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  Blossom pulls herself free. ‘Don’t you touch me!’

  ‘When was this? How long ago?’

  ‘Two hours, about. Didn’t notice.’

  ‘Have you any idea what you’ve done?’

  Blossom shrugs.

  ‘You’ve turned away the father of my baby, that’s what you’ve done. I’ve been trying to trace him for months and now I may never find him!’

  ‘Not my problem.’

  ‘But why? Why did you do this? What have I ever done to you?’

  Blossom mutters something about my morals, and babies out of wedlock.

  ‘And what about lying?’ I counter. ‘That’s okay, is it? It’s all right to tell lies to a total stranger? Lies about something which is none of your business?’

  ‘Seems nothing’s my business nowadays,’ says Blossom mutinously.

  ‘Just because Eric and Silas don’t want you to know all about their private lives, you decide to take it out on me? That’s not fair, Blossom, and you know it.’

  ‘Done, now. Too late to do anything about it,’ says Blossom.

  ‘Did he leave a phone number? An address? Anything at all?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘And you didn’t think to ask anyone else? Eric or Silas? My mother?’

  ‘Out.’

  ‘What, all of them?’

  Blossom smirks, and I can see that she’s lying, although I haven’t any proof.

  ‘Well, I think what you’ve done is unforgivable. I’ve tried to get on with you, Blossom. I’ve put up with your rudeness and your moods, and this is all the thanks I get.’

  ‘Your problem.’ Blossom switches on the vacuum cleaner again. ‘Nothing to do with me,’ she yells above the noise.

  ‘Quite. It was nothing to do with you.’ But of course, Blossom can no longer hear me.

  It would seem that our little chat is now over.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Kaz finds me weeping at the kitchen table.

  ‘Hey! What’s up? Bad news at the clinic?’ Kaz sits down and puts her arm round my shoulders.

  ‘No. Your bloody mother.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Kaz hands me a roll of kitchen towel.

  ‘Oh dear indeed.’ I blow my nose. ‘Sorry to talk about her to you like this, but she really is a cow of the first order.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ Kaz sits down beside me. ‘So what’s she been up to this time?’

  ‘She’s been “up to” turning away Amos.’

  ‘Your bloke?’

  ‘Well, he never will be now, will he? Blossom told him no-one here had ever heard of me.’

  ‘Oops.’

  ‘He turned up — he actually came here looking for me. I left this address with my parents’ neighbours so that if he ever came looking for me, he’d know where to find me. I was out, and it had to be your mother who answered the door. Blossom never answers the door. Talk about sod’s law!’

  ‘God, I’m sorry Ruth. Didn’t he leave a message or anything?’

  ‘No. Because as far as he’s concerned, I don’t live here, do I? I suppose I’m lucky she didn’t tell him I was dead while she was about it.’

  ‘I knew she was upset with you all, but not that upset. Oh dear. I’m so sorry, Ruth. I really am.’

  ‘It’s not your fault.’ I tear off more kitchen roll and wipe my eyes. ‘But oh, Kaz! What am I going to do? Amos finding me here was my last chance, and now it’s gone. And so has he. He won’t come back here again.’

  ‘He mightn’t have been the right one for you. You said so yourself.’

  ‘Yes. But I wanted to decide. My decision. Not bloody bloody Blossom’s!’

  ‘I can see that.’ Kaz strokes my hair. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘Not really. An itinerant trombone player ought to be easy to find, particularly that one, but apparently not. Amos seems to have this knack of disappearing.’

  ‘How was the clinic?’ Kaz changes the subject.

  ‘Oh, fine. The midwife said about ten days to go.’

  ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’

  ‘You know, Kaz, I don’t really care. I’m so tired, there’s been so much going on, what with Silas’s illness and everything. I’ve hardly had time to think about babies.’

  ‘Ruth, you have to. It’s ridiculous to say you haven’t had time to think about the baby. The truth is that you don’t want to think about it.’

  ‘That’s not fair!’

  ‘Isn’t it? You’ve had nine months to think about it, and you hardly ever mention it. It’s almost as though there isn’t a baby at all. You decided to keep it. You’ve had all your scans and things. Now you have to start planning for it. Looking forward to it, even.’

