Knit One Pearl One (24 page)

Oh sod this.

“Well, I seem to have networked my way into being on speaking terms with a major A-list star and Britain’s Favorite bloody Broadcaster, haven’t I? So I can’t be that crap at it.”

“There’s no need to be rude. I’m just trying to say you could be doing so much more.”

“No, I couldn’t. Because I don’t want to. I want to do this. This is huge. The kids are happy, I’m happy, Gran’s happy, we’re all bloody happy. So why can’t you be happy too, Mum?”

“I do realize she’s always walked on water as far as you’re concerned. But she likes living here, she always has. It doesn’t mean you have to.”

“Just leave it, Mum.”

“No, I won’t. It’s about time someone told you.”

“Mum.”

“When I think about the sacrifices I made, it’s high time you stopped wasting your time.”

“And it’s high time you stopped telling people about your amazing creative life and how we all need to get proper careers so you can show off at your stupid parties. Because that’s what it’s about really, isn’t it Mum? It’s not about what we want, what makes us happy. It’s about showing off to other people; my daughter works in television, my son is, actually, what is it you want Vin to do? Because I’d have thought being able to boast about having a marine biologist in the family would go down rather well in Venice. After all, someone’s got to work out how to keep the bloody place from sinking into the sea.”

“I’m sorry you’ve taken this so badly, I was only trying to help.”

“Were you, Mum? Well that’s funny, because it didn’t sound like it. Anyway, let’s leave it. We’re all happy, doing what we want, and if that’s not good enough for you, then I think that’s your problem. So just give it a rest. Here, carry the tray in, and I’ll bring the teapot.”

Gran gives me an extra-long hug as Mum and Dad walk to the car with Vin.

“Well done, pet, you told her, and we all heard you, and it needed saying.”

Reg smiles and pats me on the shoulder. “I knew you would. You’re a strong woman just like your gran. You don’t get to my age without learning a thing or two, and I can tell you this, I’d bet on a strong woman against pretty much anything if she sets her mind to it.”

“Well that’s good, Reg, because I think you’re going to need all the help you can get when your cruise stops in Venice. She’s determined to show you that bloody church, you know. You’ll get dragged round to see every bit of work she’s ever done.”

He smiles. “Don’t you worry about that. Mary’s already arranged it all with your dad. We’re there for two days, but we’re telling her it’s only one. That way we can see the sights, and do the things we want to do, and then we’ll see her on the second day, and your dad’s booking a restaurant. So she won’t have long to take us to see all her triumphs.”

Gran nods. “Sometimes it’s easier to go round the other way as long as you get there in the end.”

“That was clever, Gran.”

She smiles.

I’m still betting they spend a fair amount of time inside that church though.

I’m in the shop on Tuesday morning when Grace calls.

“Hi darling, just wanted to let you know we’ve closed the deal on the new film. So I’ve had a talk with Maxine, and Ed, and we’ll be announcing soon.”

“That’s great. Is that the
Upstairs Downstairs
one?”

“No, I meant the other announcement.”

“Oh, sorry. Well that’s—”

“We’re keeping it under wraps for now, but probably in the next week or two. So stand by.”

“Right, and was Maxine okay about it, that you hadn’t told her earlier?”

“No, she was furious. I may have to let her go.”

“Oh no, that’s such a shame. Shall I call her, and try to explain?”

“I’m joking. Christ, why does nobody ever think I’m joking? She completely understood, she said she’d probably do the same, talk to you first, which by the way is totally unacceptable, so if she ever calls you, I expect you to tell me, instantly. Anyway, thanks darling, for keeping it, what did you call it?”

“Secret squirrel?”

She laughs. “Yes. Secret squirrel, I love that. We’re back in a few days. Come over, I’ll get Max to fix a time.”

Bloody hell. So that’ll be hordes of snappers parked at the gates again, and journalists wandering around too probably, trying to see if they can pick up any clues as to who the dad- to-be is. I bet one or two will come in here, to see if we’ve got any snippets. Christ, I’ll have to practically gag Elsie. Not that she knows anything, but that doesn’t usually stop her talking. I’ll have to have a quiet word, and explain that less is definitely more on the trusted confidante front. Grace will drop us like a ton of hot bricks if we turn into blabbers. That might work. She loves boasting about our VIP connections. Still, I think I better buy some more custard creams, soften the ground a bit first.

