The Cold Cold Sea (19 page)

He still didn’t know what he was going to find when he got to his new home. And whatever this wretched surprise was, it was big, he could tell. Jennifer had dragged it up in every conversation they’d had over the past weeks, but she’d refused to go into details. She was definitely different; something about her had changed and he couldn’t put a finger on what it was. Apprehension as well as guilt gnawed away in Phillip’s gut, and he rubbed his face. Maybe he should just drive straight down, exhausted or not. Jennifer would be impatient to see him again.

Maybe she’d just been lonely. After all, he’d been away for a lot longer than they’d anticipated, and Jennifer had moved to a new town where she didn’t know anyone. Loneliness sounded quite feasible, actually. Not a Black Patch. Just lonely.

Please be okay, Jennifer, he thought as the plane taxied towards the terminal building. Surely she was, she’d told him that the doctors had been very pleased with her that last appointment. Her meds were balanced, she was in therapy, and even now she was obviously out and about, doing things. So why did he feel that something was just very wrong?

The terminal building was packed. A hotel was out of the question, Phillip realised, he would never manage to sleep. He had to see for himself what was going on, and even driving quite fast it was going to take him almost four hours to get to Polpayne.

He collected his luggage from the carousel then steered the rickety trolley through customs. In the arrivals hall he arranged to hire a car, then looked round for the public telephones. His mobile phone battery was low and he didn’t want his conversation with Jennifer cutting out. Fingers trembling, he punched out the number.

Come on, Jennifer, honey. Come to the phone and convince me everything’s okay.

The phone rang on, and on. Phillip was just about to give up when there was a click and Jennifer’s voice answered, sounding ragged and almost weepy.

‘He - hello?’

‘Jennifer!’ he shouted, aware that people were looking round at him. ‘Jennifer, what’s wrong?’

‘Bye, sweetheart! You have a good day and I’ll be waiting here for you at four.’

Maggie stood beside the car and watched as Joe ran across the playground and joined a group of children near the door. Several other mothers were chatting by the gate, but she didn’t join them, didn’t even look at them. She just waited until the bell rang and Joe’s dark head disappeared inside the building. Now he was safe. He was someone else’s responsibility until four o’clock, and for the first time since returning to Carlton Bridge over a month ago, Maggie was facing a whole day alone. Isa, her mother-in-law, had gone home yesterday, Colin was at work, and now Joe was at school.

She felt absolutely empty. The terrible hope, all the waiting and watching for Olivia that had kept her buoyed up at Newquay was long gone now, and no new feelings had awakened inside her to fill the gap. It was as if she were a robot - moving, going through the motions of living, but not alive.

Maggie flopped into the driver’s seat and sat still. She had shopping to do, but straight after the school run wasn’t a good time. The eyes following her round Newquay had been nothing compared to the eyes in Carlton Bridge. All those other mothers would be going to the supermarket now, with little kids tagging along behind, or being pushed in buggies, and she couldn’t face the thought of meeting them all. The contrast to her old life was just too cruel. Before, she’d have enjoyed chatting with the other mums, and maybe going for a walk round the park with the little ones. But she knew if she met those mothers today they would look at her with embarrassed expressions on their faces. As if she were somehow inhuman because she was upright and walking about. As if she had any
choice
in the matter. If she went to the supermarket now, some of these mothers would slide round into another aisle to avoid speaking to her. She could understand this completely, after all, what could anyone say? She would do her shopping at twelve o’clock when those other mothers would be at home, preparing lunch for their younger children.

It would have been egg mayonnaise sandwiches for Olivia. Her favourite. A twist of pain stabbed through Maggie. That was how it went these days. Most of the time she felt dead, as dead as her daughter surely was, and then a sudden memory would slice into her mind; a mental image of her previous life, and although they belonged to the past now, these pictures still had the power to bring her to her knees.

Maggie closed her eyes. For a moment she could see her daughter, tangled dark waves running riot over her head, nibbling at her lunch, and saying ‘Mm-mm!’ in that funny way she used to. It was a beautiful picture.

Maggie turned the key in the ignition and forced herself to concentrate on the road.