  ‘You sound like my mother.’

  ‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it? You need a bit of bossing about. You need someone to look after you.’

  ‘I need Amos.’ The tears start again. I imagine Amos’s big arms around me, Amos telling me everything’s going to be all right, Amos at my side while I give birth to our child, Amos bringing me flowers, and being proud. ‘I need him so much, Kaz. You’ve no idea how much.’

  ‘I can imagine.’ Kaz pauses for a moment. ‘Well, we’ll just have to find him.’

  ‘How? How are we going to find him?’

  ‘Let’s start with your friends. We’ll phone them all up and see whether anyone has any idea of where he is.’

  ‘But I did that ages ago.’

  ‘Yes, but that was when he’d gone abroad. Now that he’s back, you’ve got more chance of finding him. He must be somewhere, for goodness’ sake! Someone must know where he is.’

  I fetch my address book, and together Kaz and I go through it. Of course, many of my friends don’t know Amos, but the musical world is a small one, and my friends from college and from the orchestra prove to be more help than I had anticipated. There have been several recent sightings of Amos, who has apparently been doing the rounds, looking up old friends. No-one seems to know where’s he’s living, or even to have his phone number, but Amos is apparently very much around, and looking for work in the London area.

  ‘That’s a start,’ says Kaz, when we call a halt for a cup of coffee.

  ‘London’s a big place,’ I remind her.

  ‘Yes. But it’s a lot nearer than Barbados, and you’ve left plenty of messages. I bet he’ll get in touch soon. Just you wait.’

  I am not good at waiting, although given the amount of practice I’ve had recently I certainly ought to be. But I have no choice. If Amos gets any of my messages, I’m pretty sure he’ll be in touch, but there’s no guarantee that it’ll be soon. As for the baby, Kaz and I discuss this at length and we both decide that it would be best that he shouldn’t know about it at this stage. As Kaz says, it might scare him off, and that’s the last thing I want to do.

  ‘Though I don’t think Amos is the kind of person to be scared off by a baby,’ I tell her. ‘Or anything else, come to that.’

  ‘Why take the risk?’ Kaz asks me.

  ‘Good point. He’ll have to know some time, but perhaps not yet.’

  Fortunately, at this point we are interrupted by several pilgrims who wish to adopt chickens, and since Lazzo is currently suffering from flu and Mum is out helping Dad choose kitchen units, the job falls to Kaz and me. Neither of us is good with Lazzo’s chicken-catching device, so it takes us an inordinate amount of time to trap three particularly scruffy specimens (it seems the fox chose all the better-looking ones).

  ‘But I wanted the ones with the little furry trousers,’ their putative owner objects. ‘These aren’t nearly so pretty.’

  ‘Little furry trousers are all very well,’ says Kaz, nursing some nasty scratches, ‘but they don’t lay well.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ The pilgrim/chicken-lover looks dubious.

  ‘Quite sure. Trust me. And these have all been blessed. By a bishop.’

  ‘Have they really?’ The woman looks impressed. I notice that she is carrying a ros
ary. Kaz says the religious ones are always the most gullible.

  ‘Of course. You’ve no idea what a difference it makes. Now, take them home and enjoy them.’

  ‘Kaz, really! You’re almost as bad as your mother,’ I tell her, as we return to the house. ‘Blessed, indeed!’

  ‘Well, I had to get rid of her somehow, and there’s no way I’m chasing little furry trousers all over the garden. Little furry trousers run very fast indeed. Only Lazzo can catch them, and I’m not even going to try.’

  ‘And is it true that they don’t lay well?’

  Kaz laughs. ‘I’ve no idea.’

  Today is not supposed to be a day for visits to the Virgin, but we receive three more lots of visitors before dark. Two are regulars, and know their own way around, and the third has brought a rather splendid pair of Rhode Island Reds.

  ‘My son gave me these for Christmas,’ he tells me. ‘My wife died in the summer, and the children think I’m lonely. But I’m not sure chickens will help.’

  I agree, wondering what kind of people could conceivably imagine that chickens would be an antidote to grief. A dog or cat might at least be company, but chickens?

