligerent faces into the mouthpiece.
Monica pressed on. ‘I’m at the helm, because someone has to organise these things, and it’s a thankless task, I can tell you. Just a minute . . .’ She was still audible, but distant and wavery, as though she was holding the telephone to her chest. ‘What’s the problem? Can we please have some lights over here! No, no,
no
! The French doors won’t arrive until tomorrow afternoon. Look . . .’ The voice became more muffled for a few seconds, and then it was back.
‘You still there, Leila? Yes. I’m sure everyone thinks I’m being managerial. But at least people might show just a little enthusiasm.’
‘Yes, I see that. Sorry, Monica.’ That spot was going to be a whopper. Leila turned her chin this way and that, screwing up her eyes. It gave her a childish satisfaction, somehow.
‘Well?’ insisted Monica. ‘Can I put a tick by your names?’
There was no escaping this one. They were doomed.
‘Of course.’ Leila made a pretend crying face at her reflection. ‘I thought David had already let you know.
Gosh
yes, count us in! Wild horses wouldn’t keep us away.’
‘Excellent. All right, that’s a tick. Now, I rather hoped David might say a few well-chosen words, since he’s so good at that sort of thing.’
‘I can think of several well-chosen words to say about Hilda and Christopher.’
‘Sorry? I’m losing you, I’m afraid . . . No, Louise. The corner of the dance floor is
there
, by that marker. See the marker? . . . You still there, Leila?’
Leila sighed. ‘Yes, still here.’
‘Sorry. It’s a madhouse at this end. Incidentally, a thousand congratulations. I gather you’re getting a baby.’
Leila’s eyes widened. ‘How did you find out?’
‘Oh well, you know. Family network. Great news, anyway.
Fabulous
news!’ Monica’s voice was submerged, in a rampaging wave of sound. ‘Oh God, here comes a helicopter. Must go.’
Leila hung up the phone just as David’s figure appeared behind the glass door. He grinned delightedly when he saw her, and held his arms wide.
‘Hello, my lovely.’ He had a special Welsh accent he used on such occasions. ‘Come over ’ere.’
Leila allowed him to envelope her, shaking them both in a little jig. She wondered where, amid all the celebration, he had filed her question:
What else have we got?
She’d never had to answer it, even to herself: saved by the bell, literally.
Sweeping the thought into a corner, she asked accusingly, ‘Have you by any chance been talking to your mother this morning, David?’
The jig stopped. ‘Er . . . I might have.’
‘Hmm. Did you tell her about the baby? Think carefully before you reply.’
‘It just came out. I was like a dog with six tails.’
‘Soul of discretion, you are. Bloody radio Edmunds. I’ve just had your sister on the phone, banging on about the ruby wedding bash and congratulating me on the new arrival. You were going to wait until I’d told
my
parents, remember?’
‘Oh, dear.’ David put his arm around Leila’s waist, steering her into the kitchen. ‘So I was. I wanted yours to be the first to know too. But you must have spoken to them by now?’
‘Yes, and they’re wildly, frantically, sensationally happy. Peckham will be ablaze within hours.’
‘Good old Fola.’ David flicked on the kettle, frowning forlornly. ‘Mum seems to think our child’s criminal career is assured.’
‘No! What did she say?’
David waggled his head and imitated Hilda’s honeyed contralto. ‘For heaven’s sake, don’t let this cuckoo into your nest, David. You don’t know where it’s been.’
Leila’s eyes opened wide in outrage. ‘You’re joking!’
‘I wish I was.’ Petulantly, he ran both hands over his head so that his hair stood up on end.
‘Did you tell her to sod off?’
‘There’s no point in trying to improve my mother, you know. It’s a waste of energy. She isn’t educable.’
‘How dare she? Ooh, I wish I’d told Monica where she could stick her ruby wedding.’
David took off his jacket and hung it over a chair. ‘It won’t be the last judgemental remark we’ll hear on the subject,’ he remarked calmly. ‘People have views, and they like to air them. And guess what?’
‘What?’
The fan of creases around his eyes deepened, as he smiled. ‘I don’t give a toss. This baby is our own private miracle.’
It was midnight by the time David was ready for bed. Leila was reading a faded library book snappily entitled
Roses Around the Door? Case Studies
on the Long-term Outcomes of Adoption.
‘Some researchers think adoption is a minefield,’ she said. ‘They say adopted children are more likely than others to have problems later. Depression, self-harm, academic failure . . . quite a list.’
‘At last! You and my mother agree on something!’
Leila leaned across, walloping his nose with the book. ‘That’s not funny.’
David stuck out his lower lip. ‘I think you’ve broken my fine, aquiline nose. I’m going to tell the social workers you’ve got violent tendencies.’
‘Shush, I can’t concentrate. This is actually quite serious . . . we need to work out our approach right from the start. I hope we’re up to it.’
David bent to read the book too, pushing back his disobedient hair. ‘Does this apply to people adopted as babies, though?’
‘Um . . . less so, but yes. Some of them feel abandoned, or fantasise about the birth family. Our little Fola has a lot to deal with. Stop reading over my shoulder. It’s really annoying.’
