A Good Catch Part 24

'Have you?' Loveday said. 'Hal's got Dairylea Dunkers.'

'What are they?' asked Freddie.

'I'm sure Hal will share them with you,' Loveday a.s.sured him.

Greer, who spent her life trying to keep Freddie away from preservatives, E numbers and unnecessary sugar, hurriedly changed the subject.

'Auntie Loveday, Uncle Mickey, Daddy and I all became friends on our first day at school, didn't we, Auntie Loveday?'

'Oh, we did,' laughed Loveday. 'I asked your mummy if she liked Abba. I don't think she knew who Abba were.'

Greer, hating being made fun of, said quickly, 'Yes I did.'

'Well, you did once you'd listened to my tapes.'

'What are tapes?' asked Hal.

'Things we had in the olden days ... before CDs,' chuckled Loveday. 'Now say goodbye to your sisters.'

'Bye-bye, Becca.' He reached into the pram and gave his sister a sloppy kiss. 'Bye-bye, Bea.' He leant in to kiss her too but got a smack from a chubby hand instead. 'Ow. Bea hit me.'

'She didn't mean to. Now, off you two boys go and look after each other. Be good and do what the teacher tells you.' Loveday kissed the face of her dear son and he kissed her back.

'I love you, Mummy.' He blinked a watery smile.

'I love you too. Now off you go, you little monkey.'

Greer knelt to look into Freddie's eyes. 'Be a good boy and don't forget I love you. I want to hear all about it tonight. Now give us a kiss.'

Freddie put his arms around Greer's neck and squeezed tight. 'I'll be good and you be good too, Mummy.'

'I will,' she said solemnly, 'I promise.'

Finally disentangled from their mothers, the two boys ran towards a gathering group of small children who were being summoned by a smiley female teacher called Miss Woods. 'Good morning, children. Wave goodbye to your mummys and daddys. We've got lots of lovely things to do today, so get in a nice line and follow me to the cla.s.sroom.'

Loveday and Greer watched as their precious boys disappeared into the familiar building.

'Where has the time gone? 'Twas only yesterday they were in nappies,' sighed Loveday.

'It was only yesterday since we were coming to school,' Greer said, wryly. She checked her watch. 'Got time for a coffee?'

'Yeah. Why not?'

The c.o.c.kle Cafe was situated just off the quay in a narrow back street. It had only been open since the start of the summer season, and had been very busy with the holidaying, trendy young parents who appreciated its organic menu.

As Loveday and Greer turned the corner towards the cafe, they struggled with the double buggy on the cobbles; it was c.u.mbersome and awkward to manoeuvre. Three women in their sixties were sitting outside, enjoying the September suns.h.i.+ne, an Ordnance Survey map spread out in front of them. They were clearly discussing their walking route for the day, but there seemed to be quite a vigorous exchange of views going on.

As Loveday and Greer drew nearer, the leader of the pack pulled her gla.s.ses onto her head, where they were anch.o.r.ed securely by a fierce perm. Seeming suddenly to make a decision, she barked at them, asking: 'Excuse me, are you local?'

Loveday reversed the buggy and yanked it onto the smoother pavement. She looked in the direction of women and said, 'Yes, more's the pity. The roads round here are very b.u.mpy.' She applied the buggy's brake and straightened up. 'Can I help you?'

The leader, Ena, outlined her ambitious plans. Her idea was to get a bus to Boscastle and the start of the Smuggler's Way, continue to Rough Tor and then finish at Looe, thirty-seven miles away. Her companions voiced their concerns about the length of the trek, wondering where they would stay if they didn't reach Looe.

'Well, it's a tricky walk,' Loveday agreed. 'And are you ladies familiar with using a compa.s.s? The way isn't marked too well.'

'My sense of direction is excellent. Never needed a compa.s.s,' preened Ena.

'It's going to be the Isle of Wight all over again,' one of her companions murmured, sotto voce, to the other.