  ‘I’m sure we’ll find them a good home,’ I tell him, and then, because I feel sorry for him, I invite him in for a cup of tea. By the time I’ve heard his story of long years of caring for a wife gradually disabled by dementia (‘the long good-bye, they call it,’ he tells me) I feel ashamed for feeling so sorry for myself earlier on. After all, I’m still fairly young, I’m fit, and as Kaz points out, no-one has died. I resolve to pull myself together and start being responsible, beginning with an inventory of the pitifully small collection of equipment which awaits the advent of the baby.

  ‘Two vests won’t be enough,’ says Kaz, watching me.

  ‘Then I shall buy more.’

  ‘And nappies. You’ve forgotten those.’

  ‘Nappies, too.’

  ‘You’d better hurry up. Time is not on your side.’

  ‘Right. Tomorrow I shall go out and buy vests and nappies.’

  ‘That’s my girl,’ says Kaz. ‘I’ll come with you. And we can go to that new little café that sells wonderful cream slices.’

  ‘Aren’t I big enough already?’ I ask her.

  ‘No-one,’ says Kaz, ‘is ever too big for a cream slice.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  But during the vest/nappy-buying expedition, Kaz appears to have preoccupations of her own.

  ‘Kaz? What’s up?’ I ask her, when we adjourn for coffee and cream slices. She looks pale, and she obviously hasn’t slept, and I suspect that the news isn’t good.

  ‘I’ve slept with someone.’

  ‘Kent. Yes. You said you were going to.’ My heart sinks. For if they’ve slept together, breaking up will be so much harder.

  ‘No. Someone else.’

  ‘Goodness.’ I put down my cup. ‘But why, Kaz? And who?’

  ‘An old friend.’ Kaz fiddles with her teaspoon.

  ‘Let me get this straight. You’re supposed to be having a — thing with Kent, but you’ve gone and slept with an old friend! What on earth were you thinking of?’

  ‘Long story.’

  ‘Good thing we’ve got plenty of time, then.’

  ‘You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?’

  ‘Nope.’ Though given Kent’s feelings about the future, this may be one solution.

  ‘I was — upset. Kent and I had this horrible row, and I needed cheering up.’

  ‘I see. So the cure for a lovers’ tiff is to dash out and find a replacement?’

  ‘Oh Ruth, it wasn’t like that at all.’

  ‘Well, what was it like?’

  ‘He’s got this thing about his age, and I don’t think it matters, and we had this argument, and it kind of — well, it got out of hand. I said some horrible things.’

  ‘And he did, too?’

  ‘No. Kent never does anything horrible. That’s the trouble. He’s so bloody nice all the time. He just goes all quiet and sad, and then I feel awful and make things even worse.’

  ‘So let me get this straight. You were horrible to Kent, who didn’t deserve it, and then you went off and slept with someone else. What a brilliant move!’

  ‘Actually, he was the one who “went off”. He said he needed to be alone, and he went back to his caravan, and I was upset, and I went to see Gary. Gary and I go back a long way. We just had a few drinks, but one thing lead to another. And Ruth, I’m so, so sorry. I feel terrible.’

  ‘It’s not me you should be apologising to.’

  ‘I thought you’d — I thought you might understand. After all, isn’t that what got you into your present mess in the first place?’

  ‘Oh, no. Oh no. You’re not comparing this — what you’ve done with my situation. I am not in a mess, as you so kindly put it. I may have made a mistake, but I didn’t plan to get pregnant, and I did not let anyone down. Amos and I are — were — free agents. No-one else got hurt.’

  We sit glaring at each other, while tears trickle down Kaz’s cheeks and drip onto the checked tablecloth.

  ‘Look, let’s not fall out about this.’ I decide that one of us had better rescue the situation before it escalates further. ‘We need to decide what you’re going to do.’

  ‘I’ll have to tell Kent, won’t I?’

  ‘Will you? Won’t telling him make things worse?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Kaz says wretchedly. ‘Oh, Ruth, what am I like?’

  ‘Well, you’re kind and funny, and — and bloody impossible!’ I can’t help smiling. ‘But if you really love Kent, I’d leave this for the moment. It might make you feel better to tell him, but it certainly won’t help the situation.’

