Chapter 23 #2
“Hey, Mum, you’re doing so well.” Smiling, Rachel took Janice’s limp hand in hers. She forced herself to meet her mother’s gaze; the frustration and fear in her mother’s faded blue eyes both chilled her and made her want to cry.
She, of all Janice’s children, could remember when her mother had been busy and hassled, banging saucepans on the stove and clipping kids on the ear.
She’d been too stressed and frantic to be one of those nurturing, hands-on mothers, but Rachel had never doubted that Janice had loved her children and she’d worked hard to provide for them financially.
Now she lay in bed, a terrible desperation in her eyes, and Rachel only wanted to back away. And she thought she was trapped.
After half an hour of murmuring encouragements while the nurse rotated Janice’s limbs, Rachel finally cried off. She had Emily Hart and her terrible twins waiting for her.
When she arrived at the Harts’, Emily was standing at the sink, staring out the window while Riley and Rogan sat on the floor and banged pot lids together.
Rachel covered her ears for a moment as the clanging reverberated through the kitchen, and when Emily didn’t so much as move, she swooped down and took the makeshift cymbals out of the boys’ chubby toddler hands.
“That’s enough of that, I think.” She glanced at Emily, who was still staring into space. “Tea?”
“Pardon?” Emily turned around, blinking as if she’d been asleep. “Oh, yes, that would be lovely.”
Rachel hustled the boys into the sitting room and turned on the TV. They sat down in front of Thomas the Tank Engine, immediately docile, their faces slackening as their gazes became glued to the flat-screen in front of them. Thank God for the CBeebies channel.
Back in the kitchen Emily was drifting around like she didn’t know what to do with herself, and Rachel filled the kettle, steeling herself for another moan about the purposelessness of life for the middle-class British housewife.
“So,” she said as the kettle started to hiss. “Should I ask how you are?”
Emily let out a wobbly laugh and sank into a kitchen chair, dropping her chin into her hands. “Probably not.”
“That bad, eh?” Rachel reached for the tea bags that Emily kept in a ceramic jar shaped like a rooster. “Oh, dear.”
“Well.” Emily released a shuddering breath. “I’m pregnant.”
“Oh.” Rachel handed Emily a mug and sat down across from her. “This isn’t a congratulations type of situation, I’m guessing?”
“Not really.” Emily took a sip of tea, her face pale, her eyes downcast. “I wasn’t . . . We weren’t trying. Obviously.”
“And?” Rachel asked cautiously. “What are your . . . ? What are your thoughts?”
“My thoughts?” Emily looked up, her forehead wrinkling. “My thoughts are I really am not looking forward to being pregnant again. Bowking for twelve weeks and then turning into a bloody beached whale . . . not to mention the varicose veins, the hemorrhoids . . .”
Rachel held up a hand. “Really, I get the picture.”
“Sorry.” Emily made a face and then took a sip of tea. “It’s just that Riley and Rogan aren’t even two, and I feel like I can barely manage them. And to do it all over again, and then have toddlers and a newborn . . .”
“Have you talked to Tom about it?”
“I haven’t told him yet. He’s going to be thrilled, I know.”
“But if you’re not thrilled . . .” Rachel suggested cautiously. “There are options, Emily.”
Emily stared at her for a moment before a look of horrified comprehension crossed her face and she shook her head quickly.
“Oh, no. No, I don’t think I could do that.
I mean, I might not want to be pregnant, but when I think of Riley and Rogan .
. . There’s a little person in there. A mini me-and-Tom. ”
“Okay.” Rachel shrugged, not wanting to push it. Emily had placed her hand on her middle and was smiling tentatively, as if she needed to give herself permission to be happy.
“It’s just going to be hard, you know? And I’m so tired. But I don’t regret it, either, not exactly. If that makes sense.”
“It does.” Rachel had never really thought she and Emily Hart had much in common. She’d looked down on Emily a little bit, for being so well off and yet still moaning about life.
But now, for the first time, Rachel could see the conundrum Emily was in.