'I heard that.' Ena turned back to Loveday. 'You see, I am a great fan of ancient neolithic monuments. I mean to see Rough Tor and push the legendary Logan Rock to see if it really does rock back and forth.' She jerked her head towards her companions. 'These two don't harbour the same love of the magic of Cornish landscape in their souls as I do.'

'Really,' said Loveday, somewhat bemused, but also already flatly disliking this woman. She turned away. 'Greer, would you order me a strong tea and the girls a juice each. I'll get us settled on the table over there.' She waved at a table as far away from Neolithic Woman as possible.

At this safe distance, Loveday unbuckled the harnesses of both Bea and Becca. The little girls struggled out of their confinement and into the freedom of the cobbled lane. A seagull was strutting in the gutter, c.o.c.king his beady-eyed gaze from left to right, searching for a snack. Bea and Becca toddled after him, laughing as he quickened his pace until, finally, he flew to the top of a lamppost where he opened his beak and laughed.

'Now little girls,' called Ena. 'Don't encourage the seagulls. They're dirty and spread disease.'

Loveday stopped folding Becca's anorak and said, 'I beg your pardon? What did you say?'

Ena was unabashed. 'I was just telling the little girls not to encourage the seagulls.'

'And what business is it of yours?' asked Loveday stonily, the sequence of broken nights with the girls and the emotional rush of Hal's first day at school combining to produce a spectacular red mist. Loveday gave vent. 'My girls live here. They understand seagulls and they know more about b.l.o.o.d.y Cornwall and its magic than you'll ever know.'

'Well, really.' Ena flared her nostrils and stood up, busying herself with folding her map and packing it into her canvas knapsack. She gave rapid instructions to her companions. 'Sylvie, it's your turn to pay the coffee bill. Babs, come with me. Let's wait for Sylvie on the quay.'

Greer came out of the shop. She was laden with a tray of teacups, teapot and juice cartons, and was just in time to see the three women scuttling off to the harbour and Loveday yelling, 'And, by the way, 'tisn't p.r.o.nounced Rough Tor, except by grockles like you. It's Row Tor. Row, to rhyme with cow.'

'Loveday!' Greer was horrified. 'Shus.h.!.+ What's happened?'

Loveday retold the story and had the grace to be embarra.s.sed. 'I don't know why I saw red. Tired, I suppose, but I get so fed up with these visitors thinkin' we'm got straw in our ears.'

Greer smiled. 'You get very Cornish when you're cross, don't you? Why don't you go home and get a nap? It'll do you the world of good.'

'I can't. I've got the girls.'

'Well, I'm their G.o.dmother, aren't I? And today I'm your fairy G.o.dmother too. Let me take them and we'll have a lovely day. You and I will meet up at the school to pick the boys up. What do you say?'

'Are you sure?' Loveday was feeling exhausted. 'That would be wonderful.'

Greer shrugged her shoulders. 'Well, now my little man's gone to school, I've got all the time in the world.'

Loveday put her hand out to her friend. 'Are the doctors sure you can't have any more babies?'

Greer shrugged again. 'They're not always right, are they? And it's almost five years now ...' She chewed the inside of her cheek. 'The thing is. I know it would make Jesse so happy to have another little one. He envies Mickey and you. Three children!'

Loveday felt the old tw.a.n.g of guilt deep within her breast. 'Yeah, well, they'm b.u.g.g.e.rs too. Run me ragged.' She tried to make Greer smile, 'And they ruined my supermodel figure.'

Greer didn't laugh. She looked ashamed. 'That's what I hated about being pregnant. I told Jesse I never wanted to be pregnant again. It was an awful thing to say. I think I was scared. But I'd do it again for Jesse.' She hesitated. 'In fact, please don't say anything to anyone ... Promise?'

Loveday frowned, not wanting to hear what Greer was about to say. 'I hope you haven't done anything silly?'

Greer started to chew her cheek again. 'Well I ... I've stopped taking the pill. Jesse doesn't know, but I thought, why not? Give it a try. If it's meant to be ... and all that.'

Loveday was shocked. 'My G.o.d, Greer. It could kill you and the baby.'

