Moving On

California

California

SHE FLEW FROM LONDON TO BOSTON ON WED-nesday evening and fought sleep in the airport for three hours before boarding a flight to San Francisco. She’d taken a week off work: Leo had suggested a longer break, to give her more time on her first trip to America, but a week was as much as she wanted to be apart from him and Juliet.

Enjoy yourself , he’d said as she was leaving. Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine. Maggie would hold the fort by day like she always did until Leo got in from work, and Claire had promised to call around on Sunday afternoon like she used to. The deli was doing well – so well, in fact, that she now operated it as a wine bar on the weekends, which left her with even less time off. I’ll get a manager , she kept promising, and Ellen wished that she would. She missed her friend.

Danny was waiting in the arrivals hall when she emerged. She felt crumpled and tired and headachy from unfamiliar food at the wrong times, but he caught her in one of his bear hugs, and it was worth the discomfort to see him again.

He drove a little dark green sports car with a roof that folded back. ‘There’s money in computers,’ she said when she saw it, and he laughed and said just a bit.

‘Roof up or down?’

‘Down, of course’ – and she pulled a scarf from her bag and wrapped her hair in it, and they sped along the highway, and she’d forgotten how good sunshine felt on her skin, and how wonderfully spacious a blue sky made the world seem, and by the time they arrived she felt euphoric as well as exhausted.

His and Bobbi’s apartment was in a complex of just a dozen, with a communal pool and two tennis courts. Bobbi was there with her mother; the four of them sat under a big umbrella on the deck and ate French toast and drank coffee while Ellen showed photos of Juliet and Leo and answered questions about her job – advertising always fascinated people – and tried to swallow her yawns.

‘Taste this,’ Bobbi said, handing her a little chocolate thing in a bun case.

‘What is it?’

‘Peanut butter cup. Addictive.’

She bit into the chocolate and found the peanut butter. The combination of sweet and salt was irresistible. She had another. She was glad they weren’t available back home.

Finally Bobbi showed her to her room, which was small and simple and all she needed. A thin window blind had been pulled down: behind it the sun still shone. ‘We’re all going out to dinner tonight,’ Bobbi said. ‘Both families, so it’ll be noisy. I know you’d probably rather sleep, but his family are dying to meet you. We’ll let you sleep as long as we can.’

Tomorrow was their wedding day, and Valentine’s Day, and Bobbi’s birthday. Ellen had wanted to book into a hotel for the wedding night, but they wouldn’t hear of it. ‘We’ve been living together for nearly ten years,’ Danny had said. ‘We’ll be newlyweds in name only.’

She slept without moving, sinking into a deep dreamless state until Danny tapped on her door and told her she had half an hour before they needed to leave for dinner. ‘My parents are here,’ he added. ‘We’re meeting everyone else at the restaurant.’

She showered and dressed hurriedly and went out to find them, and his mother hugged her and declared that she’d know her anywhere – ‘I was so delighted when you and Danny met up again!’ – and his father shook her hand, and their faces were strange and familiar all at once.

There were twenty-six of them at dinner, gathered around a long table. Sixteen on Danny’s side, nine on Bobbi’s, and Ellen in the middle. She was touched to be the only non-family member there.

She ate lobster, dipping the chunks into a bowl of melted butter. She sat between Danny’s eldest sisters, whom she barely remembered – the gap had been too wide in her childhood – but who chattered nonstop between mouthfuls. She was still tired, but glad to be there for him.

Halfway through the meal she excused herself to go to the ladies’, where she found the youngest of Danny’s sisters washing her hands. ‘Wouldn’t you know it,’ she told Ellen cheerfully, ‘my period has just arrived. Great timing.’

‘Oh no’ – and even as she said that, Ellen thought, Hang on . Sitting in the stall, she tried to remember when she’d last had a period. She’d been so busy in the run-up to Christmas, with presents to buy, and work hectic, and the two French boys to get ready for, and her father and Iris on her mind. It hadn’t occurred to her to keep track.

