Chapter 7
7
The following afternoon, Zoe arrived at her grandfather’s house via a taxi from the train station. Lucie hadn’t seen her daughter for weeks, so she hurried to the front door to greet her when she heard the bell.
‘Oh, Zoe! Hello! And look at you, blooming and beautiful!’ she exclaimed, pulling Zoe and her sizeable bump in for a hug.
Her daughter was tall, capable and strong – a gym regular with squared shoulders, strong arms and legs and a ready smile. Zoe’s dark hair was tied up in a no-nonsense ponytail; she wore a touch of makeup, and she was dressed in a lovely summer maternity shirtdress in her favourite shade of bright blue with a white pattern. She really did look beautiful and also a little thoughtful and serious, Lucie recognised.
‘Hello, Mum.’ Zoe, even taller today in wedge-heeled espadrilles, bent down to kiss her mother on the cheek.
‘How are you feeling?’ Lucie asked as she guided Zoe and her trolley bag into the hallway.
‘Apart from all the peeing, I’m good,’ Zoe replied. ‘Really good, in fact. Work can get a bit tiring, but not too much longer to go. How about Gramps, how’s he doing?’
Dropping her voice, so there wasn’t any danger of being overheard by her father, Lucie warned her, ‘You’ve not been for a little while, so you’ll notice quite a change. He’s very thin and a bit yellow, gets tired, but still so cheerful. I think it’s the drugs.’
Zoe’s eyebrows went up. ‘Is the doctor up to date on the yellowing and the cheerfulness?’
‘Yes, totally up to date. She was here this morning.’
‘Good. Don’t want him getting an overdose at this stage. Not when we’re about to head off.’
The immediate look of concern on Lucie’s face caused Zoe to add, ‘Honestly, if the doctor’s happy, let’s not worry. Sorry, Mum, I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘OK… right. Head to the loo if you need to and then come out to the garden where I’ve put out some cakes and things, and would you like a cup of tea?’
‘Coffee, please, Mum. And a big glass of water.’
Lucie watched admiringly as her girl still found the energy to bounce up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time.
‘Hello, Grampa!’
‘Ah, there she is!’
Lucie thought it was lovely to see the delighted smiles pass between these two as Zoe came out into the garden.
‘Don’t get up!’ Zoe insisted, but her grampa stubbornly sat up on the sun lounger, then swung his legs round, prised himself upwards and stood, a little wobbly, waiting for her hug.
‘Can’t have you bending over me in your condition,’ he insisted as she put her arms around him and squeezed tight.
‘Are you sure this baby is still two months away? You look fit to pop,’ he told her.
‘Six weeks to go,’ she said, then, pointing at her stomach, told it sternly, ‘You stay in there, baby girl. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.’
‘Good luck with having a child that does what you tell it – I never had any success with that,’ was her grampa’s comment.
‘Very funny,’ Lucie replied. ‘Now, come and sit over here at the table, Zoe, and pick something nice to eat. Dad, I’ll bring yours over – scone, coffee cake or a piece of sponge? I’ve bought out the bakery.’
‘Well, maybe a little piece of sponge,’ he decided. ‘No doubt Domenica is mixing up my shake to help wash this down.’
‘Oh yes… Let me go to the kitchen and find out and I’ll make Zoe her coffee,’ Lucie remembered.
‘Thanks, Mum. I’m going to quiz Gramps about his health and his meds.’
‘I can’t wait,’ came his wry response.
But Lucie smiled, because it was lovely to have her little family together.
When she returned with the protein shake, a big cup of coffee with milk, and glasses of water for them all, she took her seat at the garden table, ate her slice of cake, and everything was calm and civilised for a good ten minutes or so. Her father answered some more health questions, Zoe seemed satisfied with the answers, and she cheerfully answered their questions about how she was getting on with her pregnancy.
She even entertained them with some funny stories from the ward.
‘Not that there are many hilarious anecdotes from ICU,’ she added. ‘So we have to take our laughs where we can get them.’
There was a relaxed, comfortable silence, when they all seemed to enjoy looking out over the flowers, listening to the rustle of the trees and the buzz of insects toiling away in the heat of the afternoon.
Then Lucie seemed to spoil it all by asking Zoe how it was going with finding a new home.
‘Here we go with the interfering questions,’ Zoe said with a roll of her eyes.
‘Zoe, it’s only because I care very much,’ Lucie countered.
‘No, we haven’t found a place to buy yet. It’s London and it’s complicated,’ Zoe said, still sounding as if her hackles were up.
‘So… are you going to move in with Rafi?’ Lucie ventured.
‘Nope.’
‘Are you going to move somewhere else on your own?’
‘Nope.’
‘So…’ Lucie paused, hoping Zoe would explain where she was planning to be when her baby arrived.
Zoe crossed her arms and the scowl across her face was a serious warning. But still Lucie had to ask, ‘You’re not going to carry on living in your flat share with the baby, are you?’
‘You just can’t let it rest, can you?’ Zoe snapped, as if it was all Lucie’s fault.
