Two For Joy (41 page)

Oliver had tried to make love to her shortly after she'd come back from London. It had been a disaster. She'd tensed up, he'd got tense too, nothing happened and he'd just turned away from her and not said a word.

It had to be because he didn't fancy her any more, she tormented herself, even though the rational, medically trained part of her knew that Oliver's problem was psychological, induced by the discovery of his sterility.
But if he really wanted me, he'd be able to get it up,
was the thought that rampaged around her head in spite of herself. The notion plagued her so much she wanted to shake him and shout, ‘Look, just say you don't want me any more. Tell me to my face that I don't turn you on. Stop punishing me for asking you to marry me.'

She pulled the buggy in beside a seat and lifted her nephew out on to her knee. He smiled happily at her and she kissed his rosy little cheek and held him tenderly against her, loving the feel of his tiny little legs kicking away.

‘You are a beautiful little fellow, and when you grow up, I hope you meet a woman you love enough to propose to. I hope you meet a woman you can talk to, and I hope you'll never have an unhappy day in your life, my little precious,' she crooned. John gooed away animatedly, head bobbing from side to side as if he understood everything she'd said, so that she had to laugh. She sat and held him for about ten minutes, and felt calmer and soothed when she put him back in his buggy to resume their walk. She felt quite sure that Maura would welcome any involvement she cared to have in the baby's life. Maybe John would be her lifeline, she mused as she tucked the blankets around him tenderly. She could do up a room for him so that he could come and stay the odd night when he was older, although no doubt Rita would get in a snit that her pair had never been invited.

You couldn't win in this place, she frowned, her humour dipping again.

The baby was asleep when she got him home and she lifted him gently from his car seat and rang the doorbell. ‘One sleeping child,' she said smugly when Maura answered the door.

‘Great, I'll put him in his cot and we'll have a cuppa. If you've time, that is?' her sister invited.

Noreen glanced at her watch. ‘I have another three-quarters of an hour before surgery. I wouldn't mind a cup of tea, thanks. I'll just put the car seat back in your car.' When she got in Maura had the kettle on. Her eyes were puffy from sleep and she yawned widely.

‘Sorry,' she apologized. ‘I think if I was to sleep around the clock it still wouldn't be enough. Nothing's prepared me for motherhood, Noreen. I never thought it would be so all-consuming.'

‘The first couple of months are the hardest, all the feeding, changing, washing … it will get easier,' Noreen consoled.

‘Do you think so?' Maura said doubtfully, placing a generous chunk of coffee cake and a mug of tea in front of Noreen.

‘I know so,' Noreen fibbed. She had taken her third sip of tea and a mouthful of cake when a heat suffused her and a wave of nausea swamped her. She swallowed hard. Don't say she was starting a tummy bug. She usually had a cast-iron stomach. ‘Need to use your loo,' she murmured.

‘Use the one in the hall,' Maura said, too busy shovelling coffee cake into her to notice anything untoward. Noreen made her way to the loo and threw up as discreetly as possible. She felt most peculiar, she thought as she splashed her face with cold water and took deep breaths, casting her mind back to what she'd eaten in the last twenty-four hours that had sickened her. Nothing came to mind and she took several deep breaths before rejoining Maura.

‘Finish your cake,' her sister ordered. Fortunately John began to whimper and Noreen said hastily, ‘I'll head off, Maura, I need to get to the surgery a little early today, I'll see you later in the week.'

‘Thanks very much for taking him, Noreen, I'd a lovely sleep.' Maura hastened to the baby's cot, and Noreen left her to it.

She sat in the car, beads of sweat on her upper lip and forehead. She felt grotty, but she couldn't very well let Douglas down at such short notice by not turning in for work. But if it was a bug she could spread it, she argued silently as she drove towards town. She found a packet of chewing-gum in the window pocket and chewed on one. It helped her nausea subside and she decided she'd go to work.

The surgery was half full already and she had a busy afternoon. The queasiness ebbed and flowed, but nothing as dramatic as she'd endured in Maura's. Still, she was glad to say goodbye to her colleagues and drive home.

