Falling for You (15 page)

“Oh my God, oh my
Go
d
!” Shocked and delighted, as well as vastly relieved that it wasn't anything to do with Kerr—at least, she certainly
hoped
it wasn't—Maddy threw her arms around Marcella. “Really? That's fantastic. It's just the most amazing news ever!”

Simultaneously laughing and crying, Marcella said, “I know. I think I'm still in shock. Poor Vince, he really should have been the first to know—oh, thanks, darling.” She beamed at Jake, who had thrust a box of tissues into her hands. “But he's on one of his fishing trips and his phone's switched off and I just couldn't wait to tell you. I still can't believe it. I'm pregnant! I'm actually having a baby! It's my biggest ever dream come true…”

Tears of joy were streaming unstoppably down Marcella's cheeks now as Jake hugged her and they made their way through to the kitchen. Wiping her own eyes, Maddy said, “I'm so happy for you,” and meant it. This had been Marcella's fantasy for so many years. She had been a perfect mother to them, yet the longing for a child of her own had never faded. And now she was going to have one. It was like a miracle.

“I had absolutely no idea! Guess how I found out?” Pulling out a chair at the scrubbed oak table, Marcella said eagerly, “What do I smell of?”

“Um…” Mystified, Maddy sniffed. “Well, nothing.”

“Exactly! And I've been into Bath!”

Maddy comprehended at last. Marcella's regular shopping jaunts invariably included a trawl through the perfume hall of Jolly's department store, squishing herself with enough scent to fell an elephant.

“They banned you from Jolly's?”

“Ha, they wouldn't dare! No, I went in there as usual, all ready to start squishing, and it was so weird. I just kept picking up the bottles, sniffing them, then putting them down again. I didn't feel sick exactly; I just couldn't bring myself to actually squirt any perfume
on
me. Well, it was just the strangest thing! Even the sales girls thought it was odd. In the end, it was Daphne, from the Estèe Lauder counter, who said, ‘You're not pregnant, are you?' And I just laughed, because she'd only said it as a joke. But then I went for a coffee at that nice place on Pulteney Bridge—you know, the one where you're actually allowed to have a cigarette—and when I pushed open the door, it was so smoky in there I had to come out again.” Marcella waggled her hands in disbelief. “Well, that's something that's
never
happened to me before, so I began to think, ‘Hey, what's going on here?' So I went to the pharmacy, bought one of those tests, and popped back to Jolly's because their bathrooms are so nice. And…then I did the test, and it was…it was…p-positive, and I realized I was…p-p-pregnant. God, look at me, off again. I'm like the Trevi Fountain.” Dragging another handful of tissues from the box, she rubbed away her tears. “It's the hormones, Dr. Carter told me. They've just swirled up and knocked me for six—oh, thanks, love.” Smiling gratefully up at Jake, she took the mug of tea. “We should be cracking open the champagne really, but Dr. Carter says no alcohol, to be on the safe side.”

“Hang on. How can you have seen Dr. Carter already?” Maddy frowned, because it was easier to get an audience with the Pope than it was to persuade Dr. Carter's dragon of a receptionist to give you an appointment this side of Christmas.

“Oh, it was fab. I made the receptionist an offer she couldn't refuse.” Marcella looked pleased with herself. “I turned up at the doctor's office, and she tried to fob me off with an appointment in twelve days' time, so I told her that wasn't good enough and that I was going to sit there in the waiting room until I was seen. Then the old trout tried telling me I wasn't urgent, and I said I'd spent the last twenty years trying to get pregnant and now that it looked as if I might actually
be
pregnant, I wanted it confirmed
this
minute
.”

“You're brave.” Maddy was filled with admiration.

“Not really, just desperate. Then I started crying again, really loudly, and that was when Dr. Carter came out and took me into his office. He'd been in there dictating his letters, listening to the whole shouting match and having a good laugh, the jerk.” Marcella's smile was rueful. “He said nobody's ever stood their ground quite like that before now. Usually his receptionist boots them out. But when he heard me say I was pregnant, he had to come get me for the sake of my blood pressure. Anyway, so he examined me and confirmed it, and we both got a bit emotional because he knew how much it meant to me. Then he gave me all these leaflets and a big lecture on how to look after myself, because things can still go wrong, especially with me being so ancient.”

