Talking Sense (21 page)

“What did he die of?”

“Don’t know.” He sighed. “He had a plaque on a bench. He was married with two kids.”

David surveyed him thoughtfully. “Are you going to try and find out about them?”

Colm looked back at his glass. Picked it up again. “No.” He finished off the whisky. “I’m done. Tomorrow I’m going to ring the school and tell them I’m not coming back. I’m only a relief teacher anyway—they’ll easily find someone else to fill in.”

“You’re leaving,” David said flatly.

“Yes.” Colm met his gaze and held it, daring him to challenge his decision.

In answer, David turned and went back into the kitchen. He waited for the kettle to boil, made the coffee and brought it in.

Colm took the mug, sipped it and pulled a face. “Shit, that’s so strong you could stand your spoon up in it.”

“I think you need it,” David said wryly. He sighed and leaned back in the chair, resting an ankle on his knee. “So what did Mia say when you said you were leaving?”

“What do you think?”

David took a swallow of his coffee. “Do you love her?”

“I…” He couldn’t think straight. His thoughts and emotions were all jumbled up. Disappointment that his father—if it was his father—was dead and he’d never get to speak to him, or find out more about him. Embarrassment and anger that he’d let what he thought was a special ability lead him to a place where he was now caught up in grief for a man he’d never known and might never have been related to in the first place.

And loneliness and a deep, abiding depression that he’d done the wrong thing by Mia and fucked things up so seriously that she’d never forgive him, and he’d never forgive himself. When she’d remarked acidly that it was a good job she wasn’t pregnant, and he’d replied
it is if you’re not ready to settle down
, he’d seen the hurt and anger on her face, and he’d realised the truth—that she was as disappointed as he was that she hadn’t been pregnant. He’d tried to convince her—and himself—that staying together was pointless, and it would only make things worse, but she’d called him a coward and she’d been right.

Do you love her?
David had asked.

“Yes,” he said. His throat tightened, so he took a long swallow of his coffee to cover his emotion.

“The All Blacks are playing Ireland tonight,” David said, reaching for the remote control. “We’ll thrash the Micks, you wait.”

“Carter’s injured though,” Colm said hoarsely. “And they’re playing at Aviva, so it’s home territory.”

“Won’t make a difference.”

They continued to insult each other with rugby references, but all the while Colm’s mind played the same few phrases over and over again.

I love her. I love her and I’ve screwed it up. What am I going to do?

“Come on, then,” Freya said. “Show us.”

It was early Saturday afternoon and they were in a café, having a break after an hour’s walking around the shops, fortifying themselves with lattes and muffins.

Grace sighed. “Stop nagging.” But in spite of her words, her eyes sparkled as she reached into the bag and pulled out the item.

Mia’s heart melted. It was the tiniest all-in-one baby outfit she’d ever seen in an adorable bright yellow colour with a big picture of Tigger on the front, and it came complete with a hat that bore two tiny little ears.

“Oh…” Freya and Mia sighed.

“It’s beautiful,” Mia whispered, picking up the velvety material. For a brief moment she let herself imagine a parallel world where she was the one pregnant buying baby clothes. How would it feel to have another person growing inside you? She’d always wondered if it would feel like a scene out of
Alien
, slightly alarming and, well, alien to have something that wasn’t part of your own body moving inside you.

But now for the first time she began to understand what a wonderful concept it could be for the man she loved to plant his seed in her, for the two of them to make a whole other person together, and for her to keep that tiny person safe until it was ready to enter the world. What a miracle childbirth was. Her body hungered for it with an intensity that scared her. Suddenly she understood why women became obsessed with conception and why it was so hard when they couldn’t conceive. And what drove mothers to stand in front of tanks and to fight with every bone in their bodies to protect their offspring.

Her fingers tightened on the cloth as loss and sorrow swept over her, the emotion so raw and consuming that she almost wept.
Colm.
She missed him so much it physically hurt. His tender care and protective nature had comforted her, and he’d seemed to shield her like a force field from the doubts and worries that had plagued her since the accident. But now he’d gone, and she felt as if she stood alone on some wild moor, exposed to the ravaging elements with nothing to shield her from the cruel wind.

“Mia?”

