Someone Like You (80 page)

The wrapper said it was a butterball, scented with vanilla, ylang ylang and with a helping of cocoa butter to soften your skin.

Hannah carefully unwrapped the bath bomb from its plastic covering and dropped it into the bath. It immediately began to fizz in the water, releasing a glorious scent of vanilla into the air, like freshly baked cakes mixed with the soft scent of a baby’s skin. She breathed it in and sighed.

Her body ached for a hot bath. She never had time for them any more. Claudia was so demanding that a two minute shower snatched between naps was the extent of Hannah’s beauty routine. She hadn’t conditioned her hair in weeks purely because it took too long to rinse the conditioner out of it. And as for face masks, forget it. Having a bath with a butterball bomb in it was the ultimate in sensual excitement these days. The hairdresser had tut-tutted about the state of her hair yesterday. Yesterday, before the party, it seemed a hundred years ago.

Opening the bathroom door, she gingerly crept into her bedroom and peered into the cot. Claudia was lying on her back, covers bunched up around her feet and one fat little hand crammed against her mouth. In sleep, she was like a cherub from a medieval painting: her dark hair curled around her head, her cheeks rosy and her expression angelic. Awake, she was very keen on having her own way, with the most beguiling smile in the world when she was happy. The rush of love hit Hannah again like an express train. She would never have believed you could love somebody so much. She simply couldn’t bear to be away from Claudia. They spent hours playing together, Hannah patiently showing her toys and objects, Claudia delightedly crowing when she got to bite something. She bit everything, from towels to fingers, and had a remarkably strong grip for a small baby. In fact, Hannah was worried that the kitten would find her tail in Claudia’s strong little hand and that neither would enjoy the experience. She loved the kitten but wished Felix had thought about it when he bought it. Kittens and babies were not necessarily the best housemates. But Felix didn’t care about the effect of his actions: he just did things and let other people pick up the pieces.

Satisfied that Claudia was asleep, Hannah stripped off her jeans and sweatshirt and underwear and sank gratefully into the steaming water. Drifting mentally as the hot water soothed the aches in her body, she faced the pain. Felix had betrayed her and would probably do it again. In choosing Mercedes, he’d shown his contempt for Hannah.

It hit her like a flash of lightning, a coup de foudre, as Mercedes would say. If she stayed, she’d be doing what her mother had done. Sticking it out for the sake of the children. Hadn’t Hannah railed against her mother for just that? Railed against the reasoning that insisted on maintaining the status quo, at no matter what personal cost.

Ever since she’d been old enough to hear her father knocking over the furniture when he staggered home, drunk out of his mind, Hannah had wondered why her mother hadn’t left - or thrown him out. The answer was that Anna Campbell’s generation didn’t believe in that type of thing. They married for life - a life sentence as Hannah saw it. Her plan had always been to escape that sort of life and control her own destiny. Having a career and being independent was the only way out of marital slavery, and yet she’d followed her mother’s path as faithfully as if they were identical twins: getting involved with two men who’d used and abused her, both of whom had taken away her self belief and left her like a hollowed-out gourd, empty and useless. First Harry, then Felix. If Harry hadn’t walked away, she’d have still been with him. Hoping they’d get married and settle down, when, in reality, Harry was incapable of settling down.

And now Felix was using her and humiliating her. If she stayed, he’d continue to do it, confident that he’d get away with any number of indiscretions, knowing that Hannah would be waiting for him dutifully, a sweet wifey who’d never walk out. No, she thought with growing horror, no way. The only way to break the pattern was to take control and leave him. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much she longed for him. She was crazy about Felix, she longed for him physically, yearned for his smile, hungered to be with him when they were apart. But it was one-sided. She knew that in relationships there was always one who loved more. And that was the one who wasn’t in control. She was that person and Felix would make the most of it. Unless she left him now. Otherwise, both she and Claudia would suffer. She couldn’t let her daughter grow up in a family where the notion of respect was nothing more than a sham. She imagined Claudia at twenty, talking about her childhood memories and recalling Daddy screwing other women when Mummy was out and he thought Claudia was too young to take notice.

She got out of the bath and wrapped herself in her old blue towelling dressing gown. In the bedroom, Claudia gurgled at her mother, waking up and demanding love and attention. Hannah picked her up and marvelled at Felix’s incredible eyes staring out at her from Claudia’s cherubic baby face. He’d always be part of her life because of Claudia. Which was only right. Hannah didn’t believe in separating a parent from their child. But he wouldn’t be a part of her life, not in that way. She’d be destroyed if he was.

