When Natalie’s conscience got going, it didn’t let up. What was the next step? Avoiding all pregnant women? Boycotting streets with Mothercares or primary schools? She and Rachel had really been getting on well before that – and it was rare for her to make new friends. If Rachel
was
pregnant by this married man she’d left behind, she’d need all the new friends she could get in Longhampton.
She stopped in the middle of the sitting room, and turned off the Dyson. Rachel had been honest with her, confessing that business with Oliver. She hadn’t needed to do that. And how was she repaying her?
But it was so unfair.
Natalie swallowed hard. The unpleasant truth was that Rachel had seemed like another member of her no-baby, no-worries club. But now even forty-year-old single women were more likely to get pregnant than she was – who’d be next? Freda? But it wasn’t Rachel’s
fault
. It wasn’t anyone’s
fault
.
Natalie managed another five minutes’ internal wrangling before she gave up, put on her coat and drove up to the kennels. Bill and Johnny were still out with the dogs when she arrived in the kitchen, but Freda and Megan offered her a bacon sandwich anyway.
‘If you’re looking for Rachel, she’s having her hair cut in the office,’ said Megan. ‘Ooh, do you think Zoe would do something like that for the Open Day? Haircuts?’
‘For the dogs, maybe,’ suggested Natalie, unable to stop herself coming up with fundraising suggestions. ‘Quick trims for the pets? You could do that, couldn’t you?’
‘I certainly could!’ Megan reached for the marker pen and added it to the ideas board. It was full of suggestions from the volunteers, ranging from ‘Quickest Recall Competition’ to ‘Apple Bobbing – Dog and Owner’. ‘What do you reckon? Two quid a trim?’
‘Yes, why not?’ Natalie’s fingers twitched to add ‘longest ears’ onto the competitions list. There had to be something Bertie could win.
‘Have you come to talk about it with Rachel?’ Freda asked. ‘I must admit, I’m looking forward to this dog show idea. It’s great to get people paying more attention to what we do up here. Get the little doggies into new homes. Ted and I have been talking about doing some kind of catering. I know we had a grill at the café, years ago.’
‘You could always just adopt a dog, Freda,’ said Megan.
‘Oh, we’re past that now.’ Freda sighed. ‘And we’d never find a dog like our Pippin. Did I tell you about . . .’
‘I’ll just go and find Rachel,’ said Natalie quickly, and went through the back door to the kennel complex.
When Natalie put her head round the office door, she wondered if a new vanful of strays had been delivered, judging by the hysterical racket emanating from the place.
It turned out to be Leo and Spencer, who could both do creditable Labrador impressions, plus Toffee, careering round the filing cabinets. They were smeared with tomato sauce and laughing gleefully, while they sent leaflets and stray bits of paperwork flying.
Rachel was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, with Zoe finishing off the last snips of a new haircut that grazed her eyebrows and hung shaggily around her face. She looked unfairly sexy, even without any make-up and her eyes rimmed with dark shadows. Zoe looked a bit stressed, but that was probably because she was sending furious glares in the direction of her sons, every few snips.
When Rachel saw Natalie standing in the doorway, her expression changed from a faraway anxiety to something more focused. A more focused sort of anxiety, in fact.
‘Hi, Rachel. Hi, Zoe,’ said Natalie. She smiled at them both, as naturally as she could manage.
Zoe seemed to tense up a bit too when she saw her, but Natalie put that down to being Bill’s friend. It was always a bit weird, getting to know your new man’s mates, wondering what was being reported back. She tried to make her smile extra-friendly.
‘Don’t suppose you know what time Johnny and Bill will be back?’ Natalie asked Zoe. ‘I’ve been working at home, thought I’d let Bertie and his dad have some quality time together,’ she added. ‘The plan is to have some lunch – do you want to join us? If you haven’t already made plans?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Zoe shrugged. ‘I haven’t seen Bill today.’
‘Oh.’ Natalie wondered if she’d missed something.
‘Actually, I should get a move on.’ Zoe put her scissors in her bag. ‘Spencer, can you be a big boy and get a broom? So you and Leo can help Mummy by sweeping up this lovely hair?’
