Chapter 10
HER PARENTS RECEIVED THE NEWS OF HER pregnancy with muted pleasure. Not wanting to appear too happy, given the circumstances, but she could sense their delight. She knew they’d been dying for a grandchild, envious of friends who’d already become grandparents.
‘How do you feel about it?’ her mother enquired.
‘Ask me in another few months.’
‘Oh, sweetheart,’ squeezing her hand. ‘You haven’t seen a doctor yet?’
‘No – just the two tests.’
‘Do you know roughly how far along you are?’
‘It happened after the wedding,’ she said, ‘so . . .’
So she could be accurate about conception to within six days.
Her mother consulted a calendar on her phone. ‘You’re around thirteen weeks along, starting your second trimester.’
‘What about the iron tablets, Dad? I’ve been taking them every day.’
‘Carry on with them,’ he said, ‘and I’ll write you a prescription for folic acid.’
They gave Lydia one of the leaflets they’d put together for their pregnant patients. Negotiating pregnancy had lists of recommended foods and those to avoid, and suggested supplements, and a sleep hygiene plan, and an exercise regime, and a timetable for scans.
‘You need to eat properly now, Lydia – that’s very important. How’s your appetite?’
‘Improving.’
‘That’s good. Have you told Damien’s parents?’
Lydia nodded. ‘I called to them this morning.’ She left it at that.
‘This might cheer them up, the poor things.’
‘So how do you see your plans now?’ her father asked.
She saw their hopeful faces. ‘I’ll come back sooner,’ she said, ‘if you’ll have me.’
‘Oh, thank goodness!’ her mother exclaimed. ‘I’ll organise your first scan – and one of us can drive down and get your luggage. What about next weekend?’
‘No, Mum – I’m not moving back right away.’ She watched them deflate again. ‘I just want to stay another few months. I’ll be back in plenty of time to have the baby here. Will you both be OK with two of us in the house until I find another apartment?’
‘Of course we will,’ her mother said, ‘but it’s not ideal to be changing doctors halfway through your pregnancy, particularly your first. Would you not come sooner?’
‘Mum, when I leave Chance House, it will be for good. It was our first home, and I’m attached to it.
I just want to spend a bit more time in it while I can.
I’ll visit the GP as soon as I go back. I’ll do everything right, I promise – and I have lots of people to help me if I need it, lots of drivers to bring me to appointments and that. ’
A sigh. ‘Well, please don’t wait too long. I’ll ask Robert Nestor to take you on: he’s always busy, but he’ll oblige us.’
Robert Nestor, obstetrician and gynaecologist, had been to college with her mother.
Lydia had met him and his wife Charlene, at least ten years his junior, at a few of her parents’ dinner parties.
She liked Charlene, a blow-in from Meath as she said herself, but she didn’t care for Robert, loud and self-important with a guffaw that showed all his fillings. Still, she didn’t have to like him.
‘Terence can handle the conveyancing for Chance House,’ her father said. Terence Mannion, who’d done the conveyancing for Lydia’s apartment sale, and who’d taken care of all the family’s legal requirements for as long as she could remember.
‘And you’ll need a nanny for when you go back to work,’ her mother said. ‘I’ll ask around, see if I can get a recommendation.’
‘You should probably think about learning to drive as well,’ her father said. ‘Travelling with a baby on public transport is not ideal. I remember all the luggage we had to bring anytime we went anywhere with you. It was difficult enough with a car.’
‘Good idea,’ her mother said. ‘We could find you one of those cute little Fiats.’
‘Hold on,’ Lydia told them. It hadn’t taken them long to take over, or try to. ‘I’ve only just discovered I’m pregnant. Can we slow things down please?’
‘Sorry, love,’ her mother said. ‘We’re just looking forward to our new grandchild, and to having you home again.’
Home is where the heart is. The phrase flashed into her head. The trouble was, since Damien had died her heart had lost its moorings. She was adrift, not knowing any more where she truly belonged – but for now, Chance House was still where she wanted to be.
After dinner she rang a few friends to give them the news, all of whom offered the same guarded congratulations that her parents had, but no one was free to meet her the following morning for brunch.
Babies, husbands, jobs. Life was going on without her, which of course she understood but still it hurt.
She would have to work at fitting in again, she thought.
‘We’ll see you when you’re back,’ she heard, in the soft, sympathetic tone they all used with her now. ‘We’ll make a plan, as soon as you’re landed.’
She texted Brona, on holidays in the Seychelles. Two minutes later, her phone rang.
‘Oh my God, so many congratulations!’ Brona said excitedly.
‘I know it’s probably a bit weird and sad, but it’s wonderful too.
We fly home on Tuesday so I’ll come to you next weekend, and I’ll bring zero-alcohol wine, and a book of names – and we can plan a big baby shower when you’re back in Dublin.
Can’t believe you’re going to be a mum! Sorry, I’ve had a couple of cocktails, it’s nearly midnight here, but I’m so happy for you! ’
Whether it was the cocktails or not, she did sound delighted.
She and Shaun were planning to start a family next year, when he turned thirty-five – Two is all we want, Brona had told her.
When Lydia had got engaged to Damien, she’d assumed that she and her friend would be pregnant together, or around the same time, but here she was.
In a few months she’d join the ranks of parenthood, and the old gang would gather her back into the fold.
She’d bring her child to their children’s birthday parties, and host her own.
Life would take on a new rhythm. You’ll learn to live with it, Father Phil had said, and she knew now that she would, because she had to.
But she’d miss him when she left. She’d miss them all.