Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
The hospital waiting room smelled faintly of antiseptic and coffee.
Everything felt too white, too bright, too loud, though really it wasn’t loud at all.
Just the hum of machines, the soft shuffle of feet, a cough here, a page turning there.
It was Rita’s own drumming heartbeat that was loud, echoing in her ears, competing with her mind spinning constantly, a whirl of worry and a low, gnawing sadness about what was to become of her and Jago.
Without wanting to even scroll or read, she sat perfectly still on the plastic chair, handbag tucked to her stomach like armour.
She looked calm to anyone passing. But her fingers betrayed her, endlessly worrying the zip of her bag, a nervous little whisper of movement.
Her phone buzzed in her bag. In hope, she dug it out with trembling fingers.
One message. Not Jago. Just Zenya saying she had plated up a meal for her and put it the Cosy Café fridge.
She still couldn’t quite believe it herself, forty-six and pregnant. She’d half convinced herself they’d find nothing today. That it was hormones, or stress, or just the jolly perimenopause playing a joke on her.
Her name being called would make it real. Then…
‘Rita!’ The Cockney accent cut across the room like a bell.
Heads turned. A nurse frowned. Rita didn’t have to look.
Kelly burst through the doorway, red-cheeked, blonde hair big and bouncy, dragging a wheelie case with Richard Osman’s face on the front of it.
She didn’t walk. She charged. Straight for her best mate.
‘You thought you were doing this without me?’ the voluptuous blonde panted as she reached her, grabbing Rita into a hug that was all arms and urgency.
‘Absolutely not. I have sprinted across London, survived two packed trains, three delayed announcements, one questionable sandwich and a taxi driver who thinks indicators are optional. You do not get to do this on your own.’
Rita looked at her, then laughed. ‘You’re a crazy coot and you really didn’t have to come.’
Kelly held her at arm’s length and looked at her the way only someone who loves you can. ‘Yes. Yes, I did.’
A door opened.
‘Rita Jory?’ a voice called out.
Rita got up, feeling like she was walking into a dream. The room was dim. Machines hummed gently. The white-haired female sonographer smiled kindly and pointed to a chair for Kelly to sit on.
‘Hop up for me, my love. We’ll have a little look, shall we?’
Rita lay back and took a breath as the cold gel hit her tummy. She started to take exaggerated deep breaths in anticipation. The screen flickered into static and shadows. Kelly’s fingers slid into hers, squeezing silently.
The sonographer’s expression shifted. Not dramatic. Just… intent. Concentrated. A little frown she tried to smooth away without the ladies noticing.
Rita’s heart lurched. ‘What, what is it?’
Kelly panicked too. ‘I know that face. Don’t make that face.’
The sonographer took a slow breath.
‘Well’ – she smiled – ‘everything looks healthy. Baby is measuring well. Strong heartbeat.’
Rita exhaled. Kelly’s shoulders dropped. ‘And… well,’ the woman continued, fingers still moving, eyes back on the image. ‘There’s… another little one in there, too.’
Silence swallowed the room.
Kelly blinked. ‘Another what?’
The sonographer laughed aloud. ‘Another baby,’ she said, tilting the screen, pointing. ‘Here. And here. Two sacs. Two very definite little ones. Congratulations, Mrs Jory. You’re expecting twins.’
Rita’s laugh came out wrong, half breath, half sob. Kelly clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes filling instantly.
‘Not again!’ Kelly’s voice cracked into a stunned laugh. ‘Reet petite, you absolute bleeding overachiever!’
Rita stared at the screen. Two pulsing dots of life.
Two tiny, beating drums. Just like before, only somehow more impossible, more unreal, more miraculous.
The pain of remembering sharing this with Archie all those years ago suddenly tore through her.
She pushed the thought away as quickly as it had come.
‘But…’ Rita shook her head. ‘How? I mean… I’m forty-six. I thought… I thought getting pregnant alone would be hard. Or… unlikely.’
The sonographer nodded kindly.
‘It is unusual, but you are proof it is absolutely possible. Women in their forties have a higher chance of releasing more than one egg when they do conceive. The body can do surprising things. And since you’ve already had twins before…
well.’ She smiled gently. ‘Clearly some women’s bodies are just very fond of doing things in pairs. ’
Kelly squeezed her friend’s hand tighter. ‘I bet you’ll be an even better Mum second time around.’
Mum. The word landed in Rita’s chest and stayed there.
‘OK, wipe the gunk off.’ The woman handed Rita some paper towels.
‘You’re doing wonderfully, as I said; both babies are healthy and a reasonable size, heartbeats strong.
Because of your age and that these are twins, we will monitor you extra carefully.
An early caesarean is likely to be recommended, but you’ll discuss all the details with your midwife.
They’ll guide you every step of the way. ’
And suddenly, it wasn’t terrifying anymore. It was life. Refusing to be neat. In the way life never was. Weirdly it being twins felt strangely familiar and comforting.
And for the first time since she’d found out she was pregnant, Rita didn’t feel alone at all.
She felt… chosen. Twice. Again.
Kelly was taking a shower upstairs when Hilda waltzed into the kitchen, her face bronzed from the South American sun, swinging a small souvenir bag.
‘I’m back!’
‘I can see that.’ Rita smiled warmly.
Her lips turned down. ‘I caught up on my messages last night. I’m so sorry to hear about Henry.
He did stink a bit towards the end, but he was a lovable hound.
