Chapter Twelve #4
‘Oh, right,’ he said. ‘I expect you want a bit of grub.’ He’d hardly eaten all day, but he wasn’t hungry. He was sated beyond appetite on unwelcome attention. Then he discovered what he really wanted was a cup of tea.
He had filled the kettle after breakfast, as was his habit (his mother again – never leave the kettle empty, what if the pump should fail?). He only had to stir up the range and boil it. Dolly followed him, as he moved about, like a little shadow, longing for him after a day alone.
‘She sends you her love,’ he said.
Bobby was sitting with Nina when the letter came.
Nina was tired of being pregnant. She wanted to be able to move about again.
She wanted to be able to rest in at least one position that was comfortable.
She wanted to be able to sleep. And the pressure of the baby on her stomach was giving her heartburn.
Fear of the actual birth had faded before the desire to get it over with.
She talked to the baby when she was alone, and lately what she said to him was Hurry up and come out!
She imagined him lazing about in the womb, warm and comfortable.
Male creatures always managed to have females running round after them, she thought, mothers, wives, daughters, housemaids, Circassian slaves…
They never had to lift a finger, unless there was a war – and how often did that happen? This baby was definitely a boy.
She paid no attention to the knock on the street door – she couldn’t have got up if she wanted to, but as Aunt Schofield had pointed out, they had a plethora of servants in this small house.
Bobby was talking, and she heard only a vagueness of voices, a male one making an enquiry and a female one answering.
A short exchange. No maid came in, so it couldn’t have been for her.
‘Do you think there’s any chance of your coming to the Isle of Wight?
’ Bobby was asking. Her father rented a house there every summer and the whole family went.
Nina and Mr Cowling had been invited in previous years.
‘Obviously not straight away, but, say, in August? You could bring the baby with you.’
‘The way I feel now, I don’t believe this baby will be here by then. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was still pregnant at Christmas.’
‘Oh, I remember that feeling,’ Bobby said. ‘But he’ll come all right, and you’ll be so excited you’ll forget all about it until next time. And then you’ll think, Why on earth didn’t I remember and say, “No thanks!”’
Nina was about to say something about next time when she heard Mr Cowling’s unmistakable tread coming along the passage. He had been working in the little parlour he had taken over for his business-room. He came in with a letter in his hand and a look of consternation.
Bobby half rose. ‘Do you want to be private?’
‘No, no, don’t disturb yourself, m’dear. In fact, better you do hear. Something’s happened.’
Nina noted the heavy cream paper of the letter in his hand, caught a glimpse of a crest at the top. ‘It looks official.’
‘It came by special messenger,’ said Mr Cowling. ‘From Buckingham Palace. The King wants me. After I went to all this trouble to be here with you!’ he exclaimed, exasperated. ‘If it was anyone else…But I can’t say no to the King if he summons me.’
‘Of course not,’ Nina said. ‘How long will you be gone?’
‘I must go up tonight. He wants to see me tomorrow morning. I may be able to come back tomorrow night – depends what he wants me for – or the next day for sure.’
‘Well, this baby won’t be born tomorrow or the next day,’ she said. ‘So you needn’t worry.’
‘But I can’t leave you all alone so near your time.’
‘I’ll stay if you like,’ Bobby said.
Cowling looked relieved. ‘Would you? I was hoping you’d offer.’
‘I’ll stay until you get back,’ Bobby said. ‘I’ll send a message and my maid can pack a bag and bring it over.’ She beamed. ‘It will be fun!’
Cowling bent to kiss Nina’s cheek. ‘I feel better about leaving you now. I won’t stay away longer than I have to. And if you feel at all anxious, send straight away for Dr Nicholson or Mrs Billington. Don’t delay because you don’t want to be a nuisance, just send for them. Promise me.’
‘I promise,’ she said. ‘Do you know what the King wants you for?’
‘It doesn’t say. Some financial problem, I’ve no doubt,’ he said. ‘Well, I must go and get ready. There’s a train at six that I can catch if Moxton can get packed in time.’
Nina hadn’t had any appetite for weeks. But Bobby had gone straight to the kitchen, first to send a message to Sutton to pack a bag and bring it over, and second to enlist Mrs Deering’s support.