She blinked and dropped the outfit, knowing Grace would pick up on the fact that her hands were shaking. “Sorry. I was daydreaming.”

The two women studied her sympathetically. She’d told them in matter-of-fact tones earlier that the thing—whatever it was—with Colm had come to an end. She’d brushed off their attempts to comfort her, knowing if she started to cry she wouldn’t be able to stop. So they’d continued with the best therapy known to woman—retail.

Still, it hadn’t brought the enjoyment it usually did, and although she’d done her best not to mope, she was aware she wasn’t on her usual sparkling form.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Freya asked.

She shook her head and looked into her coffee cup. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Oh goodness, well that’s obviously rubbish,” Grace said. She’d rested the cup on her bump, which wobbled as the baby kicked. “You know it always makes it better when you talk.”

“I don’t want to bring us down,” Mia said with a sad smile. “This is a happy day. Look, we’re buying Tiggers! I don’t want to cloud the air with declarations of how I’ll never find a good man and how I’m destined to be alone for the rest of my life.” She bit her lip.

“Bollocks,” Freya said vehemently. “Everyone feels like that after a breakup. That you’re never going to meet anyone else—that you don’t
want
to meet anyone else. You picture yourself sitting alone in a retirement home with your teeth in a glass reading large-print novels and eating sandwiches with no crusts. We’ve all done it.”

Mia’s lips curved wryly—it was true, those were the sort of thoughts that had been going through her head.

“You’re only thirty,” Grace reminded her gently. “You have all the time in the world to settle down, sweetie.”

“I know what it looks like on paper.” She crumbled bits of her muffin onto the plate. Her appetite had disappeared. “And God knows I’ve had breakups before. But this feels different. Kind of…I don’t know, final, perhaps. As if Colm was my one chance to do it seriously, you know? And I blew it.” She sipped her coffee hurriedly to try to cover her rising emotion.

“You didn’t blow it,” Freya reminded her. “Colm lives on the other side of the world, honey, and it was always going to be difficult to overcome that barrier. Maybe if you’d had longer together the bond would have been strong enough to fight it, but you had so little time.”

“He didn’t want to stay with me longer,” she said huskily. “He said it would make it harder when we came to part. I told him he was a coward for thinking like that.” Now she really was going to cry. She closed her eyes.

“I think you were half-right,” Grace said, placing her hand on Mia’s. “It’s a cowardly thing to say you don’t want to do something in case it hurts. But, do you know what, I actually think it proves he was in love with you.”

“He wasn’t,” Mia squeaked.

“And he knew it was only going to get worse as the weeks went by,” Grace continued as if Mia hadn’t spoken. “Most men are only thinking about sex two weeks into the relationship. But I think Colm had more than that on his mind. And that was what he couldn’t deal with.”

Mia covered her mouth with her hand.

“He liked you the moment he met you,” Grace reminded her, relentless. “So it’s not just been two weeks. I’ve seen the way he watches you from a distance. He’s wanted you for months. I bet he couldn’t believe his luck. He probably knew he’d fall for you quickly, but it didn’t stop him dating you because he’s crazy about you, Mia. I know it doesn’t help now, but I’m sure of it. And the only reason he backed off was to try some self-preservation, which won’t have worked, and I’m sure he’s feeling as miserable as you are right now.”

Mia wasn’t so sure, but the thought that Grace could be right made her eyes fill with tears.

Grace stood, leaned over and gave her a hug. “In true pregnant-woman fashion, I need to pee. But have hope, sweetie. Ash is certain there are good things in store for you.”

And with that mysterious message, she waltzed off.

“That’s a very annoying habit of hers,” Freya remarked.

“Damn straight,” Mia said, taking deep breaths to regain some equilibrium. “It’s so unnerving the way our men have access to this otherworld that’s so unfamiliar to us.” She’d told them both about Colm’s secret ability.

“I know what you mean,” Freya said, breaking up her muffin. “I watch Nate healing sometimes, and there’s always a part of me that’s, like, honestly? You really think you can make a person better just by putting your hands on them? It seems so…outrageous. But then the following week the patient’s full of ‘Oh the next day I had no pain and I could actually get up and walk’ and I get this shiver run through me. It gives me goose bumps.”

