Читать книгу A Family To Belong To - Natasha Oakley - Страница 10

GIDEON decided to wait before collecting his children. Give Debbie time to see Kate before he arrived.

He drove straight past her neat nineteen-fifties semi and down towards the coast. Debbie had been so anxious about whether Kate would be able to make it. He didn’t want to intrude. It was bad enough he hadn’t got any choice but to accept her help with Tilly and Jemima. It was too much for her.

The seafront car park was completely deserted, which was hardly surprising this early in the year. The rain had started to fall in fat, heavy drops, which meant the walk along the pebble beach he’d have liked to clear his head wasn’t really possible.

Instead he switched on the radio and watched the wind catch at the waves. The sea was a fair way out now, but at high tide it would be quite spectacular. Primal. This was just the best place on earth. He couldn’t imagine living away from here. All those years he’d spent in cities. People crammed together, rushing around with no time for each other. Look at Kate Simmonds. Somewhere along the line she’d forgotten what was important.

His mind dwelt for a moment on the woman he’d met on the ferry. Possibly she was what he’d expected. She was as carefully turned out as she was on the television, except perhaps her hair was less well groomed. He smiled. On television it fell in a smooth, swinging bob. On balance he preferred it windswept and blown around her face. Made her seem more approachable. More real.

His fingers reached out to re-tune the radio away from the high-pitched woman who was screeching about needing nothing but love. Not much chance of that if she yelled all the time. He flicked through the pre-set channels before settling on the classical one and then laid his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes.

On television Kate seemed commanding and playful. The personification of glossy, successful living. The flesh and blood woman was more confused. Vulnerable. That was the word. Katie Simmonds had always been vulnerable.

And beautiful.

He didn’t quite know where that thought had come from, but she was beautiful. She had a restful, intelligent face. One that came alive because of her eyes.

He remembered her eyes. How they could laugh while the rest of her face was impassive. And how they’d followed him around, devoted. It had been quite unnerving being the object of a teenage crush. He smiled as he wondered whether she remembered.

It certainly wouldn’t happen now. Life had moved on for the cosmopolitan Kate Simmonds. She wouldn’t give a man like him the time of day. Preoccupied, exhausted and old beyond his years. What was there about him that would interest her in the slightest? God knew why that should bother him, but it did.

Kate felt sick. It was as though she’d been punched hard in the stomach and was left reeling on the floor.

Debbie was pregnant.

Very pregnant.

She lifted her hand and waved at Debbie, who was standing in the doorway, before reaching down into the foot-well for her handbag. It was a chance to hide her face for a second. Give her a moment to school her features into delight.

Why hadn’t Debbie warned her? Told her she was expecting a baby, so she could prepare herself?

But she knew why.

Debbie wouldn’t have known how to find the words. Not when she knew how much Kate’s infertility still hurt her. She brushed a hand over her face and opened the door, pulling her collar up against the rain.

‘You’d better make a run for it,’ Debbie called into the wind, one hand cradled protectively over her stomach. ‘It doesn’t look like the rain’s going to stop any time soon.’

Kate slammed the door shut and scurried into the house. ‘This is vicious weather.’

‘You’d better give me your coat. I’ll hang it in the utility room to dry,’ Debbie offered practically. She waited while Kate unbuttoned it and handed it over before she said, ‘We’ll bring in your case later.’

‘I don’t know…Debs, I…’ Kate began awkwardly, her eyes drifting to Debbie’s distended stomach. ‘I think I might be better off staying at your mum’s. I don’t want to get in the way. I—’

Debbie smiled tearfully and then nodded. ‘I know, Kate. I do understand. Particularly with me like this.’ She turned and walked through the kitchen to the utility room.

Kate followed her as far as the kitchen and stood with her back against the melamine worktop. What was the matter with her? Why couldn’t she do this? She’d known since she was twenty-two that she couldn’t have children. It wasn’t a new discovery.

‘I thought you’d say that,’ Debbie said, coming back into the room. ‘I put fresh sheets over there yesterday afternoon. I just hoped you might be able to.’

Guilt washed over her. ‘You know I’m really pleased for you. It’s just—’

‘Difficult for you,’ Debbie finished for her.

