The baby opened and closed her pink buttonhole mouth with tiny sucking noises, as if she were tasting something. Her dark eyes seemed to be gazing beyond them all to some far distance only she could see. ‘Hello,’ said Jack, ‘ground to mission control?’ and waved at her, but she scarcely blinked.
‘She’s not focusing yet,’ Kate informed him.
‘Hey,’ said Andrew, ‘look at her hands!’ The fingers uncurled a little, as if to allow them to marvel at her perfect pinkpearl nails, the damp creases of her finger joints and palm, the skin reddened there, but creamy on the backs of her hands, her arms. Holding her close, Kate touched the fontanelle with one gentle finger. ‘You have to be careful,’ she told them, ‘this bit’s still soft, it hasn’t all joined up yet, she’s too new.’
‘You mean you got one that’s not properly finished off?’ Jack asked, sitting down on a chair by the bed and beginning to eat Kate’s grapes, which Frances had brought in along with the make-up and night clothes.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ Kate said. ‘They’re all like this.’
‘Cute,’ Jack murmured, putting one of his fingers next to the baby’s hand. The tiny fingers opened and curled, holding him. ‘Hey, she likes me!’
‘It’s a reflex,’ said Kate, who had been reading Frances’s books after all.
‘Na, she likes me best already. Favourite uncle,’ Jack teased.
‘Let me see then,’ Andrew said, nudging his brother. ‘What’s her name? You got a name yet? What about – ’ He cast around and came up with the name of a singer he liked but Kate didn’t.
Kate made a face. ‘As if.’
‘Is there anything else you need?’ Frances had been packing the locker.
‘Maybe some magazines. No, don’t bother. I can’t concentrate on reading, I keep falling asleep. There’s not much point reading that sort of thing when you’ve got a huge stomach and a baby and you’re probably never going out with anybody again.’
Frances laughed. ‘You will, life’s not over yet.’
‘Better not be.’ Kate held out the baby. ‘You want to hold her?’
‘I might drop her,’ Jack said. ‘Crash, right on her head. End of baby.’
‘Let Andrew sit on the chair,’ Frances said. ‘Then he can take her.’ For a moment, Jack looked mutinous, but he got up. It was rare for him to feel wrong-footed. Andrew, red with embarrassment (what if he really dropped her?), gingerly cradled the infant, who began to cry.
‘Can’t stand your ugly face,’ Jack crowed.
Andrew ignored him and gently bumped the baby up and down. ‘Ssh, ssh.’
The thin wail rose and swelled. Frances had forgotten how it tugs at you, that cry, impossible to ignore. She took the baby from Andrew and putting her on her shoulder, walked up and down. Surprised, the baby hiccuped and stopped crying. Kate watched, half jealous, half relieved.
‘Do you want to try feeding her?’ Frances asked. Kate went red.
‘Not now.’
‘Off you go for a wee while, you two – have a coke or something in the café downstairs. I’ll be down in twenty minutes.’
‘We only just got here,’ Andrew protested.
‘Yes, but Kate wants to feed her, so – ’
‘Oh. Right.’ They were off, with a hasty wave to Kate. ‘See you.’
Kate, watching them, felt she had grown older than both. They could never catch up. ‘Did you phone Michelle? When are they coming in?’
‘I said to leave it till tomorrow. After that you’ll be home anyway. They can all come at once then and you can send all the texts you like.’ Kate began to protest, but the baby was fretting again.
‘Better give her a feed,’ Frances said. ‘She’s quite wakeful.’ At the first piercing cry Kate said, ‘All right.’
Frances had bought her a nightdress which fastened at the front. She helped Kate settle the baby at her breast.
‘Ouch – it’s a weird feeling.’
‘I know.’
‘I don’t have to do it for long, though, do I? We could get bottles when I’m out of hospital.’
‘Breast feeding’s much better – ’ Frances stopped. Leave it, she thought, keep that one for another day. Kate would think she was interfering, but how could she help it? Whatever happened, the baby had to come first.