Leo ran off at once, but Spencer stuck out his lip.
‘Don’t make me ask again,’ warned Zoe, and he slunk off.
‘I saw the ideas board in the kitchen,’ said Natalie. ‘Looks like there’s been some brainstorming going on. Open Day is go, eh?’
‘Yes, Open Day is definitely go. I’ve got the nod from the solicitor – apparently it counts as running the business, so I don’t have to wait for the rest of probate before we set a date.’ Rachel sounded a bit stiff.
‘Brilliant!’ Natalie moved out of the way as Leo returned with a brush twice the size of himself, followed by his reluctant brother. ‘When are you thinking of having it?’
‘Well, when does the weather start getting nice out here?’
‘July?’ suggested Zoe. ‘We have three days of summer, usually, but not in a row. Careful, Leo, mind the table . . . Well, where are we now? Last weekend in March? I’d make it early May. Gives you a good month to get things arranged, and that lovely cherry tree at the top of your drive will be in blossom by then.’
‘Will it?’ Rachel looked surprised. ‘I didn’t even know there was one. Are you volunteering then?’
‘Spencer!’ roared Zoe. ‘Thank
you
, could you put the hair in the bin? The
bin.
Yes, I guess it’s the least we can do.’ She rolled her eyes at Natalie. ‘We’re going to get out of your hair, if you’ll pardon the pun. Better get these two home.’
‘You’re sure you won’t hang around and see if Johnny and Bill get back? There’s a great pub out near Rosehill that lets dogs in. And kids.’
Zoe seemed torn.
‘Go on,’ urged Natalie. She felt like making amends for her own negative mood in any way she could.
‘If you ask Megan nicely, she’ll give the boys some doggie drops for Toffee,’ said Rachel. ‘And she keeps a stash of headache tablets in the pantry too.’
‘I’ll see you later maybe,’ said Zoe, and she ushered the boys out into the corridor where they clattered their way towards the kitchen.
‘God, I feel like I’ve just gone deaf,’ said Rachel, twisting a finger into one ear. ‘Is it just me or has it gone very quiet?’
‘No.’ Natalie realised she hadn’t really thought about what she was going to say. She felt as awkward as a teenager, and about as rational.
Rachel seemed to be grasping an imaginary nettle, and she did it with more grace than Natalie thought she’d have managed herself, had their situations been reversed.
‘I’m really glad you’ve come over,’ she said. ‘I’ve got something I need to tell you. To get out of the way.’
Here we go, thought Natalie, and fixed her happy face as her stomach dropped with misery. ‘OK.’
‘I
am
pregnant.’ Rachel didn’t look thrilled, but her eyes searched Natalie’s face and she could tell Rachel was trying hard to say the right thing. ‘Nearly six weeks now. I haven’t told anyone else because it’s such early days, but I wanted you to know.’
‘Congratulations.’ Natalie tried to summon up her earlier reason, but inside she was kicking and screaming like a red-faced toddler. How could someone who hated their ex, who didn’t even have a happy family to offer a baby, be luckier than her and Johnny? How could that be
fair
?
‘Don’t say “congratulations”.’ Rachel flinched. ‘I’m not going to pretend it isn’t a massive shock because it is. It’s so random. That’s not what you want to hear,’ she added quickly. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Well, no. Maybe it’s better that it’s random.’ Tears of frustration were building up on her eyelids. ‘Makes it less . . . personal.’
‘Natalie, I weighed up how hard it would be to tell you, and how hurt you’d feel if you found out.’ Rachel reached out and touched her sleeve. ‘I really,
really
appreciate how kind you were when Kath turned up. It meant a lot to me. I wanted to be honest with you.’
Natalie acknowledged it with a brave nod. She could tell Rachel was tied up in knots, and she tried to be generous. ‘Have you told him? The father, I mean?’
Rachel’s face had begun to lighten, but now the faint lines around her forehead tensed again. ‘Yes,’ she said, and paused. ‘It’s not Oliver, though,’ she added in a rush of honesty, ‘it’s George.’
