Chapter Fifty-One
The pub was relatively quiet. There was no sign of young Polly.
Instead, a middle-aged woman – a dead ringer for Bette Lynch – was emptying a commercial undercounter dishwasher. She had one heavily made-up eye on the freshly washed glassware, and the other on Lisa and me as we took off our jackets.
‘I’ll go and get the menus,’ I said, before heading over to the blonde.
This must be Cilla. I remembered Polly mentioning the pub landlady. Someone who could be quite opinionated. A force to be reckoned with.
‘Hello.’ I smiled nervously. ‘Me and my friend would like to eat here, if that’s okay.’
‘Of course it is, love,’ she said. The stern features suddenly relaxed into a smile.
‘Tilly,’ Lisa fog horned. ‘Don’t forget to order a bottle of house wine.’
‘Tilly,’ Cilla repeated. She looked thoughtful. ‘That’s quite an unusual name. Would you be the lady that’s moved in with Milo?’
I immediately blushed.
‘Er, as such,’ I said, my colour deepening. ‘I’m renting his studio for a bit. Until I find my own place.’
‘I see,’ said Cilla. ‘Well good luck with the house hunting.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, willing my complexion to return to its usual pale and interesting. Or washed out , as Robin used to say.
‘Red or white?’ Cilla asked. She indicated the display of wines.
‘White, please.’
‘Here are the options.’ She held out a couple of laminated menus. ‘On the board over there’ – she jerked her head at a wall – ‘are today’s specials. I can vouch for the lamb.’ She gave a satisfied nod. ‘Local meat. Grass fed. High welfare.’
‘Good to know,’ I whispered.
Oh dear. Presumably the tender rack of ribs in a rich wine jus had, until recently, enjoyed grazing in one of Starlight Croft’s fields. I squinted at the chalkboard. Perhaps, instead, I’d go for the seabass.
‘Sit down, love,’ said Cilla. ‘I’ll bring the wine over in a sec.’
‘Thanks,’ I said, taking the menus from her.
I weaved my way through the tables, then flopped down opposite Lisa.
‘I can see why you’ve been charmed by this village,’ she said, leaning back in her chair. She gave a sigh of contentment. ‘If this pub is anything to go by, this this village is very’ – she screwed up her face, seeking the right word – ‘calming.’
‘It is,’ I nodded.
‘And after today, you want all the calm you can get.’
I sighed gustily.
‘Too right.’ I shook my head sadly. ‘What the heck has happened to my life? I don’t recognise it anymore.’
‘New beginnings,’ she said sagely. ‘They come to us all at some point. But flipping heck, girl.’ She put one elbow on the table, then rested her chin in the palm of her hand. ‘That’s quite secret you hid away. To think you spent decades hiding it.’ She blew out her cheeks, and her elbow briefly wobbled. ‘How come you never mentioned it to me?’
I shook my head again.
‘I couldn’t. There’s a part of me that looks back on that time in disbelief. Like it happened to someone else. And there’s another part’ – I gulped – ‘where it seems like it happened yesterday.’ My eyes suddenly threatened to spurt more tears.
‘Don’t break down,’ said Lisa in alarm. ‘Not here. Sorry, Tilly. I didn’t mean to upset you all over again.’
‘Oh, my tear ducts haven’t come close to emptying.’ I gave her a watery smile, then blinked rapidly. ‘Panic ye not,’ I joked weakly. ‘I’ll save them for later. When I’m on my own.’
‘You need to heal,’ she murmured. ‘Heads up. The wine is on its way.’
We both stopped talking as Cilla delivered two glasses and the house white.
‘Ladies,’ she said, setting the bottle and flutes down. ‘Ready to order?’
‘Oh, erm…’ I trailed off, hastily looking at the menu.
‘The lamb for me,’ said Lisa.
That sounds delicious , said a voice from under the table. And just to remind you, I haven’t yet eaten, and it’s not fair that I should have to watch you.
‘Make that two.’ I’d give the lion’s share of the meat to Cindy.
‘And plenty of mint sauce,’ Lisa added.
‘Coming right up,’ Cilla smiled, before heading back to the bar.
Lisa reached for the bottle and set about pouring. She gave me a sly look.
‘I must say, Tilly, I thought I was daring popping my cherry at sixteen.’ She pushed the glass towards me, then filled the second. ‘But you were light years ahead of me.’ She put down the bottle, took a sip from her own glass, then regarded me thoughtfully. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, Tilly, you don’t look the type.’
‘Thanks.’ I pulled a face, before taking a glug of wine. Not bad. I took another sip. ‘And do, please, enlighten me on what type loses their virginity before sixteen?’
‘Well, you know’ – she shrugged apologetically – ‘bad girls. Not girls like you who were nicely brought up.’
‘Don’t be so stereotypical,’ I chided. ‘You don’t have to be a bad girl to do what I did. Just an idiotic girl.’ I rubbed my eyes with the heel of one hand. ‘A foolish girl,’ I added. ‘As I said to Jake. God’ – I groaned – ‘what must he think of me?’
‘I think he’s simply grateful to know some personal history,’ said Lisa gently. ‘He didn’t look particularly shocked to discover that his biological mother had been little more than a child herself.’
‘I wish things had been different,’ I said sadly. ‘In today’s world, it would have been different.’
‘You think?’ Lisa mused. ‘Do you honestly believe your mum would have said, “Oh, Tilly, darling. I’ll look after Baby while you go to school.” I’m not so sure. Didn’t she have her own job to hold down?’
‘Yes,’ I nodded. ‘And two wages were required. My parents were never poor, but they weren’t wealthy either. Finances were always a juggling act. I was an only child because they couldn’t afford to have another one, much less a grandkid.’
‘So, there you go. Being a teenage mum would never have worked.’
I closed my eyes. Blocked out the pub. Mentally returned to a delivery ward from long ago. Saw myself holding a newborn in my arms. And once again I remembered a flood of maternal feelings that, even now, were impossible to put into words. I opened my eyes again. Looked at Lisa.
‘I just wish the timing had been different. That it had happened with Robin, instead. I’d have given anything to be a mum.’
Lisa reached across the table and patted my hand.
‘But Tilly’ – she said gently – ‘you are a mum. You always have been.’
I stared at her blankly. Her words rattled around my brain, then landed with a clatter in my heart. By God, Lisa was right. My expression changed to one of astonishment and delight.
There were many ways of being a mother. I might not have had the joy of raising Jake, but he’d started his life in my belly. For nine precious months it had been my body that had hugged him. Nurtured him. My body that had been a vessel for his. It had nourished him. Protected him. And finally, when he’d been delivered into the world, I’d given this precious gift to someone who hadn’t been able to do what my body had done. The fact that this unknown woman had then been able to give everything that the teenage Tilly hadn’t, was irrelevant.
It had been me who’d given Jake the gift of life. And despite being told to forget… to deny… now the glorious truth was out! Lisa had hit the proverbial nail on the head. I was indeed a mum. And nobody could take that away from me.
I raised my glass to my bestie. Gave her a tremulous smile.
‘Cheers.’