“Does Nate ever doubt himself?” Mia asked. Grace had told her that when Ash first left his job as a GP and started practicing full time as a medium, he used to question his ability, but nowadays he was more confident of his talent.

“Not so much now,” Freya said. “But then he’s been doing it for years. To be honest, I don’t think he likes having it—he’d rather be ‘normal’, and that’s his wording, by the way. But he’s accepted that it would be a crime
not
to use it, you know?”

“Yes,” Mia said, wondering if Colm would ever use his ability again. Would he ever grow to accept that he had this gift and that he could use it to do marvellous things? She might never know. “I…”

Her voice trailed off as Grace exited the ladies’. Instantly she knew something was wrong. Grace was scarlet with anger, and she marched through the café toward them and almost threw a piece of paper at them.

“Where is she?” she demanded, looking around the café. “Did you see her come out?”

“Who?” Mia opened the ball of paper hurriedly and stared, shock building as she read it.

Ash is mine, he dosen’t love you, your going too die and then hell be mine.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Oh my God.” Mia went cold. She stood, Freya following, and they all looked around the café. Two elderly women sat having a cup of tea, looking rather alarmed at the commotion. The rest of the café was empty.

“Did you see her come out?” Grace demanded again, clenching her fists.

“No, I wasn’t looking,” Mia said guiltily. Had she seen anyone? She vaguely recollected a woman passing by, but she wouldn’t have been able to describe her.

“Me neither,” Freya said, distraught. “Grace, I’m so sorry.” She pulled out her phone. “I think I should ring the police.”

“I can’t believe it.” Grace’s skin, to Mia’s alarm, had faded rapidly from red to white. “I can’t believe she was here.”

“Where did you get the note?” Mia suddenly realised the police might want it for fingerprinting. She emptied one of her shopping bags into another and carefully put the note into the empty one.

“It was sitting on the basin when I came out of the cubicle. She was in there, Mia.” Grace put a hand to her bump. “Oh God, I feel sick.”

“Oh Grace, sit down, quick.” Freya pulled out a chair for her.

Before she could move, Grace clamped a hand between her legs. “Shit.”

Mia looked down to see liquid staining Grace’s maternity jeans. Panic shot through her, but she made herself say calmly, “It’s all right, honey, your waters have broken.”

“Fuck,” Grace said, who never swore. Tears shone in her eyes. “Oh my God, in public! Mia!”

“Sit down.” Mia guided her to the chair.

In front of her, Freya dropped to her haunches and patted her hand. She gave her a big smile. “Come on, Gracie, I’m a nurse, remember?”

Mia had forgotten, and so had Grace too, judging by the relief that spread over her face.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Freya soothed, gesturing for Mia to get out her phone. “Mia’s going to ring the hospital, and then we’ll drive you there.”

Grace looked around her. “The woman…” she whispered.

“She’s gone,” Freya said firmly. “Forget about her, honey, she’s a piece of shit who doesn’t deserve your attention. Hey, guess what? You’re going to have a baby!”

Grace met her eyes and gave a small smile. “I am, aren’t I?” The smile faded though, as she said, “Oh crap, Ash.” He was away in Christchurch on his last show before the baby was born.

“Don’t worry,” Freya said, “first babies usually take a long time to come. Ash can be here in a few hours.”

“Has she got that long?” Mia murmured, the phone to her ear as Freya turned to grab their shopping. Didn’t babies come more quickly if the mum’s waters broke?

“Maybe, maybe not.” Freya was calm. “Tell the hospital we’re on the way. Oh, and Mia? Ring Ash. And then ring the police.”

By the time they got to the hospital, Grace was having contractions.

“They’re five minutes apart and she’s four centimetres dilated,” the midwife said to Mia and Freya, who were waiting outside Grace’s room. “It may not be that long. I understand the father’s on his way?”

“He’s flying from Christchurch,” Mia said, nibbling her bottom lip. “His plane lands in about an hour and a half and he should be here by six. He’ll be in time, won’t he?”

“Possibly not,” the midwife said briskly. “The contractions are strong and she’s coping well. You never know with babies. Anyway, she’s asking for you both, so feel free to go in.” She walked off.