Chapter 27
OVER THE WEEK THAT FOLLOWED, DAYS BLURRED into one another, punctuated by feeds and changes and baths and more feeds, and precious little sleep for all three residents of the apartment.
Nights became extensions of days, no designated rest time any more, everything dictated by one tiny, beautiful, irresistible human.
Thank goodness for Tessa, a replacement mother for Lydia in the absence of her own.
Lifting the baby from Lydia’s weary arms after a feed and transferring her gently to the cot.
Filling the little bath before Lydia realised it was due, changing sheets, preparing food for Lydia to eat when she got a chance, laying out miniature clothing, emptying the nappy bin.
Grabbing sleep, like Lydia, whenever she could.
People called to see the baby, people she now knew. There was a near-constant procession of visitors, none of whom stayed too long. Everyone had heard that Lydia wasn’t moving away, and nobody at all mentioned the shopping mall, or the man who had been planning to bring it into being.
It was a chaotic and exhausting time – but it was also a time of deep happiness.
The novelty of being a mother, of sitting in the borrowed rocking chair with Naomi at her breast made Lydia feel immeasurably content.
Perhaps inevitably, with his child in the world, she fancied she felt Damien nearby during this time, watching them both.
It was a comforting fancy, tinged as it was with the loneliness of knowing he would never be physically present again.
Ten days or so after Naomi came home, Tessa went to answer the doorbell.
It was mid-morning, the day warm and dry.
Lydia had just put Naomi down for a nap, and was filling a bowl with the fruit Tessa had chopped earlier.
She was thinking she really must get back into the yoga studio – she hadn’t gone near it since Naomi’s arrival – when Tessa reappeared, followed by Lydia’s parents.
There had been no word at all from them since the angry phone call almost two weeks ago. It was the longest time Lydia could remember without communication. She’d been on the point of calling them more than once, wanting to heal the rift, but she’d stopped herself. It had to come from them.
And here they were.
She lowered her bowl. ‘Mum,’ she said, ‘Dad. You’ve met Tessa.’
She’d told Tessa they’d had a falling-out without going into detail, and now Tessa slipped away, murmuring something about letters to write.
They looked subdued, both of them. Neither attempted their usual embrace on meeting Lydia. Her father lowered a box on to the worktop. Lydia switched off the radio.
‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘Will I make coffee?’
‘Please,’ her father replied, and nobody spoke while she did. The cat hopped on to the windowsill outside as Lydia arranged Tessa’s almond biscuits on a plate.
‘We’ve come,’ her father said, as Lydia returned to her bowl of fruit, ‘to make things right.’
He stopped. After a few seconds, Lydia gave a cautious ‘OK.’ She stabbed a half-strawberry with her fork and ate it.
‘We’ve come to explain,’ her mother put in, ‘and to say sorry too.’ She paused, stirring milk into her cup. ‘We know we can be . . . over-protective.’
Lydia said nothing to this. She speared a chunk of pear.
‘From the start,’ her father said, ‘we were dubious about you and Damien buying this house. You know that. We said it to you.’
They had. Lydia nodded.
‘We hated to think you’d end up in trouble,’ he said.
‘It was my risk to take,’ Lydia felt obliged to point out.
‘Yes. Yes, it was, and we should have kept quiet, but there you are.’ He reached for a biscuit, but then just set it by his cup.
‘When the accident happened,’ her mother said, ‘we were – well, of course we were terribly sad, but also very concerned for you, especially when you decided to return here after just a week with us. We both assumed you’d move back to Dublin at that stage.’
‘I know you did.’
‘We hated to think of you alone here,’ her mother went on. ‘We couldn’t imagine it was good for you, having no family or old friends around.’
‘It was hard,’ Lydia admitted. ‘It was a terrible time – but this was where I needed to be. And everyone around here rallied.’ Everyone except Kathleen. She kept that quiet.
‘When you told us you were pregnant we were thrilled, naturally, and delighted when you said you’d move back to Dublin then – but . . .’
‘I know I kept changing,’ Lydia put in. ‘I can see it must have been frustrating for you.’
Her mother sighed. ‘It’s difficult, having just one child. We wanted more, but it didn’t happen. There was nothing wrong with either of us, it was just . . . one of those things.’
They’d never told her that before. She’d never asked.
‘We can see now that it was hard on you, being the only one for us to worry about. I think we got so used to looking after you, of focusing all our parenting on you, that we didn’t notice when you grew up and became your own person. Maybe we didn’t want to see it.’
She turned to Lydia’s father. ‘Have you a hanky?’ He pulled one from his trouser pocket and she blotted her eyes.
‘Lydia, we’re sorry,’ he said. ‘We should have been more supportive of your idea, even if we still worry about the outcome. I don’t think we can stop worrying, to be honest.’
‘That’s fine,’ Lydia said. ‘I worry myself – but I still want to try it.’ He nodded. ‘We’d like to lend our support. How about we finance the kitchen appliances you’ll need?’
She was touched. She remembered their offer of a honeymoon, the day she and Damien had got married. We’ll cover the cost, wherever you decide to go, whenever the time is right.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘That would help a lot.’ She regarded the box on the worktop. ‘Is that for me?’
‘Of course it is.’
They’d packed it with her favourites from the deli the three of them loved, located between Lydia’s old apartment and their house. Oat crackers, truffle crisps, pink lemonade, smoked onion mayonnaise, blue cheese, black olive tapenade, Medjool dates.
They’d packed it with love that never wavered, just overwhelmed sometimes. She thanked them again. She brought them in to see Naomi, and from there she gave them a tour of the finished house, where they encountered Joseph the plumber installing a toilet in one of the ensuites.
She took them out to the patio, so she could show off the garden.
‘It’s really beautiful,’ her mother said. ‘You’ve done wonders here, darling.’
‘I want to have the christening soon,’ Lydia said. ‘Will you come back for it?’ and they promised they would – and three weeks later they did, and met everyone.
They’d stepped on to the new path with her. Cautiously, nervously, but they were there.