11. Molly
Chapter 11
Molly
M olly settles into a cosy corner in the Brown Cow village pub and slips off her shoes. Is it a pregnancy thing, she wonders, feet swelling up and aching like they’ve been walking for miles when she’s hardly done a thing all morning? And how is she going to explain saying no to her usual vodka and orange when her father-in-law starts taking orders for their drinks?
Jack’s mum, Brenda, plonks down beside her and pushes her handbag down under the table. ‘Won’t be needing my purse today,’ she jokes. ‘Steve’s paying for everything. Birthday girl privileges.’
‘Quite right.’ Molly smiles at her. ‘I hope he bought you something nice.’
‘Oh, he’s not much of a one for presents. I got a nice bunch of flowers, and there’s this meal to look forward to. I don’t need anything else.’
‘You’ll not be wanting this then.’ Molly nods over to Jack, sitting opposite, and he pulls a small wrapped package from his inside pocket.
‘Happy birthday, Mum.’
‘Oh, you shouldn’t have.’
‘I’ll take it back then, shall I?’ Jack pretends to pocket the present as his mum’s hand whips out across the gap between them and grabs for it.
‘Don’t you dare!’
Molly watches her pulling off the paper and ribbons and cooing over the expensive bottle of perfume inside.
‘It’s lovely. Thank you both. But I don’t know when I’ll ever wear it. It’s not as if we ever go out anywhere posh.’
‘You mean this doesn’t count?’ Her husband is laughing beside her, still standing as he tries to memorise the round of drinks he’s about to go and buy. ‘The Brown Cow’s as posh as it gets around these parts. Come on, love, give us a squirt so we can all see what it smells like.’
‘You can’t see a smell, Dad.’ Jack’s brother Richard always has been a stickler for facts, but he’s first to lean forward and take a sniff as his mum liberally sprays the perfume onto her wrists. ‘Mmm. Very nice. But we’re here to eat, and I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.’
‘I don’t think horse is an option, love. They do a very nice chicken pie though.’
‘Well, let’s order, and then you can have our present. Call it a gift horse!’ He laughs and touches his mum’s arm. ‘Just don’t look in its mouth.’
His wife, Jennifer, raises her eyebrows and places their gift on the table. ‘Forgive him, he thinks he’s funny,’ she says, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. ‘Happy birthday, Bren.’
‘Now, now, children. First things first.’ Steve looks around at his family and silently mouths the list of drinks he’s already tried to memorise. ‘Let’s all get a drink and toast the beautiful birthday girl. I’ll grab us a couple of menus from the bar, but our Maureen and Bill aren’t here yet, so we can’t eat just yet.’ Molly had left her dad sorting out food for the dog while her mum dithered over which coat to wear and whether to bother bringing her mobile when anyone likely to call would be here for the meal anyway, but she knows they won’t be long.
Steve looks towards the door as it creaks open. ‘Ah, speak of the devils! Come on over and find yourselves a couple of chairs.’
Molly gets up and kisses her mum as her dad shakes hands with the other men around the table.
‘Now, what will you two have to drink, and who else haven’t I asked?’ Steve carries on, wallet in hand. ‘Jack, what will you have? And Molly? Usual?’
Jack stands up. ‘I’ll come with you to the bar.’
Molly tries to say something. To ask for just the orange juice, without the vodka, but she can’t think of a decent excuse, so she says nothing. Nobody will notice if she just sips at it, uses it for the toast and then leaves the rest. She knows it will be easier than having to explain.
It’s quite busy today. Saturday afternoons in the rain, with nowhere else to go, tend to bring half the village out for a drink and a meal they don’t have to cook for themselves, and the horse racing being shown on the giant TV screen is the clincher, here in the heart of East Anglia where racing seems to be in the blood.
The general noise of so many conversations going on around her makes it hard for Molly to join in, so she takes the opportunity to sit back and just think. She knows she has decisions to make. Not about keeping this baby, because she absolutely will, whatever Jack might say. That, at least, is non-negotiable. But there’s also who to tell, and when. Her parents will be thrilled, and so will his. A first grandchild. And while they are all here together, already in a celebratory mood, she could so easily tell them here, right now, today… but she has to tell Jack first, and that’s the bit she worries about. She’s known for five days, but she just keeps chickening out. It’s not what he wants. She knows that. Not part of the plan.
