Nigel
Lucy was sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. Was she sobbing?
He coughed in case she didn’t realise he was there. She looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy. Definitely crying. Not what he expected for someone who always looked like she was completely in control. It must be serious.
‘What’s happened?’ he asked.
Lucy sniffed. ‘I can’t get hold of Mark.’
‘He’s gone to look at the treehouse venue in Somerset with Helen.’
She nodded. ‘But I want him to come home.’
‘They’ll be back in a couple of hours.’
‘That’s not soon enough.’ She sniffed again. ‘Nige, I’m losing the baby.’
‘Shit! I’ll call an ambulance.’
‘No, don’t. I’m not bleeding enough for that, but I want Mark to take me to hospital.’
‘We can’t wait. He’s an hour away, even if you could get through to him.’
‘But I can’t drive in this state.’
‘No, but I can.’
‘I can’t ask you to do that.’
‘Why on earth not? Come on. Let’s get in the car.’
‘It won’t make any difference. It didn’t before.’
‘This has happened before?’
‘Years ago.’
Poor Lucy. He was going to have to take charge. ‘You don’t know that. We’re going now. Get you checked out. It might be nothing. Madison had a couple of false alarms.’
He found the keys to his mother’s Triumph in the bowl, took a couple of towels from the wash basket to put on the passenger seat and grabbed Lucy’s coat and trainers from the boot room.
‘Put these on.’
She did as she was told.
‘Where’s your bag?’ he asked.
‘I’ll just take my phone.’
‘Pregnancy notes?’
‘They’re all online.’
Of course they’d be online now. ‘Let’s go then.’
Two minutes later, they set off up the drive with a crunch of gears. The clutch, Nigel! How long had it been since he’d driven a stick? He was going to have to concentrate. Lucy sank back into the seat. He noticed her clutching her stomach.
‘Is it getting worse?’
‘I think it’s just nerves. You don’t drive like your mother, do you?’ Lucy asked.
‘God no. Only Lewis Hamilton drives like her. Though I might have to channel my inner Nancy to get you there.’
‘Please don’t.’
‘I’ll take it steady.’
He decided not to mention that the last time he’d driven this car, he’d dented the front chrome bumper, much to his mother’s annoyance. She’d banned him from ever using it again. But that was 30 years ago. Under the circumstances, surely she’d turn a blind eye today.
He managed to drive without incident through the narrow lanes to the A-road to Barnstaple.
Lucy was quietly groaning. They needed to get a move on. The main road was empty and straight. Nigel put his foot down.
Within seconds, he heard a siren. Why now?! Blue lights were flashing in the rearview mirror.
He pulled over. A policeman got out of the other car, walked over to the driver’s side and tapped on the window. Nigel wound it down.
‘You’re not Mrs Farnham.’
So the copper recognised the car. ‘I’m her son.’
‘You’re not her son either. He’s got brown hair.’
Interesting how his relatives were well known to local law enforcement. But he’d worry about why later.
‘I’m Mark’s brother, Nigel. I’ve been in the States.’
The policeman didn’t look convinced. ‘And is driving at 89 miles an hour permissible in the USA, Mr Farnham?’
‘I’m taking my sister-in-law to hospital. She’s pregnant and bleeding.’
The policeman peered into the car. Lucy groaned at just the right moment. His demeanour changed. ‘Barnstaple A&E?’
‘Yes.’
‘Follow me.’
He ran back to his vehicle. Within seconds, they were back on the road, Nigel following the police car with its blue lights flashing.
‘Sorry I’ve been so long. Parking is almost impossible,’ Nigel said as he sat down next to Lucy in the maternity unit waiting area. ‘How are you?’
‘They’ve promised me I’m next.’
‘But they should’ve seen you as soon as I brought you in. I’m going to complain.’
Lucy put her hand on his arm. ‘No, don’t. The bleeding feels like it’s easing off and you can see they’re busy.’
Nigel relaxed back in the chair. ‘Sorry. I’m worried about you, that’s all. Mark will never forgive me if I don’t stand up for you. Has he phoned back yet?’
She shook her head.
‘Lucy Thomson,’ a midwife said.
‘That’s me.’
‘Come this way.’
‘Would you come with me?’
‘If you’re sure?’
‘Probably best if you stay in the waiting room for a few minutes, Dad. I’ll call you when I’ve done an initial check.’
