Chapter Thirty-Four
‘Did you ever have children together?’ I pressed.
‘Nope.’ Milo shook his head. ‘Martha made it clear from the start that she wasn’t the motherly type.’
‘Oh,’ I said, flummoxed.
I could have sworn that my boss had said the buyer of Starlight Cottage had a son. Perhaps Leslie had muddled Milo with someone else.
Ah, well. Just because Martha hadn’t wanted kids, it didn’t mean she was strange. Some women simply weren’t maternal.
Years ago, I’d worked with such a female. Lorraine had made no secret of the fact that she didn’t like kids. She’d referred to them as brats . On one occasion, after returning from a foreign holiday, she’d moaned on and on about the flight home being unbearable due to a crying baby.
Women like Lorraine were the ones who shot pained looks to harassed mothers at supermarket checkouts.
I’d once helped a young mum in such a situation. Her baby – used to being fed on demand – had protested loudly at not being put to the breast while at the checkout. The woman had tried – and failed – to pack a week’s worth of shopping in five minutes flat. Eventually, she’d broken down and howled at both the checkout lady and the chuntering queue.
‘I can’t cope! Gah-huh-huh-HUH!’
At this point it had been debatable who’d been making the most racket – the mother or the baby.
Unable to stand another moment, I’d dropped my wire basket and pushed my way to her side. I’d told the woman to go and feed her baby while I packed her shopping. Everything had been bagged up and set to one side. However, a lady – with a most unfortunate dental arrangement – had chuntered loudly to anyone who’d cared to listen.
‘I don’t know why women bring their kids to supermarkets. I mean, what’s the point? All they do is cause bedlam at the checkout.’
When I’d later regaled the story about the toothy woman’s opinions, Lorraine had looked down her long nose at me.
‘I’d have agreed with that woman,’ she’d sniffed. ‘That young mum should have left her screaming child with a babysitter. Good thing I’d not been in that queue, or I’d have put her straight.’
Mother Nature had never tapped Lorraine on her shoulder pads and sent her gooey eyed over kids. In fact, she’d have likely fainted at the thought of exchanging her power suits for elasticated waistbands and nipple shields.
‘Did you mind not having children?’ I now asked Milo.
‘What a lot of questions you ask,’ he said. But I could see he wasn’t offended. More… amused. ‘No, I didn’t mind Martha not having my baby. And I’ll tell you why.’ Finally, I felt like Milo was about to reveal something of significance. ‘You see, I actually ended up adopting.’
‘Oh,’ I gasped aloud.
A penny began rattling around in my head. It clanked this way and that. Finally, like that game of Kerplunk , it fell down a chute and gave me a lightbulb moment.
Of course! Martha hadn’t had babies because… she was infertile! She’d been unable to give her husband kids. Just like me not being able to give Robin any babies. Good heavens, what a coincidence.
‘I can see your brain racing ahead,’ Milo smiled. ‘Joining up all the dots. But I suspect you’re way off beam. You see, Martha and I didn’t actively seek to adopt a child.’
I frowned.
‘I don’t understand. How can you adopt a child if you didn’t mean to adopt a child?’
‘Let’s back-peddle for a moment.’ He made a rewinding motion with one hand. ‘I had a much older brother, Jerad.’
‘Had?’ I said, picking up on the past tense.
Milo nodded, his face suddenly sad.
‘Jerad and his lovely wife, Sue, were killed in a car crash.’
‘Omigod,’ I breathed. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s fine,’ he said with the air of someone who’d told this story many times. ‘It was several years ago. Time doesn’t heal – contrary to what people say – but it does bring acceptance. I’ve finally got my head around it.’ Nonetheless, his eyes were bright for a moment. ‘Sue and Jerad had a son – my nephew, JJ. They were a lovely family, until tragedy struck. The three of them went to Broadstairs for a long weekend. They stayed at a typical seaside guesthouse, enjoyed the beach, paddled in the waves, and ate fish and chips out of newspaper. Except, on the way home, they had a tyre blowout.’ He paused to collect himself. ‘The car accident that followed proved to be a fatal one.’
‘They all died?’ I said in horror.
Milo shook his head.
‘My nephew was spared. Thank God for small mercies.’ He shifted in his seat. A regrouping gesture. ‘There was never any question about JJ’s future. He came to live with Martha and me. We officially adopted him. Suddenly Martha was Ma – fitting given the new role thrust upon her. And although I was still Uncle Milo, and could never replace Dad , JJ started calling me Pops .’ Milo grinned with delight. ‘And I love being called that.’
‘So you ended up with a son after all,’ I said.
‘Indeed.’
‘And what of Martha? Does she keep in touch with your boy?’
‘Absolutely,’ Milo confirmed. ‘Despite not having any maternal instincts, Martha has been a good mum. JJ is only back home with me because he’s come out of a serious relationship.’ Milo pulled a face. ‘I don’t know the full ins and outs. Apparently, the girl let him go. Her loss. Since then, he’s met young Polly. And it seems to be going well, albeit with caution. So, watch this space.’
‘Polly?’ I frowned. ‘But I thought…’
‘What did you think?’ said Milo, looking amused.
‘Nothing,’ I said quickly.
So, Polly wasn’t lusting after Milo. She was lusting after Mr Soren Junior. Linda at the Strawberry Shed had got that bit of gossip wrong.
‘Well,’ I said, blowing out my cheeks. ‘That’s quite a story.’
‘It is,’ he nodded. ‘All’s well that ends well.’
‘Not quite,’ I disagreed. ‘Regarding Martha’s new partner. You said you followed the person. Tormented yourself because of making comparisons. Are you now happy in your own skin?’
Milo laughed out loud.
‘I’ve always been happy in my own skin, Tilly.’
‘But… but…’ I looked at him in confusion. ‘You said…’ – what were the words he’d used earlier? – ‘something about not being enough. ’
‘I did,’ he acknowledged. ‘But there’s one thing I’ve omitted from this tale.’ He steepled his fingers together, as if in prayer, then regarded me pensively. ‘Martha left me for another woman.’
‘ Whaaat ?’ I squawked.
‘Don’t look so incredulous. These things happen. Martha got to forty and announced – just like the proverbial worm – that she’d turned. That there was no going back. She was totally transparent. Said she’d met a woman at work and fallen in love. I did briefly – we’re talking a nano second – consider transitioning to win her back, but then dismissed the idea.’ He gave me a deadpan look. ‘I’ve managed to rise to several challenges in life, but I’d never get away with my size elevens in kitten heels.’