A Question of Love (30 page)

‘Trust you? Why
should
I? You’re being vile.
Vile…
‘ Her mouth was twisted in distress. ‘Sadistic and
vile.
To bring me here.
‘

‘You may think so, but actually, I’m not.’

‘Then why
have
you brought me here? To rub my nose in it? To see my pain? I don’t
understand
.’ She was rummaging in her bag for a hanky. ‘I wish I’d
never
asked you,’ she wept. ‘I wish I’d never,
ever
asked you to help me!’

‘Well you did,’ I whispered back. I pressed the red buzzer and a nurse opened the door. ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘You were here a couple of nights ago weren’t you?’ ‘That’s right. This is my sister.’ Hope managed a watery smile.

‘Just go straight down. You know the way.’

By now Hope was whimpering with distress.

‘You…
cow
,’ she croaked as we washed our hands in the visitors’ loo, as requested. ‘What are you
thinking
of? Forcing me to come in here so that I can see that my husband has not only had an affair, but a
baby.
Why are you
doing
this to me?’ she hissed as she grabbed a green paper towel. ‘What kind of sick pleasure is it giving you to see me…
suffer
like this?’ She stamped on the pedal bin and threw the towel in. I didn’t reply. ‘Is it something from when we were kids? Something you want to punish me for twenty years later?’

We walked down the corridor, not speaking now, just listening to the crying of the babies and the respectful murmurings of visitors. We could hear our shoes squeaking across the lino.

‘Why are you
doing
this?’ Hope repeated,
sotto voce
. ‘What did I ever do to
you
to justify such cruel behaviour, Laura, such deliberately cruel, manipulative,
horrible
behaviour, I mean
why
are you doing this to me,
why
for God’s sake—it’s so
vile
of you and I just don’t under…stand…I…
Oh…
‘

In the distance, oblivious to our presence, was Mike. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and he was walking back and forth, with the baby in his arms, his face filled with compassion and tenderness.

‘Shhh…my darling. Shhhh…don’t cry now. Please don’t cry my little girlie…come on now…that’s it…Shhhh…you’ll be fine…Shhhh…Shhhh…Don’t cry now…don’t cry…’

Hope stood rooted to the spot, as she watched Mike walk the crying baby up and down.

‘I can’t take this.’ She was shaking her head. ‘I can’t…I just…
can’t
…’

‘Shhhh…Don’t cry now…Don’t cry.’

‘
This
is where he’s been coming?’

‘Yes.’

‘All this time?’

‘No need to cry…’

‘All this time.’

‘I can’t
bear
it,’ she croaked. ‘I feel
si-ck
…Oh
God
…
Oh
my
God…
a baby. A
baby.
And where’s this…Clare, then?’ she murmured. ‘Where’s
she
? I want to see her—now that we’re here. I want to
see
the woman who’s had my husband’s child. The woman who’s destroyed my marriage and my future and my whole…
life
. Where
is
she? Where is she? Where is
Clare
?’ she demanded. ‘Why don’t you
tell
me, Laura?’

‘He’s holding her,’ I said quietly.

‘What do you mean?’

‘He’s holding her.’

She blinked. ‘But…I don’t understand.’

‘Clare’s the baby.’

‘Clare’s the
baby
? Oh. Then…who’s the
mother
?’

I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Nor does Mike. He’s never met her—and he never will.’

Hope was looking at me as though I were speaking in tongues.

‘Then…what…?’

‘Clare’s mother is a heroin addict, so Clare was born one too. And the babies of drug-dependent mothers suffer withdrawal symptoms, so they need someone to hold them and cuddle them, and walk them up and down because they tend to be very jittery and they cry a lot. And their muscles are very tense, making it hard for them to go to sleep, so they need extra holding and soothing, which the nurses don’t always have time to do. So that is what Mike, along with a number of other volunteers, has been doing for the past two months. He has no idea that I know, or that I spoke to the nurse who organizes the programme.’

‘Oh,’ said Hope. She was still staring at Mike. Her mouth quivered. Then I saw a tear slide down her face.

‘Shhh my little baby,’ we heard him say. ‘Shhhh…’

‘Oh,’ she whispered. ‘I
see
…’

‘Shhh darling…Shhhh, it’s okay…it’s okay my little girl…you’ll be fine…you’ll be fine…don’t cry now…please don’t cry…’

‘So…he
hasn’t
had an affair?’