“Ancient,” Maddy scoffed, because Marcella had always looked so young for her age. She had the face and figure of a thirty-year-old.

“I'm forty-three.” For a moment Marcella's smile slipped. “I've never been pregnant before. Dr. Carter warned me about the risk of miscarriage. No cigarettes, obviously. No alcohol. No unpasteurized cheese or raw eggs or climbing ladders. He made a point of telling me I should be taking things easy, avoiding any stress. No physical exertions and definitely no emotional turmoil.” With a beatific smile, Marcella sat back and gently patted her flat stomach. “Just inner calm and relaxation classes and general blissfulness.”

Oh Lord. Maddy inadvertently caught Jake's eye and instantly wished she hadn't.

“Hear that? No stress.” Jake raised a meaningful eyebrow and Maddy glowered back at him.

“Yes, darling, I was going to talk to you about that anyway,” said Marcella. “Call me shameless, but I'm taking advantage of my delicate condition. Promise me you'll stop seeing this married man of yours.” Leaning across, she gave Maddy's hand a squeeze. “Sweetheart, I've never asked you for anything before, but I'm asking you now. Please give him up. For this baby, if not for yourself.”

* * *

It was ten past seven. Back in the cottage, Jake was busy cooking a mushroom risotto while Marcella, with enormous relish, read aloud scary passages from the copy of
You
and
Your
Pregnancy
she hadn't been able to resist buying in WHSmith. Maddy, who had volunteered to pick Sophie up from her Thursday night dance class in Batheaston, rang Kerr as soon as she was safely inside the car.

He answered on the third ring, as she was heading out of the village.

“D'you want the good news or the bad news?”

“Well, you aren't here,” said Kerr, “so I can guess the bad news.”

“I can't see you tonight. We've got Marcella with us. She's pregnant, can you believe it? You've never seen anyone so happy.”

“That's fantastic. I'm glad for her.” Kerr knew all about Marcella's years of longing for a baby. Ruefully he added, “Even if she does wish I was dead.”

“Not dead. Just…preferably not on this continent.” Maddy smiled as she said it, but her fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

“So was that the good news, or is there more?”

Good news? Apart from Marcella's pregnancy, when had there been
any
good news? Longingly Maddy pictured Kerr at home, stretched out across the sofa, drinking a lager and flicking through the TV channels, winding down after a hard day's work, waiting for
her
…

“Hey,” Kerr prompted, breaking into her muddled thoughts. “When am I going to see you? And I'm not talking about delivering sandwiches to the office,” he added. “I mean when am I going to really see you?”

Maddy's throat tightened. Now was the time to tell him if she had a shred of decency about her, an honest bone in her body, an ounce of loyalty toward Marcella.

“Tomorrow evening.” Her mouth was dry with shame. It took an effort to unstick her traitorous tongue from the roof of her mouth. “Tomorrow, seven o'clock. I promise.”

* * *

At nine thirty, sunburned and windswept and smelling of the sea, Vince arrived at Snow Cottage to pick Marcella up. Having greeted Maddy and Jake, he bent over the back of the sofa and gave Marcella a kiss.

“How was it?” Marcella had made sure the incriminating book was out of sight, under a cushion.

“Fantastic. Perfect conditions.” Vince's dark hair flopped over his forehead as he tickled the soles of Sophie's bare feet. Proudly he said, “Five sea bass, three plaice, and a dozen mackerel.”

“Oh, darling, that's brilliant. And guess what else? We're going to have a baby.”

Vince stopped tickling Sophie's feet.

“What?”

“I think you heard,” Marcella said happily.

“It's a surprise!” screamed Sophie, beside herself with excitement. “I wanted to tell you, but Dad said I wouldn't get any pocket money for a year.”

Vince was gazing at Marcella. His dark eyes filled with tears of joy. Barely able to speak, he whispered, “A baby?
Really?
”

Marcella smiled and nodded. Maddy, watching Vince, knew how desperately he had always longed for children of his own.

The tears were sliding unashamedly down his cheeks now. With his Italian blood coursing through his veins, Vince made no attempt to hide them.

“Oh, poor Vince.” Scrambling off the sofa, Sophie rushed to fling her arms around him. “Don't cry. Babies aren't that bad. We thought you'd be pleased.”

