The Saffron Gate (25 page)

^{Not until Etienne.}

^{He added a dimension to my life I didn't know I was missing. I now saw it — that former life — as a grey twilight, empty and colourless.}

^{And when I realised there would be a child . . . there was no choice but for us to marry. He was a man of substance, of integrity. I hadn't doubted, for even a moment, that he would immediately propose, and we would marry without delay. I had mapped it all out in my head over the last few weeks, with an ecstasy I could barely contain: he would leave his rooms and move in with me. We would buy a new, bigger bed and move into the larger bedroom. My old bedroom would become a nursery; I could set up my paints in a corner of the kitchen. But now . . . I swallowed, and knew that even though it was close to midnight, I would be sick, as I was most mornings now. I rushed from the room, retching over and over in the bathroom.}

^{When I had finished, I shakily washed my face and rinsed my mouth, and then returned to the bedroom. Etienne was already dressed, sitting on the bed tying his shoes. He looked up at me with such an unreadable expression that something like fear came over me. Again my stomach heaved, although it was empty now.}

^{I put my hand over my mouth.}

^{He stood. 'I'm sorry, Sidonie,' he said in French. 'It's . . . it's just the shock. I need to think. Don't be hurt.'}

^{Don't be hurt?
How could I not be hurt by his reaction? 'Won't you stay with me tonight? Please?' I said. I needed him to put his arms around me. I shivered, partly from chill, in my light nightgown, and partly from my anxiety. But he didn't. I stood in the doorway, and he near the bed. Only a few yards separated us, but it felt like a mile.}

^{'I'll come on Thursday morning then, at nine, and take you to the clinic. For a professional opinion,' he said.}

^{'But . . . but you're a professional.'}

^{'It's different,' he said. 'A doctor doesn't treat his . . . shouldn't diagnose those he's close to.' He came to me; he couldn't leave the bedroom with me in the doorway. I didn't step aside to let him pass.}

^{'Etienne,' I said, putting my hands on his arms. I tried not to dig my fingers into his sleeves. I needed to hold on to him, to keep him with me.}

^{He did pull me to him then, pressing my head against his chest. I heard his heartbeat, too fast, as though he'd been running. And after too brief a time he gently moved away, stroked my hair once, and then was gone.}

^{The rest of that long night, and all of Wednesday, had been endless and confusing and filled with distress. I wouldn't let myself think that I had been wrong about Etienne's feelings for me. I couldn't. I couldn't have been so wrong.}

^{The almost silent ride to the clinic — where my pregnancy was confirmed — had been bad enough, but as we approached the outskirts of Albany I could bear it no longer.}

^{'And so, Etienne?' I waited, desperate to have him say something to comfort me. 'I know it's a surprise. For both of us. But perhaps we should view it as fate.'}

^{Staring straight ahead, his hands gripping the steering wheel so intensely that his knuckles were white, he said, 'Are you saying you believe in fate, Sidonie?'}

^{'I'm not sure, Etienne. But . . . in spite of it being a surprise . . . Etienne, these things happen. They happen.' I didn't know what else to say. Of course I knew how I wanted him to react, what I wanted to hear. I wanted him to smile at me, to say that we would share the joy of this child. I wanted him to say, right now
, Marry me, Sidonie, marry me and we will spend our lives together. With our child. With our children.
Over the last few weeks, when I knew with certainty I carried a baby, I had created scenes that I had never imagined could be a part of my life. Etienne and I, playing with our child on a grassy knoll on a summer day. Christmas, with a decorated tree and gaily wrapped gifts: painted dolls or hobby horses, pretty smocked dresses or little vests and trousers. Tottering, tiny steps, birthday parties, the first day of school.}

^{I had created a portrait of myself as a traditional woman, with a husband and children. Me, a doctor's wife, a mother. And that vision looked huge, and within my reach.}

^{In the silent car I saw, with something close to desperation, how I did want it — this gift — more than I had wanted anything in my life. Unexpectedly I thought of the Karner Blue butterfly, its wings quivering as it landed lightly on the wild lupin.}

^{Now Etienne pulled the car to the side of the road and stared through the windshield. Snow came down, gently, and the edges of the road ahead and the dark, bare branches of the trees on either side grew soft, blurred. 'I'm sorry, Sidonie,' he said, his tone unreadable. 'I know I'm not behaving in the way you hoped.'}

^{I looked out the side window, seeing how the long dead grass at the side of the road poked, brittle and yellow, through the snow. I was so confused. Did he not wish to have a family? I wanted to say it, to ask,
Don't you want a child, Etienne? A child with me? Don't you want to marry me and be a husband and father?
So many emotions: shock, and sadness and disappointment, and also, yes, also anger, all combined in a swirling fusion of dark colours.}

^{I looked at him again. 'So what will we do, Etienne?' I spoke slowly, clearly, my voice low and controlled. 'I know it's not what we planned. But . . . but I want this baby. I want it more, than anything,' I repeated, more loudly, and then closed my lips before I could say anything further, because I wanted to say,
And I want you more than anything. I want you to want me in the same way.}