Could it have been as long ago as November? This was the middle of February. And now that she thought about it, hadn’t she been feeling a little off in the mornings? She’d put it down to overwork, and the head cold she’d picked up just after Christmas that had hung around, but . . .

She tried not to allow excitement in. She might be wrong. But just in case, back at the table she pushed her wine glass aside and drew her water glass closer. For the rest of the evening she spooled back over the previous weeks, hunting for more clues, only half-listening to the chat around her.

She’d get a pregnancy test tomorrow. The wedding wasn’t until two: in the morning she’d ask Danny to direct her to a chemist, and she’d pick one up. She’d say nothing to anyone else.

Tomorrow she’d find out. Tomorrow she’d know.

An hour later she was lying in bed, trying and failing to sleep, despite her exhaustion. She hadn’t rung Leo like she’d planned, afraid her voice might give her away. If the test told her what she wanted to hear, she’d change her flight and go home sooner. Danny would help with that.

She got up and wandered in pyjamas out onto the deck – and started when a figure turned from the table at her approach.

‘Snap,’ Danny said. He patted the chair next to him and she sat.

‘Pre-wedding nerves?’

‘More like too much lobster.’

The night was cool, as he’d warned: she rubbed her hands together, wishing she’d pulled on a sweater.

‘Hang on,’ he said, and came back with a soft throw that he placed over her shoulders, and a jug with two tumblers. ‘Juice – unless you’d prefer water, or something stronger.’

‘Juice is fine.’ It was orange and pulpy and delicious. She gathered the throw around her and inhaled the scent of some fragrant flower. ‘This is lovely,’ she said.

‘It’s nice,’ he agreed. ‘Peaceful. We’re lucky.’

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. She thought of Leo and Juliet. London was eight hours ahead, so it was morning there. Leo would have dropped Juliet to the crèche and travelled on to work. She thought of his face when she told him she was pregnant again, if it turned out that she was.

‘Danny.’

‘Yes.’

‘Is there a chemist nearby?’

He turned to look at her. ‘Next block. What do you need? We might have it.’

She had to tell him. She wanted to tell him. ‘A pregnancy test.’

‘Seriously?’

She nodded. ‘I mightn’t be right – but I think I am. We’ve been trying, but I’d lost track, with Christmas and everything. It only struck me tonight that I’m late.’

‘Wow. I suppose I won’t congratulate you until you confirm. I’ll take you first thing in the morning: it’s two minutes in the car.’

‘Thanks. And . . . if it’s positive, would you mind terribly if I changed my flight and went home a bit earlier, maybe Sunday instead of Tuesday? I’d prefer to tell Leo in person.’

‘Sure. I’ll sort it.’

‘Thank you.’

Another silence fell. She sipped juice, felt its tang on her tongue. ‘The Winnie-the-Pooh books,’ she said. ‘I remember your sisters reading them to us in your house. Juliet loves them.’

‘I’m not surprised. A child of yours would have to love books.’

‘True.’ She took another sip. ‘I told someone once that I’d like to write a book, or try to.’

‘Definitely you should. For children or adults?’

‘Adults. A novel.’

‘Why don’t you?’

‘Oh, part laziness, part fear – and partly because I’m so busy all the time. And if there’s another baby, it’ll be even more difficult.’

‘Hey, if you really want to do something, you’ll find the time.’

Pretty much what Ben had said. Setting down her glass, she yawned. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said, getting up. ‘Go to bed and go to sleep. See you in the morning’ – and in the morning Ellen did two tests and got two clear lines on each wand, no mistaking them.

Oh boy.

Danny, bless him, sorted new flights in fifteen minutes – and when Bobbi, still in dressing gown, came in to find out what he was doing, they told her. ‘Hey, congratulations!’ She pulled out drawers till she found a rabbit’s foot keyring. ‘For luck,’ she said, pressing it into Ellen’s hand. ‘We’ll always remember the day you found out.’

The wedding went by in a blur. The golf club was very fancy indeed, with the ceremony under a gazebo in the immaculate grounds, a fountain in the background. Ellen dreaded to think of the bill, although the crowd was small, just a dozen or so more than the dinner guests of the night before. She pretended to drink the champagne poured for the pre-dinner toasts, all the time imagining breaking the news to Leo.