‘No.’

‘So…he was just doing it…?’ She blinked in bewilderment.

‘To be kind, Hope.’

‘But then…why didn’t he
tell
me? Why
hide
it Laura?’

Mike chose that moment to look up. He registered our presence, then stared at us, his eyes shining with shock.

‘That’s something you’ll have to ask him.’

The next day, when I got to work, there was an e-mail from Hope.

I’ve taken the day off. Meet me for lunch? Hx

‘My treat,’ she said quietly when I met her at Zucca’s. ‘It’s the least I can do.’ She still looked pale—but less tense than she had for a long time, as though a screw in her chest had stopped turning.

‘I’m sorry,’ she began as we sat in the window. She picked at her salad. ‘I’m sorry for all the horrible things I said to you last night.’

‘That’s okay.
I’m
sorry I had to keep you in the dark. I knew it would be very stressful, but I didn’t want to say anything beforehand.’

‘You were right not to,’ she said. ‘I needed to see it for myself. I needed to be shocked by it—and I was.’

‘So what happened? After I left?’

‘Mike was just so…
amazed
to see me. He asked me to go home. Then, when he got back, we stayed up until half two, just talking. That’s why I’ve taken the day off—I was just so
exhausted
, so I called in sick. Plus the emotional stress of it all had got to me. But…I didn’t
know,
‘ she said wonderingly. ‘I didn’t realize…‘

‘How much he minded?’

‘I had
no
idea.’ She was shaking her head. ‘Until I saw him last night. We never
talked
about it. It was a closed subject.’

‘Why didn’t he open it up?’ There were tears standing in her eyes.

‘Because he knew I wouldn’t change my mind.’

‘I see…’

‘He told me how much he loved me, and that he hadn’t wanted to lose me. So when he heard about the Cuddlers’ Programme at the hospital…’

‘How
did
he hear about it?’

‘Through someone at work. She was a volunteer, and she happened to mention it to him just before Christmas, so he applied—they vet them very carefully—and he was accepted. He said that he didn’t tell me about it because he knew that if he did, it would lead to a very painful conversation, but he said he’d wanted to hold a baby so much…’ She leaned her face in her hand. ‘He said he wanted to know what it felt like to really hold a baby in his arms. And that little baby, Clare, had been in the unit longer than the other babies because she’s had particular problems—so it was always Clare who Mike walked. But he was told she’d be going home at the end of this week, so he wanted her to have something from him.’

‘The silver bangle.’

She nodded. ‘Because he knows he’ll never see her again. He’ll never know her second name, or who her mother is, or her father, or where she lives, or anything about her. All he knew was that she needed to be held.’ She blinked back her tears. ‘He’d become very…fond of her. He cried when he talked about not seeing her again.’

‘So he
had
fallen in love with Clare.’

‘Yes.’ She pulled a tissue out of her bag. ‘He had.’

‘So…you talked half the night.’ She nodded. ‘With any…result?’

There was a pause. ‘No. But I’m glad that I at least
understood
. I finally understood how
deprived
Mike had felt.’

‘But why hadn’t you
guessed
?’

‘Because, not only did he not talk about it, he behaved as though he wasn’t remotely
interested
in babies—but now I know that that was only a front. He said that when we got married he’d thought he wouldn’t mind, but how it had then started to eat away at him, especially as our friends began to have children. He said that every time he had to go to another christening he’d come away feeling bitter and depressed. He said that having Hope meant that he was “hopeless”. It was his sad little private joke.’

‘So that’s why he behaved strangely at Olivia’s christening…’

‘Yes. And that’s why he was never keen on going round to see Hugh and Fliss. He said Felicity got him down, boring on about Olivia the whole time.’

‘I know the feeling,’ I said.

‘But last night, as we sat there, Mike looked around our lovely cream drawing room, and he said how he longed for children to trash it, and scribble on the walls, and spill things on the carpet, and make chaos and mess and noise—all the things I’ve never wanted.’

‘So?’

