The Patterson Girls (36 page)

‘You should be.' He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. Her body reacted immediately, her heart and hormones pumping fast, but she told them to get back in their box. This was merely the embrace of a good friend. If Mitch had other feelings for her, he'd tell her.

‘I'm really sorry,' he said, ‘but I'm going to have to bail. Dad's tired and I told Macca I'd drive him back to Port Augusta so that he can take Kate and the kids home. Do you want me to come back later and help clean up?'

She shook her head. The way she felt, if he came back, if it was late and they were alone, she might not be able to stop herself confessing her love. She couldn't bear the thought of his rejection and how things would inevitably change between them if he didn't return her feelings. ‘No, we'll be fine. Anyway, don't you have to work tomorrow?'

‘Yep.' He grimaced. ‘Another trip up north for a few days. See you when I get back, okay?'

She nodded, the cells in her body jolting as he leaned forward and brushed a kiss against her cheek, making it hard for her to speak in reply. Luckily, he didn't seem to notice.

As Mitch swaggered off to fetch Rick, Charlie's phone beeped in her pocket. She took it out and glanced at the screen, noticing she had several messages. The first was from Lucinda.

Great news, Charlie. About the motel I mean. Not sure what to think of Dad and Mrs Sampson, but I guess if he's happy … Oh and I've put my notice in at work. Two more weeks and I'll be a free woman.

Charlie blinked at that news. What was Lucinda going to do with herself if she wasn't teaching? Who was she going to boss around?

The next message from Madeleine echoed Charlie's thoughts.
Do you think she's pregnant? Why else would she quit?

Abigail and Madeleine had had quite a conversation while Charlie had been busy serving drinks. She scrolled through the messages, which were like a debate between her sisters second-guessing what Lucinda was up to.

I hope she is.
This from Abigail.
It'd be good to prove the stupid curse wrong.

Fuck the curse,
retorted Madeleine.
It'd just be good for her and Joe to be able to start a family. That's probably why she resigned. To de-stress and focus on getting pregnant.

Well, good for her. Whatever the reason.
Charlie typed into her phone and pressed Send.

Oh Charles, nice of you to join the conversation, but I'm off to work now. Sweet dreams,
Madeleine texted.

Sweet dreams?
Abigail messaged Charlie.
What is up with the world? First Lucinda stops teaching and now Madeleine is being nice?

LOL. I thought she was being sarcastic.

Oh right. Of course. How's you anyway? Are you really happy being stuck in the back of beyond?

Happy as Larry. How's the orchestra?

Same as always. Gotta fly. Catch ya later. xo

Charlie smiled wistfully as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. Her sisters all led such busy lives but it was nice to touch base every now and then.

Chapter Twenty-nine

‘I'm sorry, I'm a bit tired tonight,' Madeleine said. Celia was on the phone, asking if she wanted to have dinner with her and Hugo that night.

‘That's okay. It could be a good sign.' As usual Celia sounded unrealistically chirpy. ‘Have you had any other symptoms yet? When are you due again?'

It wasn't a sign. It was a lie. The only thing making Madeleine nauseous was the thought of spending an entire evening in both Celia
and
Hugo's company. She was sick of being the third wheel. She didn't want to be the onlooker of someone else's relationship. She wanted her own life, her own relationship.

And as much as she tried to deny it, the only man she wanted was Hugo.

The last two weeks had been the longest of her life. Every waking hour she thought about Hugo's sperm swimming inside her. She got hot flushes just thinking about it. Which made her feel pretty awkward at work, like some kind of teenager with an inappropriate crush on her teacher. But he'd been so damn nice and attentive that it was hard to suppress her feelings. Yesterday morning he'd bought her a hot chocolate and a delicious cinnamon roll from her favourite café. She'd almost cried when she'd opened the paper bag and looked inside.

‘Do you think you … Do you think you might be?' he'd asked, gently touching her on the arm, hope swimming in his eyes.

Yesterday morning she'd thought it a possibility—why else would she be such an emotional wreck, crying over baked goods of all things? But then today she'd woken up with stomach cramps, signalling the start of her period, and her dreams of carrying Hugo's child had died.