Carlton Bridge had everything a young family could wish for: good schools, little traffic, and it was well within reach of both countryside and the coast. Plymouth was within easy driving distance too. It was a brilliant place to bring up your kids, but today the advantages just sat there mocking her as Maggie drove past.

There was the park where Livvy had swung on the swings. And the library, with the story group every Tuesday afternoon. Livvy had loved that. And the Postman Pat car outside the supermarket. Maggie had rationed her daughter to three goes a week; she thought now how petty that was. Today she would empty her bank account to pay for rides if only Livvy could come home.

But the worst thing of all was the pre-school. It was at the beginning of their street, which was a cul-de-sac, so Maggie was forced to go right past the door every time she went anywhere at all. Livvy would have started there at the beginning of September.

Today, Maggie very determinedly didn’t look at the building as she drove past. She didn’t often do this; occasionally some of the children were at the windows and she would slow right down and look at them, wondering what they were doing. Olivia should have been in there doing it with them, and sometimes Maggie could almost hear her daughter’s voice among the shouts and laughter in the building.

Staring straight ahead, she accelerated up the hill and parked in front of an empty house. Her fingers shook as she unlocked the front door. She’d lived here for years and never known how happy – and lucky – she’d been. She had never realised how different everything would feel when they lost... a child. Nobody ever could realise, unless it happened to them.

It was as though they had lost their entire family life, because all the little rituals, the family games and habits that had structured their days, had vanished with Olivia.

The whole house was different now. It even smelled different. Isa’s choice of soap powder, perhaps. New smells replacing old ones.

Isa had been a tower of strength. She had told Joe firmly and compassionately that Livvy had drowned in the sea and was gone. She got up in the night, helping Colin when Joe awoke crying from a nightmare. When Maggie came home, Isa stayed on to help, running the house with loving efficiency, holding them all together.

‘I understand,’ she said, taking Maggie into her arms on her arrival. ‘It’s alright, Maggie. You did what you had to do.’

Thanks to Isa, Joe was coping. Once a week he had a session with a counsellor at school, and he was learning to live without his sister. He was coping better than she was, Maggie knew. She went upstairs into what had been Olivia’s bedroom. Isa had dealt with that too. Olivia’s parrot mobile still hung above the bed, and her beloved animal posters still decorated the walls. But there were no toys now, no clothes, no duvet or pillows.

Maggie touched the mobile and set the parrots swinging. At the cottage, she had agonised over the little things. Hair slides lying around, abandoned books and games. Here at home, the little reminders had all been tidied away, and in a way it felt like her daughter had been dead for years. It was all just so achingly sad.

And the worst thing of all was that Olivia, who had brought them so much joy, was now at the centre of all these painful, negative emotions. Maggie blinked back tears. Would she ever think of her daughter again and laugh? Would she ever be able to watch these happy-family videos, watch Olivia dancing, playing, posing...

The phone rang, and Maggie trailed through to answer it, wiping the tears from her cheeks. It would be Isa, wanting to know how Maggie was coping on her own. It wouldn’t be Howard; she phoned him every evening to hear there was still no sign of Olivia’s body, and really she had given up hope long ago that the sea would give them Olivia back.

It was Ronald Keyes, the vicar.

‘Maggie,’ he said. ‘I was just wondering if you and Colin had decided about a service for Olivia?’

Maggie breathed in sharply. She knew she couldn’t cope with a church funeral. There was
no way
she was going to accept Olivia’s death as the will of any God - and she wasn’t going to give thanks for the almost four years they’d had with Olivia, either.

‘No,’ said Maggie. ‘Not until... later.’

If Olivia was found it would be different, of course. But with no body, Maggie knew it would be a long, long time before she was ready for a funeral. That really would be admitting all hope was gone, and she just couldn’t do that yet.

‘Right,’ he went on, and Maggie stood willing him to hang up. Leave me alone, she thought, blinking hard to keep the tears in.

‘Maggie, they’re looking for helpers in the Geriatric Unit at Crow Road. They need people to help with the lunches and sit with the old folk for a while in the afternoons. Sort of elevenish until two. Would you be interested at all?’