‘George – Fenwick?’ Natalie frowned, and a whole new wave of unfairness broke over her head. ‘Blimey, when did that happen? I didn’t even realise you were . . .’ She paused. ‘Dating.’
‘We’re not, really,’ said Rachel, unhappily. ‘I mean, we’re seeing each other now, but it was just the one night. I know that’s all it takes, but that’s what I mean by random.’
Natalie looked her in the eye, and bit her tongue before she said something really cruel.
She kept it to herself, since it didn’t reflect well on her general humanity, but Natalie had a complicated system when it came to being happy for other pregnant women, based on how long they’d been trying, how hard they worked, how much they loved their husbands. Rachel’s miserable split from a man who’d denied her a chance of a happy marriage was one thing, but to get pregnant totally by accident by a single man who’d barely even met her . . .
‘That is complicated,’ she said instead, and hated how much like her mother she sounded.
Rachel covered her mouth, and for a second, she looked exhausted. ‘I know. Please don’t tell anyone. I just wanted you to know. To be honest, half the time I can’t believe it’s happening to me, and the rest of the time I’m terrified.’
Natalie struggled between furious jealousy and sympathy for the woman sitting in front of her. Rachel was well on the way to being a friend, she reminded herself. Don’t let your baby obsession spoil everything. It’s already driving a wedge between you and Johnny.
Easy to say. Much harder to do.
For the moment, though, Natalie battened down her negativity, and managed to smile as if she meant it. ‘Thanks for telling me,’ she said. ‘And thanks for telling me why.’
Rachel smiled back, though tears were running down her face. When Natalie went to hug her, she realised she was crying too.
23
When the baby was just in her own head, Rachel found it surprisingly easy to carry on as if nothing untoward was happening.
It wasn’t an issue around the kennels, since Megan and Freda didn’t know, and Natalie didn’t want to talk about babies at all. It wasn’t even completely impossible with George, who treated her more or less the same as he always had done when he called in on various pretexts – most of which even Megan could tell were made up.
They carried on with their twice-weekly dates, but the biggest difference there was that there were no kisses at the end of them. Somehow it seemed wrong now. The first night, as he’d walked her to her car, George had bent down as if he was going to kiss her, and without knowing why, Rachel had kissed him on the cheek. He’d looked at her, surprised, and that had been it.
I need us to be good friends now, thought Rachel as she drove back, not to set up more complications. But there was a heaviness in her stomach that she couldn’t explain away.
George had come with her to the first proper check-up at the surgery too. She’d mentioned it casually, and he’d obviously taken more notice than she’d thought at the time, because he was waiting outside in the car park when she pulled up, parking her shiny new Range Rover next to his battered Land Rover.
‘You’re sure?’ she’d asked, leaning out of the window. The waiting room would be full, but not with anyone she knew. People he’d know though.
‘I’m sure,’ he’d said. ‘Want to make sure you concentrate.’
The check-up made it very real all of a sudden. She had a due date – December 20
th
– and an appointment for a first scan. And with that, Rachel knew she couldn’t put it off any longer: she’d have to tell Val.
Rachel waited until Megan had taken the dogs out for the first lot of walking, and Freda was safely installed in the office, manning the enquiry desk.
Then she went right to the top of the house and dialled her parents’ home number from the old telephone on the upstairs landing, and stared at herself in the mirror while it rang. Her mind was blank, apart from a nagging feeling that she should have asked George to check Gem’s vaccinations along with those of the other dogs.
I used to be good at telephone calls, she thought. I used to spend all
day
on the phone.
Val answered just as she was about to hang up. ‘Oh, Rachel,’ she gasped. ‘I thought it was going to be Amelia. Grace’s poorly.’
‘Should I get off the line?’ asked Rachel.
‘No.’ Val didn’t add, ‘so long as you’re quick’, but the implication was there.
‘Um, how are you?’ Rachel remembered a colleague once telling her that the best way to frame bad news was to pitch an even worse story first, but she couldn’t think of one, barring Dot’s keeping a hundred-thousand-pound diamond necklace next to her piccalilli, and an emergency marriage licence in a shoebox. That might just distract too much.