The Cornish Guest House (23 page)

The sonographer patted her arm. ‘Completely normal, love. Good, strong heartbeat, good size, all its bits and pieces.’

Liz exhaled; she hadn’t realised that she’d been holding her breath.

‘Now, stop worrying,’ the woman went on. ‘Go away and enjoy your pregnancy.’ She turned to Robert, a playful glint in her eye. ‘And I hope hubby’s going to do his bit and tell her to put her feet up now and again?’

He gave a mock salute. ‘Yessir, rightaway, sah!’

Clutching the black and white photograph, they strolled back to the car, each lost in their own thoughts.

‘Shall we go for a coffee?’ Robert asked at last, climbing into the driver’s seat and buckling his belt.

Liz nodded. ‘I could murder a homemade scone, too. I think my appetite’s returned.’

He switched on the ignition and checked the mirrors. ‘We can let people know now, can’t we? I’m sure Alex has twigged already, he keeps asking me how you are. And Jesse’s been making comments about buns in the oven, I’m sure he’s guessed, too.’

‘Really? I didn’t think the bump was that obvious.’

Liz stroked her tummy and smiled, feeling the on-off anxiety of the past couple of months melt away, and she could swear that deep within her baby stirred.

‘Tell anyone you like,’ she said happily, as Robert pulled off. ‘The whole village if you want, starting with Rosie, of course. Let’s give her the news together when she comes home from school.’

*

They waited and waited, and by the time Rosie showed up, an hour and a half later than usual, Liz was such a bundle of nerves that she almost forgot about the baby and started berating her daughter instead.

‘Where on earth have you been? I was worried sick. Why didn’t you call? We were about to come looking for you in the car.’

Rosie plonked her enormous black bag on the hall floor and rolled her eyes.

‘Mu-um! I had an audition for the school play. I had to wait ages before it was my turn. You shouldn’t fret so much.’

She pushed past her mother and headed for the kitchen. ‘I’m starving.’

Liz trailed after her. ‘Why was your phone turned off? You could have texted me at least.’

‘Sorry,’ said Rosie, opening the fridge and reaching for a carton of juice and one of those cheese strings that she made Liz buy. She didn’t sound sorry. ‘You know I always turn it off in school and I forgot to switch it on again. There wasn’t time to text before the audition, I had to get in the queue.’

Liz sighed. Rosie wasn’t usually forgetful and, anyway, she was home safe and sound, which was what really mattered. Liz opened her arms wide ‘Come here, I haven’t had a hug’ And in Rosie walked, wrapping her own arms round her mother’s waist, resting her head against her breast and making everything seem all right.

‘I didn’t mean to worry you,’ she said in a small voice.

‘’S OK. That’s better.’ Liz breathed in her daughter’s familiar scent and smoothed down her thick fair hair, which had largely escaped from its stubby ponytail. ‘But please don’t do it again.’

She glanced at Robert, hovering by the door, and held up a finger to indicate that she needed a minute. He nodded, but she sensed that he was ready to explode, shifting from one foot to another as if continual movement was the only way to maintain control. He’d just have to wait. ‘Now, what’s this about the school play? Sounds exciting!’

They all sat at the table while Rosie stuck a straw in her drink, unwrapped the cheese string and started pulling off rubbery strands and popping them in her mouth. They were going to do a musical version of
Alice in Wonderland
, it seemed, and she was hoping to land a part.

Liz was both surprised and thrilled; Rosie had been so shy at her previous school, but she’d come out of herself recently. Even so, Liz would never have imagined in a million years that her daughter would want to act and sing. She’d have thought she’d prefer being behind the scenes, helping with the props or lighting perhaps. Rosie’s grandmother, her own mum Katharine, would have been so proud, having been a bit of a performer herself.

‘When are we going to be able to see it?’ Robert wanted to know, but Rosie was vague, explaining that they hadn’t fixed a date yet. Sometime next term, probably.

‘If I get a part, there’ll be loads of rehearsals after school. One of the sixth formers is directing – it’s got nothing to do with the teachers. It’s all her idea. She wants to be a director after university.’

Liz thought the project could only be a good thing, so long as Rosie didn’t get too tired, as it would surely help to take her mind off Tim. The pair had stopped meeting up at weekends and Liz was surprised, actually, by how easily her daughter seemed to have accepted the new state of affairs; since that night when Liz had warned her to keep away from the family and Rosie had stormed off to her room, she’d hardly mentioned the boy at all.