Of course, the test had been positive. There had never been much doubt about that, really. She had wrapped the test stick up tightly in the pages of an old newspaper so Jack wouldn’t find it, and had been just about to dump it in the bin outside when she’d realised paper is recyclable and pregnancy tests are not. Which bin to choose? The last thing she wanted was for some busybody to start moving the screwed-up bundle from one bin to another and her secret tumbling out onto the pavement. In the end, she had taken it around the corner and, when she was sure nobody was looking, had separated the test from the newspaper and deposited them both in someone else’s bins. She knew it was ridiculous. Jack was hardly likely to go rummaging in the rubbish, at home or anywhere else, but why take the risk?
Steve comes back from the bar, balancing a tray, and plonks her drink down in front of her. She can almost smell the vodka from here. He must have got her a double. She nods her thanks and wonders how she is going to avoid drinking it. Because she may not know a lot about pregnancy but she does know that babies and booze don’t mix.
‘You okay, Mol?’ Jack has squeezed in beside her and has already downed a couple of mouthfuls of his pint on the way back from the bar. ‘Are you coming down with a cold or something? You’re looking a bit peaky again.’
She smiles at him and puts her hand on his knee. ‘Fine. A bit tired, that’s all. Must have been the travelling yesterday. And the effects of that huge dinner at Mum’s last night. I have no idea where I’m going to find room for another one already.’
‘Do your best. I’m more than happy to finish up what you leave.’
‘I swear you’ve got hollow legs!’
Richard and Jennifer are handing over their present now, and Jack’s mum is happily tearing at the paper. It’s a hairdryer, which she seems really pleased with, although Molly is fairly sure she has at least two already.
Everyone is reading menus and moving discarded wrapping paper about to make room for their drinks, and the two dads are half-turned towards the TV screen, waiting for the first race to start. Molly feels happy, safe, surrounded by the familiar, so glad to be back home. But, as she rests her hand over her invisible bump, she’s scared too. This is not a secret she can keep for long.
Pouring an unwanted drink into a plant pot is an old trick, but not one she’s ever had to try before. If the little spider plant on the windowsill beside her ends up dying an alcohol-induced death, then she’s sorry, but it had to be done.
‘Your glass empty already, love?’ Jack turns as she sits back down from her visit to the Ladies and spots the glass she has tried to hide behind her menu. ‘Want another?’
‘No, one’s enough. I don’t think my stomach could stand it. I must be getting old!’ she jokes, pushing the remains of her dessert away, only to see Jack’s spoon swoop down into the bowl and scoop up the last chunk of apple pie and the scrapings of cream. ‘I feel like I could just curl up and sleep for a week after all that food.’
‘Well, maybe not a week, but you can have a lazy evening and a lie-in tomorrow if you want. Our train’s not until the afternoon.’
‘I know, but I’d quite like to get out and see a few people while we’re here. Maybe take a walk with Flossy in the morning and pop in on Sian?’
‘Your mate who married the vet? Yeah, sure, you do that if you like. I’m sure you’ve missed having a dog to walk, and seeing your own friends. Not sure all that girly gossip’s for me though, so I’ll give it a miss, if you don’t mind.’
Molly nods. ‘That’s fine.’
Everyone’s getting up to go now. Brenda is stuffing her presents into a carrier bag that has mysteriously appeared from her coat pocket, Richard is jiggling his car keys in an irritatingly impatient way, and a barmaid is clearing away the last of the plates.
‘You coming straight back with us?’ Molly’s mum asks. ‘Or going back to Brenda and Steve’s for a while?’
Molly looks to Jack for the answer, but he just shrugs his shoulders. ‘I’m easy,’ he says, leaving it up to her.
‘With you,’ Molly says, linking her arm through her mum’s. ‘I fancy an evening in front of the telly. Is there a film on?’
‘Bound to be if we hunt through the channels,’ her mum replies. ‘Something all Hollywood glamorous, I hope. If only I had somewhere to go where I could unleash my inner Marilyn and wear posh dresses and make-up and six-inch heels!’
Molly laughs. She can’t imagine her practical country-girl mum in anything but brown tweed or a plain pleated skirt and home-knitted jumper, with perhaps the occasional horse-patterned scarf around her neck. But everyone has their dreams…
They say their goodbyes to Jack’s family and head back along the lanes towards home.