‘How would you like to go to Connemara?’ Hannah crooned to Claudia, who smiled her gummy smile.

Leonie was washing her hair when the phone rang. Streams of shampoo bubbles rushed down her neck as she squeezed her hair quickly and wrapped a towel around her head turban-style. She raced to the phone, panting in her eagerness.

It might be Doug, after all. He’d been in Dublin all day and she was dying to talk to him. It still amazed her how much she missed him when they weren’t together.

They were planning a quiet Saturday night in with the twins, a video and a takeaway. She couldn’t wait.

‘Hello?’ she said breathlessly, feeling the trails of water disappearing down her neck and into her sweater.

‘Hi, Leonie, it’s Emma. Can you talk?’ said Emma in her lovely husky voice.

‘Course, love. How are you?’ Leonie said, using the corner of the towel to dry her neck. She sat down on the small stool beside the phone. Her hair could wait. She hadn’t spoken to Emma for at least a week.

‘I’m fine,’ Emma said. ‘Actually, I’m more than fine, I’m absolutely delirious. You’ll never guess what’s happened.’

‘What?’

‘Are you sitting down?’

‘Yes,’ Leonie said nervously. ‘It’s good news, isn’t it?’

‘The best.’ Even over the phone, Emma’s triumph was apparent. ‘I’m pregnant.’

Leonie squealed. ‘OhmiGod! That’s incredible, Emma.

I’m so happy for you.’

She felt the tears swell up in her eyes. Darling Emma had wanted this for so long; she’d gone through hell trying to get pregnant and she’d be such a wonderful mother.

‘I’m so thrilled, that’s wonderful news.’

‘I know.’ On the other end of the line, Emma’s own eyes were brimming too. ‘I never ever thought this would happen, Leonie. I’d wondered would I ever be pregnant.

Even when we decided to get on the IVF programme, I didn’t know if it would work.’

As Emma spoke, her fingers idly stroked her still totally flat belly lovingly.

‘How far are you gone?’ Leonie asked anxiously.

‘Six weeks,’ Emma said. ‘Imagine, me six weeks pregnant and not knowing it until a few days ago.’ She laughed joyously. ‘Let me tell you all about it.’

She and Pete had made their appointment with the IVF

clinic for the following month and Emma had been immersing herself in the literature she’d been sent. She wanted to know everything before their appointment, so she read and re-read about the strain the treatment put on couples, about how her ovaries would be stimulated with hormone injections and about precisely how her eggs would be collected.

It all sounded daunting.

The literature recommended starting the IVF cycle at a time when work wasn’t too busy. Emma couldn’t imagine a busier time in KrisisKids: they were about to move to bigger premises and, because of a horrific child-abuse case which had gripped the nation over the past few weeks, the counsellors and Edward were in great demand to talk about the charity’s work.

The phones had never stopped hopping, the publicity department was in chaos because Finn had been struck down by food poisoning, and Emma had been coping with his work as well as her own. By Thursday morning, she was exhausted and couldn’t summon up the energy to get out of bed when the clock went off at half six.

‘I’m shattered. I can’t get up yet,’ she murmured to Pete, snuggling up against him, savouring the warmth of his solid body next to hers. It was a chilly morning and she couldn’t face braving the cold and stripping off for her shower.

‘Five minutes more,’ Pete said sleepily, pulling her close to him.

Emma’s body fitted into the curve of his, spooned against him. Pete slid one hand under her T-shirt to caress her bare skin. It wasn’t an erotic gesture, more of a comforting, loving one. Emma snuggled closer to him, enjoying the feeling of his warm hands stroking her.

Pete’s fingers found the curve of one breast. He stroked her softly, fingers splaying out over the sensitive skin of her nipples, skin that seemed suddenly very tender.

‘Have you been doing those bust exercises again?’ Pete teased gently. ‘You’re getting very bosomy in your old age.’

‘What?’ asked Emma, feeling as if she’d been doing a jigsaw puzzle and it had all begun to fall into place. She sat up in the bed, barely noticing the cool of the room compared to the cosiness under the duvet.

‘Only teasing,’ Pete said hastily. ‘You just felt bigger, that’s all.’

‘B-but … they are bigger,’ Emma stuttered, ripping her T-shirt off to stare down at her chest. She touched herself; there was no doubt about it: her breasts looked bigger and they felt different. Sensitive, almost painfully sensitive.

‘Are they bigger?’ she demanded.