  ‘Mm.’ Her hair is rumpled, and there are streaks of mascara down her cheeks, but she still manages to look as stunning as ever. ‘Ruth, do you think — do you think twenty years older is too old?’

  I’ve been thinking about this ever since my conversation with Kent, and I’m not sure. ‘Yes and no. I think it’s more a matter of you being mature enough to take on someone of his age. Running off and sleeping with someone else as soon as the going gets tough isn’t a mature thing to do, is it?’

  ‘I’ll never do it again. If he stays with me, I swear I’ll be faithful. I really will.’

  ‘Well in that case, if I were you I’d go home and apologise nicely for the things you said, and try to discuss the situation as calmly as you can. I’m sure he’ll listen if you can keep your cool. Then ask him to give you — you and him — a bit more time. After all, there’s no hurry, is there? No-one’s going anywhere.’

  ‘Would you have a word with him?’ Kaz pushes her plate towards me.

  ‘If I get the chance, I will,’ I promise, finishing off Kaz’s cream slice and thinking that if I go on like this, I’m going to have one very fat baby.

  The next day, I find myself alone with Kent in the orchard.

  ‘About you and Kaz,’ I begin.

  ‘Has she been telling you about her — our row?’

  ‘Her row, I think it was.’ I laugh. ‘Yes, she has. Kent, she really loves you. I know she’s young, but could you give her a chance? I don’t think Kaz has had much love in her life, and maybe someone like you is exactly what she needs.’

  ‘I just feel that I’ll be — taking advantage of her, I suppose.’

  ‘Trust me. No-one takes advantage of Kaz,’ I tell him. ‘She’s young, and she can be stupid, but she’s also pretty canny, and I reckon she’s been looking after herself most of her life. It’s love that she needs.’

  ‘Maybe. I’d love it to work out. She’s a special girl, Ruth. Not just pretty. There are lots of pretty girls around. But few as — as special as Kaz. Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps we should give it a bit more time.’

  By now, the news of Kaz and Kent has got out, and everyone seems to know (everyone, that is, except my parents, who have a blind spot where such goings-on are concerned). Si
las and Eric, those most accepting of men, seem quite happy about the situation, if a bit surprised. But Blossom is furious.

  ‘Dratted girl!’ she says, sending a tsunami of soapy water across the kitchen floor. ‘Anything in trousers. Always been like that. Takes after her father.’

  From what I’ve heard, nothing could be further from the truth, but there’s no point in saying so.

  ‘Don’t you want her to be happy?’ I venture.

  ‘Happy? Humph.’ Slosh, swipe. ‘She wants to be happy, does she? I’ll give her happy!’

  She flings down her mop and slams out into the garden.

  So it seems that yet again, the focus is on other people and their problems. Just as I have got Kaz on side and excited about the baby, her attention is lost to more pressing problems. And while I am still not as excited as I probably ought to be, I quite enjoy the excitement and the attention of others. For the first time since I came to Applegarth, I feel very much alone, and if I am honest, frightened. For whatever my feelings about it, the baby is going to come out, and it’s going to hurt. That much I know. I’ve paid scant attention to the ante-natal classes, and I am ill-prepared for the rigours of childbirth. I have at least one friend who’s sworn that she’s “never going through that again”, and has stuck to her word, enjoying her daughter but flatly refusing to have any more children. I have never been particularly good with pain, and Mum, while supportive, can be squeamish. Supposing she faints? Supposing we both faint? It won’t be much of a welcome for a baby who didn’t ask to be born and wasn’t even wanted in the first place.

  I wander into the sitting room and find Eric, who is preoccupied with the problem of humming birds. For it is not only bees and other insects that need flowers, he tells me. Humming birds do, too.

  ‘But surely God wouldn’t have expected Noah to have more than just two birds, and they could have been anything. Robins are nice and easy. How about robins?’

  ‘No. The Bible says two of “every kind of bird, every kind of animal and every kind of reptile”. So you can’t get away with just robins. I’ve had to leave out a lot; it would take more than a lifetime to deal with every single species. But I’ve dealt with quite a few. Owls, eagles, ostriches — you’ve no idea, Ruth. It’s incredibly complicated.’