“Shall we take our Pearl back to ours for lunch then, pet? Connie looks like she could sleep for England at the minute. Be a shame to wake her.”

“Thanks Gran. I’ll collect her on my way to get the boys from school. And Cinzia’s fine to have the kids tomorrow so we can go shopping. I’ll pick you and Betty up and we can get the last few things you need.”

“Lovely. I think I might get a new bag for the evenings; the dinners are quite posh, you know.”

“Okeydoke.”

Beam me up, somebody. The endless planning of what they’re going to wear on their cruise, and whether Betty wants a pair of shorts, has been driving me round the twist.

Connie’s taken to coming round midmorning for a nap in the armchair. I’ve given her a key so she can let herself in whenever she fancies. I think she finds the combination of the chair and the lack of a busy pub and Mark fussing very relaxing.

“Right you are. Come on, poppet, let’s get you into your buggy, your gran’s got some bread for the ducks.”

“Ducks.”

Great, a peaceful hour or two at home is just what I need. I’ll get some ironing done, the basket is getting beyond a joke now; in fact it’s two baskets, in a teetering pile. I might even clean the bathroom.

“Jo.”

“Yes Con? I thought you were asleep.”

“Not really.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. But I wanted to wait until your gran has gone. I don’t want any fussing.”

She looks pale.

“I think maybe, but it will be hours. I want to be calm.”

Bloody hell.

“Okay. Are you having contractions yet?”

“No, just the little things.”

“Okay.”

She’s sitting in the chair, but she’s got that look, a mixture of relief that it’s finally happening and a touch of panic. And there’s something else, a kind of focus, like she’s not quite here in the moment. She’s starting to zone out. Oh God.

“Shall I ring Mark?”

“No. He will fuss. Not yet. Is that okay? If I stay here, in peace?”

“Of course it is. Do you need anything?”

“A glass of water?”

“Sure. Anything to eat? A sandwich? I can do you some toasted cheese and tomato if you like.”

“Perfect.”

Bloody hell. If Martin were here, he’d probably faint. There must be something about this house that makes pregnant women go into labor. I’m going to keep a very close eye on her, and if things start to speed up I’m calling Mark and an ambulance, and not necessarily in that order. The house is in a complete state, and there’s no way I want anyone else giving birth here. It was bad enough when it was me, and I had a much better excuse then for the place being such a tip.

She’s dozing when I carry the tray in.

“Thanks Jo. It is so quiet here. Mark, he is driving me crazy.”

“He’s just trying to take care of you, Con.”

“I know, but I need to breathe.”

Actually, breathing sounds like quite a good idea. She’s not looking like she’s Breathing yet, but she keeps zoning out. Mind you, that might just be tiredness.

“Just pretend I’m not here.”

“Like I’m going to be able to pull that one off.”

She laughs, but I know it’s going to stress her out if I sit looking at her.

“I think I’ll do the ironing, if you’re sure.”

She smiles, and looks sleepy.

Right, ironing it is then.

Christ, I’ve been standing here for ages; I’ve nearly finished all the ironing. If I rang Guinness World Records I could probably get a certificate for ironing while monitoring the onset of early labor. She’s dozing again, and occasionally getting up for a little wander.

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

“I will make it.”

“Great.”

Oh God, this is starting to really get to me now; she seems very calm, which is good, because I’m pretty near to hysterics myself.

I follow her into the kitchen. If she’s leaning over the fridge like I did when I had Pearl, I’m going to completely lose it.

She’s fine.

“Tea?”

“Please, Con.”

She smiles. “But maybe you.”

She pauses.

“You carry the tray.”

Okay, I see what she’s doing now. She’s breathing through the first few contractions, the little ones, the little ripples before the big waves start, and she thinks I don’t realize what she’s up to.

I give her what I hope is an encouraging smile.

“I’m onto you, Constanza Maxwell, so just you bear that in mind. And I’m going along with it. For now. But I’m watching you, and the minute things speed up, I’m on that phone, do you hear me? Deal?”

She smiles. “Deal.”