It was the same one she was in: feeling trapped yet not quite sure she actually wanted life to be different.
She wouldn’t wish Lily away, or the years she’d spent taking care of her.
She couldn’t wish Nathan away either, or how much time she spent with him.
Sometimes her life felt small and suffocating and intolerable, but it was still her life and she loved everyone in it. Even Meghan.
Sighing, Rachel rose from the table and put her mug in the sink. “You look knackered, Emily. Maybe you should go kip upstairs for a bit. I can watch the boys while I tidy up.”
Emily looked up from her tea, her expression guiltily hopeful. “Oh, I don’t know. Are you sure . . . ?”
“Yes,” Rachel answered, suppressing a sigh. “I’m sure.”
Of course, the second Emily closed her bedroom door, the theme music of Thomas the Tank Engine came on, signaling the end of the show, and Riley and Rogan came trotting into the kitchen while Rachel was getting out the mop.
“Hello, you two,” she said. “Are you going to be helpers?”
Three hours later Rachel acknowledged what wishful thinking that had been.
Riley and Rogan did not have the word “helpful” in their admittedly very limited vocabulary.
Emily had slept for the entire time Rachel cleaned the house, wiping up the dirty water the boys spilled when they tipped over her pail and keeping their hands from reaching inside the toilet as she attempted to scrub it.
By five o’clock she was both filthy and exhausted.
Emily staggered out of her bedroom just as Rachel was packing up, making a little more noise than she usually would in the hope that she’d awaken Sleeping Beauty.
“Had a nice nap?” she called brightly as Emily stumbled down the stairs, rubbing her eyes and yawning.
“Yes, yes. Thank you so much. . . .”
She smiled at Rachel as Riley and Rogan came tumbling towards her and then tackled her around the knees.
“It was no bother,” Rachel said, and despite the three hours of total hassle, she meant it.
She was just getting into her car when her mobile rang and she saw with a wary ripple of pleasure that it was Andrew.
“Hey,” she greeted him as she closed the car door.
“I was just checking to see if you got home safely.”
“Considering it’s two days later, you’d better hope I had.” She found herself smiling.
He chuckled softly, the sound weirdly intimate on the phone. “True enough. That was really just an excuse, anyway. I wanted to talk to you.”
“You did?” She felt another silly smile spread over her face.
“Yes. To make sure you aren’t annoyed with me for nagging you.”
“I wouldn’t call it nagging, exactly.”
“Irritating you, then.”
“You were right, though,” she answered. “Sort of.”
“So are you going to think about what I said?”
“Maybe. I haven’t had time, to be honest.” That wasn’t quite true. She’d powered up the ancient desktop computer in the sitting room and thought about doing an Internet search for courses. Nathan had come running in before she’d opened the browser.
“How’s your mum?”
The switch in topics threw her. “Oh, fine. Well, no, not fine.” She sighed. “Terrible, if the expression in her eyes is anything to go by. I can barely look at her, which makes me an awful daughter.”
“A normal person,” Andrew corrected. “When is she coming home?”
“Probably at the weekend.” Rachel closed her eyes, not even wanting to think about what that meant.
“Would you like me to help?”
Her eyes snapped open, and she stared straight ahead at the Harts’ muddy garden with its patchy grass and runty trees. “Pardon?”
“I asked, would you like me to help? I could come to Hartley-by-the-Sea for the weekend. Drive your mum home from the hospital, maybe.”
“I have a car.”
“I know.” Andrew’s voice was gentle. “But I thought maybe you’d like help shouldering the burden.”
Quite suddenly Rachel felt as if she could cry. She dropped the phone in her lap and pressed her thumbs to her closed lids as she took a few deep breaths.
“Rachel?” Andrew’s voice, coming from the phone in her lap, sounded tinny and alarmed.
“I’m here.” She took one last deep breath and picked up the phone. She hadn’t expected Andrew to offer to help. She hadn’t realized she’d want it so much. “Yes,” she said. “That would be great. I’d love for you to come back and help me.”