17. Only Bad News
Natalie and the rest of her family arrived at Windsor for a long weekend. She and Ed were beaming, happy to finally share some good news with the rest of the family. Their tests were all good. Everything was looking positive. They were ready to share their big secret. Natalie had gone whole-hog, bought a bodysuit, and was sharing it with her parents like any other mum might. Her goal was to bring the gift and deliver the news.
They arrived early, before everyone else, with that intent. Robbie wasn’t in the best of spirits, but he could sometimes be grumpy. Natalie hoped this would be a good cheer-up.
“So, I know you wanted to catch up before everyone got here,” Natalie said. “We brought you both something.”
“Oh, please let it be booze.” Vanna clapped.
“Darling, you never want for booze. You own distilleries. Why?”
“Always in the mood for something new,” Vanna shrugged. “Something to share.”
“You open it, Dad. It’s not booze, I’m sorry to say.”
“Well, alright,” Robbie sighed.
The King unfurled the bow and peeled back the paper. Then, he opened the box and stared in confusion.
“Well, there’s only one? What good does this do me? Have you lost your bloody mind, Natalie? This is a gift for Paul and Sanne, right?”
“No, not quite. More of an announcement,” Natalie said.
Natalie’s mother stared in disbelief. Robbie held the tiny bodysuit with confusion.
“Baby clothes. But why?”
Vanna smacked her husband on the arm, “Robert, I think they are expecting a baby. I think that is the clue here. Don’t be stupid!”
“What?” Robbie looked at them. “I need words. This is cryptic!”
“I thought it was rather clear, but yes.”
“We’re as surprised as anyone,” Ed added. “But Nat is pregnant. We’re expecting a baby in early August—we think, but don’t quote us.”
“We don’t know. I didn’t find out until about a week ago. AI blew chunks on my flight suit and got G-LOC. Swore it was impossible—and it should be—but it’s real. All the tests look good. The baby is in there, kicking and waving.”
Ed pulled an ultrasound photo out of his jacket pocket. “See. Real, live baby.”
Vanna gasped, covering her mouth. She was already crying, of course.
“This is exciting news,” Robbie said unexcited.
“Well, don’t throw a party or anything, Dad. Jesus!” Natalie was disappointed.
“No, no, sweetheart, it’s not that. I am so sorry. This is wonderful news. Your mother and I are happy. You will make brilliant parents. It’s only that I have bad news to deliver to you, unfortunately.”
“It is not that bad of news, Robbie.”
“It feels bad, darling.”
“What now?” Natalie asked.
“Well, I wanted to tell you last weekend when I was out there, but I got all bogged down with that engine.”
“It’s a lot of fun,” Natalie smiled.
Natalie was rebuilding a Corsair engine in her garage at Frogmore. Her father and uncle had both lent a hand over time. It was a long game. The thing took forever.
“Well, I just couldn’t break your heart. I feel even worse now. Natalie, things need to change.”
“What? Why?”
“Your father is not dying, much as he may like to say.” Vanna rolled her eyes.
It couldn’t be that bad.
“Nat, I have a heart condition—a bum valve, likely something I’ve always had—but it’s flaring up. I need to take care of it. It needs surgery and then a long recovery. Rehab. But if I get it managed, I will be around to see this one go on to university.”
Natalie felt like that was a kick to the teeth. Ed squeezed her knee lovingly. They both anticipated what this meant.
“I would like this to happen on any other timeline given that you should be resting and Paul and Sanne are about to have twins. I have no reserves for you and you’ll be in the middle of a regency.”
Natalie swallowed hard.
“When?”
“March. I’ve got some time. This is nothing immediate. I will need two surgeries. The first in March, the second several weeks later to do something else. Don’t ask what. And then it will be a few months before I recover. During the times I am incapacitated, you will be regent. Any other time, you will still manage as point. And, given that I am getting up there in age, I’d like to give you more leeway here. You will manage the household likely until the baby comes now. Fuck. The timing is just impeccable, Vanna!”
His tone was exasperated.
“Oh, Daddy, I’m sorry,” Natalie said. “We didn’t time this. We didn’t know.”
“Stop apologising for giving us a grandchild. This means more to us—and you—than any dreadful surgery,” Robbie said. “The timing is always shit with this family.”
“I can come right back to work,” Natalie said. “Take up more—and I can work right until I drop this thing?—”
“Absolutely not!” Vanna shook her head. “You must take care of your health. And this is a miracle baby, sweetheart. You will soak up every moment with him or her. I won’t have it otherwise nor will your father.”
Natalie shook her head and looked at Ed for something—she wasn’t sure what.
“Less will get done,” Vanna said. “And the world will survive.”
“If anyone will understand, it’s people. They will be over the moon, right?” Ed asked. “It’s a big deal—a royal baby. And this is, as Vanna said, a miracle.”
“Less will get done,” Robbie sounded defeated. “But your mum is right. This baby will be here, come hell, or high water, and we will greet him or her with all the excitement in the world. That will be the focus, not killing ourselves with work. Your mum, Aunt Rebecca, and Uncle Duncan can fill in. I will be fine in the end. I’m tough. And you will be fine, too. I have absolute faith in your ability to carry this torch.
Lucy packedup Iona in the wee hours to rush her to the AE at the local hospital. Iona suffered from what Lucy expected was an ear infection. She was only quiet when latched and Lucy’s breasts were miserably tired of being connected to the baby nonstop. She pulled on her ears and spiked a fever. Despite that, she was bright-eyed. Lucy sat alone at the clinic for six hours, unable to call her husband. She hadn’t spoken to him in any real way since their blow-up. Two weeks passed without comment. Lucy felt physically ill at home now. She never dreamed Winston could make her feel so low. She sometimes wondered if she should give up.