Kate tried to smile but it didn’t quite work. The corners of her mouth lifted but her breath caught in her throat in a painful lump. Difficult didn’t even begin to describe how painful she found being around pregnant women and babies.

She’d had six years to become accustomed to the knowledge she’d never have children. Six years since a ruptured appendix had changed her life.

Every moment of that time was ingrained in her mind. She could see Aunt Babs, her round face concerned and supportive, sitting by her bed, and hear Dr Balliol’s clipped accent as he told her there’d been only limited damage to one fallopian tube. In itself it wouldn’t have been catastrophic. But…

It was the ‘but’ that had taken away any hope she might have had. The operation had revealed that her ovaries hadn’t formed properly. A ‘genetic abnormality’. She would never have children.

Never.

At twenty-two she hadn’t even realised she wanted children, but the word never was a for ever type of word. It meant for all time. It was beyond her control. It was until the day she died. She would never have a baby.

Kate looked up and met Debbie’s grey eyes. Their gentle expression told Kate that she remembered too. The memory of that time was never very far away—for either of them. Debbie had been thirteen weeks pregnant. The contrast in destiny between the two of them couldn’t have been more marked.

Debbie’s hand lay protectively over her tummy. ‘It doesn’t matter, Kate.’

‘It does. I wish…’ She trailed off, uncertain what she actually did wish. That things were different? That she wasn’t here? That she were stronger and able to accept the things she couldn’t change?

Kate hated herself for not being stronger. She could see the exhaustion in Debbie’s face. Her eyes were bloodshot and tears were obviously not far from the surface. If there’d ever been a time when she could have paid something back to Debbie for her good-natured acceptance of her into her childhood home, this was it. But…

As though she knew what she’d been thinking, Debbie broke into her thoughts. ‘I’m just so glad you’re here. I’ve been half expecting you to telephone to say you wouldn’t be able to make it and I don’t think I can do this by myself. I miss Mum so much. I keep thinking about how she won’t see my baby now.’

Her round face crumpled and Kate forgot herself and reached for her. She wasn’t even aware of the baby bump between them.

‘It’s due in another six weeks. Not long. If she’d just managed to wait…’

‘I’m sorry, Debs. I really am,’ Kate murmured, stroking her hair. For a few minutes she held her, letting her cry softly into her shoulder.

‘I shouldn’t be doing this to you,’ Debbie said, pulling away and blowing her nose in a tissue. ‘I promised myself I wouldn’t do this as soon as you arrived. But I’m just so pleased to see you. I really need you to be here.’

Kate reached out and laid her hand on Debbie’s swollen abdomen. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked softly. ‘About the baby?’

‘I didn’t know how to. Do you mind very much?’

Beneath Kate’s hand she felt a hard kick. She looked up to see Debbie pull a face. ‘Did that hurt?’

‘Not hurt exactly—but it’s not the most comfortable experience. Put that together with the heartburn and swollen ankles; the whole thing’s just perfect.’

Kate laughed as she was meant to. To her ears it sounded dutiful but it seemed to satisfy Debbie. ‘You should have told me,’ she said, pulling her hand away and turning at the sound of the back door opening.

‘That’ll be Gideon,’ Debbie said quickly.

‘Is anyone home?’

Debbie reached across to pull a tissue out of a box on the table and blew her nose fiercely. ‘I wasn’t expecting you for another couple of hours,’ she called out. ‘I hope you didn’t hurry back without getting everything you needed done.’

‘All finished.’ He smiled across at Kate as she pushed back against the worktop.

‘This is Kate. Do you remember her from—?’

Kate cut in quickly, unaccountably embarrassed. ‘We met on the ferry.’

‘Oh. That was nice. I wasn’t sure you’d remember each other,’ Debbie said, as she tucked the tissue up her sleeve. ‘Kate’s not been back to the island much since she left for university. Hardly at all since she started work.’

‘No, she hasn’t.’

There was a slight edge to his voice that forced Kate to look up at him.

His eyes held a critical expression. But fleetingly so. No sooner had she recognised it than it was gone.

