A Good Catch Page 15

  *

  It was Valentine’s Day when Greer met him off the boat – odd in itself – and, odder still, kissed him full on the lips, even though he stank to high heaven.

  ‘What was that for?’ he asked as they broke apart.

  ‘I’ve got some news.’ She put the back of her hand to her mouth, tasting the sourness of his breath and trying not to gag.

  Jesse swung his kitbag over his shoulder and, taking her hand, walked quickly towards home. The surprise of her appearance and the passionate kiss was sending messages of the bedroom kind to his nether regions.

  ‘Let’s get home.’

  Lying breathless by her side, his filthy overalls for once allowed upstairs and strewn on the spotless dove-grey carpet of their bedroom, Jesse smiled. ‘That was nice.’ He exhaled slowly and pulled her head to rest on his shoulder. ‘Now, tell me your news.’

  The odour from his armpits was strong and stale. Greer shifted a little in order to avoid the worst of the fumes. ‘I think we’re going to have a baby.’

  The fingers that had been stroking her waist stopped abruptly. The room grew a silence that became a little thicker with each second, and then so heavy that Greer felt panicky and thirsty for oxygen.

  He spoke. ‘You think? Have you taken a test?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘The blue line appeared.’

  ‘And that means?’

  ‘I’m pregnant.’

  Jesse turned to face her, moving her from his shoulder to the soft pillows. He looked down at her pale, worried face and felt a wave of fear and exultation.

  ‘Really?’

  She nodded. ‘I need to see Dr Cosgrove to confirm it, but I think I am. I’ve been feeling really sick for about a week and this morning I actually was sick so …’

  ‘Wow.’ He put his hand on her flat tummy. ‘Hello, you in there. It’s your daddy.’

  Greer giggled and the look of worry was replaced with relief and love for her husband.

  *

  Dr Cosgrove moved his strong brown hands over her tummy and pressed gently, feeling for a thickening of her womb. He had known Greer since her mother was pregnant with her. He stopped his probing and left Greer lying on the ancient wood and leather examination table to get a tape measure from his desk drawer. He found the yellow booklet of tide times and, checking his watch, slipped it into his pocket. He was due to have an afternoon fishing trip with his son and he didn’t want to be late. He retrieved the tape measure and stepped back to Greer, lying prone on the bed. ‘Right. Let me just make some measurements and we can work out roughly when your baby is due.’

  ‘So I am pregnant?’ asked Greer, daring to hope.

  ‘You certainly are.’ He measured from her pubic bone to a point below her navel. ‘You can pull your dress down now and come and sit down.’ He walked to his desk and made a squiggle in pencil on her notes. ‘When was your last period?’

  *

  Jesse hadn’t been to the doctor since he was a baby and certainly didn’t feel the need to sit in on the business between Dr Cosgrove and Greer. He’d made his excuses and had gone to a meeting with his father and father-in-law to discuss business.

  Greer heard his key in the lock and said hurriedly into the phone, ‘Mummy, Jesse’s home. I’ve got to go … Granny!’ She heard her mother laughing as she put the receiver down.

  Jesse closed the front door and, walking past Greer, went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. Greer followed him. ‘So, ask me.’

  He threw a teabag into his favourite mug and wrinkled his brow. ‘Ask you what?’

  ‘Jesse!’ Greer was standing looking at him in sheer disbelief. ‘You’ve forgotten where I was today?’

  He reached for the kettle and poured the steaming water into his mug. ‘At your mum’s?’

  Her bottom lip trembled and she turned, but he caught her before she got away and spun her round. ‘I’m sorry. I was teasing.’

  ‘Not funny. I’ve been waiting to tell you.’

  He pulled her to him. ‘Is it a girl or a boy?’

  She punched his chest. ‘Whatever it is, it’s due on October the seventeenth.’ She smiled up at him dreamily, ‘A honeymoon baby. That’s what Mummy said.’

  He let go of her and went to the fridge for some milk. ‘So you’ve told your mother then?’

  ‘Don’t be cross. I couldn’t not tell her.’

  ‘So I can tell my mum and dad now, can I?’ he asked, looking over his shoulder at her.