^{I wouldn't allow myself to beg.}

^{He looked at me then, for the first time since we'd left the clinic, and for an unknown reason, I felt something like sympathy. I suddenly knew how he would have looked when he was a boy, unsure and frightened.}

^{I thought it was how he would have looked upon hearing of his brother's shocking death. And because of this look I was able to speak more rationally than I had felt only seconds earlier.}

^{'You owe me nothing, Etienne,' I said, quietly. 'You didn't seduce me. I knew what I was doing.' My heart was thudding as I spoke the next words. 'You are free to go, if you wish.' They were brave, false words. Not about the seduction — that part was true. What was bluff was my dismissal of him, telling him he didn't have to stay with me. Didn't have to marry me.}

^{And the bluff was taking a huge chance. What if he said
yes, yes, you're right, Sidonie, we shall part company. Surely it is for the best.}

^{What would I do? I knew absolutely nothing about children. I had never even held a baby. And what of my dwindling bank account? How would I support this child? I saw myself bent over a sewing machine, like my mother. I thought of not being able to give my child the things it needed. I tried, in those few moments of silence, to imagine my life in the house on Juniper Road with an illegitimate child. And I saw myself, an ageing recluse, a dark stain on the righteous community because of my fatherless child. Could I bear to watch that child be treated with disdain because of my sins?}

^{Finally he spoke.
‘
Do you really believe me to have such a low character, Sidonie?' He picked up my hand from where it lay between us on the seat. His fingers were cold as they closed loosely around my own.}

^{I looked down at his hand, holding mine in that unnatural, stiff way.}

^{'Of course we will marry,' he said, his voice hoarse, as if his throat was too tight, and then his face softened, and, using his other hand, he cupped my chin. 'Of course,
ma chère
Sido,' and at that a sob caught in my throat. Tears came to my eyes, tears of relief, and he pulled me to him.}

^{I cried against his lapel.}

^{He did love me. He would marry me. It was not the proposal I had hoped for, but it would be all right.}

^{When he walked me to my door he said he would come by in three days — his next day off — so that we could discuss our plans. We would marry at the City Hall in a few weeks, he said, as it would take too long to arrange a marriage in the church and wait for the banns — we were both Catholic.}

^{He smiled; it was a tentative smile, but suddenly all my fears blew away. 'Would you like an engagement ring, Sidonie?' he asked. 'Shall I surprise you and choose?'}

^{It was him, the old Etienne, my Etienne. It had simply been shock, as he'd said.}

^{'No. A wedding band is all I need.' I smiled back at him.}

^{He put his hand against my abdomen, through my thick coat. 'You will sing to it.
Dodo, I'enfant, do.
I can see you as a mother. I can hear you sing a lullaby to our child.'}

^{I put my arms around him and again pressed my head against his chest, my eyes filling with tears for the second time.
Our child,
he had said. Our child.}

^{Etienne didn't come three days later. I had expected him to be at the door just after breakfast. I waited until early afternoon, then went next door and asked Mrs Barlow if Dr Duverger had called for me.}

^{He hadn't. I told myself he'd had an emergency at the hospital. Of course, for what else could keep him from coming? I waited through the evening, every hour carrying a heavier dread. Finally I undressed and went to bed, but couldn't sleep. What if he'd had an accident on the road, coming to my house? I remembered the steering wheel wrenching in my hands, the sensation of rising into the air. I saw my father lying in the cold field, and then the image of his body turned into Etienne's.}

^{Would anyone from the hospital come to tell me if he'd been hurt? Or was ill? Had he spoken of me to anyone at the hospital?}

^{I tossed and turned, too hot, then too cold. Cinnabar refused to stay on the bed, and finally I rose as well, and walked around and around the house. I was sick, a number of times, although whether it was from the baby or worry I don't know.}

^{The morning was dark and snowy. By eight o'clock I was next door again.}

^{'I'm sorry, Sidonie,' Mrs Barlow told me, 'but the line is dead. It went down early in the evening. It's the heavy snow.'}

^{I nodded with relief. Here it was, then, the explanation. Etienne had been trying to phone all evening to explain what had kept him from coming to take me into Albany to set up our marriage, but couldn't get through.}

^{'Why don't you stay and have a cup of coffee?' Mrs Barlow asked. 'You're looking drawn, dear. Are you feeling all right?'}

^{My stomach churned. 'Thank you, but I'll go back home. I . . . I'm expecting to hear from Dr Duverger. Once the telephone is working, and he calls, would you mind coming to get me?'}

^{I sat at the living-room window, unable to read, unable to paint. I watched the street, in case Etienne drove up. The snow stopped and the sun came out. A few cars toiled through the snowy street; each time I saw one I rushed to the front door and stepped out on the icy porch, willing it to be Etienne. But he would be at the hospital today, I told myself. Yesterday was his day off. He wouldn't be able to come today.}