She hesitated. It was an idea. It would be something to do. Something different to occupy her mind for a small part of each day.

‘I might be,’ she said cautiously. ‘Can I think about it and call you back?’

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Bless you, Maggie.’

She put the phone down and went to make coffee. She would do it, she knew. She would go to the Geriatric Unit and spoon minced beef and mashed potatoes into old, toothless mouths, and listen to stories about life before she was born.

Another twist racked her body, and she dropped to her knees on the kitchen floor. Slinky the cat came up and sniffed at her face. Did he miss Livvy too? Had he noticed that his chief playmate and tormentor was gone now?

‘I love you Livvy.’

She spoke aloud, the cat squeezed against her chest.

It was the most horrible, impossible thing, to let go and get on with life without Olivia. But there was nothing else she could do.

‘Phillip! Darling, how lovely!’

Pulling herself upright, Jennifer struggled to sound happy and excited. She’d lain down on the sofa after lunch, and deep sleep overcame her before she’d had time to think. She didn’t sleep well at night now, the babies were restless and so was she. Last night had been a succession of naps, and when the sound of Hailey running along to the bathroom had woken Jennifer at half past seven, she felt as if she’d run a marathon backwards.

She heard the concern – the fear – in Phillip’s voice, and swiftly forced herself to sound cheerful.

‘Heavens, darling, what on earth could be wrong? I closed my eyes for ten minutes after lunch and the phone woke me. Where are you now?’

His voice was still uneasy. ‘Heathrow. I’m driving off now, I’ll be with you late this afternoon. Jennifer, are you sure you’re okay?’

‘Sure as sure,’ she said sweetly. ‘You’ll understand when you get here. Drive carefully, darling! See you soon!’

‘Yes,’ he said.

She could tell he wasn’t convinced.

Jennifer put the phone down and lay back again, smiling happily. In just a few hours Phillip would be right here on the sofa. And how very fitting it was that on this day the whole world was sparkling even more brightly than usual.

It was time to make her final plans. She would have a quick tidy round before she collected Hailey, and then she’d make sure that the child was quiet in her room when Phillip arrived. The surprise of learning about the babies would be enough for the first few minutes, then she would take him upstairs to see his beautiful daughter again and they would all be together at last. Just the five of them. Her own little family.

Humming, she stacked her lunch dishes in the dishwasher, dusted the already immaculate sitting room, looked into the as yet unused dining room, and was on her way upstairs to tidy round there when the first contraction hit her.

There was no doubt at all, this was the real thing. She had given birth before, she knew what real contractions felt like. Jennifer stood, leaning against the bannister until the pain eased off, then looked at her watch. Quarter past one.

She needed to keep calm. There would be plenty of time for Phillip to get here before she had to go to the clinic. She would do the bedrooms now and wait for the next contraction.

There wasn’t much to do upstairs. Jennifer flicked a duster over the dressing table, and cleaned round the basin in the en-suite. She closed the doors of Hailey’s room and the bathroom the little girl used, and stood for a moment thinking.

She would have to phone the school, she couldn’t possibly collect Hailey if the babies had started. If only she had sent the child to school in a taxi after the holidays like she’d planned to, but it was such a short drive, and she simply hadn’t been able to bring herself to hand Hailey over to a stranger. Jennifer lifted the phone.

The school secretary answered and was pleasant but curious.

‘Hello, Mrs Marshall, how are you?’

‘Fine, thank you,’ said Jennifer. ‘I wonder if I could speak to Miss McLure for a moment?’

A minute or two later Miss McLure’s voice, rather breathless, spoke in her ear.

‘Mrs Marshall? Everything alright?’

Jennifer shuddered. The woman was supposed to be a teacher, for heaven’s sake, and she didn’t even speak in proper sentences. She forced herself to sound pleasant.

‘Thank you, everything’s fine, but I’m rather tired. I don’t feel quite up to collecting Hailey this afternoon. I’ll send a taxi to pick her up.’

‘No need for that, Mrs Marshall, I can bring her home myself. I’m going shopping after school so I can easily drive past your place. I’ll drop her off around twenty past four. Is that alright?’