A boy, she thought. A miniature version of him. Two children would be enough, if he didn’t want more.

As they waited for the meal she rang Leo using Danny’s cell phone. Just before eleven in the evening in London: Juliet would be in bed, but he should still be up. She couldn’t tell him, not over the phone, but she suddenly needed to hear his voice.

He took a long time to answer. ‘Hello?’

‘Did I wake you?’

‘Ellen. No, no . . . I was in the bathroom. Everything OK?’

‘Yes, everything’s fine. I’m just ringing to say a quick hello. I’m at the wedding, it’s very posh. How are you getting on?’

‘All fine here too. Juliet’s in bed.’

‘I hope she’s not missing me too much.’

‘She’s . . . no, no, at least yes, she misses you, of course, but she’s OK.’

He sounded distracted. She guessed he’d fallen asleep in front of the television. ‘Love you,’ she said. ‘I’d better go. Kiss Juliet for me in the morning. See you soon.’

‘Yes, have fun. Goodnight.’

Next day she slept late, waking to silence and a note on the kitchen table: We’ve snuck out to meet some leftover wedding guests for brunch – if you wake and feel like following us, address on the reverse, along with cab number. If not, raid the fridge and we’ll see you soon – D x

She stuck a bagel into the toaster and spread it with cream cheese. She nibbled it slowly on the deck – a faint queasiness, not too bad – and wondered how her mother would take the news of her second pregnancy.

The following day, Sunday, Danny brought her back to the airport. On the way she told him about bumping into her father, and the discovery of a half-sister.

‘Wow, that’s big.’

‘It was. Very big.’

‘Will you stay in touch?’

‘With him, I don’t know. With Iris, maybe.’ She thought it funny – not funny, that wasn’t the right word. Sad? Strange? – that her children would have half-uncles on one side of the family and a half-aunt on the other. Common enough in these days, of course, with lifelong marriages not the certainties they once were. There was even vague talk of a divorce referendum, but Ellen couldn’t see divorce ever becoming a reality in Ireland.

She also told him about her mother being sent for tests. ‘I don’t know if she’s had them yet or not – it was Joan who told me about them. Mam and I had a bit of a falling-out when I broke the news that I was pregnant with Juliet.’

‘Oh, shame. Hope the tests show nothing bad.’

The sky was blue again. Such a deep, wonderful cloudless blue. Maybe she and Leo should move their family to America.

‘Keep me posted on all fronts,’ Danny said at the airport, ‘particularly on the baby front. I’m pretty much an honorary uncle, in at the start like this – and Bobbi and I might be able to provide a cousin or two at some stage.’

‘That would be great – definitely our kids will be honorary cousins. Thanks for everything, and sorry for making you take me to a chemist on your wedding day.’

‘Only for you.’

The flight, the flights, seemed endless. In Boston airport she tried to read her book but her mind was miles away. Conceived in December probably, so the due date would be sometime in September. Joan’s birthday was in August, Frances’ in September. Nice if it arrived in the middle.

She thought again about the tests her mother was to have. She’d be sixty-six in May, not old by any standard. She’d ring Joan tomorrow evening to see if there was news.

Her flight landed in Heathrow just after seven on Monday morning. By the time she’d retrieved her luggage and got through the checks it was five to eight. Should she splash out on a taxi? No – the Tube would be just as quick at this hour, or quicker.

The train was full. She sat on her suitcase, eyelids drooping with tiredness. She regarded the other newly arrived passengers and wondered if any of the females were pregnant too. She hugged her secret to herself and ignored her bladder, which needed to be emptied. She should have gone in the airport, but now she would wait till she got home.

She walked from the station to the house, every step increasing her desire for a toilet. Juliet would be in crèche, Leo at work, so she planned to turn up at the bank at lunchtime. She’d rather tell him at home, but she couldn’t possibly wait all day, so his office would have to do.

But first a shower, and sleep.