‘But how would the same children have fared if left with their birth parents?’ asked David reasonably.
‘Fair point.’ Leila carried on reading.
‘How was Monica, anyway?’ Noisily, David began plumping up his pillow.
‘In hyperdrive. Wants you to make a speech.’ Leila gave up on the book. She closed it and leaned on one elbow, reaching out to smooth his hair. ‘I’ll nip round to the rectory before work tomorrow and let them know the good news.’
David looked shifty. ‘Ah.’
She gazed suspiciously at him. ‘What do you mean, ah?’
‘Well, I was there this morning, and I happened to let slip . . . ouch!’ He rubbed his chest. ‘I only had two hairs there, it took a quarter of a century to grow them, and you’ve maliciously yanked one of them out. That’s a breach of my fundamental human rights. I’m definitely telling those social workers.’
‘Is there anyone you
haven’t
told about the baby?’
Smiling lazily, David lifted a hand and ran his fingertips down the graceful length of her neck. Her eyes glowed with an incandescence he’d feared was gone forever.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he said. ‘You’re as lovely as you were the day I met you.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’
His fingers slid along her collarbone and underneath the red shoestring strap of her nightdress. ‘You’re going to have to share me from now on,’ he warned. ‘Better not waste any time.’
‘True.’ She caught his hand. ‘So answer the question.’
‘Okay.’ He squinted up at the ceiling, pondering. ‘Who haven’t I told? I know. Dora at the off-licence. I’m leaving that to you. Ow! What did you do
that
for? That was my last one.’
Laughing, he reached out for her, knocking the faded book to the floor.
Leila lay wrapped in warmth, her eyes resting on the square of street lighting that glowed upon one wall. Each time a car drove past, the beam of headlamps tiptoed across the ceiling. She followed the ghostly glow on its course, waited for the driver to change gear before accelerating away. They always changed up just . . .
there
.
Twice she heard the siren of a police car and saw lights flash, sliding across the gloom. She listened—forgivingly, tonight—to gangs of late-night drinkers staggering home along the orange underwater streets. One group was clapping their hands and chanting a football song, breaking off into shouts of laughter before moving on. The stillness of the night seeped in behind them.
She closed her eyes. She could hear David’s heartbeat as she rested her ear against his chest. She’d have to move soon, or they’d both get pins and needles.
As she tried to ease her head away he stirred, wrapping his arms around her. ‘Don’t go yet,’ he whispered, his words slurring on the edge of sleep.
‘I didn’t mean it,’ she said suddenly. ‘David? Are you awake? It was a heat-of-the-moment thing.’
‘No idea what you’re talking about.’
‘When I said . . . you know. When I asked what else we’ve got. I didn’t mean it. I know what else we’ve got. I know how incredibly lucky we are.’
His arms tightened. ‘Stop wittering.’
As his breathing slowed, Leila found herself smiling in the darkness.
We made it to Coptree by the skin of our teeth, and I couldn’t get out of that car fast enough. It was like doing ninety miles on a rollercoaster.
Matt wasn’t about, but Perry was waiting for us, dark-rimmed eyes burning with all their usual intensity. He folded his wife in his arms as though she’d just been away for a conference—exactly as Deborah had predicted—and she played the game too. Lucy threw me one sickened glance and disappeared.
Perry took my hand in both his own. ‘We can never repay you,’ he said.
‘No problem,’ I muttered. Then I lugged my stuff upstairs.
The landing was gloomy. There was no sound from Matt’s stereo, but a band of light gleamed under his door. He must know his mother was home, but still he skulked in his room. I hesitated. I saw the kid in a new light now. Matt’s life was a lot more complicated than I’d given him credit for. More complicated than mine, that was for sure. I dumped my bag on the floor and knocked as I walked in.
‘Hi, honey. I’m home!’
He was slumped on his beanbag, wild-haired and broad-shouldered, headphones over his ears. I could just make out a tinny beat. He was nodding his chin in time to it. He glanced up at me, looked bored, and raised one hand. I sat down on the bed and waited. And waited. Eventually, he slid the headphones down around his neck.
‘They’re smart.’ I nodded at them.
‘Got ’em on eBay. Dad started complaining about my sound system. I can feed about a hundred and twenty decibels straight into my ears with these.’
He pushed them back on, watching me defiantly with his vivid eyes. I reached over to the stereo and pressed the power switch.
‘What?’ he grunted, taking the headphones off.
‘I brought your mum home.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ He knew already, I was sure of that. In fact, I was willing to bet he’d hidden by the window and watched her get out of the car.
‘That’s your cue, Matt. That’s when you say, “Thanks, Jake.” ’
‘Thanks, Jake.’ He used a baby voice.
‘Look, squirt.’ I cuffed the top his head. ‘Be grateful. I travelled about sixteen thousand miles for you, got bitten by three million mosquitoes, ate airline food for two days. And what’s more, you knew very well your mum had left for good, and you didn’t think to tell me!’
‘Keep your hair on,’ he mumbled, but he rewarded me with a faint smile.