When at last they’d finished chatting about the play, homework and what was for supper, Liz gave Robert a meaningful look and he cleared his throat.

‘We’ve got some news.’ He sounded nervous; they both were. After all, they had a pretty momentous announcement to make and they thought Rosie would be pleased, but you never quite knew.

She stopped slurping her drink and put the carton down, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. ‘What?’

Robert nodded and Liz took a deep breath, pulling back her shoulders. ‘You’re going to have a brother or sister.’ She peeped at her daughter through her dark brown fringe to gauge the reaction, and Rosie’s mouth fell open.

‘It’s true.’ Robert produced the photo of the ultrasound scan from his wallet and placed it on the table in front of his stepdaughter. ‘Look. It’s only tiny at the moment, but it’s already got all its little fingers and toes. You’re going to be a big sister!’

Rosie stared at the picture, tracing a line around the dome of the head, over the forehead, nose and mouth, along the curved back, and one small tear trickled down her cheek before she wiped it away with a sleeve.

‘I can’t believe it,’ she whispered, ‘it’s a dream come true.’ Then she scraped back her chair and hurried to her mother, planting a hot kiss on her face before engulfing Robert in a damp bear hug.

Liz patted her lap and Rosie perched on the edge; she hadn’t done that in ages, she considered herself far too old.

‘We’ll have to think of names,’ she murmured, more to herself than the others. ‘And buy a cot and a pram and things. I can take him or her for walks, can’t I? I’ll be old enough.’

Liz gave her a squeeze. ‘Of course.’

‘What shall we call it?’ Rosie went on. ‘How about Mia for a girl? I like Mia.’

‘I prefer Robertina,’ Robert teased. ‘I think we should name her after me.’

Rosie’s face was a picture, so he pushed it further. ‘And how about Ninian for a boy? That has a good ring about it.’

Rosie was horrified. ‘Are you serious?’ She wasn’t a hundred per cent sure.

‘Absolutely. Ninian was a saint, you know. He could be Ninny for short.’

Now she twigged. ‘Or Marvin. Or Hubert,’ she said delightedly.

‘I’ve always liked Gaylord,’ Liz chipped in.

Rosie frowned. ‘That’s just silly.’

‘Dudley!’ Robert suggested.

‘Ermentrude!’ Rosie squealed.

‘Eglentine!’ Liz offered. ‘Eggy among friends.’

And so it went on and on until they ran out of suggestions and Robert had to leave – late – for work and Liz said that it was time to prepare supper. Rosie, meanwhile, disappeared to do her work and the house fell quiet. The silence seemed to settle in every room, under the floorboards, between the thick stone walls and up into the old slate roof, filling the place with warmth.

This, Liz thought, while she made a salad and rolled three chicken pieces in breadcrumbs – one for Robert for later – was surely the closest that you could get to bliss. It’s what she’d known back in Balham, before her mother had died and everything had changed. For many years after she’d feared that, try as she may, she’d never find such contentment again, that it would always elude her. But she’d been wrong.

Rosie seemed to read her mind because later, as Liz tucked the pink duvet around her daughter’s slim shoulders and under her chin and turned out the bedroom light, she asked her mother if she’d ever been so happy.

‘Yes,’ Liz replied carefully, ‘when I found out I was pregnant with you.’

The room was dark but Liz could imagine Rosie’s pale face, her furrowed brow.

‘But you and my dad weren’t getting on, so it can’t have been the same. I mean, this time everything’s just how it should be. Perfect.’

Liz paused, searching for the right words. Rosie wasn’t a jealous child but, still, you had to tread softly.

‘No,’ she said slowly, ‘it wasn’t the same because your dad and I weren’t right for each other. But you were the first, and everything was totally new. I’ll never forget when I saw you on the scan. I cried, because you were so beautiful. You’ll always be exceptional, my special Rosie. Nothing will ever change that.’

She stooped to kiss her daughter’s forehead. ‘’Night, darling.’

Rosie yawned. It had been a long day. ‘I can’t wait for it to be born,’ she mumbled, rolling onto her side.

‘It’ll come soon enough. Now go to sleep.’

‘’Night, Mum.’

‘’Night.’

Liz was tiptoeing towards the door when a voice called, ‘Soon there’ll be two of us to tuck in, isn’t that weird?’