Debbie peered out of the back window. ‘Is it still raining out there? Give me your coat, Gideon. It might dry off a bit before you have to leave.’

Gideon shrugged out of his wet jacket but kept hold of it. ‘You sit down. I’ll put it in the utility room.’

Debbie sank down into a seat. ‘I don’t know what the matter is with me today. My ankles have puffed up and I feel so tired.’

‘Take it easy now, then,’ Gideon said, emerging from the small back room Debbie used as a laundry room. ‘How have the girls been?’

‘Just fine, but I’m afraid Tilly’s fallen asleep. Nursery just wore her out today. And Jemima’s got a letter from school about an Easter pageant, but she’ll show you that.’

‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ he asked, turning towards the kettle.

‘That would be lovely.’

Kate watched, feeling like a spare part in what was obviously an old friendship. ‘How long have you looked after Gideon’s girls?’ she asked, taking the seat opposite Debbie’s.

Gideon cut in. ‘She’s helping me out for a few days.’

Kate swivelled round to look at him. His face was turned away as filled the kettle.

‘I’m not doing much,’ Debbie said. ‘Just picking them up from school and nursery, then hanging on to them until Gideon collects them. I’m Mum’s stand-in.’

Debbie rubbed her stomach gently. ‘Mum said she’d look after the girls until Gideon’s had a chance to find a good replacement for Ingrid. Emily helps too, of course. Rachel Boyle when she gets the chance.’

Gideon opened one of the top cupboards and pulled down the box of teabags. ‘Ingrid was our nanny.’

‘One day she was there and the next she was gone,’ Debbie said, bristling with indignation. ‘Very irresponsible to behave like that when you work with children.’

‘She’s a city girl and found island life a bit claustrophobic. It’s not for everyone, living here. I shouldn’t have hired her.’ Gideon glanced across at Kate. ‘She wanted more nightlife than can be found in Newport and my hours didn’t help.’

‘She knew them when she took the job. It makes me cross.’

It felt strange listening to Gideon and Debbie talking together. In her mind she’d kept everything on the Isle of Wight frozen in time, everything just as it always had been. But things had changed. Friendships had been forged by circumstances she hadn’t been a part of. Kate was suddenly aware of a wave of homesickness.

Gideon smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘Babs stepped in to help.’

‘You know Mum…’ Debbie tailed off and Kate pushed the box of tissues across the table towards her. Yes, she knew Aunt Babs. She’d never been able to stand by and watch other people struggle when she could do something to help them. Debbie was the same. They were special people.

Debbie smiled a watery smile across the table and took a tissue. ‘Thanks. I’m such a mess. I can’t seem to stop crying.’

Kate looked at her mottled face and red-rimmed eyes and felt guilty. She hadn’t cried yet. Inside her heart was a dull ache, but she hadn’t been able to shed a single tear for the woman who’d been so pivotal in her life. Without Aunt Babs she’d have had a very different future.

‘It’s hardly surprising,’ she said awkwardly.

Gideon brought three mugs of tea across to the table as a small tornado burst into the room shouting, ‘Daddy! Daddy, you’re back!’

Kate felt as though the room had frozen around her. Just for a moment.

This was Gideon and Laura’s child.

Jemima.

The baby Laura had been carrying when Kate had first discovered she’d never have children of her own. It had hurt so much to look at the pregnant Laura then. The woman who had everything she’d ever wanted.

That was the last time she’d visited the island. As soon as she’d recovered from her operation, she’d left. Money from Aunt Babs in her pocket and a postgraduate certificate in radio journalism in her hand, she’d turned her face resolutely away from her past and concentrated on the future.

For a time it had been enough.

Gideon pushed back his chair to receive his daughter into his arms. Jemima looked older than her five years, Kate thought, but what did she know about children? Her hair was a sandy brown, much darker than Laura’s had been, but her face was the same perfect oval. Beautiful. Her arms flew up to hug her father and Kate felt her heart contract.

There was something so unconditional in the love of a child for a parent. She’d even been like that herself. She’d forgiven her mother for almost anything, grateful for a careless kind word. She couldn’t imagine how it would feel to have a warm little figure clinging to you for love and comfort. It must be the most magical feeling.