‘So, how is big city living?’ her mum asks, when they have managed to put a good few yards between themselves and the menfolk coming along behind. ‘All you hoped it would be?’
‘If you mean what Jack hoped it would be, then yes. I’m still making up my mind.’
‘Oh, love. It will take time. It’s bound to feel different. A bit overwhelming. You’ve lived here in Shelling all your life. But you’re young, you’ll soon adapt.’
Molly is not at all sure she will. Or even that she wants to.
Sian opens the door to the cottage that she and Ralph have only recently moved into, and flings her arms around Molly’s neck. ‘Oh, wow. It’s so good to see you. And Flossy too!’
‘I’ve only been gone a couple of weeks!’
‘Oh, I know, but… well, come on in, both of you. Mind the boxes though. We haven’t quite finished unpacking yet, and the bloody things are everywhere.’
‘It must be lovely to finally own your own home.’ Molly stops in the doorway to the small lounge and looks around. ‘Much as I love my parents, I didn’t want to live with them forever.’
‘Oh, us too. Ralph’s dad’s a sweetie, but I was always a bit wary of treading on his toes, you know. Taking over his kitchen, wanting to redecorate but not daring to suggest it, being careful not to let the bedsprings squeak too loudly!’
Molly settles down on one of two big fat armchairs, Flossy curling up instantly at her feet, and kicks off her shoes.
‘Make yourself at home, why don’t you?’ Sian laughs, dropping into the matching chair on the other side of the old-fashioned fireplace. ‘Talking of which, how’s yours? The new home, I mean.’
‘Okay, I suppose. But it’s just a little box of a flat, and we’re only renting. I just have to view it as a stepping stone to something bigger and better…’
‘Not exactly the home of your dreams then?’
‘Oh, Sian, I’m not complaining. Really, I’m not. It’s just that it’s all a bit drab, and you can hear people through the walls, and it’s got no garden…’
Sian laughs. ‘I get the picture. Look, this little house is far from perfect but we’ll make it what we want it to be. And you’ll do the same, in time. Now, let me get you a drink. And, you’re in luck, I have cake. Not up to your standard, just a cherry and coconut from the shop, but it’s passable.’
They sit for a while, catching up on village gossip, until Molly hears Ralph’s key in the door.
‘Working on a Sunday?’ she says, watching him dump his medical bag in a corner and shrug off his coat.
‘Hi, Molly. Good to see you. No surgery this morning, but I’m always on call, Sundays included. Animals don’t much care what day it is! I had a difficult delivery out at one of the farms. Puppies. A litter of five. Mother and babies all safe and well, I’m pleased to say.’
‘Ah, I must go out and see them,’ Sian says. ‘I’m a sucker for a newborn puppy.’
Flossy gets up from the carpet and sniffs curiously at Ralph’s muddy trousers. ‘I think she can smell them, bless her! A dog can always sniff out another dog. Territory marking and all that. But don’t you go getting any ideas, Sian. We can’t take in every homeless animal or cute puppy, or we’ll end up with a whole menagerie.’
Molly gets up to leave. ‘Well, I’ve kept you long enough and I’m sure Ralph will want his armchair back… and his lunch!’
‘No need to go, honestly.’
‘No, I must. Mum will have food ready soon, and I still have a few bits to pack before we head back. Stuff I left behind when we moved, but have realised I can’t live without!’
‘Oh, God, tell me about it! Moving’s no joke, is it?’ Sian leads her out into the hall, just as Flossy decides to stop and investigate an interesting-looking box propped against the wall. Molly is not looking where she’s going and she doesn’t stop quickly enough. She trips over the dog, loses her balance and swings an arm out to try to save herself from falling. There is a sickening crunch as her hand hits the door frame and she crumples to the floor, landing heavily and hard.
Ralph is there in a flash, on his knees beside her. ‘Oh, Molly, that sounded bad. Are you hurt?’
Molly is stunned into silence. Tears have flooded into her eyes and she takes big breaths, trying to calm herself, trying to cope with the pain that is throbbing through her fingers and into her wrist, and the awful twisting feeling of fear that flutters through her tummy. Flossy pushes against her legs and starts to lick at her left hand as she moves it across and gingerly cushions the injured right one in her palm.
‘Come on, lie still and let me take a look at that wrist. I know I’m only a vet, but bones are bones, and I’m afraid you might have just broken one.’