Chapter 18
Romance was the last thing on Sive’s mind the following week as Bean started making her presence felt and the morning sickness she’d hoped she was getting away with kicked in with a vengeance.
She woke up on Monday morning feeling awful and only got worse as the week wore on.
On top of the nausea and vomiting, she was exhausted all the time.
She barely managed to drag herself through rehearsals and went straight home as soon as she was no longer needed.
She didn’t think her performance suffered, but it took an enormous effort and drained every scrap of energy she could muster.
She stopped joining the company at the pub post-rehearsal, too shattered for anything more than an early dinner with Aoife before climbing back into bed.
She decided telling Sam she was pregnant could wait – she didn’t have the headspace for dealing with that right now. Just getting through the day required all her focus.
Aoife had swung into mother hen mode, bringing her ginger tea in the morning and cooking light, nourishing meals that she thought would tempt Sive’s diminishing appetite without triggering her nausea.
On Friday, Sive wasn’t needed for rehearsal until the afternoon, so she had a glorious lie-in before her appointment at the Abbey costume store.
It was a vast Aladdin’s cave of beautifully crafted costumes, with some of the most gorgeous pieces Sive had ever seen – sumptuous gowns and exquisitely detailed military uniforms, some so beautiful she wanted to put on a production for the relevant period just so she’d have an excuse to hire them.
She’d spent a blissful couple of hours among the rails and could happily have spent the rest of the day there exploring its treasures and chatting to the talented, knowledgeable people who worked there.
Fortunately, she managed to keep her nausea at bay for the morning, but as soon as she arrived at the theatre for rehearsal, she had to run to the bathroom to throw up.
She entered the auditorium quietly. A scene was in progress on the stage, and she tiptoed to the back row where Irene was sitting, busily knitting as usual. On stage, Scrooge was visiting the Cratchits’ house on Christmas Day, James playing a blinder as Tiny Tim.
Sive stood in the aisle for a moment, watching. James was a shy, quiet boy, who always had his head buried in his iPad between scenes, so watching him transform into a confident performer, his voice projecting to the furthest corner of the theatre with ease, never ceased to surprise her.
She turned and edged into the middle of the back row beside Irene.
‘Are you okay?’ Irene asked, her fingers not even slowing as she turned to Sive with a concerned frown.
‘I’m fine, thanks.’ Sive flopped gratefully into the seat beside her. She knew she didn’t look okay, thinking of her pale, sweaty face reflected in the bathroom mirror. ‘I just have a bit of a dodgy tummy.’
Irene gave her a knowing look. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll pass. Have you tried ginger biscuits? They can be very good for … an upset stomach.’
Oh god, she knew, didn’t she? Sive had been going to wait until the end of the first trimester before telling anyone apart from family, but maybe there was no point in trying to hide it. ‘That’s what I had for breakfast. And ginger tea. I’m pretty much ninety percent ginger at this stage.’
Irene just nodded, silent except for the rhythmic clicking of her needles.
‘Is it really obvious?’ Sive whispered to her.
‘No, I’m just one of those freaky women who can spot a pregnancy a mile off.’
‘That is freaky!’ Sive smiled. ‘Practically witchy.’
‘Oh, I’d definitely have found myself on the business end of a bonfire if I’d been born in the wrong century. I’ve also been known to make a potion or two now and then.’
‘Thank goodness for modern times.’
‘Amen to that.’ Irene put down her needles and folded her knitting back into her bag as the scene on stage came to an end. She stood to meet James who was already thundering down the aisle towards her.
‘It’ll get better,’ she whispered to Sive as she edged past her, giving her a comforting pat on the hand. ‘The first couple of months are usually the worst.’
Sive hoped Irene was right. But somehow, she managed to dredge up the appropriate level of gaiety for the afternoon rehearsal, and she danced and carolled as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
‘I hardly see you these days except on the stage,’ Sam said later as the rehearsal broke up.
He looked so vibrant, rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed after the afternoon’s exertions. She felt weary just looking at him. ‘I haven’t been feeling great.’
‘Oh no! Are you okay?’
‘It’s nothing serious. Something I ate, I think. I’m sure it’ll pass. I’m just going to go home and crawl into bed. But I’ll see you on Sunday?’
‘Actually, I won’t be around on Sunday.’
‘Got a better offer?’ she teased.
‘Never. Got a different offer. A … um, mate invited me to dinner.’
‘Oh, okay.’ Sive was guiltily relieved that she wouldn’t have to fake her way through Sunday dinner pretending she was fine. She felt queasy at the thought. If she wanted to, she could stay in bed all day. ‘Well, enjoy it.’
‘There is something I wanted to ask you, though.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yeah.’ Sam seemed suddenly nervous. ‘I have a wedding coming up in January and I wanted to ask if you’d be my date – or plus one, whatever. No pressure,’ he added hastily. ‘I mean, we could go as friends.’
‘When is the wedding?’
‘The eleventh. I know it’s a long way off, but it’s an overnight thing, so I need to book a room – rooms – soon.’
Surely she’d be feeling okay by then? But Sam might want to retract the invitation once she’d told him she was pregnant. She chewed her lip. ‘The show will have finished its run by then, so it should be okay. Can I get back to you about it next week?’
‘Sure.’
She hated how disappointed he looked.
‘Okay. Well, have a good weekend.’
‘Thanks. And you take care.’ Sam pulled her into a hug. ‘Hope you’re feeling better soon.’
‘You’re skipping out on us again?’ Andrea said, as she and Ciara joined them by the door.
‘We’re going to start taking it personally.
’ Her tone was playful and teasing, but there was an undercurrent of spite to it that was all too real.
Sive knew Andrea had accused Mimi of being uppity when she didn’t socialise with the company during the Private Lives rehearsals.
Mimi had been avoiding Rocco, but Andrea had decided she was standoffish and bitched her up to everyone.
‘She’s not feeling well,’ Sam said defensively.
‘Aw.’ Andrea pulled a sympathetic expression. ‘I’m only joking. Take care of yourself.’ She reached out and rubbed Sive’s arm.
‘Oh, are you under the weather?’ Ciara said. ‘Poor you!’
‘You’re coming to the pub, aren’t you?’ Sam asked her.
‘Yeah. I promised this one pizza.’ She nodded to Jack who was hobbling over to them on his crutch. ‘We’d better set off now and get a head start on the rest of you.’
‘No need for that,’ Mitch said, coming up behind Jack. ‘Why don’t I take a leaf out of Jack’s book and stay in character?’ He bent down and lifted a delighted Jack onto his shoulders. ‘Now let’s beat them all to the pub,’ he said to the boy.
Jack grinned, raising his crutch triumphantly over his head.
‘Oh, Mitch, are you sure?’ Ciara winced. ‘You spend enough time humping him around on stage. You should take a break.’
‘It’s no bother. He’s light as a feather,’ Mitch said, striding towards the exit.
They all followed him downstairs and outside.
‘I hope you feel better soon,’ Ciara said to Sive. ‘Take it easy at the weekend.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Yes, you’d better knock whatever you’ve got on the head now,’ Andrea said as a parting shot, ‘because there’ll be no slacking off come tech week.’
Slacking off! Sive gritted her teeth furiously as she stomped off.
That was it, she decided. She wouldn’t wait any longer to announce her pregnancy.
She didn’t want the company thinking she was flaky or unfriendly, not joining them for drinks and only showing up at the theatre when she was absolutely required.
And she didn’t want to give Andrea any excuse for getting digs like that in. She’d go public next week.