Across the kitchen table she caught Debbie’s eyes and knew she understood. She’d always understood. Like her mother. Kate tried to smile but it slipped slightly.

‘This is Jemima,’ Gideon said, turning the little girl to face Kate. His strong hands rested on her waist, dark against the pale lilac of her jumper. ‘And somewhere around there’s Matilda.’

‘She’s asleep on Auntie Debbie’s bed,’ Jemima said.

‘This is Kate Simmonds. She’s Auntie Debbie’s sister.’

Kate started at hearing herself described like that. She’d never felt like a sister and yet that was how Debbie always treated her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be, it was just that she couldn’t quite accept that she really belonged. That they could really want her.

Jemima looked steadily across the table at her and then smiled. ‘I’m five.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Kate replied a little awkwardly. Why couldn’t she do this? After all this time? Somehow in the presence of children she just froze.

‘Tilly is three. She’s my sister. Did you know my mummy’s dead?’

Kate looked helplessly up at Gideon, wondering what she should answer. She’d no experience with this kind of thing. None at all. She avoided contact with children wherever possible. There was no point making herself feel worse about everything.

His face was a blank and Kate turned back to the little girl, who was evidently expecting some kind of reply. ‘I know,’ she said again, feeling very foolish. And then, ‘So’s mine.’

‘When did she die?’

Kate looked at the almond-shaped eyes of the little girl and saw in them a real interest. Strange. She’d never before thought that inside a child was a person. Perfectly formed and entirely there. The panic inside her started to recede. She could talk to a person. ‘When I was eight.’

‘I was three,’ Jemima said, almost proudly. ‘She was very sick.’

‘Yes,’ Kate agreed, looking helplessly up at Gideon.

He pulled Jemima towards him and lightly kissed the top of her head. ‘Why don’t you go and get me your book bag? Auntie Debbie says you’ve got a letter for me.’

Jemima nodded. ‘I’ve got to make an Easter basket.’ She ran out of the kitchen without a backward glance.

‘She’s lovely,’ Kate said awkwardly.

Gideon smiled. ‘She’s a good girl.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m not very used to children,’ she said, feeling she had to say something to explain her awkwardness.

‘You did fine,’ Debbie said reassuringly. She turned towards Gideon. ‘Kate lives a completely different life from us. She’s not a children person. You should see her flat. It’s all cream and taupe. Can you just imagine the mess my two would make of it all in no time?’

Gideon leant back in his chair, his legs outstretched under the table. ‘Where do you live? Are you based permanently in the States now?’

‘LA was a two-year commitment. I live in Highgate,’ Kate answered. ‘North London.’

He nodded as though he knew it. ‘Do you like living in London?’

Kate thought about it. No one ever asked her that. They always assumed she did. How could you not love living in a great city, with fantastic theatres and wonderful restaurants?

But did she like it? She wasn’t sure any more. She’d been so looking forward to coming back home—to her flat, to see her friends. But when she’d got there it hadn’t felt like home. It had just been a flat. Many of her friends had moved on in the two years she’d been away. Had downshifted and taken themselves off to the countryside.

Richard had married.

Surprisingly that hadn’t hurt as much as she’d thought it would. It had felt like closure. She looked up and caught Gideon watching her curiously. ‘When I get a parking space near my house I do.’

‘And do you miss LA?’

‘You must miss LA,’ Debbie cut in. ‘Can you imagine anything more exciting than to live in LA? Did you know she interviewed Brad Pitt?’

Kate played with a knot mark on the pine tabletop. She understood what Debbie was doing. She was even grateful for it. She was to be cast as a career woman. The woman with drive and vision who didn’t have time for a home and family. It was how she tried to present herself. It made life easier.

Debbie heaved herself out of the end seat. ‘How about I get the children something to eat? It’s nearly five. They must be hungry,’ she said, turning to Gideon.

‘That would be great. Then I can just rush them through the shower when we get home and put them to bed. I’ve got a mountain of paperwork waiting for me this evening.’

‘It’s not going to be fancy, but I’ve got some nice bread from the corner shop, cheese and things.’