The thought of cooking dinner was less than enticing so she phoned Oliver on his mobile and told him to get a takeaway for himself on his way home. ‘I don't feel the best, I'm going to lie down,' she informed him.

‘Will I get anything for you?' he asked.

‘No, I'll have something later, a few crackers or something,' she told him, as she drove into the driveway.

She went into the kitchen, drank a glass of water and went to lie down on the sofa. It was so unusual for her to be sick, she thought, perplexed. She had the constitution of an ox and was immune to most bugs after all her years of nursing. It was hardly her period, she thought vaguely as she lay down. She often felt sick at the onset but she'd never barfed before. She shot bolt upright as the blood drained from her face.

‘Mother of God! It couldn't be,' she muttered as she raced upstairs, galvanized. It just couldn't be after all that had happened. She scrabbled in her bedside locker until she found what she was looking for. Thank God she had one. Five minutes later she was looking at two blue lines on her pregnancy test kit.

‘Pregnant! I'm
pregnant
!' she said in disbelief, unable to absorb the enormity of what had happened. For one brief moment a wave of joy flooded her being.
She
was going to have a baby. God had not deserted her. She was exhilarated. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.' She fell to her knees, burying her head in her hands, and cried at the knowledge that she had not been forsaken.

‘I'm having a baby.' Noreen spoke aloud the words she had longed for an eternity to say. Then the stark realization of her situation hit her.

She was pregnant and Rajiv was the father. Now, not only Oliver but the whole world would know that she had betrayed her husband. No child of Rajiv's would ever be mistaken for a child of Oliver's. Well, God had granted her her dearest wish, she thought bitterly. Now she was pregnant, but look at the circumstances. Oliver would be gutted. It would be such a kick in the teeth for him. What the hell was she going to do? she thought in panic.

She couldn't tell Oliver. It was as simple as that. She'd have to leave Kilronan. She lay down on the bed, her heart racing, her thoughts a blizzard inside her head. She had money of her own from her mother's estate. She'd need a roof over her head.

London. She'd go back to London. What other choice had she got? Kay would help her sort herself out. And Rajiv deserved to know he'd fathered a child. If he wanted to be involved, fine. If not she'd cope, she thought distractedly. The thing to do was move fast. There was no point in dragging things out. She needed to be sorted before the baby was born. And besides, she couldn't live with Oliver knowing that she was pregnant by another man and knowing that she was going to leave him. The fairest thing on both of them was to get it over and done with quickly.

Maybe he'd be relieved, she thought frantically as she heard his key in the door. She sat up and shoved the test into her drawer and took a deep breath as she heard him run upstairs.

‘Are you OK?' he asked anxiously.

‘No, Oliver, I'm not.' She felt sick with tension. ‘Oliver, I have to talk to you.' She took a deep breath, twisting her hands in her lap. ‘I want to go back to London. I can't stay here any more. It's doing my head in. You're not happy. I'm not happy. It's the best thing for both of us.'

Oliver looked at her, stunned. And then he turned away and walked to the window so she couldn't see the expression on his face.

‘If that's what you want, Noreen,' he said flatly.

‘I'm sorry, Oliver,' she whispered, her throat constricting.

‘When are you going to go?' he asked, his back still turned to her.

‘I … I … probably the day after tomorrow,' she hesitated. ‘It's the best thing for us, Oliver.'

‘If you say so,' he said tonelessly. ‘I'm going to have a pint. See you later.'

‘'Bye,' she whispered as he left the room. That was it, he was going to the pub, he hadn't even tried to argue with her or persuade her to stay. He probably couldn't be more relieved, she thought bitterly as she heard the door close behind him. She walked into her closet and pulled her big, battered black case down off a shelf. Briskly, methodically, she began to pack her clothes and uniforms. It was best to go quickly. If she could she'd go before he came back from the pub, but she needed to tell Douglas she was leaving. Maura and Rita, well, they'd know soon enough. She'd phone them from London, she couldn't do it face to face. And Cora. Noreen gave a twisted smile as she folded a pair of jeans. Her mother-in-law would be the happiest woman in the world.