Lucy didn’t correct her. Neither did Nigel. If he had to fight her corner at some point, they might take more notice if they thought he was the baby’s father.
He may as well try phoning Mark while he was waiting. No reply. Still out of range then. How about Helen? She could pass the message on, and he hadn’t spoken to her for 24 hours. He called her number.
Disappointingly, her phone rang out too. There was a dull ache in his chest. He was missing her. You’ve only been back here for ten days and you’re behaving like a lovesick teenager.
He forced his mind to focus on the current situation. When Mark was back in signal range, he was going to wonder what the hell was going on with loads of missed calls from Lucy and now Nigel. He’d compose a text. It needed to convey urgency without terrifying him.
Give me a call when you can. I’ve taken Lucy to Barnstaple Hospital. She and the baby are going to be fine but we just wanted to be sure. A midwife’s with her now.
He reread what he’d written. Yes, that would do. He pressed Send.
He should text Helen as well in case she got a signal first.
In hospital with Lucy. Think she’s going to be ok, but Mark should call me asap. N x
As soon as he pressed Send, he realised he’d automatically added a kiss at the end. What was she going to make of that?
Lucy appeared at his side before he could think too deeply about it. ‘That was quick.’
‘Well, Daddy, I’ve got everything crossed that it might not be as bad as I thought. The midwife thinks everything is fine, but they’re going to give me an ultrasound to make sure. It might be half an hour.’
‘But how can you be fine when you were bleeding?’
‘It’s possibly a haematoma or a cervical something or other. But they’ll know more after the scan. Either way, it won’t affect the baby.’
‘Thank God for that.’ Nigel leaned closer to her and whispered, ‘Are we keeping up the pretence that I’m the father?’
‘We’ll have to now.’
‘Has Mark been in touch?’
‘No.’
‘I phoned him and Helen, but neither of them answered, so I’ve texted both of them.’
‘Thank you for trying. And for bringing me here.’
He shrugged. ‘It was the least I could do.’
‘Helen’s lovely.’
‘Yes, she is.’
Lucy was studying him intently. ‘How did you meet?’
‘Her dog nearly knocked me over on the cliff path the other day.’
‘I know that. I meant the first time.’
Nigel couldn’t help smiling as the memory of that sunny day drifted back into his mind. ‘It seems like a lifetime ago. Actually, it was,’ he added, doing the maths in his head. ‘It’s not that interesting.’
‘I’m interested.’
He hesitated, but what harm would it do? ‘It was 1992. We were sixteen. Mum was having some sort of fundraising garden party for the great and the good of Dashford.’
He could picture the scene perfectly. A gorgeous summer’s day, the sun beating down on the terrace where everyone had decided to congregate.
Madness really, with the heat reflecting off the stone wall of the house, making it the hottest place in the garden.
He was bored to tears serving drinks to people who were mostly his mother’s age.
And then he’d spotted a tall willowy girl with chestnut brown hair loosely tied up in a ponytail.
The woman standing next to her was enthusing about some topic or other.
The girl had caught his eye and given him a theatrical yawn and an eye roll, making it plain that she was as bored as he was.
‘She was the only other person my age. I offered her a drink. She asked if we ever used the tennis court. I said only when my father was home, which she thought was a waste. So I grabbed a couple of tennis rackets and a tube of balls from the boot room, and we sneaked off to play. She beat me.’ He could even remember the sound of the ball whizzing past his ear as she served an ace to take the final game 40-love, just like she had the other day.
‘We became friends after that, mainly because I wanted a chance to win my pride back.’
That part wasn’t quite true. Yes, he had wanted to get even on the tennis court, but he’d been fascinated by her.
She wasn’t like any of the other girls he knew.
Not that he knew many, thanks to his parents sending him to an all boys school.
But something was intriguing about her smile and the confident way she’d marched onto the tennis court like it was her family that owned it, not his.
‘Nigel?’
He realised he’d drifted off into his own thoughts again. ‘Sorry.’
‘I asked if you were going to see her again.’
‘I hope so.’ He wasn’t sure how much more to say.
After all, he and Madison had only just split up, and here he was thinking about the first woman he’d fallen in love with - possibly the only one he’d really, truly loved.
God, what a terrible thing to think. But what if it were true?
And if it were, how was he going to cope with the fact that Helen didn’t feel as deeply about him?
The midwife saved him from analysing the awful truth any further. ‘Time for your ultrasound, Lucy.’