There was no conversation while Kate was nursing. The baby seemed to give up very quickly as if she wasn’t getting any milk, and cried, so that Kate was fussed and said it hurt. The rest of the visit was taken up with this. In the end, Frances was glad to hand over to the auxiliary nurse who had been there when Kate was in labour. She got the baby attached at last, and Kate calmed down.
‘I’d forgotten how difficult it seems at first,’ Frances admitted. ‘Never mind, it does get easier.’ Kate did not look convinced.
When the baby was back in her cot Kate followed Frances down to the area where she could switch on her mobile and starting calling and texting her friends. Frances gave her a quick hug, feeling dismissed.
By the time she and the boys reached home, Alec had been waiting in the lane half an hour, sitting in his car listening to music and smoking. The smoke curled through the open window.
‘You should just have come up to the hospital,’ Frances told him. ‘I did leave a note pinned to the door.’
‘I haven’t been here long,’ he said, getting out and grinding his cigarette into the earth. He looked at her properly, and his face changed. ‘Your hair!’
Frances put a hand to the back of her head where the heavy knot had once lain. ‘It’s much easier to keep.’
They went on standing there after the boys had gone indoors.
‘It suits you,’ he said. ‘You look great.’
She thought he looked terrible. He must be drinking again. She recognised the pallor, the tremor in his hand as he took the mug of tea she made him. The boys had disappeared, leaving them together in the living-room. He looked round, chose a chair and seemed to fold into it, worn out.
‘How’s Kate?’ he asked.
‘Doing very well. She’s even feeding the baby herself, though I don’t know for how long. I keep forgetting how young she is.’ She watched him sip his tea. ‘Are you all right? You look exhausted.’
‘Long drive, that’s all.’
‘No word from Susan?’
‘What? No, nothing.’
‘It seems all wrong. She doesn’t even know Kate was pregnant, let alone – ’
Alec put the mug carefully down on the floor beside his arm chair. ‘How would you feel if she was here, if she walked in right now?’
‘I don’t know any more. There’s something about newborn babies that pierces you, and this one seems so special. In other circumstances, if Susan had been around, she might not even have existed.’
‘You don’t want to lose her. Either of them.’ He stated it flatly, looking for his cigarettes then giving up, remembering no-one smoked in this house.
‘Kate and the baby? I suppose I don’t, after all this time.’
‘I thought so.’
Frances went on hastily, not sure what he thought of this. ‘It’s up to Kate. It’s her future.’
‘I’ve put the house on the market,’ he said. ‘In fact I thought I’d sold, but it fell through at the last minute.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I want to be able to go on seeing Kate, and helping her. I don’t want to be five hours away by car, I don’t want to come up and sleep in your boxroom by your good grace, every now and again.’
‘Don’t tell Kate about the house – not just now. She thinks – ’
‘I know what she thinks. I won’t mention it yet but the house is in my name, it’s my decision. You needn’t worry, I’ve no ulterior motive.’
‘I never thought you had,’ she said, flushing, annoyed.
‘It’s just because of Kate and the baby.’
‘I know that.’
‘We could be friendly. At least.’
She could not say no to that. I should be angry with him, she thought: he’s deceiving Kate. He looked frail and thin huddled in the chair, his face hollowed with fatigue and something she might have called grief, if he still loved Susan.
‘Kate said you and Susan had a row the night before she left.’
He became even paler, if that were possible. ‘Oh God.’
‘What was it about?’ She held up a hand. ‘Sorry, I know it’s none of my business, and you can say that if you like, but Kate was very upset telling me about it.’
‘What did she say?’
‘That you’d been arguing, then it got worse – she said it had happened several times before.’
Alec would not meet her eyes, but he nodded. ‘It had. Every time she went off it was triggered by a row.’
‘She said something about Susan going to a friend’s and I got the impression it was the same person each time, but Kate was cagy and the baby was coming, so I couldn’t ask her more.’
‘The baby?’
‘This all came out while we were waiting in hospital. How you pass the time, I suppose,’ she said, with an attempt at humour. Something in Alec’s expression dismayed her. She really didn’t want to know more, but before she could forestall him he began talking, his voice low, the Scots accent, long made neutral by living in other places, audible again.
‘Not always the same friend. Maybe I didn’t even know about all of them, but she went as far as leaving me three times, always to be with other men.’
