Christmas at Little Beach Street Bakery
Page 48
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Had her mother told her that story? she wondered. Was that where it had come from?
They sped on through the night towards Plymouth. Polly glanced at Jackie.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked gently.
Jackie half smiled.
‘It’s so strange,’ she said. ‘It only feels like yesterday that Kez was a baby. My baby. having a baby. Well. Her dad wasn’t half so calm as you, driving me to the hospital. Mind you, she wasn’t for hanging about, that one. Always in a rush. Nearly had her in the car park.’
Jackie smiled.
‘She was… she was the sunniest child, Polly. The light of our lives, truly, even when the boys came along. There’s something special about your first child, there really is. Always.’
Polly just nodded.
‘And recently… I don’t know. I’ve been worried about her. It’s like the spark has gone out of her. Have you noticed? Do you feel that?’
Polly shrugged. ‘I think… I think maybe she’s had a tough pregnancy.’
‘Maybe,’ frowned Jackie. ‘She’s certainly looked enormous.’
‘I wouldn’t say that to her.’
‘Ha! No!’
Jackie glanced at her phone.
‘Nothing. She knows we’re on the way, doesn’t she?’
‘She does,’ said Polly. ‘Also she’ll be surrounded by everybody fussing. They probably won’t let her do much. There’s probably a special way of having babies rich people do, where it doesn’t hurt and there isn’t any mess or anything.’
‘Hmm,’ said Jackie.
Polly thought of a poem: all the way to the hospital, the lights were green as peppermints, the roads finally emptying out. It was time now; everyone it seemed was where they had to be, home for Christmas, whatever home meant for them, whether it was with friends, or loved ones, or working in a shelter. It was time. It was ready. The bright stars of the world were holding their breath.
Chapter Thirty-Two
On the private wing, there was bustle and fuss and soft flattering lighting and a rather bored-looking consultant still wearing his tweed jacket and clearly waiting for something to happen.
Rhonda was yelling into her phone at Reuben’s siblings back in the US, while Merv was strolling up and down the corridors with his hands behind his back. Reuben was shouting about how awesome Kerensa was and how she was going to have this baby entirely naturally without any drugs, and there was some muted response from Kerensa that seemed to disagree with this theory entirely, and all in all it felt like there were a lot more people in the room than was entirely necessary, including lots of staff, and then of course Jackie burst in too, so then there were tears and hugs and Rhonda stepped back somewhat coolly, it had to be said, and Polly stood by the sidelines.
She caught Kerensa’s eye, but Kerensa seemed to be somewhere else altogether; off in another land, where pain and something very strange and new were happening, and Polly didn’t think it was entirely right that they should all be there for something so very special, and certainly not her, so she squeezed Kerensa’s hand, whispered, ‘You’ll do it, my darling,’ then kissed her on her damp forehead and quietly retreated, stealing down the hospital corridors.
They were deserted, just a man in the corner cleaning with one of those big double-wheeled mops. Polly had no doubt he wanted to get home to his family for Christmas too.
She took out her phone and looked at the screen. Nothing. What was wrong with Huckle? Where was he? This was Christmas. What did it mean? Were they finished? Was it over? Surely not. She called, but there was no answer. Of course in Cornwall this didn’t always mean very much. She sighed, and sent him a text.
Happy Christmas. Please can we…
She deleted the last bit. Maybe let everything go calm for a little while. Just a while.
Then she dialled another number.
‘Hello, Mum. Yes, I know it’s late but the causeway’s closed and…’
They sat up with cups of tea, her mother having made it quite clear that there would never be any more booze with the two of them in the room. She’d also looked very sadly at the Range Rover and murmured that she’d always hoped Polly would have had a nice car of her own, but Polly had chosen to ignore that.
‘I remember the night you were born,’ Doreen said quietly, as they sat, the omnipresent television on, playing carols from Trafalgar Square. There was a small plastic tree, with fake presents underneath it, that made Polly sadder than she could bear to think. She brought in all her gifts she’d been thankfully too lazy to remove from the car, even though she knew that a Marks and Sparks dressing gown, a new scarf and a nail voucher her mother would never use were hardly the stuff dreams were made of. Likewise the basket she could see with her name on it. When she was a teenager she’d loved the Body Shop, and Doreen had helpfully never deviated from it since.
‘Tell me,’ said Polly, staring into the gas fire and wishing Neil was there.
‘Well. Your grandad… of course it was too much for him. I mean, they’d been very supportive and everything, even though I’d lost my job, couldn’t be on the shop floor, not really, not with that bump sticking out and all the men coming in to buy hats for their wives… It sounds a thousand years ago, but it wasn’t really.’
Polly smiled.
‘And your grandma, God rest her soul, I mean, she never learned to drive. So we took a cab, an old Cortina, stank of fags. I couldn’t bear the smell. When we got to the hospital, she checked me in but then left me. She had to get back, or she felt she should, or Dad needed his tea or… well. I don’t know why. I never did really. Maybe she was worried she’d bump into one of her friends or something. They were supportive, they were, truly. We lived with them for a few years, until this house came up. And they never told me off. I mean some girls, they got thrown out. Some got sent away, you know. The Catholic girls, the things that happened to them were unbelievable. And recent, too.’
She took a long sip of her tea.
‘So. Anyway. I had to… I had to do it all by myself. All alone. They weren’t very interested, the nurses. They were too busy chatting to the nervous husbands and the doctors. They hadn’t much time for a little scrubber like me. When it hurt, one of them said to me, well you should have thought about that, shouldn’t you?’ Her eyes filled with tears.