Kate drained the last of her drink and pushed the empty mug towards the centre of the table. ‘Is there anything you’d like me to do?’ she asked.

Gideon had already taken some lettuce from Debbie’s fridge and begun to rinse it through under the tap. Completely unpretentious for a world-famous chef. He seemed so completely at home. Far more comfortable than she was in Debbie’s home.

Debbie reached up for a cerise plastic salad bowl. ‘There’s some cucumber in the bottom of the fridge, I think, Gideon. Chop that up and pop it in the salad. Kate, do you want to slice the bread?’ She paused and listened to a sudden shout. ‘I’m needed, I think. Daniel’s at that awful stage where he just won’t share.’

She turned and walked out of the room. Alone with Gideon, Kate felt nervous. Illogically so, she reminded herself. The tension was only in her head.

‘The bread’s in the bread bin,’ Gideon remarked.

Kate stood up hurriedly. ‘Does Debbie have a board to cut it on?’

‘By the toaster,’ he replied calmly.

‘Oh, right.’ She hadn’t been to this house before and it certainly showed, Kate thought as she searched in the wrong drawer for the bread knife. Whereas Gideon…

‘Debbie has a knife block.’

‘Does she?’

Gideon pointed across to the work surface on the other side of the kitchen. Kate walked over and pulled a couple of knives out before she selected the right handle. She turned in time to see him cut the cucumber in sliver-thin slices, his hand moving in a rapid rocking movement. ‘Open the cupboard second on the left,’ he said without looking up.

‘Why?’ she asked, looking down at the bread knife.

‘There’s a basket there you can use for the bread.’

If his intention was to make sure she realised she didn’t know what she was doing he was making a fine job of it.

She pulled open the cupboard and found the bread basket exactly as he’d said. ‘You seem to know your way around Deb’s kitchen,’ she said slightly acidly.

‘She’s one of the few people who ever invite me to lunch.’

‘Really?’ she asked in spite of herself.

He smiled. It was nothing, but it made Kate catch her breath. He had the kind of smile that lit up his face and made you want to smile back. Foolishly. At seventeen she’d done just that. Had grinned inanely every time he’d deigned to notice her.

‘Everyone’s intimidated about asking a chef to dinner. What do they cook? Will I criticise?’

Kate swallowed. ‘And do you?’

The grooves in his face deepened and Kate found herself smiling back at him. It was like breathing. Completely unconscious. He smiled and she felt good.

‘I’ll never confess to that.’

‘Probably wise,’ she returned, turning away and sawing at the loaf she’d found in the bread bin.

He put down his own knife and rested his hand lightly on hers. She looked at him questioningly, her heart hammering against her ribcage. ‘Let the knife do the work.’

‘Oh,’ she said, her eyes transfixed as she looked up at him.

‘It’s easier.’

Suddenly everything seemed to well up inside her. Coming home, now, after too long away. Aunt Babs being dead. Debbie pregnant.

Something of that must have communicated itself to Gideon because his eyes softened and the pressure on her hand increased. For a moment. And then he moved away. ‘It’s really important to Debbie you came. I’m sure it was difficult to get away…but it means a lot to her. It was a good decision.’

Kate sniffed. She never sniffed, but she did now. Hurriedly she turned her face away and returned all her attention to the task in hand. Just as he’d said, the blade moved through the fresh bread effortlessly.

She caught her trembling lip between her teeth. It had been two long years since she’d felt this aware of a man—and it frightened her. Relationships were pointless. They could lead nowhere. Not for her.

And not with Gideon. That was all in the past. Those dreams belonged to the girl she’d once been. Before he’d married Laura. Before the ruptured appendix. Before Richard.

‘Tell me about your restaurant,’ she said, breaking the silence. ‘Why did you change the name? What was it before? The Queen Anne?’

Gideon transferred the cucumber to the plastic bowl. ‘It’s on the quay. Simple as that. We, Laura and I, thought people would remember where it was and it would stick in their minds. There wasn’t any great discussion about it. Neither of us particularly liked the old name. There’s no record Queen Anne ever stayed there so it seemed rather pointless.’ He turned and looked along the shelf, pulling out the balsamic vinegar. ‘This will have to do for a dressing. Despite my best efforts I can’t get Tilly to eat salad anyway.’