But then Lucie had been a mum for twenty-seven years, so by now, she knew perfectly well that this was fairly typical – just mention a problem, because you want to help solve it, and don’t be surprised if your child acts like you’re somehow to blame for the whole thing.
‘I don’t think I should “just let it rest”,’ Lucie said as calmly as she could. ‘I know you have a deposit. I know you’ve wanted to put in offers… What I don’t understand is the hold up. And, no, I don’t think it’s a great idea to bring a baby into a flat share while the baby’s father lives somewhere else. You probably don’t think it’s a great idea either.’
Zoe’s scowl deepened and her foot began to tap in that way it did when she was particularly annoyed.
‘And I might as well tell you that I don’t understand why the baby’s father…’ – Lucie couldn’t bring herself to say ‘Rafi’ because that was a casual, friendly nickname that you couldn’t use when you were absolutely furious with someone for letting your daughter down – ‘isn’t coming with you to the wedding, to meet your dad and the rest of your family.’
‘Look, he couldn’t get the time off work, OK?’ came Zoe’s angry response. ‘He’s planning to take lots of time off once our daughter is here, so he’s saving it up.’
‘And what about moving? And buying a place together? Is that still going to happen?’ Lucie couldn’t help herself from asking.
‘I think you need to keep your nose out of other people’s business, OK?’ Zoe snapped.
Lucie looked at her daughter. It didn’t matter how strong, capable and together Zoe was, that great big baby bump made her look vulnerable; no, it actually made her vulnerable. Everyone who’d ever had a baby knew what Zoe was in for, but no one would be able to warn her or prepare her for the full extent of it – least of all her mother.
‘You’ll need all the support you can get,’ Lucie warned. ‘And with a sleepless, crying baby, you’ll need your own space.’
‘What did I just say?’ Zoe warned.
‘Zoe, I’m worried about you,’ Lucie admitted. ‘I’ve never met this guy. He’s not buying a home with you or moving in with you. He’s not coming to the wedding. Is he as committed as he should be?’
There; she’d said it, even if she knew she was pouring petrol onto the flames. At least it was off her chest and out in the open between them.
‘Mum, for God’s sake, will you give it a rest?’ Zoe asked angrily. ‘I am a grown up. I can run my own show and I don’t appreciate you butting in.’
She stood up and turned to her grandfather. ‘Sorry, Grampa,’ she began. ‘I thought this would be a nice afternoon and a chance to catch up with you, but Mum has to make everything horrible. So I’m going to go and have a little lie down on the sofa inside until she’s calmed the F down – sorry, Grampa,’ she repeated.
And with that Zoe went into the house, treating her mother to another furious glare on the way.
Lucie took a mouthful of her tea, but it had cooled to lukewarm and didn’t bring any of the comfort she required.
‘That went well…’ she said to her dad, before giving a long sigh. She seemed to be sighing a lot these days. Well, bloody hell, there was a lot to sigh about.
‘I worried about you too when you were in that condition,’ came his reply.
‘I had a husband and a mortgage,’ she pointed out.
‘Would that make it better?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I think it would. Say what you like about him now, but Miles is a good father and he was always there for Zoe. I mean, this is so woolly!’ she exclaimed. ‘Honestly, I don’t think this Rafi guy will be around for long, do you?’
‘How on earth should I know? I’ve never met the guy and neither have you,’ her dad replied. ‘But if Zoe thinks he’s a good guy, maybe we’ll have to trust her. She’s a very sensible girl.’
‘Do you think? Sensible enough to be a single-mother nurse in London? That is a huge task.’
‘One of the very disagreeable things about getting older, my girl, is that you have all the experience; you think you know all the answers, but none of these blasted youngsters will ever listen to you!’ he warned. ‘Nothing you can do about it. You have to let people make their own way – even your beloved children.’
‘Is there absolutely nothing I can do then?’ Lucie asked, pained at the thought.
‘I think you must have been in your mid-thirties when I finally decided that I would only offer my advice if you asked for it. I thought it was a good decision.’
‘Right, but she’s still in her twenties,’ Lucie protested.
‘Which only means she’ll listen even less,’ her dad delivered the brutal truth.
‘So I just have to “be there for her” then?’ Lucie scowled.
‘Well, that sounds a bit Californian, but I suppose so,’ said her dad.
‘Pick up the pieces when it all goes wrong?’
‘Or stand on the side lines and clap when it all goes right.’
‘Do I even know you any more?’ She managed a laugh. ‘You sound a bit Californian yourself.’
‘Oh God, what are they putting in my medicine?’ he asked, shaking his head.
‘Exactly what I’ve been wondering.’
There was a loud ring on the doorbell.
‘Is that the time?’ Lucie glanced at her watch. And yes, it was 4.45p.m., almost exactly when their next visitor had said he would arrive.
‘So that will be your nephew?’ her dad asked.
‘Yes…’ Lucie stood up and felt a bit flustered. She hadn’t seen Melissa’s boy, Deva, for years.
Heading out to go and open the door, she told her father, ‘I’m not sure what to expect.’