  She went to him and put her arms round his waist, leaning against his back. ‘Of course. Let’s invite them for supper.’

  Jesse knew how uncomfortable his parents felt in Pencil Cottage, and how hurt his mother had been when Greer had repainted the bathroom and chiselled off the penguin tiles in favour of plain white Italian ones. He decided that discretion was the better part of valour. ‘You don’t want to cook. You need to put your feet up a bit. Let’s take them to the Hind.’

  Greer quietly cheered inside. Her in-laws were nice, but she had very little in common with them, and Ed didn’t seem to enjoy her cooking anyway. ‘Good idea.’

  *

  It seemed the whole of Trevay were delighted with news of the baby. Greer thoroughly enjoyed the fuss that was being made of her and played it up to the hilt. On nights when Jesse was at sea, Elizabeth would come and stay in the small spare bedroom that was destined to become the nursery. She held Greer’s hair from her face when she was being sick; she massaged her stick-thin ankles in case they got puffy, and she fed her exquisite morsels of goodness – but not too much, as neither of them wanted to let Greer gain more weight than was necessary.

  Mickey was happiest of all. ‘Jesse, mate.’ He bear-hugged him when he’d got the news. ‘I didn’t know you had it in you!’

  Jesse adopted a macho pose. ‘Plenty of lead in my pencil.’

  ‘Pencil? You mean that tiny little thing?’ The young men wrestled affectionately for a moment, as they always had done. When they broke apart Mickey asked, ‘Fancy a pint? Or have you got to get on home to the missus?’

  ‘I don’t have to ask her for permission, you know,’ swaggered Jesse. ‘Barefoot and pregnant and tied to the sink. That’s the way it is in my house.’

  Mickey grinned. ‘Yeah, right. Just don’t let Greer hear you say that!’ They were walking back from a day’s work on the harbour and heading towards the Golden Hind.

  Settled in a favourite corner of the dim bar, they each took a sip of their pints and sighed with pleasure in unison.

  ‘So when’s Jesse Junior due?’ asked Mickey, wiping the froth from his lips.

  ‘Middle of October.’

  ‘Were you trying for a baby this quick?’

  ‘No. We hadn’t really spoken about it. And I thought these things took a bit of trying for.’

  ‘She wasn’t on the pill?’

  ‘With the wedding and everything, Greer said she hadn’t had time to get to the doctor’s and – you know – she hadn’t needed anything like that before, so …’

  ‘You were her first?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Mickey took a mouthful of beer then said, ‘I was Loveday’s first, too.’

  Jesse tried not to react to this, but he spilt his beer a little onto his jeans. ‘Shit,’ he said, rubbing the damp patch into the fabric. When he’d gathered himself, he looked straight into Mickey’s eyes. ‘Were you? When was this?’

  ‘The night you came home from honeymoon.’

  ‘But you always told me …’

  Mickey looked embarrassed. ‘Yeah, well, that was just talk. She never let me touch her until that night. I think seeing you two so happy tipped the balance for me, so I have a lot to thank you for, mate.’

  Jesse felt shame and fear wash through him, but smiled warmly. ‘Well done.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Mickey put his pint on the table and looked down at the floor as if deciding whether to say anything more. ‘Truth is, Loveday thinks she might be pr
egnant too.’

  Jesse stared hard at Mickey. ‘What?’

  *

  Dr Cosgrove washed his hands in the small sink in his surgery and took a paper towel to dry them. ‘Congratulations to you both. Now, let’s work out when this baby is due. When did your last period start, Loveday?’

  Loveday clutched Mickey’s hand. She had two answers and fervently hoped it was the second one. She crossed her fingers and said, ‘About the tenth of January.’

  Dr Cosgrove consulted his diary. ‘This baby is due roughly around … October the seventeenth.’

  ‘That’s the same day as Jesse’s baby!’ Mickey was thrilled and squeezed Loveday’s hand tight. ‘That’s amazing!’

  Dr Cosgrove was putting Loveday’s notes back into the brown envelope to be filed. ‘You feel a little bit bigger than your dates suggest.’