The result was that as the sun declined and the day began to cool, Nina was helped out into the shade of the tiny garden, made comfortable with cushions and a footstool, and fed with hot buttered toast and gooseberry jam followed by raspberries and cream.
‘I wanted to give you jelly,’ Bobby said, ‘but it takes ages to set in this weather. Mrs Deering has it in the coldest bit of the pantry, and you can have it for supper – or breakfast, if you prefer.’
‘Jelly for breakfast!’ Nina protested.
‘Why not? I remember when I was at your stage jelly was about all I could fancy. You should have whatever you like while your husband’s away.’
‘I must say it’s a relief not to face four courses and have him worry that I’m not eating enough.’
‘There’ll be no soup-fish-and-entrée nonsense while I’m in charge. If there’s anything you fancy, just tell me, and I’ll make Mrs Deering prepare it.’
‘This is perfect,’ Nina said. ‘Toast is always such a comfort, and I like the sharpness of the gooseberries.’
She hesitated, and Bobby urged her, ‘What? You’ve thought of something.’
‘Champagne,’ Nina said. ‘I keep thinking champagne would be nice, if it was cold enough.’
‘That’s my girl!’ Bobby said, beaming.
The jelly was set enough to eat by ten o’clock but by then Nina didn’t want it.
She had rather a stomach-ache, and thought the mixture of things she’d had for dinner, while delightful at the time, had not sat well together.
She didn’t say anything to Bobby in case it sounded like a criticism, but as Bobby chatted and her replies grew shorter, her friend became aware that all was not well.
‘It’s just a stomach-ache,’ Nina said.
Bobby cocked her head. ‘A stomach-ache?’
‘I expect I ate too quickly.’ But Nina winced and hunched up a little.
‘Show me where it hurts,’ Bobby said. Nina gestured. ‘That’s not your stomach. I think we’d better send for Dr Nicholson.’
‘Oh, no,’ Nina said as Bobby jumped to her feet. ‘I don’t want to make a fuss.’
‘You promised, remember? I’ll go and talk to Mrs Deering, and then we’ll get you up to bed.’
‘I think I would like to lie down,’ Nina said. Her voice wobbled a little as she added, ‘Is this really it?’
‘We’ll see,’ Bobby said. ‘You wanted to get it over with, didn’t you?’
‘I wanted it to be over. It’s the getting that scares me,’ Nina admitted.
‘Everything will be all right, you’ll see. We’ll look after you, and in a few hours you’ll meet your son for the first time.’
The pain intensified for a moment, and Nina said, ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’
The baby was born at one o’clock the following afternoon, after what Mrs Billington, the midwife, said was a perfectly normal labour.
Dr Nicholson, perhaps aware that his enormous fee had to be earned, said he was happy that everything had turned out all right in the end, as though it might not have if he hadn’t been there.
A telegram had been sent to Mr Cowling as soon as the post office opened in the morning, to say labour had begun and was progressing normally.
A frantic-sounding reply came that he could not return immediately, no expense was to be spared, and he must be kept informed of further developments.
Bobby felt rather sorry for him, but was glad all the same he was in London.
Fathers only got in the way while babies were being born.
Better they had something to occupy them.
She didn’t send any more telegrams until it was over, assuming that Mr Cowling would be at the Palace and out of reach all morning.
The telegram announcing the birth could wait at the Berkeley Square house until he got back.
Meanwhile, she had the happy part of the job to do: introducing Nina to her baby.
Nina’s first words when her daughter was placed in her arms were ‘Oh dear!’
‘Now, then,’ Mrs Billington said warningly.
‘But I’ve been thinking all along it was a boy. My husband wanted a boy.’
‘I’ve heard him say more than once that he didn’t care what it was,’ Bobby said.
Nina looked down at the squashed, red face and said uncertainly, ‘Are they supposed to look like that?’
‘She’s been though a lot,’ Mrs Billington said. ‘She’ll straighten out in a while. She’s a beautiful baby!’
‘It’s true,’ Bobby said. ‘They’re always red and wrinkled at first. Don’t worry about it.’