Lurking in the bushes wasn't something Maddy had much experience of doing. She was discovering that it involved close acquaintance with a lot more insects than she'd imagined.

It was eleven twenty, kicking out time at the Fallen Angel. Since waiting outside the entrance to the pub would only arouse the curiosity of departing regulars, Maddy was forced to skulk in the shadows with leaves tickling the back of her neck, moths flitting past her face like mini kamikaze pilots, and grasshoppers making their raucous, ratchety grasshopper noises at her feet.

Jerking back in horror, Maddy discovered a spider had been busily constructing a cobweb between her hair and a handily positioned section of hedge. With a shudder of revulsion she pummeled the cobweb away and leaped to one side, time-warp style, as a grasshopper rasped in the vicinity of her left foot. Honestly, nature, sometimes there was just that bit too much of it.

Moments later, thankfully, the pub door opened and into a pool of light stepped the object of Maddy's attention.

Maddy waited until the door had swung shut, extinguishing the pool of light, before emerging from the depths of the hedge.

Having finished her shift, Kate was on her way home. With her Prada bag slung over one shoulder, her skirt swirling, and her high heels clacking along the pavement, from this angle she looked like a model on TV advertising the latest in confidence-boosting tampons.

It wasn't until she turned her head, as Maddy crossed the road toward her, that the scars on her face were visible.

“Can I have a word?” asked Maddy, wishing with all her heart that she didn't have to do this but knowing she must.

“Fire away.” Kate didn't stop walking or even slow down. Maddy kept pace with her as she headed for the junction where Main Street met Gypsy Lane.

Here goes.

“Do you know?”

“Do I know what?”

It was too dark to see whether Kate's expression had changed, but she'd paused for a moment before asking the question.

“OK,” said Maddy, “I think you do know. But just in case you don't, I'd rather not say.”

This time Kate didn't hesitate. “I'm sorry. I haven't a clue what you're talking about.”

That sounded genuine enough. Phew, the relief.
My
mistake
, thought Maddy.
Jumping to the wrong conclusion as usual.

“Unless you mean the thing about you and Kerr McKinnon,” said Kate.

Bugger.

“Well, yes, that's the thing I mean.” Humiliatingly, Maddy heard her voice wobble halfway through, making her sound like a petrified fourteen-year-old boy asking a girl out on a date.

“Thought it might be.” Kate sounded annoyingly confident; she had the upper hand and she knew it. “Well, well, you and Kerr. I take it Marcella doesn't know yet.”

Maddy braced herself.

“No, and that's why I need to talk to you, because—”

“She'll go ballistic? Disown you? Disembowel you?”

“No,” said Maddy. “That's not the reason.”

“It must give you a bit of a thrill,” said Kate. “I bet you never thought you'd get a look-in with Kerr McKinnon.” She paused, allowing Maddy to recall the time, all those years back, when Kerr had caused every girl's heart to beat faster. At seventeen and physically irresistible, he'd been as out of reach to ordinary mortals as Robbie Williams or David Beckham today. As for those so-called ordinary mortals with tragic haircuts, beer-bottle spectacles, and knock-knees, well, who in their right mind would spare them so much as a second glance? Whereas Kate, already precociously advanced in the bosom department and supremely confident of her own looks at thirteen, had undoubtedly felt that, before long, she would have her chance with Kerr…

Anyway, now wasn't the time to dredge up silly childhood rivalries. Especially ones she'd so spectacularly lost.

“Marcella's pregnant,” said Maddy. “She's forty-three and she's just found out she's pregnant.”

This stopped Kate in her tracks.

“But I thought she couldn't—”

“That's what we all thought. But it's happened, which is why I need to talk to you. The doctor's warned Marcella that she has to take things easy, not exert herself, not get upset about anything.”

“Oh, I get it.” Kate's lip curled. “Emotional blackmail.”

Maddy swallowed. “This isn't blackmail.”

“Come on, of course it is. You're worried sick about your big secret getting out, and you're warning me to keep my mouth shut. Because if I don't, Marcella might lose the baby and then it would all be my fault.”

That wasn't fair. OK, so it might be kind of true, but it was still unfair.