  Loveday looked anxious.

  ‘No need to worry, my dear.’ Dr Cosgrove smiled reassuringly and turned to Mickey. ‘There are twins on your side of the family, aren’t there?’

  Mickey and Loveday walked out of the surgery holding hands, each thinking their own thoughts. Loveday prayed she was having Mickey’s baby, or babies, as the doctor had suggested. She didn’t care if she was expecting quadruplets, just as long as they were Mickey’s and not Jesse’s.

  Mickey’s mind was in a whirl. He was twenty-one. The same age his dad had been when he’d had him. He had a good job and he loved Loveday so much it hurt. They could live with his mum and dad for a bit till he’d got some money together to rent a little place. He was going to be the best dad he could be to this little baby, and the best husband to Loveday.

  He stopped abruptly in his tracks and Loveday with him. ‘Darlin’, will you marry me?’

  17

  Greer was lying on her bed and smoothing oil onto her flat stomach in the hope of preventing stretch marks. The Giant Book of Babies – From conception to five years was next to her.

  ‘It says here that at six weeks the baby is the size of a lentil. Imagine.’ She stopped her massaging and clasped both hands across her abdomen. ‘A lentil.’

  Jesse was cleaning his teeth in the newly painted bathroom (a nondescript colour called Pebble Putty, apparently). He stepped onto the landing and stuck his damp face round the bedroom door. ‘I don’t like lentils.’

  Greer tutted silently and said more clearly, ‘I’m saying that the baby is the size of a lentil right now. And please remember to fold the towel and hang it on the towel heater.’

  Jesse, safely back in the bathroom, pulled a face and mimicked her with childlike satisfaction. However, he did as instructed and turned out the bathroom light.

  ‘Did you put the loo seat down?’ she asked as he got into bed.

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Well, can you check, because I need to pee so much in the night and I can’t stand the feeling of cold, probably wet, china to sit on.’

  ‘Turn the light on if you need to go.’

  ‘I don’t like to disturb you.’

  Jesse disturbed himself and got out of bed and went to the bathroom to check on the loo seat. It was up. He closed it as quietly as he could and returned to bed.

  Greer had stopped massaging her tummy and was rubbing hand cream into her hands with vigour. ‘Was the seat up?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, thank you for checking.’ Greer had finished emolliating herself and kissed Jesse before turning her light out.

  ‘My pleasure.’

  Jesse turned his light out and got himself comfortable.

  Greer rolled towards him and snuggled in. ‘By the way,’ she said sleepily, ‘wonderful news about Mickey and Loveday.’

  Jesse was immediately on his guard. ‘What news?’

  ‘Oh, you boys! I know you know. Loveday told me.’

  ‘Told you what?’

  ‘That she’s pregnant. It’s so sweet. They’ve been destined for each other ever since that first day at school.’

  ‘Oh, that. Yeah, Mickey told me.’

  ‘And the baby’s due at about the same time as this little one.’ She reached for his hand and pressed it against her stomach.

  Jesse was thinking about the babies arriving at the same time. ‘So does that mean that she and Mickey were at it at the same time we were?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Greer giggled. She felt Jesse’s body relax against her and assumed he wanted sex. ‘Now don’t get any ideas. You know how worried I am about hurting the baby. Maybe we can resume games in the second trimester.’

  Jesse’s thoughts were far from sex, but he played along. ‘When’s that then?’

  ‘About another six weeks.’

  *

  Jesse chose a day when he knew that Mickey was in Bodmin, on an errand to pick up an ignition coil for Our Mermaid, to see Loveday. She opened the door to him in a short dressing gown that was at least two sizes too small for her. She looked awful.

  ‘Jesse,’ she said anxiously. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Can I come in?’

  Jesse filled the space of the small front room. He didn’t sit down but stood looking at her with such tenderness that it took all Loveday’s strength not to reach out and hold him.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked her.

  ‘A bit shit. Sorry, I must look awful. I didn’t sleep very well and I keep being sick.’

  ‘Poor you.’ He touched her arm with his hand.

  She stepped away and towards the tiny kitchen. ‘I was just about to put the kettle on. Want one?’

