Emily

Chapter Twenty

Which wasn’t a very good basis for trying to rebuild a marriage. When I got home, I was all screwed up to tell Rory about the baby, but he was so immersed in slapping blue paint on a huge canvas, absolutely lost to the world, that I funked it and so, having not told him, I found it more and more difficult.

In fact, he was so obsessed with work for the next few weeks, he hardly noticed me at all.

I thought endlessly about the baby. No more staying in the cinema to see the film once again — got to get home to the baby-sitter. No more running away to sea. I thought of dirty nappies and sleepless nights, and maternity bras, and getting bigger and heavier, and less attractive to Rory.

But somehow, I felt excited too. Growing inside was something that, when it arrived, would really need me. Something I could love totally and unashamedly, as I wanted to love Rory, as circumstances had stopped me loving Finn.

I kept wanting to tell Rory. I bought a bottle of champagne, and day after day took it out of its hiding place at the back of a drawer, then funked it and put it away.

I made a concerted attempt to win Rory over sexually, but it had been ‘God, I’m tired’, for days now. As soon as I got into bed, he’d switch off his light, turn his back on me, and pretend to be asleep.

And I’d lie beside him, tears sliding into my hair, listening to the sea washing on the rocks below and thinking of Finn, who was probably still working, going out to deliver a baby or soothing a restless patient. His harsh, beautifully ugly face would swim before my eyes, and I would wonder how much longer I could hold out.

I went to every party on the island too, in the hope that I might see him, but he never turned up. Which meant I drank too much and was even sicker the morning after.

I did see Miss Barrett, the new intern, though. I couldn’t resist having a gawp. I went in for a checkup and had a great shock. She was naturally blonde, and slim — one of those women who look marvellous without make-up — deep, subtle, competent, able to keep her mouth shut. The antithesis of me.

Did I imagine, too, an added warmth in her voice when she talked about Finn? Dr Maclean likes things done this way. Dr Maclean doesn’t approve of pregnant women putting on too much weight. Dr Maclean recommends these vitamin pills.

‘And Dr Maclean recommends me,’ I wanted to shout at her. ‘He’s mine, and trespassers will be very much prosecuted.’

The weeks passed. Slowly I sank into despair. I could hardly bring myself to get up in the morning and get dressed. One Sunday morning, however, when I was trying to keep down some toast and marmalade, I suddenly caught Rory looking at me.

‘You look awful,’ he said. ‘What are you trying to turn yourself into?’

Then followed a ten-minute invective about my general attitude towards him and everyone else on the island. I was lazy, childish, stubborn, stupid and unco-operative. Why didn’t I do something instead of slopping around all day?

‘What do you think I should be doing? Going to evening classes, exchanging meaningful glances over the basket-work and all that?’ I said.

‘Maybe; you could go out more, see people. Buster offered you his horses anytime you wanted to ride. Anything but this plastic tomb you’ve sealed yourself into.’

‘Have you finished?’ I whispered.

‘Yes, for the time being. I’m sorry I came on so strong. I didn’t mean to be quite so vicious, but I’m fed up with sharing a house with a zombie.’

I got up without looking at him and dragged myself upstairs. He was right. One look at myself in the mirror sent me yelping to the bathroom to wash my hair.

Then I rang Buster and asked if I could come and ride with him that afternoon. Rory was absurdly pleased and even rubbed my hair dry for me.

‘Stay over at the castle when you’ve finished,’ he said. ‘I’ll come over and take you all out to dinner.’

For the first time in months he kissed me.

Buster and I rode up the lower slopes through beech trees between mossy rocks. Walter Scott ran about, snorting and chasing rabbits. Finally we reached the top.

‘Hospital’s finished now,’ said Buster, pointing his whip at the new building on the right. ‘Finn’s got it up jolly fast. Have you been inside?’

I shook my head.

Buster’s voice — the usual mixture of sex, gin and a dash of bitters — flowed on. ‘Have you seen Finn’s new popsy?’

I stiffened. ‘Popsy?’

‘Dr Barrett,’ went on Buster. ‘She’s an absolute smasher. Took my lumbago to see her last week — can hardly keep my hands off her.’

‘Are she and Finn having a walk-out?’ I asked.

‘Why do you think he brought her up here?’ said Buster, as though it were a matter of course. ‘Finn isn’t daft.’

Black gloom overwhelmed me as I rode back down the hill. Finn in love with someone else. That left Rory and me, didn’t it?

‘I think I’ll go straight home now,’ I said.

‘Isn’t Rory taking us out to dinner?’ asked Buster.

‘He is,’ I said, ‘but there’s something I want to tell him first. And I want to change too.’

We stabled the horses, and as I drove back home I decided now was the time to tell Rory about the baby.

‘We’ll have to face the music together, mate,’ I said to the child inside me. ‘Maybe he’ll surprise us and be delighted after all.’

I went into the house and tiptoed upstairs to get the champagne. The bedroom door was open.

And I caught them red-handed.