’ Before Rita could react, Hilda continued, ‘And you would not believe the heat. And the music! The scenery. And oh, the men! Brought back memories of me being a showgirl in Monte Carlo. I danced every night until my knees did eventually start complaining. We had the best time.’
‘Good. Sounds like you had a proper holiday.’
‘Oh, I did. I brought you something back, too. Proper pisco. Grape brandy to you. One sip and you’ll either forget your problems or start new ones.’
She placed the bottle down with a flourish, making Rita laugh aloud.
‘And speaking of problems… I got home and something wasn’t right.’
Rita straightened. ‘What do you mean?’
Hilda folded her arms. ‘The security light outside the annexe. Someone’s changed the angle of it. It used to flood the whole back path and now it’s lighting up nothing but the hedge. Absolutely useless. And it didn’t move itself, that’s for sure.’
‘Hmm.’ Rita felt her stomach tighten. ‘Are you one hundred per cent sure?’
Hilda gave her a look. ‘I used to work in Customs, you know. After I’d finished flashing my feathers as a showgirl in Monte Carlo.
’ She winked. ‘That’s how I got the job.
Some bigwig took a shine to me, and suddenly I’m waving things through that’d make your eyes water.
’ She shrugged, utterly unapologetic. ‘Gold watches. Designer handbags. The odd suspicious parcel. Well-rewarded, naturally.’
‘Hilda!’ Rita was wide-eyed, but a strange new respect stirred inside her.
‘Nothing gets past me. Someone’s been round that annexe. And I don’t like it.’
‘I checked the Ring camera before and put it down to maybe the figure you saw being the delivery driver – I, err… put those boxes on your kitchen table.’
‘I saw, thanks.’
‘We need to check again, in case you saw who moved the light.’
Hilda gave her a look. ‘Already done. And do you know what I saw?’ She leaned in conspiratorially. ‘Nothing. Because whoever it was is clever. Or thinks they are.
‘Which is why,’ Hilda continued, producing her handbag with a flourish, and pulling out a brown envelope of cash, ‘we need more cameras. And before you protest, I insist on paying for them myself. Consider it done.’ She placed the money on the kitchen table.
‘I’m not sure what people would want to steal from here.’ Rita’s forehead crinkled.
‘If money’s tight’ – Hilda reached for her cigarette case – ‘it does terrible things to some people. If your family needs to be fed, if the rent’s due, well…
that is the kind of pressure that makes them bold.
Makes them desperate. Right. I need to unpack.
Stan will know what to do with the security. ’
Hilda went to the door, turned, and looked Rita up and down. ‘You’re getting chubby, Rita. Get a grip, girl; you don’t want middle age creeping up on you before your time.’
Struck speechless, Rita made a weird noise from her throat.
‘And the Jenken,’ Hilda pressed on. ‘Have you seen him?’
Rita hesitated. ‘It’s… complicated.’
Hilda stepped outside and lit a cigarette.
‘Complicated! It sounds simple to me. He’s got a tart in tow at Hawthorn Acre!
Like father, like bloody son, I say.’ Her voice wobbled slightly, just enough for her own pang of memory to reveal itself in words, ‘Oh, how I loved my Ralphy… until that business with Jago’s mother.
’ She fixed Rita with a hard glare. ‘Ditch him, Rita. He won’t change. Not in a million years.’
Rita swallowed. ‘It’s not like that, I don’t think.’
‘So… what’s his excuse?’ Hilda’s eyes narrowed, cruel and unflinching.
‘She’s been chucked out. Has no money. Nothing. Not a bean.’
‘And you believe that?’
Rita’s voice softened. ‘As much as it irks me, I do think he is just being kind.’
Hilda took a long drag of her cigarette. ‘Kind? Well. It’s your rodeo, love. Fight if you like, but don’t waste years doing it. Life’s too short, and frankly, some people aren’t worth the bruises.’
With the whirlwind of her mother-in-law back in her annexe, Rita sank into a chair and pulled the scans out of her bag. She was just about to have a good look at them when her phone buzzed.
A text from Jago:
Hurrah. She’s gone… come over. I’ve got cake xx
Relief ran right through her body, warm and fizzing, melting away the constant tension she had been feeling lately.
Kelly appeared at the bottom of the stairs, a towel wrapped like a turban around her head. ‘I overheard her saying you’re looking fat. I had to laugh.’
‘I think she will internally combust if I tell her it’s not a food baby but two real Jenken babies. And talking of food…’ A huge smile took over Rita’s face. ‘Jago has messaged, she’s gone, and he has cake.’
‘It would take more than a Victoria sponge to win me over.’ Kelly looked thoughtful for a second. ‘Actually… maybe not.’
They both laughed.
Rita put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. ‘Anyway, I can’t leave you; you’ve come all the way from London to see me and…’
Kel shook her head firmly. ‘Rita, go to him. He needs to know. And more importantly you need him to know.’
Rita hesitated, a flutter of nerves in her stomach. ‘I… I suppose you’re right.’
Kel gave her a small, knowing smile. ‘I am. Now go. Don’t overthink it. Just… be yourself. That’s more than enough.’
Rita nodded, squeezing her friend’s hand. ‘Thanks, Kel. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
Kel shrugged, tugging her towel tighter around her head and, taking in her friend’s red eyes and blotchy face, added, ‘Actually, maybe wash your face and put on a bit of make-up first.’