  ‘Yeah. OK.’

  ‘How’s Greer feeling? She said she was a bit tired.’

  ‘Yeah. She’s OK. Yeah.’

  Loveday busied herself with taking mugs from the old kitchen cabinet. It was the type that had a pull-down worktop and cupboard space for larder items and crockery. He saw that she’d been making toast.

  ‘Had your breakfast then? That’ll help with the sickness, my mum says.’

  The blue enamel kettle was whistling on the gas stove. Loveday poured water into her mother’s ancient brown teapot. And kept her back to him. ‘What are you doing here, Jesse?’

  He moved towards her but she turned and stood with the hot kettle between them. ‘This baby is Mickey’s,’ she said.

  ‘Loveday, I’m not cross. I’d help you. If this baby is mine, no one need ever know, if that’s what you want.’

  He wasn’t expecting her reaction to be so swift and angry. ‘So you’d let Mickey think this baby was his – which it is – and you’d be the big man secretly helping me out?’

  Jesse nodded, feeling scolded and confused. ‘Yes. I would. Is that so bad?’

  ‘It’d be worse than cheating on your best friend … which you did.’

  ‘So did you.’

  Loveday was angry. She slammed the kettle back on the metal stove. ‘I know I did. Don’t you think I regret it every minute? Every time I look at Mickey? Every time I look at Greer? Shit, Jesse, we did something terrible.’ She looked up at him, the anger draining away to be replaced by sheer horror and sadness at what they had both done – sleeping with each other’s best friend; sacrificing their own happiness. Tears started to spill from her eyes.

  Jesse slowly stepped towards her and took her in his arms. ‘Hey, baby. It’s OK. It’s over. No one will ever know. I’m here for you. Always.’ She pushed him away and wiped her eyes furiously with the backs of her hands, and then tore off a sheet of kitchen roll to blow her nose.

  ‘You’re not the father,’ she snuffled.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘The dates.’

  Jesse shoved his hands into the pockets of his yellow waterproof jacket. ‘Well, in that case, congratulations … to you both.’

  They heard the front door squeak open and Mickey’s voice calling, ‘Loveday, I’ve got a surprise for you! What are you doing on Wednesday the seventeenth?’

  Mickey ducked
through the doorway of the kitchen. ‘Hello, Jesse. This is lucky: I can kill two birds with one stone. What are both of you doing on Wednesday the seventeenth of March?’

  He looked from one to the other and back again. ‘No? Can’t answer? Well, I’ll tell you what you are doing – you’re going to a wedding! We’ve got an appointment at the Register Office on Monday, then we have to wait fifteen days, but then …’ He bounced forward and squeezed Loveday into his arms. ‘You’re going to be Mrs Chandler, and Jesse – ’ he smiled at his best friend over the top of his wife-to-be’s head – ‘you’re going to be my best man!’

  *

  The Bodmin Register Office had a small and pretty marriage room. The walls were Doulton blue and the ceiling white. There was a large arrangement of silk flowers in a corner by the window, in front of which happy couples usually had their first photos taken as man and wife. There was room for only forty guests but, as neither bride nor groom could afford a large wedding, at least ten seats were empty.

  Mickey and Jesse sat in front of the important-looking leather-topped table on which the registrar, a woman in her early forties with a chirpy smile and earrings to match, was laying out her various ledgers and pieces of paper.

  Mickey had had a short back and sides and was wearing a new suit from Burton’s.

  He was nervous and couldn’t keep his hands from checking his tie, his hair and eventually his pockets. The inside breast pocket yielded the washing instructions.

  ‘Machine washable at 40˚,’ he read. ‘That’s handy.’

  ‘Very,’ said Jesse, and the two men grinned at each other, enjoying the momentary distraction.

  ‘Do I look all right?’ Mickey asked.

  ‘You’ll do.’

  ‘Have you got the ring?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘At least I’m not pissed like you were.’

  Jesse instantly flashed back to his wedding morning and the horrible secret he was keeping from Mickey. ‘If I can be half the best man and best mate you’ve been to me, I’ll be doing OK.’