“I'm just saying,” Maddy hesitated, “it's pretty obviously Marcella's only chance. You wouldn't want it to go wrong, would you?”

They'd reached the entrance to Dauncey House. Facing her, Kate said, “Don't you think you're going about this the wrong way? Hasn't it even occurred to you to stop seeing Kerr McKinnon?”

Maddy felt sick. Why did people have to keep on saying that, as if it was the simplest thing in the world?

“I'm going to. I will.” Seeing that Kate was turning away, about to disappear up the drive, she blurted out, “How did you know?”

“You mean how did I find out about you and Kerr? You really want me to tell you?”

Gripped with desperation, Maddy said, “Yes.”

“I don't think so.” Kate smiled. “You see, that's the whole point. You think you're being so careful, but there's always that chance you'll be caught out. I'll just leave you to think it over, wonder where you slipped up.”

What a
cow
.

“You haven't told Estelle, have you?” Maddy blurted out, because Kate was heading up to the house.

“I think you'd have heard, don't you?”

“And you won't say anything to Marcella?”

“She's probably tougher than you think,” said Kate.

Yes, but what if she isn't?

“Please,” Maddy called out, but all she heard was Kate's laughter as she disappeared from view.

* * *

Not a lot of work was getting done when Maddy arrived at the offices of Callaghan and Fox the next day. The air was thick with hair spray, the women were all wearing far more makeup than usual, and Sara, the receptionist, was busy brushing bronzing powder into her pillowy cleavage.

“Blimey.” Maddy plonked the cooler onto the desk. “Are we auditioning for
Baywatch
?”

Sara beamed. Having overdone the bronzer on her face, she'd gone an alarming shade of George Hamilton.

“God, could you see me in a bikini? But we are going to be on TV,” she went on brightly. “Kerr had a call from someone at HTV this morning, asking if they could come do a piece for a careers slot on the local news—you know, what it's like to work in PR kind of thing. Isn't that so cool? I've never been on the telly before, apart from the time I told all my friends I was off to Glastonbury Festival and they saw me on TV queuing up with my mum for
The
Antiques
Roadshow
. Which didn't do wonders for my street cred.” Sara pulled a face, then added chirpily, “But this is completely different. I won't be wearing a sad old anorak this time, oh no! Everyone's going to see me looking dead cool, working in a trendy PR agency for my hunky boss. How about you, Maddy? You're single, aren't you? D'you think Kerr's hunky?”

Rather sweetly, Sara had begun dropping hints like this over the last week or so. Absolutely unaware that anything was going on between Kerr and Maddy, she was making unsubtle attempts to pair them up.

Since she could hardly deny that Kerr was attractive—because that would be like saying, “George Clooney? God, yuk, he's got a face like a warthog”—Maddy shrugged and smiled. “Kerr? He's not bad. I've seen worse.” She tapped the cooler. “Now, d'you want me to leave this in the coffee room?”

“Don't worry. I'll take care of it. Ooh, I've just had a brain wave!” Excitedly Sara said, “The TV crew are going to be here from eleven till two, so why don't you go off now and do the rest of your deliveries, then come back with our stuff while they're in the middle of filming. Wouldn't that be great? Then you can be on telly too!”

Maddy pictured the scene: Marcella watching TV at home, initially repulsed by the sight of Kerr McKinnon, then boggling in disbelief as her own daughter pranced into view behind him. Oh yes, that'd do Marcella's blood pressure the world of good. Plus, they'd have to buy a new TV set to replace the one she'd smashed.

“I can't.” Maddy looked regretful. “I've got a million deliveries, then Juliet needs me back at the shop. When's it going to be shown, anyway?”

“They can't say for sure. Maybe tonight, maybe next week. But they'll let us know,” Sara said confidently. “I made Kerr ask, so my mum could phone everyone she's ever met in her life.”

“Well, I'll definitely watch it,” promised Maddy. “Is Kerr in his office?”

“He is.” Beneath the troweled-on makeup, Sara's eyes gleamed with matchmaking interest. “Do you want to see him?”

“No need.” Maddy knew she'd be seeing Kerr at seven o'clock tonight. “Just tell him that he wanted white bread with his BLT, but we ran out. So just for today he'll have to make do with whole wheat instead.”