Pete sat up too and looked at her. ‘They don’t look that different, but they feel bigger,’ he said. ‘Why?’

Emma spoke calmly: ‘Bigger breasts and sensitive nipples are one sign of pregnancy.’

Pete grabbed her in excitement. ‘Emma!’ he yelled with delight.

‘No, hang on, Pete,’ she warned. ‘Let’s not make the same mistake I always make. I’ve been down this particular road before. Let’s check it out for sure before we start.’

Her heart thumping, she swung herself off the bed and went into the bathroom. At the bottom of the cabinet, hidden in an old toilet bag, was a pregnancy tester.

‘Where did you get that?’ asked Pete, leaning against the bathroom door.

‘From an earlier, obsessed version of my life,’ she said wryly.

Together, they read the instructions. One pink dot meant you weren’t pregnant, two meant you were.

‘Let’s hope for two pink dots,’ Pete said earnestly, his eyes shining.

Emma hugged him. ‘Let’s do it.’

When she’d peed on the tester, they left it on the bathroom floor, then sat on the edge of the bed and cuddled.

They were both too uptight to shower or dress. Emma couldn’t look at her watch because the seconds went so slowly. Three minutes the box said; the longest three minutes of her life.

‘It’s ready,’ Pete said finally, staring at his watch. They both stayed on the bed as if glued to it.

‘I can’t look,’ Emma said huskily. ‘I can’t. I’ve wanted this for so long, I can’t bear it.’

He held her so tightly it hurt. Emma could feel Pete’s heart beating through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. He was as tense as she was, every muscle strained with waiting and longing.

‘I’ll look,’ he said manfully.

She nodded tightly, afraid to speak in case she broke down.

Slowly, Pete went into the bathroom and picked up the tester.

Emma waited, breath held. He was an age. She watched his broad back as he stood with the tester in one hand.

‘Pete?’ she said.

‘Two pink dots!’ he roared and turned so she could see the tears streaming down his face. ‘Two dots! Emma, my love, we’re going to have a baby!’

Leonie had to use her sleeve to wipe the tears away.

‘That’s so wonderful, Emma,’ she said tearfully. ‘I’m so very happy for both of you.’

‘Thank you,’ Emma said, beaming. ‘I just had to tell you. We’re keeping it to ourselves for a few months. The doctor says I’m six weeks along, so I think we’ll make it public in another six. I’m so happy, I have to stop myself smiling all the time or people will think I’m some sort of idiot on drugs.’

‘Smile as much as you want to,’ Leonie advised, ‘you deserve to. When are you pair coming down here for the celebration dinner?’

‘Probably next month,’ Emma giggled, ‘because Pete has set himself a schedule of doing up the house, and especially the nursery, that would exhaust the most ardent DIY

person. He’s already bought paint and wallpaper for the nursery.’

Leonie laughed delightedly.

‘Why don’t you and Doug come to us for dinner next weekend?’ Emma urged.

‘We’d love to. It’s a pity Hannah won’t be there,’ Leonie added. ‘We could have a proper Egypt reunion then.’

‘I feel so guilty about Hannah,’ Emma said. ‘I couldn’t cope when she got pregnant with Claudia and I wasn’t very nice to her. The night you phoned me saying she’d had Claudia, I got plastered,’ she admitted. ‘Pete had to literally put me to bed.’

‘Hannah understood how you felt,’ Leonie said kindly.

‘She knew how much you longed for a baby. Anyway,’ she added briskly, ‘that’s all behind us now. The next question is: when are you and I going shopping for pregnancy clothes?’

Emma sighed with happiness. ‘What are you doing next Saturday?’

On Tuesday, the movers took four hours to pack everything up, stopping only for one tea break and a packet of biscuits. They were so efficient, although when she’d phoned first thing on Monday morning to book them, she’d impressed upon them that speed was of the essence.

If they thought it was odd to be hired at such short notice, nobody said anything. Probably they’d been there for many marriage breakups, Hannah thought wryly.

She was maudlin as she remembered how happily she’d packed her belongings up seven months before, when she’d been so sure that she and Felix had a glorious future ahead of them. Now the only thing they shared was Claudia. Poor darling Claudia. Hannah had never meant her to be the product of a broken home. She knew how hard Donna had worked to look after little Tania on her own, and how tough it had been for Leonie. Single parents didn’t get an easy time. But it was better to be single and have respect for yourself than stay married and grow slowly more resentful as the years went on. It could only be good for Claudia this way. At least she’d never see her parents hating each other, having affairs in retaliation and bitching about the other one behind their back.