‘Very.’

‘Maybe sometimes I’ll put him or her to bed.’

‘I’m sure you will.’

I love you, Mum.’

Liz’s heart swelled with both pain and pleasure; pain because she knew that before long it wouldn’t be just Liz and Rosie, Rosie and Liz. They’d been such a tight-knit pair, but that era was drawing to a close. Pleasure because, well, they’d been lonely, too, and now Rosie would have someone who’d be there for her always, even when she and Robert were long gone.

A dog barked outside and the floorboard creaked, as if in response to Liz’s over-active brain. She could hear Rosie’s mind slipping into blissful unconsciousness.

She wanted this baby to know that it, too, was part of the special moment and that it was so very welcome, though they hadn’t yet met.

‘I love you too,’ she whispered to them both.

The following morning, Oscar was in a grumpy mood, having slept badly and woken especially early. He wouldn’t eat the scrambled eggs that Loveday, who was on nanny duty that day, made him for breakfast, and threw his plate across the room, where it landed with a squelch on one leg of Tabitha’s designer jeans, which had to go straight in the washing machine.

‘Can you take him for a walk?’ she asked Loveday, who’d noticed the bags under her boss’s eyes, the creased jumper. ‘Maybe he’ll drop off in the pushchair. I’d rather he had a big sleep now than this afternoon. I couldn’t stand another night like last night.’

‘Sure,’ said Loveday, but before she could leave, Shelley, who had been taking tea and toast to the guests next door, came bursting in, ashen-faced.

‘She had the dream!’ she squeaked. ‘That red-haired lady with the vet husband, she saw them go through the wall!’

‘It’s all right,’ Tabitha sighed, pulling out a chair for her and inwardly cursing Luke’s bad judgement.

Before he’d left for work the previous morning, he’d told the red-haired lady about the old inn and the smugglers’ tunnel that used to lead from one of the bedrooms upstairs all the way down to the cellar beneath the breakfast room and under the road to the house opposite. For years, it had been a successful escape route from customs men, and rumour had it that several people who’d stayed in The Stables before the Mallons arrived had smelled strange tobacco smoke and dreamed they’d seen shadowy figures in old-fashioned clothes walking through the wall and into the tunnel.

Unfortunately, Shelley, who was nervous at the best of times, had overheard the conversation and had talked of little since. This latest revelation was the last thing that anybody needed, least of all Tabitha, who wasn’t a bit afraid of ghosts, only real people.

‘Calm down,’ she said, signalling to Loveday to put on the kettle. ‘I should think the woman’s imagination was running riot after talking to Luke.’

Shelley wasn’t to be assuaged. ‘What if I see them? I’d drop dead with fright, I know I would!’

‘Maybe they’re friendly ghosts?’ said Loveday, trying to be helpful.

‘Ghosts aren’t ever friendly,’ Shelley snapped. ‘They jump out and wrap their white, clammy hands round your neck and squeeze.’

She made a ghastly choking sound by way of proof.

‘Why don’t you go for that walk now?’ suggested Tabitha, thinking it would be better if she handled this alone. ‘Oscar needs some fresh air.’

As Loveday left the room, she could hear Tabitha talking in a low voice, trying to persuade Shelley that, whatever the red-haired woman might or might not have dreamed, there was no chance of bumping into any phantom smugglers now, because they only came out at night when the lights were off.

‘Are you quite sure?’ Shelley sounded doubtful.

‘Absolutely positive,’ replied Tabitha firmly.

Loveday enjoyed her perambulations round the village. She always bumped into someone and often ended up going for coffee and a chat. Oscar was everybody’s darling; all the villagers loved his big brown eyes, chubby cheeks, ready smile and funny words and expressions. He was a real cutie, especially favoured by the elderly ladies, though they mightn’t be as impressed with him today.

Of course he refused to put on his coat and woolly hat, chucking it on the floor angrily, then he wouldn’t climb in the pushchair. He was making such a noise outside the breakfast room, where the four guests were still sitting at the new, round oak table, that Loveday had to do a fireman’s lift and bundle him outside, pushchair and all, before shoving him in the seat, where he went rigid with fury until she strapped him in so tightly that he realised further resistance was futile.

Finally she pushed him, squawking, up the street towards the play park, but she didn’t get far because Luke rounded the corner and sauntered towards her. She was surprised, because she’d thought he’d gone to the office.