‘So…’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t…
know
. I’m just so glad it wasn’t what I thought. Mike
wasn’t
having an affair, and he
was
telling the truth when he said he wouldn’t ever have one. But how can I stay with him now? How
can
I Laura?’ Her eyes had filled again. ‘It wouldn’t be fair. He loves me, but he wants children. And those two things are incompatible.’

My heart sank. ‘So you don’t think you could…change your mind?’

She sighed. ‘I have
never
wanted children. You know that. I have never wanted to go through a pregnancy or endure the broken nights, or the noise and the stress. I’ve never wanted the awful
responsibility
, or the anxiety—the white-knuckle ride of parenthood.’ She fiddled with her knife. ‘Not everyone
wants
children. You can have a lovely life without them, can’t you?’ I didn’t answer. ‘And I can’t help how I feel.’

‘But couldn’t you…?
Couldn’t
you…?’

She looked at me. ‘Be persuaded?’ She shook her head. ‘No…I don’t think I could.’ She breathed a deep sigh, then looked at me. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘I’m thinking that a couple of years ago, Felicity asked Mike whether he minded not having a family.’

‘Really?’ she murmured.

‘And he just said…that it was a question of love.’

‘Oh. Well…that was a nice thing to say.’

‘Yes. That’s what we thought.’

‘That’s what
you
said to me, Laura, when I asked you how you could stand Luke’s situation.’

‘Did I?’ I looked at her. ‘Oh, yes. I remember that now…’

We sat there in silence, then she called for the bill. ‘Thank you for helping me, Laura.’ She picked up her bag. ‘I know you didn’t want to.’

‘I wish I hadn’t had to.’

We pushed back our chairs. ‘So…are you going back to work?’

‘No. Tom said I could take the rest of the day off because I came in over Easter.’

‘So what are you doing now?

‘I’m going to have tea with Luke.’ I pulled on the door. ‘And Magda.’

‘
Magda
? You’re seeing Magda?’

‘I am.’

‘If this is an April Fool, Laura, I’m afraid you’ve missed the twelve o’clock deadline and in any case I’d never fall for it.’

‘It
isn’t
an April Fool,’ I said.

Although April Fool’s Day
was
an appropriate day on which to be meeting Magda, I told myself a few minutes later as I sprang the catch on Luke’s gate. I glanced up at his bedroom window and had a sudden vision of my jeans and t-shirt being flung out of it. Or perhaps they’d jumped, to try and save themselves…I realized that I was sweating, despite the fresh breeze. As I lifted my hand to the bell, my heart was hammering in my ribcage.

‘There you are!’ said Luke. He was smiling broadly, but I could see the whites of his eyes. ‘Magda and Jessica are already here.’

‘Lovely…’ I said impotently.

Suddenly, Magda appeared. As she advanced down the hallway she smiled at me warmly, as though greeting a cherished friend.

‘Laura! How
nice
to meet you properly. Jessica darlink do take Laura’s coat for her.’

Jessica, looking subdued and confused, did as she was told. Magda extended to me a cool, dry hand, which made me aware that my own was horribly damp. I felt like Alice in Wonderland, except that I was accumulating a pool not of tears, but of sweat. As I gave her a clammy handshake I hoped she wouldn’t smell my fear.

‘Come and sit down,’ she said.

As I went into the sitting room I registered two things—resentment at being graciously welcomed into my own boyfriend’s house, by his ex-wife; and searing, excoriating jealousy.

Magda was beautiful.

The photos I’d seen of her hadn’t done her justice. Her skin was very pale, with the blue-white translucency of alabaster; her exceptionally long hair was as heavy and glossy as silk; her eyes were big, and wide set, with the same large blue irises that Jessica had and the same elegantly exposed eyelids; her feet and hands were small, as was her waist. She was…classically beautiful. Like a lovely porcelain doll.

I wanted to hate her, with my own idiosyncratic features and my griddle-panned hair and big feet; but I couldn’t even dislike her, I realized, as she sat there chatting to me animatedly in her delightfully accented English, putting me at my ease, koshing me with her charm, while Luke hovered in the background, his mouth, like mine, a rictus of anxiety, his upper and lower eyelids just that bit too far apart.

Hungary had produced Edward Teller—inventor of the atomic bomb—and Estée Lauder. Terror and beauty. Magda to a tee.