Now holding her baby and wondering when it would end, she came apart at the seams. Entertaining a nearly five-month-old at the doctor’s office for a quarter of a day was no easy feat. She was exhausted. Finally, they had space, brought the baby back, and Lucy got the confirmation that her daughter had a double ear infection. Winston never texted. He didn’t call. Nothing. She left a note that she took the baby to the doctor, but he never checked on her.
Lucy packed the baby off to the chemist, wondering how long the wait would be for infant ear drops. After a surprisingly quick turnaround, Lucy headed next door to the cafe and waited for a latte—asking for a cup of espresso with a bit of cream. She called it a “broke-ass latte.” Back in the day, she’d been able to buy an Americano for half the price of a latte and it worked twice as hard. Her assistant had known what she meant by it. She had known exactly how much cream to put in her iced coffee in the afternoon. That was back when she was accomplished. Lucy was someone. She had people who looked up to her, found her competent, and checked in. Now, all Lucy did was bus kids around to appointments and school. Oh, and disappoints her husband daily!
The espresso machine quite literally blew a gasket. Lucy groaned. She was offered tea, but Lucy couldn’t stomach tea. No. She needed the good stuff. They said they would do something to fix it, but it might be a moment. Then, there was worse news.
“Lucy! You alright?”
Lucy looked up to see Rose standing there so composed while Lucy waited with spots of breastmilk under her coat, standing there with frizzy hair in old yoga pants. Rose was in a suit, looking like a perfect picture of womanhood. She must have had some business to attend to. Lucy was so angry she could spit.
You alright? Bitch, you know what you did!
“No, I’m not.”
“You look knackered.”
“The baby is sick. I need coffee to stay awake.”
“Where is Winston? Is he not helping you?”
Wouldn’t you like to know?
Lucy didn’t reply. She set her jaw.
“At least let me take the baby!”
“It’s gonna be an hour, love,” a woman behind the counter said. “Take this and a scone.”
Lucy had no hands, so she threw the scone haphazardly into her diaper bag and picked up the disappointing brewed tea.
“Thanks.”
She tried to be charitable. Her midwestern nice came out in situations like this.
“Luce, please. Let me help you,” Rose reached for Iona.
Lucy snapped, going into full mama bear mode.
“Do not touch my baby! Do not touch her! You do not get to touch her!”
Everyone stared at the argument between The Countess and The Other Woman. Lucy wondered if she had humiliated herself because she was the last to know about Rose’s schemes or if no one knew. She was mortified, high-tailing out of the coffee shop. She reached the car park behind the chemist, Rose calling after. Lucy put her cup of tea atop the car and feverishly buckled Iona into her seat.
“Lucy, please, wait up. What is going on?”
“Oh, you fucking know what is going on!” Lucy shouted—not caring who heard. “You’re a cunt is what is going on.”
Rose recoiled in horror.
“Yeah, I know that word. And I don’t throw it around, but God damn it if you come within five feet of my children ever again, so help me, I will smite you. In fact, I will run my mouth in London like you will not believe. Your children will have no hope for a good placement at any reputable school. Just call my bluff.”
“Lucy, I am sorry. Winston told you?—”
“He told me you attempted to ruin my marriage.”
“I never wanted that. I thought I was helping. He did not. We… he told me no. In no uncertain terms and?—”
“Winston and I do not have an arrangement, Rose. You are my dear friend—or you were. You held Iona during her fucking christening. You are not helping me and you are harming my children. I never, ever want to speak to you again.”
Iona, now terrified by her mother’s tone of voice, screamed. It made Lucy’s breasts leak and her heartache. She felt like the world’s worst mother—the world’s worst everything as she closed the car door, baby safely secured inside and ran around to the driver’s seat.
“Lucy, please?—”
“Go fuck yourself, Rose!” Lucy closed her door.
Lucy sobbed and waited for Rose to go. She wanted to run but wasn’t sure where. She longed to flee anywhere but here where she felt demoralised, ostracised, and totally out of place. She would have done anything to go back to a time when she wasn’t just Winston’s wife or the Countess or Malcolm’s mum. She wanted to be Lucy Chandler the Herder of Cats and Maker of Miracles. She missed her best friend. She missed Vanna, Ed, Paul, and Sanne. She missed London and the south. She missed everything that made her feel human again. And she missed her husband seeing her as a person and caring about her. She wanted to go back in time. She drove off, listening to a clunk. There went her tea. The baby was still shrieking.
“Fuck it,” Lucy said.
She drove back home before feeling ill. Lucy pulled off on the side of the road and vomited. Car still running, baby still crying, she realised that the thought of going back to the estate made her ill. Unable to function, she drove around, soothing her baby, and proceeded to the train station. She popped the baby in the pram and left her car behind. She stepped up to the ticket window.
“Two seats first class to Windsor, via London,” she said.
“That will be a long trip.”
“I could use the time,” Lucy replied.
They boarded the train. Lucy gave the baby another dose of paracetamol and the ear drops. As they flew through the countryside, now in England, Iona fell asleep. Clouds parted. She was terrified to leavethe boys behind. She feared this had ended things with Winston. At the same time, if she stayed, she felt she might do something dangerous. So, she held her baby tight and fled to the safety she had once known. She knew Natalie was down in Windsor with her family. That was all she could do.