*   *   *

Oliver sat in a dark corner in the pub nursing his fifth beer. So Noreen was leaving him. He couldn't say he was surprised. As a husband he was a total failure. Couldn't give her a child, couldn't make love to her, no wonder she was going. Why would she stay with a dud like him? He didn't know whether he was glad or sad. He didn't know what he was feeling except this huge, ferocious anger and despair that was eating at him, making him want to pound his fists into a brick wall or something.

Why had this happened to him? What had he done to deserve it? One thing he knew for sure, he was finished with women. They only led to misery and he was never going to get hurt the way Noreen had hurt him again. ‘Goodbye and good riddance,' he muttered drunkenly, a salty tear sliding down his cheek.

34

‘I'm not going to a fortune-teller, Ruth,' Heather snapped sulkily.

‘She's
not
a fortune-teller, she's a psychic,' her sister said indignantly, ‘and I've made the appointment and you're coming.'

‘Oh Ruth,' groaned Heather. ‘What's the point?'

‘It might cheer you up.'

‘What? To be told I'm going to be on the shelf for the rest of my life?' Heather scowled.

‘You're not going to be on the shelf for the rest of your life. Don't be ridiculous.' Ruth couldn't help the edge in her tone. She was at her wits' end with Heather. Since she'd found out about Neil and Lorna she'd sunk into a depression that was completely out of character. ‘Come on,' she urged, ‘just to please me. I've been to her before and she told me about meeting Peter. She told me he was the one, and he is.'

‘Yeah, but maybe there's no one for me,' Heather said glumly, munching on a piece of toast dripping with butter.

‘Well, just come for the day out anyway. It's a nice trip to Kilcoole, we can have lunch and a poke around the Avoca Hand-weavers on the way home.'

‘OK, whatever you say,' Heather said dispiritedly as she buttered another piece of toast.

Ruth threw her eyes up to heaven. This was hard going, and if she could get her hands on Lorna Morgan she'd wrap them around her skinny little neck and throttle her.

*   *   *

Heather sat in the passenger seat beside her sister as the traffic crawled along at a snail's pace towards the Merrion Gates. The sun shone in a clear blue sky. People strode briskly along the seashore walk, the sea a sparkling azure in the curve of Dublin Bay. She stared unseeingly through the window, seeing none of it, too focused on the heavy, dull ache that had been her constant companion since she'd found out about Lorna and Neil.

It was six soul-destroying weeks since her life had been turned upside-down. This day six weeks ago she'd had a good job, her own place and a man she thought she loved. Now she was living at home with her parents, working in Fred's Fast Food Emporium, and there were times she wished she was dead.

Tears smarted her eyes and she turned her head so that Ruth wouldn't see. Her sister had been her rock. She'd come to her aid the minute she was needed. It seemed like only yesterday, the memories were still so raw.

As soon as Neil had left the flat after she'd cursed him to high heaven, she'd sat on the bed, shaking, and phoned Ruth. She could hardly talk for crying.

‘What's wrong with you? Is it Mam? Is it Dad? For God's sake, Heather, tell me what's wrong?' Ruth started panicking.

‘Neil … Neil slept with Lorna,' she managed before breaking into shoulder-shaking sobs.

‘What!'
The shock in her twin's voice made her worse and she cried with abandon. ‘I'm coming right now,' Ruth said hastily. ‘Where are you?'

‘The flat,' Heather gulped, relieved beyond measure that Ruth was coming.

‘I'm on my way,' Ruth said and hung up.

Lorna and Neil, Neil and Lorna.
She kept repeating it over and over, still unable to take it in. She would have been shocked to hear that Neil had slept with another woman, but for him to have slept with Lorna beggared belief. That he could hurt her so deeply and obviously not care was the most painful thing she had ever experienced. Had he no loyalty in him at all? She knew that Lorna was capable of a lot of things, but Heather had never dreamed that she would stoop so low. It was almost as if Lorna's contempt for her was so great, it hadn't cost her a thought to inflict the hurt she'd inflicted on her.

She lay huddled on the bed until Ruth arrived an hour later, and fell crying into her arms as they embraced at the door.

‘Come on. Get packed. You can tell that bollox he can stuff his flat. Here, I brought a roll of black sacks.' Ruth was nothing if not practical. ‘You can tell me all about it while we're packing.'