Kate put the bread in the basket and turned to watch him.

His hands tossed the salad. ‘The hotel’s changed quite a bit since you were last on the island. We now have a restaurant and a brasserie. The brasserie has a limited menu but still uses the same fresh ingredients. The restaurant is more adventurous.’

Kate cast a look across at him. ‘And more expensive.’

‘Much more expensive,’ he said, placing the bowl in the centre of the pine table. He picked up the dirty mugs and moved them to the side by the sink. ‘I still plan the menus for the brasserie but I don’t cook there any more. Just the restaurant. And I don’t work at weekends. Not any more.’ He searched the fridge for the cheese. ‘I need to be there for the girls.’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Restaurant hours are long. Laura found it difficult. After Tilly was born particularly.’ His voice was empty of emotion.

Kate didn’t know what to say. There was a sudden stillness inside the kitchen. She busied herself putting away the bread board and rinsing the knife under the tap but she still felt uncomfortable.

Such pain. To have loved someone and lost them. So suddenly.

Gideon had only ever looked at Laura. Since the time he’d first arrived on the island. Had never deviated, had never looked elsewhere—and there’d been plenty of opportunities. Kate swallowed the hard lump in the back of her throat. She felt embarrassed by her feelings. She shouldn’t be finding him attractive. It felt…

She searched for the word in her head. It felt…wrong. That was it. Wrong. Like having feelings for a married man.

Debbie bustled into the kitchen. ‘I’ve put down a large plastic sheet in the middle of the lounge. The children can eat in there,’ she pronounced. ‘I’ve got some plastic plates somewhere. If we tell them it’s a picnic they’ll not mind so much about being cooped up because of the rain. Give us a couple of minutes’ peace.’

Kate flicked a glance across at Gideon’s profile. The tension that had shown on his face was gone, replaced with calm good humour. But she wasn’t fooled. He still suffered. Every day of his life since Laura died he’d been hurting. Doing all the things he had to do, going about his business, pretending he’d moved on…

Had Aunt Babs known that? Probably. She’d possessed the rare gift of noticing most things.

‘I think the plates are in the bottom cupboard, but I may have stuffed them in the box on the top of the freezer.’

Kate reached down and searched the cupboard Debbie was pointing at. ‘These?’ she asked, pulling a rainbow of plastic plates out from the shelf.

‘Yep, that’s them.’

She handed them across to Debbie, who laid them out on the table.

‘I think I’ve got some cold sausages in the fridge.’ Debbie pulled a tired hand across her face. ‘The kids can finish them up.’

Gideon laid a hand on her arm. ‘Take it easy. I’ll get them.’

Debbie sank back down in the seat. ‘I do feel dreadful. I think I’ll get Mike to put the boys to bed, then I’ll give myself an early night.’ She looked at Kate. ‘I’ll get you settled into Mum’s house first, though—’

Kate cut her off. ‘I can do that by myself.’

She shook her head. ‘Mum had double glazing put in at the back last summer and the door’s really odd. I need to show you how to do the handle.’

Gideon started to put bread, cheese and cold sausages on the children’s plates. ‘I can do that for you.’

‘No, I…’ Kate wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, but she didn’t want Gideon putting himself out like that. Didn’t want Debbie to trouble herself either. In fact, the idea of being alone for a while was really appealing.

‘Debbie needs to rest.’

His eyes held hers and his calmly stated comment prevented her from saying anything more. It was obviously true and equally obvious to anyone who knew Debbie well that she wouldn’t allow her to go alone.

‘I’ll keep your girls with me, then, until you’ve settled Kate in. The house feels very strange without Mum in it.’

Gideon picked up three plastic plates and went to carry them through to the lounge. ‘We’ll talk about that when it’s time to go. If Tilly’s woken up they might as well come with me.’

Kate gently rubbed at her temples. A small throbbing pain was beginning at the back of her eyes. It didn’t matter what arrangements they made for her, she’d had enough and wanted some time alone. Too many emotions were whirring about inside her and she needed time to dissect them all. Understand what she was feeling.