One month, that's all it had been. She knew she shouldn't feel so despondent but she couldn't help it. In the past, most things had come easily to her, but this felt out of her control.

Madeleine swallowed as she grabbed her handbag from her locker in the staffroom and replied to Celia's question about her cycle. ‘Tomorrow,' she lied, not yet ready for sympathy. She wanted to go home and be alone, not spend an evening with Hugo's girlfriend offering pep-me-up advice, telling her she'd have better luck next time. Celia didn't want children, so how could she ever understand? To her this was some kind of experiment, a bit of fun, much like watching a drama unfold on your favourite TV show—but for Madeleine it was real.

‘Ooh, I'm so excited I could burst,' Celia squealed, hurting Madeleine's eardrums, exasperating her already pounding head. ‘You go home and get some rest. I'm working tomorrow but be sure to buzz me if you have news.'

‘Will do,' Madeleine promised as she shut her locker and hooked her bag over her shoulder. She'd have to tell them eventually but not tonight; knowing Celia and Hugo they'd cancel their dinner plans and come around to try and make her feel better. They'd bring her favourite Chinese takeaway and a bottle of vino, but they'd come together and she couldn't handle the dynamic duo tonight. She disconnected the call and walked out of the hospital, relieved she wasn't on call that evening. She'd already delivered two babies that day and seen numerous pregnant patients, but one more could quite possibly push her over the edge. It was hard to be encouraging and excited for a woman in labour when you wanted the same thing. What she really needed was someone who understood her predicament, someone who knew the disappointment of not getting pregnant.

As she strode along the sidewalk towards her apartment building, letting the cool spring evening air wash over her, her mind drifted to Lucinda. She hadn't always seen eye to eye with her sisters. Quite often they drove her insane—and Lucinda more than any of them—but since spending time together at Christmas, she'd been missing them more than usual. What would Lucinda say if she called and confessed her plan to have a baby on her own?

She glanced up and saw she was passing a bottle shop—a sign if ever there was one. And the shop just happened to be next door to her favourite Chinese restaurant.

Ten minutes later, a bottle of chardonnay tucked under her arm and her dinner smelling delicious in a plastic bag in her other hand, Madeleine let herself into her apartment. She kicked off her shoes, shrugged out of her jacket and took her bottle and food to the couch, detouring only to collect a wine glass from the kitchen. After guzzling half a glass and shovelling half a container of fried rice into her mouth, she picked up her mobile and dialled Australia.

‘Hello?' Lucinda sounded a little sleepy.

‘Did I wake you?'

‘No. I'm just getting ready for work. Only two weeks to go and I can sleep as late as I like.'

‘That's right, you quit. What's that all about?' She took another long gulp, settling back to listen.

‘It just felt like the right thing to do,' Lucinda confessed. ‘I want to focus on my marriage and getting pregnant and I shouldn't be teaching unless I'm one hundred percent dedicated to the job.'

‘I see. No baby jackpot yet, then?' Charlie and Abigail both believed that was why Lucinda had quit work—they'd been debating this over text and email ever since Lucinda had made her announcement. But Madeleine thought if that were the case, she'd tell them.

Lucinda exhaled deeply. ‘No. So, what's new with you?'

Madeleine couldn't quite bring herself to admit her failure, so instead of being entirely honest with Lucinda, she said, ‘What would you think if I decided to have a baby as well?'

There was a weird sound at Lucinda's end, then a pregnant pause in conversation. ‘I'm sorry, I think there was interference on the line.
What
did you say?'

Madeleine laughed. And it felt good after the disappointment of the day. ‘You heard right. All your talk of babies at Christmas got me thinking. Maybe I want that too?'

‘I think I need to sit down,' Lucinda said and Madeleine heard what sounded like the toilet seat clunking shut. ‘Are you serious?'

‘Deadly.'

‘Who with? I didn't know you had a boyfriend.'

‘I don't.' She paused a moment. Lucinda would be the first person she'd told besides Hugo and Celia. ‘I'm going to use a donor.'

Lucinda whistled. ‘Wow, that's big.'