‘Oh – ’ Frances began, but he spoke over her.
‘The first guy was married. He went back to his wife, I guess, though Susan’s version was that she had made a mistake so she wanted to come back and sort things out with me. Until this time, that’s what always happened.’
‘Were you so unhappy toghether? That she kept falling in love with other people?’
‘Falling in love?’ he mocked. ‘She was bored. Marriage bored her, I bored her. Susan liked excitement. When she stopped drinking and I didn’t, it wasn’t so much fun being with me.’
‘She stopped – ’
‘She got pregnant. She miscarried very early, but never went back to drinking. She found her kicks in other ways. Or her consolation.’
There was so much here, Frances could not take it in. All these lost babies, she was thinking, but he was still talking and she had to listen.
‘Then there was Mike, who was married too, but his wife had given up on him and they were living apart. I think Susan had an on-off thing with him for years.’ His voice rose. ‘I wasn’t blameless, I know that. The drinking, the life we had with me working all hours or between jobs, that uncertainty. But I protected Kate, I did do that. She never knew about her mother, she never knew any of this. Don’t tell her now.’
‘I won’t, don’t worry.’
‘We must both protect her now,’ he agreed. ‘And the baby.’ He fell silent, brooding. After a moment, Frances said,
‘So she was never at the place you said – the Retreat?’
‘Well, she did go there sometimes.’
‘But you never believed she had this time? You lied.’
‘There’s more to it than that,’ he said quietly.
Frances waited, not knowing whether she wanted to hear.
‘The row,’ he began. ‘It started about that, about her going off again. Everything was about Susan, it all had to centre on her. She was incapable of seeing anyone else’s point of view or understanding their feelings. This time, I don’t know why, this time I lost it. I’d been working long hours, I was shattered, I stopped caring what I said. I told her I wished I’d stayed with you. I said I wished I’d had the gumption to stand up to the pair of you, make you listen, tell her to leave us alone, let us sort out our marriage. I said I wished to God I’d turned her down.’
Frances put her hands over her mouth, appalled. The past welled up and for a surreal moment she and Alec were young again, facing each other over the ruins of their marriage, as if that marriage still existed. Alec, scarcely noticing what he did, fumbled for his cigarettes, took one out and lit it.
‘Sorry,’ he said.
‘Never mind, just smoke. It doesn’t matter.’ Frances leaned forward, hands clasped round her knees. ‘What did she say, what happened?’
‘She started chucking plates. Then she got the cutlery drawer out, God knows why, maybe it wasn’t closed properly, she just grabbed at it, hauled it out. It was so heavy it fell at her feet and all the bloody forks and knives slid across the floor – the noise they made – ’ He stopped, drew hard on his cigarette, then got a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. ‘Oh God.’
After a moment he went on. ‘She said she got the blame for everything. Said if I was so keen on you, why didn’t I go back to you?’ He paused to sip his cooling tea. He looked round for somewhere to tip the ash from his cigarette, then leaning towards the fire, flicked it into the grate. When he began speaking again, his voice was calmer.
‘She said I’d be sorry, that if I was so keen to be rid of her, I might get my wish. And then I’d be even more sorry.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Then she … she snatched up this knife and she came at me, she just kind of jumped forward and – ’ He threw the stub of his cigarette into the grate, and rubbed both hands over his face.
Frances felt her heart thudding in her chest. No, she pleaded, no, please don’t let this be true.
Alec looked up, his face clear as if he had rubbed away the worst of the memory. ‘I’m no catch, Fran,’ he said, ‘I admit it. I’m a drunk and I’ve been a useless husband, as you once told me. But I’m not a violent man.’
‘No,’ she whispered.
‘I tried to get hold of the knife, but she slipped on something on the floor, one of the sodding forks, I suppose, and we were in each other’s arms, it was bizarre, and she screamed, so I let her go. I got myself out and I grabbed my fags and I left the house.’
‘Was she – had you – ?’
‘I walked round the block. I knew if I stayed I’d grab the knife from her and I’d kill her. I didn’t want to kill her, Fran, I never meant to hurt anyone.’