'Well, it didn't last time, did it?' Greer smiled tightly. 'Please don't tell Jesse. I just want one more chance. Promise you won't say anything.'

Against her better judgement, Loveday nodded. 'I promise.'

Bea ran up and helped herself to her carton of apple juice. 'Take Becca's too, would you, darlin'?' she said as her mind whirled. She turned her attention back to Greer. 'How long you been off the pill?'

'About five months.'

'But no luck?'

Greer's face told her all she needed to know. 'Oh my G.o.d,' Loveday breathed. 'You're pregnant.'

Loveday nodded. 'I think so. I'm late. About two weeks.'

'Have you seen the doctor?'

Greer shook her head. 'He'll be cross with me.'

'Cross?' Loveday said in a voice louder than she intended. 'Cross? That's a bleddy understatement. You've got to make an appointment now. Today. And tell Jesse.'

24.

Louisa Caroline was stillborn at twenty weeks.

It was one of the most difficult funerals the Reverend Rowena had ever had to conduct. What can you say to grieving parents to heal their pain?

G.o.d was merciful and loving?

He never sent more than a person could bear?

He needed Louisa as an angel?

These trite but trusted plat.i.tudes just didn't match the enormity of the situation.

Would a loving G.o.d do this?

Rowena found herself struggling with her faith these days. Too many wars. Too many deaths. Too much sadness.

She was standing in the porch of St Peter's Church and watched as the small funeral cortege came up the hill. It was a bright but bitterly cold December day and she was grateful for the extra clothes that were hidden under her ca.s.sock.

Jesse insisted on carrying Louisa's coffin. He held it tenderly as he entered the church, his feet echoing on the red tiles of the aisle. He walked towards the flower-strewn dais that was to be Louisa's.

Behind him walked a Greer so pale and so thin that she was almost translucent. She walked with Freddie, gripping his hand with a determination that frightened her. He was everything to her now. Nothing and n.o.body would ever take him from her. For his part, Freddie was scared. His mother had been ill and nearly died. His sister, who he'd never met, had died, and his father looked so ill that it was possible he was going to die too.

They reached the front pew and watched as Jesse laid the tiny white coffin on top of the sweet-smelling lilies and ivy.

Afterwards Freddie went to play with Hal, who always cheered him up. He'd packed a bag with his pyjamas in. He liked going to Auntie Loveday's and Uncle Mickey's. They let him and Hal eat crisps on the sofa and watch loads of television. Freddie felt that today he'd be allowed anything he wanted.

Greer was still frail. She had lost a lot of blood and needed to rest.

After the burial, next to Jesse's granddad, she and Jesse turned down all offers of lunch from their parents and returned home to Pencil Cottage.

'Would you like a cup of tea, darlin'?' asked Jesse, watching as Greer took off her coat.

'No, Thank you.' Greer ran her hands through her hair. 'Can I make you one?'

'No, thanks.' Jesse felt big and awkward and out of his depth. 'Can I get you anything at all?'

Greer shook her head and headed for the stairs.

'You going to have a lie-down?' he asked.

'Yes. I'm tired.'

He was tired, too. Weary to his bones. He'd been cross with Greer when she'd told him that Louisa was on the way. But when she had explained, so tenderly, that she wanted to give him another child, maybe a daughter, he hadn't stayed cross for long. The doctors had wheeled out all the usual warnings, but Greer said that she was feeling fine. She was only twenty-eight, and strong enough to have several more babies.

That is, until her blood pressure rose, her ankles swelled and Jesse found her unconscious in the kitchen having banged her head on the corner of the stove during a sudden seizure.

That was it. Game over.

He watched her tiny frame climb the staircase and head towards their bedroom. He fought the desperate need he had to follow her and cry in her arms.

The house was as quiet as the grave. No Freddie. No Greer singing to the radio in the kitchen or telling him off for leaving his shoes by the door rather than the specially designed shoe rack in the tiny entrance.

The phone rang and gave him a start. He went to it quickly before it disturbed Greer.