Weirdly, I keep thinking about Nick as I potter about putting the ironing away. I put the phone and my mobile next to her on the table, just in case she fancies a chat with anyone, like a midwife possibly. But she ignores them and carries on dozing. Nick was so great when I had Jack and Archie, even when I shouted at him; he just stood there, for hours, and made me laugh and held my hand. I’ve never really thought about it before, but it’s quite a tricky role to get right. Being too jovial would be annoying, but too tense and terrified-looking isn’t that encouraging either. It’s a pretty long haul usually, so it’s hard to remember that something extraordinary is going on in among all the hanging about with nothing happening and people getting tired and irritable, something huge is happening. Something potentially life-threatening, and you need to be on high alert. Just in case.

“Is your back sore, Con?”

She nods.

“Lean forward a bit and I’ll rub it for you if you like.”

“Please.”

She’s completely bloody zoning out now.

“I think it’s time for me to make some calls, sweetheart.”

“A few more minutes.”

She’s holding my hand now, and she’s not letting go.

“Okay, a few more minutes.”

I reach for my mobile, still holding her hand, and dial Mark’s number. I try to pass the phone to her, but she shakes her head.

“Hi Mark.”

“Is she still asleep? Honestly, it’s like living with Rip van Winkle at the moment.”

“Not exactly. Maybe you should come round.”

“You mean— Bloody hell, right, I’m on my way, tell her I’m on my way, the bag’s in the car, I’ll just—”

“Mark, she’s fine, calm down, everything’s fine, I promise. She’s being very chilled out.”

“Yeah, she does that, right before the serious stuff starts to happen.”

Christ, I wish he hadn’t told me that.

“I’m on my way.”

“Okay.”

She still won’t let go of my hand.

“He’s on his way, Con. Do you need anything?”

“Maybe, in a minute.”

Bloody hell.

Mark arrives looking nervous, as well he might.

“Where is she?”

“Upstairs, in the bathroom. Go up, but she’s fine.”

God, I hope she’s fine.

She starts walking down the stairs toward us, very slowly, smiling.

Mark gives her a hug.

“Right, let’s get you in the car.”

She ignores him and wanders back to the armchair.

Mark gives me a puzzled look.

“She’s zoning out, it’s a game she’s playing, she’s fine, just call the hospital and say we’re on our way. The contractions are about every five minutes.”

“Okay.”

She’s sitting in the armchair, with her eyes closed. Christ, maybe the only way we’re going to get her to the hospital is if we can work out how to take the bloody chair too.

She’s breathing harder now.

“Con.”

She ignores me.

“Constanza, either we go or I’m calling your mother.”

She takes my hand again. “No.”

“Con. It’s time.”

“No, I will stay here and maybe I will sleep.”

“Sure, we could try that. I’ll just call the ambulance, in case the sleeping thing doesn’t work out, shall I?”

She smiles, and I squeeze her hand.

“You’re ready, sweetheart, you know you are.”

“Will you come with me?”

“Of course I will.”

I’ve already called Gran. Cinzia and Susanna can pick Nelly and Marco up from school, and Gran will have my three. Right. Off we go.

Mark drives to the hospital so quickly I’ve hardly had time to work out how to get my seat belt done up before I’ve got to undo it.

She wants to go for a walk.

“Walking is good.”

“Yes, but let’s get in, Con, and let them have a look at you, and then we can go for a bloody walk, all right?”

She ignores me and takes my hand again. “Jo.”

“Yes love.”

“Walk with me.”

At least we’re near a hospital if anything involving the word
delivery
starts to happen. But I wish she’d just go inside.

We walk toward a patch of grass with a few rather straggly looking bushes.

“It doesn’t feel. It’s not like it was with Marco and Antonella.”

She looks frightened, for the first time.

“The midwife said everything was fine at your last appointment, didn’t she? It’ll be fine, Con.”

“Yes. But if . . .”

“If?”

“You will stay, yes?”

“Of course.”

“And you will help Mark if . . .”

“Stop it right now. There’s no if.”

“Yes, but.”

“Of course I will. Now stop it, or we’ll both be in tears. It’s going to be fine. You finally get to meet the baby today, and it’s all going to be wonderful, okay?”

We pause, so she can breathe. Her hand is definitely clenching mine now. Christ. It’s crucial we get inside soon, so someone else can lose the use of their fingers. I wish she’d let her mum come over.