‘But you went back, you went back to the house, Kate said in the morning you were there and Susan wasn’t – ’
‘Of course I went back. I cooled down and I went back. I walked up the garden path and into the house and it was empty, there was nothing, she had gone.’
‘She wasn’t hurt, she was all right, oh thank God for that.’
He looked away, not meeting her frightened eyes. ‘She was all right enough to pick up her bank cards and a few other things before she left.’
‘That was the last time you saw her?’
He shrugged. ‘She meant what she said – I’m rid of her.’
We all are, Frances realised, she’s gone. ‘You checked though with this Mike, you checked she’s not with him.’
‘Apparently he went to the States a year ago. I’ve no idea where.’
‘So she could be with some other man?’
‘Or with him. I have no idea. More likely him.’
‘If she’s with him the police could find out if she left the country, couldn’t they?’
‘If she did.’
‘You don’t think so?’
‘No.’
For several minutes, they sat in silence, until the shock of the telephone ringing jolted them into the present.
It was Grace. Frances had had a long conversation with her in the morning but her mother knew she would have seen Kate again by now. She took a deep breath, hoping Grace would not realise anything was wrong. Still, she was trembling.
‘I think we’ll come up tomorrow,’ Grace said, when she was reassured the hospital was up to scratch, the baby was feeding and Kate was coping.
‘Oh Mum, I have a houseful just now. Alec’s here already and Gillian’s coming to help me. It would be lovely to see you but – ’ How could she say no when it looked as if the rest of the world would be in her house anyway?
‘We’ll get a B&B. Book us into that nice one in Dingwall Barbara stayed in once – what was their name? Your Dad and I just want to give Kate a wee something for the baby.’
Frances knew her mother wanted to inspect the baby herself.
‘My first great-grandchild,’ Grace went on. ‘I know it’s not the way we might have wanted but a baby is a baby, and I’ve bought a lovely wee suit. I took a chance, and it’s a peachy colour, not really pink but nice for a girl.’
Frances had just put the receiver down when there was another call. As she picked up the phone this time Alec went past, heading for the back door. He held up his cigarette packet.
This time it was Kenny. ‘I’m home,’ he said. ‘You’ll have great satisfaction in hearing I couldn’t stand the traffic and the prices they’re asking for poky wee flats are a disgrace.’
‘You should have stayed here,’ Frances told him. ‘You missed all the excitement. I’m a great aunt.’
‘You never are. Well, well. So what is it – great nephew or great niece?’
‘Niece.’
‘Beautiful?’
‘Naturally we think so. A red-faced wee mite with a lot of dark hair.’ On an impulse she said, ‘Come over, come and eat with us.’
‘I might do that. Nothing in this place but tins of dog food and a mouldy carrot.’
Putting the phone down, she felt guilty she had not told him Alec was here, but all the old barriers seemed broken now, and if he came, she would feel protected. For the first time, she wanted that protection.
In hospital, waiting for the evening visiting hour, Kate idly picked over names. Michelle’s Mum was bringing her in tonight, and Michelle had suggested a whole selection, but Kate wasn’t sure any of them suited her daughter. Daughter. She tried the word out, applied it to the smooth sleeping face of the infant in the cot beside her. Her eyelashes, she thought, her heart lurching, her wee hands. Already the baby had lost the squashed indignant look of the hurriedly newborn. ‘You’re so sweet,’ Kate whispered, ‘when you’re not crying. Carly. Juliet. Natalie.’
Alec got there before Michelle and her mother. As soon as he appeared, she said, ‘What’s Granny’s name? Granny Douglas.’
‘Grace,’ he said, bending to kiss her.
She ignored the kiss. ‘You’re supposed to look at the baby first.’
‘Sorry – hey – you’ve got a baby here! Where did she come from?’
‘Don’t be silly.’ She leaned over and pulled the wheeled cot closer, edging back the blanket a little. ‘She’s lovely, isn’t she? She was quite ugly to start with.’
‘Beautiful,’ he said and turned away so that Kate would not see how near he was to breaking down. ‘I’ll just see if I can get a vase for these flowers.’ He had bought the most expensive bunch in the hospital shop, and a large box of chocolates.
