Chapter 9 #2
‘Come here!’ I said, trying to grab his collar, but he swam away, far more agile in the water than me. If he had been a person, he would have been screaming with laughter. I turned to Marilise and Sofia in despair, half laughing myself, when Nick came striding into the room.
‘Steve!’ he bellowed.
Steve took no notice and swam around in a little circle, looking pleased with himself.
‘For God’s sake,’ muttered Nick, taking off his shoes and socks and rolling his jeans up. He stepped onto the first shallow step behind the fountain. ‘Steve, come here!’ Nothing. ‘Laura, would you mind getting around behind him and sort of shooing him towards me?’
He darted a look of frustration towards Marilise and Sofia, who were now clutching each other and giggling.
Stifling a smile myself, I swam around behind the dog and started half flapping, half splashing him.
He looked balefully at me, then Nick, but did start to head towards his master.
When he got there, he scrambled up the steps, evaded Nick’s grasping hand and shook himself vigorously.
By now all three of us in the water were in stitches, and the more furious poor Nick looked, the funnier the whole thing seemed.
Eventually, he managed to grab Steve’s collar.
He stood there, barefoot, his shirt covered in splashed water and his jeans soaking.
He looked from Steve to us and back to his dog again and I was worried that we were all in for a telling-off.
But suddenly, unexpectedly, the thunderclouds rolled back and he, too, grinned, then started laughing.
‘This stupid dog!’ he howled. ‘Every day there’s something, it’s ridiculous. Well, I’m glad you three have enjoyed the show – I’m off to find a towel and ring the pound.’
He went off, still smiling and shaking his head, unable to be properly cross with any of us, let alone his precious dog.
‘Come on,’ I said. ‘I think we’d better get out and dressed, it’s nearly lunchtime.’
‘He won’t really send Steve to the pound, will he?’ asked Sofia, her little brow wrinkling.
I grabbed a towel and wrapped it round her, giving her a hug at the same time.
‘Of course not, he was only joking. Anyone can see he adores that dog and it’s about the only thing he trusts; it’s rather touching.’
‘I see you have the measure of my grandson,’ said Marilise.
‘He trusts that the dog loves him back, unconditionally, and that is where we see the true Nikolai.’ She sighed sadly.
‘If only he could feel that from us.’ But then her expression lightened in the way I had seen Nick’s do, a wicked glint coming into her eye.
‘Maybe we should try getting stuck in bushes or falling asleep in front of the Aga every five minutes.’
This made Sofia laugh, and we headed upstairs to get dressed, discussing the different ways we could ‘be more Steve’.
After lunch, while Marilise was having her afternoon nap, I was writing up my notes when my phone rang: Steph.
I was tempted not to answer, but that always makes me more nervous than just getting it over with, and I knew that if she had something to say or ask, then she wouldn’t give up because of one dropped call.
‘Hi, Steph.’
‘Ah, hello, Laura. How’s life at Lyonscroft?’
My mind roamed over the last few days.
‘Busier than I had expected, but good. How are the wedding preparations coming on?’
‘Yes, I wanted to talk to you about that.’ I thought you might.
‘You didn’t get back to me about bridesmaids’ dresses, so we’ve made a decision and they’re all ordered.
We went for the peach satin in the end.’ Of course you did.
‘Now, I wanted to talk to you about the hen night. Dorothea said she’d emailed you all the details, but you haven’t transferred the money yet, so I’m chasing. ’
‘Sorry, yes, it’s been hectic here. I’ll make sure I do it later.’
‘Please do. Now, there’s something else I’ve been thinking about.’
‘Yes?’
‘As soon as Hugo and I have tied the knot, we’re going to get pregnant.’
‘Are you?’
The words popped out of my mouth before I could stop them, but thank goodness I managed not to add anything else, such as ‘how?’ or ‘are you sure?’ Her breathtaking self-confidence would sweep away all doubt; the thought of any kind of fertility struggle wouldn’t be allowed to take up residence in her head, and while I truly hoped it would happen as instantly as she seemed to have planned, I had painful memories of my own inability to get pregnant, and the monthly disappointment and two early miscarriages Paulo and I had suffered.
‘Of course. Statistically there’s an eighty-five per cent chance of us being successful within the first year, but I’m sure it won’t take that long.’
‘Right, great.’
‘Anyway,’ she bulldozed on. ‘I’ve had an excellent idea. I think that you should retrain as a maternity nurse.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘And then when Baby comes, you can come and live in and help look after both of us. You’re not going to have children any time soon – if ever – yourself, are you? So, it’s a perfect solution.’
Tears filled my eyes and started splashing down my face.
I clasped my hand to my mouth and held the phone away while I gasped with the effort not to let her hear me cry and tried to gain some sort of composure.
A perfect solution? What, that she had a servant on hand and that I would be lucky enough to pick up the crumbs from her table?
As if looking after someone else’s baby would be compensation for everything I had lost?
I wanted to scream this at her down the phone, try to penetrate that rhinoceros hide of hers to elicit some shred of sensitivity; she knew what I’d been through.
What she didn’t know was that, despite my chosen life, now and then I ventured onto a bridal website – and not to look at the bridesmaids’ dresses.
Or that I gazed at babies when I was out and about, the longing to have my own child so powerful that it sometimes exhausted me.
But I couldn’t say any of this to Steph.
I knew what would happen if I did, and it wasn’t worth it.
First, she would laugh disbelievingly. Next, tell me I’d brought things on myself.
I’d be accused of attention seeking and, ironically, selfishness.
Then she’d get my mother involved to say it all again, until I was so worn down that I agreed I was a terrible person and was, in fact, grateful to them for their intervention.
I have ways of dealing with my family, but direct confrontation was pointless.
I could hear Steph squawking away on the end of the phone, so I took a deep, juddery breath and brought it up to my face again.
‘Sorry,’ I said blandly. ‘Dropped the phone.’
‘I see. Well, I’ve got to get on. I’ll leave you to look up the courses, shall I?’
‘I’ll have a think. Bye, Steph.’
I threw the device down on the table and rolled my eyes.
Why, why couldn’t I stand up to her? I was so confident and capable in my job and my everyday life, but when it came to family, I was – there were no two ways about it – scared.
Become a maternity nurse. Well, that was not a career path that had ever crossed my mind.
I had wondered from time to time about changing direction jobwise, but whenever I started to look into it, I felt as though I was betraying Paulo’s memory and cutting the final link I had with him.
Which was, of course, what my family wanted me to do.
In their own clumsy, but well-meaning, way they thought it would be better for me to do something else, which was doubtless part of the conversation when they came up with this latest scheme.
Let’s help Laura to help herself. Pushing the phone call out of my head, I returned to my paperwork, finding comfort there.