‘You don't mind do you?' She'd been hoping for solidarity but realised Lucinda might be upset if she got pregnant first.

‘Mind? Of course not, I'm just a little shocked. I'll be happy if you succeed. A niece or nephew might be the closest I ever get to children, but I wouldn't go getting your hopes up. After seeing your doctor friend and finding out Joe and I are perfect breeding material, I'm seriously beginning to wonder if there isn't something in the Patterson curse. But good luck to you.'

‘Don't be ridiculous,' scoffed Madeleine, lifting her wine glass and taking another swig. Truth was the same thought had crossed her mind that morning when she'd been peeling the plastic off her tampon, but she didn't abide such stupidity.

One failed attempt did not a curse make. She'd allow herself the disappointment over not being pregnant—hence the takeaway and vino—but she refused to waste time dwelling on such things. If she placed any credence in the curse, she may as well start believing in unicorns, which she hadn't even done as a young child. Fairy tales and folklore had never held her interest. Madeleine was a woman of facts and science. Her worldview simply couldn't accept such mumbo-jumbo.

She told Lucinda this now. ‘You've had tests and there's nothing wrong with you.'

‘But what about Aunt Mags? What about Sarah and Victoria?'

‘Forget them,' Madeleine said firmly. ‘You'll go insane if you keep thinking like this. And then quitting work and focusing on you and Joe will be for nothing. Relax, try not to stress, and it'll happen.' She cringed the moment the words escaped her mouth because they were the last thing any woman struggling to conceive wanted to hear, but as a health professional she believed they had merit.

‘I've got to get ready for work. Keep me posted on your efforts.' Lucinda disconnected before Madeleine could say anything else.

She put her phone down on the coffee table and sighed. Fabulous, now not only did she feel like shite herself but she'd likely put Lucinda in a bad mood. Her schoolkids wouldn't know what they'd done wrong. As she took another sip of wine, enjoying each bittersweet mouthful because tomorrow she'd be back on the wagon, her phone beeped, signalling a message. Not on call, she almost ignored it, but curiosity got the better of her and she leaned just far enough forward to see the screen.

Her heart did a pitiable somersault as Hugo's name flashed up at her. She snatched up the phone and swiped the screen to read his message.

Are you okay? Celia said you sounded weird when you talked to her earlier.

Madeleine swallowed. Did Celia have a sixth sense or something?
I'm not pregnant,
she typed back and pressed Send before she could think better of it.

‘Fuck,' she muttered, immediately regretting telling him. Celia might have a sixth sense but Madeleine was psychic—her friends would never let her suffer in solitude. There'd be a phone call, or worse, the two of them would land on her doorstep, all dressed up, having cut short their fancy dinner to look after poor, pathetic Madeleine. Resigned to some kind of intervention, she picked up her dinner and began to eat, one eye on the phone and one ear cocked towards the door.

When her plate was empty and the phone still silent, she thought maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe a quiet night to lament her situation would be hers, but less than a minute later, the intercom buzzed signalling a visitor.

‘So predictable.' Taking her sweet time, she heaved herself off the couch and went across to answer. ‘Yes,' she barked into the wall.

Hugo: ‘Buzz me up.'

Without replying, she pressed the button that would let him into the building and then opened her door to await her unwanted visitors.

It wasn't long long before the doors to the elevator opened and Hugo appeared. On his lonesome. And he wasn't dressed up—instead faded jeans clung to his muscular thighs and he wore a Red Sox sweatshirt up top. You could take the boy out of Boston but you couldn't take Boston out of the boy. ‘Where's Celia?' she asked as he approached her door.

He leaned down and pecked her on the cheek, then stepped inside. ‘She got called in to work.'

‘I see.' Madeleine closed the door, unsure whether it was the truth or whether Celia had stayed away on purpose, but she couldn't help being glad. ‘Can I get you a glass?' she asked, gesturing to her half-drunk wine bottle on the coffee table.

He shook his head and looked down her body. Her nipples tingled at the assessment and she turned away, hoping he didn't see her blush. ‘Get out of those work clothes and put on something comfortable. We're going out.'