‘It’s like a birthday,’ Kate said, pleased, as he dealt with the flowers.
‘It is a birthday, just not yours,’ he pointed out.
‘She’s a bit young for the chocolates,’ Kate said, opening the box. ‘Never mind, my friends will eat them.’
Ten minutes later, Michelle and her mother arrived with Roxanne. More flowers, scented shower gel, chocolate biscuits, and a large teddy bear. The girls bent over the cot, cooing. ‘Isn’t she sweet – aww!’ The baby opened her eyes and gazed at them.
‘This is great,’ Kate said, ‘getting all these presents.’
Alec withdrew after a few exchanged remarks with Michelle’s mother.
‘See you later. Frances sends love and we’ll both be in tomorrow to take you and this birthday girl home, I’m told.’
Kate waved him a cheerful goodbye. The baby was awake and they were all taking turns to hold and pet her.
Outside, he lit a cigarette and walked slowly back to his car. He wondered if Frances’s boyfriend would still be there when he reached her house. She’d kept quiet about him for long enough. They had shaken hands with great politeness, but warily. What does he know about me, Alec wondered, glad he was able to escape after the meal on the excuse of visiting hour. A pleasant enough bloke, he supposed, this Kenny. Only a year ago, he would even have liked him and been glad to know he was around.
The house was silent. Everyone was in bed, and probably asleep. Frances was still awake. She was going over again the nightmarish scene with Alec. A few yards away, he was lying in the boxroom. We slept together for years, she thought, but could not imagine that now, could not any longer conjure how it had been. Something was in the way of memory, something obscured her connection with him. Until today, there had always been a connection, however tenuous and unwanted.
What he had told her did not make sense. In her warm bed, she was trembling with cold. There was a gap. There was something he didn’t tell me. In darkness, it was too easy to imagine terrible things. It’s the stuff of those crime dramas on television, she told herself, it doesn’t really happen to people like us. She could see the knife gleaming with blood, but she could not see Susan, she could not see what happened in those next minutes. She did not know whose blood it was. He said he went out and when he came back, she had gone.
I don’t believe that.
I could make him tell me the truth, she thought, I could get him on his own and make him tell me. Then, with a flood of relief, she changed her mind completely. I could leave it, I could just leave it. Why would I want to know more? I don’t owe Susan a thing and I don’t have to have him in my life any more. But I do have to have Kate and she’s the one I must protect. Better for both of us if we just don’t know.
‘I’m sorry, Susan,’ she said aloud. ‘If you tell me where you are, I promise I’ll do something, I’ll find out more. But you have to do that first, you have to tell me where you are.’
In the silent summer night Frances lay waiting for a signal which did not come.
Gillian travelled north in Paul’s sleek car. The A9, which had always seemed a long and dreary road (beautiful scenery of course, but you hardly noticed it after all these years), telescoped alarmingly. Blair Atholl already, then they were past Aviemore. She drew her breath in sharply once or twice when he was overtaking.
He did drive very slowly up the unmade road to Frances’s house. ‘Off the beaten track, this,’ he said, negotiating ruts and large stones. He drew up behind three other cars. ‘Is there a party going on?’
‘That’s Mum and Dad’s,’ Gillian said as they got out. ‘And Alec’s. Don’t know who owns the one in front.’
‘Maybe it’s broken down,’ Paul suggested. ‘It’s seen better days.’
When they went in they house seemed full of people. Andrew met them in the hall.
‘Hi, there. You want a beer?’
‘This is Andrew,’ Gillian said. ‘Andy, this is Paul. Where’s your mother?’
‘Upstairs, I think.’
Hearing them, Frances was coming down. She and Gillian embraced, Gillian smelling of fresh air and French scent, Frances of the cake she had baked and of baby, milky and sweet.
Frances and Paul shook hands. He looks too smart, thought Gillian. We both do, for the country.
‘Come through,’ Frances said. ‘Everybody’s in the living-room.’
The beaten up old car must be Kenny’s, Gillian decided as they went in. She had met him only once, but now he seemed to be part of the family. The whole bloody family’s here, she realised, except one.