They sped on through the night towards Plymouth. Polly glanced at Jackie.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked gently.
Jackie half smiled.
‘It’s so strange,’ she said. ‘It only feels like yesterday that Kez was a baby. My baby. having a baby. Well. Her dad wasn’t half so calm as you, driving me to the hospital. Mind you, she wasn’t for hanging about, that one. Always in a rush. Nearly had her in the car park.’
Jackie smiled.
‘She was… she was the sunniest child, Polly. The light of our lives, truly, even when the boys came along. There’s something special about your first child, there really is. Always.’
Polly just nodded.
‘And recently… I don’t know. I’ve been worried about her. It’s like the spark has gone out of her. Have you noticed? Do you feel that?’
Polly shrugged. ‘I think… I think maybe she’s had a tough pregnancy.’
‘Maybe,’ frowned Jackie. ‘She’s certainly looked enormous.’
‘I wouldn’t say that to her.’
‘Ha! No!’
Jackie glanced at her phone.
‘Nothing. She knows we’re on the way, doesn’t she?’
‘She does,’ said Polly. ‘Also she’ll be surrounded by everybody fussing. They probably won’t let her do much. There’s probably a special way of having babies rich people do, where it doesn’t hurt and there isn’t any mess or anything.’
‘Hmm,’ said Jackie.
Polly thought of a poem: all the way to the hospital, the lights were green as peppermints, the roads finally emptying out. It was time now; everyone it seemed was where they had to be, home for Christmas, whatever home meant for them, whether it was with friends, or loved ones, or working in a shelter. It was time. It was ready. The bright stars of the world were holding their breath.
Chapter Thirty-Two
On the private wing, there was bustle and fuss and soft flattering lighting and a rather bored-looking consultant still wearing his tweed jacket and clearly waiting for something to happen.
Rhonda was yelling into her phone at Reuben’s siblings back in the US, while Merv was strolling up and down the corridors with his hands behind his back. Reuben was shouting about how awesome Kerensa was and how she was going to have this baby entirely naturally without any drugs, and there was some muted response from Kerensa that seemed to disagree with this theory entirely, and all in all it felt like there were a lot more people in the room than was entirely necessary, including lots of staff, and then of course Jackie burst in too, so then there were tears and hugs and Rhonda stepped back somewhat coolly, it had to be said, and Polly stood by the sidelines.
She caught Kerensa’s eye, but Kerensa seemed to be somewhere else altogether; off in another land, where pain and something very strange and new were happening, and Polly didn’t think it was entirely right that they should all be there for something so very special, and certainly not her, so she squeezed Kerensa’s hand, whispered, ‘You’ll do it, my darling,’ then kissed her on her damp forehead and quietly retreated, stealing down the hospital corridors.
They were deserted, just a man in the corner cleaning with one of those big double-wheeled mops. Polly had no doubt he wanted to get home to his family for Christmas too.
She took out her phone and looked at the screen. Nothing. What was wrong with Huckle? Where was he? This was Christmas. What did it mean? Were they finished? Was it over? Surely not. She called, but there was no answer. Of course in Cornwall this didn’t always mean very much. She sighed, and sent him a text.
Happy Christmas. Please can we…
She deleted the last bit. Maybe let everything go calm for a little while. Just a while.
Then she dialled another number.
‘Hello, Mum. Yes, I know it’s late but the causeway’s closed and…’
They sat up with cups of tea, her mother having made it quite clear that there would never be any more booze with the two of them in the room. She’d also looked very sadly at the Range Rover and murmured that she’d always hoped Polly would have had a nice car of her own, but Polly had chosen to ignore that.
‘I remember the night you were born,’ Doreen said quietly, as they sat, the omnipresent television on, playing carols from Trafalgar Square. There was a small plastic tree, with fake presents underneath it, that made Polly sadder than she could bear to think. She brought in all her gifts she’d been thankfully too lazy to remove from the car, even though she knew that a Marks and Sparks dressing gown, a new scarf and a nail voucher her mother would never use were hardly the stuff dreams were made of. Likewise the basket she could see with her name on it. When she was a teenager she’d loved the Body Shop, and Doreen had helpfully never deviated from it since.
‘Tell me,’ said Polly, staring into the gas fire and wishing Neil was there.
‘Well. Your grandad… of course it was too much for him. I mean, they’d been very supportive and everything, even though I’d lost my job, couldn’t be on the shop floor, not really, not with that bump sticking out and all the men coming in to buy hats for their wives… It sounds a thousand years ago, but it wasn’t really.’
Polly smiled.
‘And your grandma, God rest her soul, I mean, she never learned to drive. So we took a cab, an old Cortina, stank of fags. I couldn’t bear the smell. When we got to the hospital, she checked me in but then left me. She had to get back, or she felt she should, or Dad needed his tea or… well. I don’t know why. I never did really. Maybe she was worried she’d bump into one of her friends or something. They were supportive, they were, truly. We lived with them for a few years, until this house came up. And they never told me off. I mean some girls, they got thrown out. Some got sent away, you know. The Catholic girls, the things that happened to them were unbelievable. And recent, too.’
She took a long sip of her tea.
‘So. Anyway. I had to… I had to do it all by myself. All alone. They weren’t very interested, the nurses. They were too busy chatting to the nervous husbands and the doctors. They hadn’t much time for a little scrubber like me. When it hurt, one of them said to me, well you should have thought about that, shouldn’t you?’ Her eyes filled with tears.