The baby was a week old. Kate was sitting on the arm of her grandmother’s chair. Grace held the baby and Jim was taking photographs.
‘She’s got a name at last,’ Frances murmured to Gillian.
‘What?’
‘Grace.’
‘You’re kidding? Heavens, Mum must be thrilled.’
‘Well, it’s turning into Gracie, which she’s not quite so thrilled about, but it could have been a lot worse, believe me.’
Behind the sisters Paul hovered, holding the can of beer Andrew had given him. Gillian bent to kiss her mother and Kate and to admire the baby.
‘Come in Paul, and meet everyone,’ Frances said. Gillian, turning as her mother did, and her father, thought, oh why did I bring him? Look at his city shoes and his signet ring. Do I even like him? She turned back to the baby, taking her in this time, with a jolt of anxiety and longing so strong she had to grip the back of the chair for support. Then she looked at Paul again and he was smiling at her, so that she could only smile back and get up and go to him. As she did, all the awkwardness of bringing him into this circle vanished and she had an impulse of feeling for him so strong she knew it must be love. What else? It was as if she were closer to him than any of her family. Did Frances feel this, looking across at Kenny, or had she once felt it with Alec?
Gillian saw no-one now but Paul, the baby, her own rising hope. She put her arm through his. ‘Mum, this is Paul.’
Like him, she willed, defying them to do anything else. Just like him. As she watched Paul deal with this far better than she could herself, she saw it was all right, and she willed him to like them too.
‘Look at this place,’ Jack said to Kenny, who happened to be next to him on the sofa. ‘It’s entirely covered in baby tackle. And look at the size of her – how can she take up so much space?’ He indicated the baby being held up by Grace for Paul to admire. ‘I tell you, I’m glad I’m going back to uni next week. I bet the minute I’ve gone there’s nappies and baby stuff in my room as well.’
‘That’s the way of it,’ Kenny agreed, finishing his beer and holding out the can. ‘What about another?’
‘Mum told me to put the kettle on – I’ll bring you one back.’
In the kitchen he and Andrew speculated on Paul.
‘Mint car,’ Andrew said, since he had seen them arrive.
‘Naff shoes,’ Jack commented.
Frances came in with Kenny. ‘We’ll make tea,’ she said. ‘Grandpa wants you to take some photos for him.’
He and Andrew went out and Frances caught the sidelong glance they gave Kenny, then the look between them, as they went out. She began to cut cake.
‘The baby’s coping really well with this crowd,’ she said.
‘Just you wait. When they’ve all gone, that’s when she’ll start waking three times in the night and wanting attention all the time.’
‘You would know, would you?’
‘Two bairns and two grandchildren to my credit,’ he reminded her. ‘I’m an expert on babies.’
Together they prepared the tray and he carried it through for her. On the threshold, as she pushed the door open for him, she said,
‘Poor wee soul. No father, no grandparents, and a mother who’s hardly out of childhood herself. No wonder I feel protective.’
Kenny shook his head at her. ‘Oh come on now. Look at this – ’
This, was the crowded room, the baby peacefully nestling in Grace’s arms, the cat on the window sill pretending to look out at birds, but swishing her tail in annoyance. She knew everything was changed, that nothing would be the way it was, in a house once quiet and undisturbed.
Frances rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. ‘What?’
‘Do you not think this child has more than enough family to be going on with?’
When the phone rang, Frances was pouring tea and Gillian was nearest the door. ‘I’ll get it.’
‘Hello?’ she said, loud and cheerful against the noise from the living-room. But no-one spoke, no-one said, is that you, Frances? There was only the silence which is not silence.
Gillian pulled towards her the door between her and her family, to shut out the noise and hear better. ‘Hello?’ she said again, and could have sworn, in the fading of conversation and rattling cups, the holding of the receiver up to her ear again, she heard someone speak. She was sure, she said afterwards, always said, that a voice faint and faraway, as if from another world, said ‘It’s me.’
Gillian took a deep breath, steadying herself with one hand against the wall.
‘Susan,’ she said. ‘Susan, please – tell us where you are.’
She waited, not knowing whether she wanted an answer or not.
End