“Already?” I said.

“We can’t!” Neva said. “Gillian has a tear that needs stitching.”

“Well,” Patrick said. “I could always take David and the baby—”

“No.” Gillian crossed her arms over her baby. “If she’s going to the hospital, I’m going too.”

I smiled. The mother’s instinct was primal, even after just a few minutes. “Okay,” I said. “We can tend to the stitch at the hospital. Let me just clean you and get you some fresh pads and we can go. Where’s your other daughter? Is there someone you’d like me to call?”

“She’s with a neighbor,” David said. “I’ll go get her once we know everything is okay here.”

Neva had already got some pads down from the cupboard and was filling a dish with warm water. “I’ll stay, Grace,” she said. “I know all the birth details, I can write the notes and clean up here. You go with Gillian. I’ll call the hospital and let them know you’re coming.”

A few minutes later, we loaded Gillian, David, and the baby into my car. Patrick started up his own vehicle, ready to follow us there. Neva held my car door open for me. “Good luck.”

I gave her a chaste kiss, and she caught my waist and pulled me into a quick hug. “You did good today, Grace,” she said into my ear. “And you were right. It was magic.”

Before I could gather my thoughts enough to speak, she was striding back toward the house.

12

Floss

The first time I laid eyes on Lil, she was in the third row of my Birthing Naturally class. In a black trouser suit with a mulberry scarf, she was dressed more for a wedding than a birthing class. Clearly she was too old to be pregnant. The empty seats beside her indicated she wasn’t accompanying her daughter. She was a fine-boned woman with a pure white bob and a dainty, angled face. The opposite of myself, physically speaking. As I introduced myself to the class and handed out my reading material, I couldn’t help stealing glances at her. She appeared a little out of place, but then, so did a lot of people. Birth, particularly for people of my generation, could make the best of people squeamish.

As soon as the class finished, she was out of her seat, beelining for the door. For a woman of her age, she was impressively lithe, but after ninety minutes of watching her arranging her delicate frame on the narrow chair, I wasn’t going to let her go without saying hello.

“I hope you found the class worthwhile,” I called out as she zipped past me.

She hesitated then half turned back. “Er, yes. Thank you.” She took another step toward the door.

“Is your daughter expecting, or another family member?”

It wasn’t my style to ask such personal questions, but for some reason, I couldn’t help it.

She paused again. “Neither. No one is expecting.” She hesitated, perhaps unsure whether to say more. “I thought I was attending another class.” She looked at the cover of the notebook in her hand. “Room C1202.”

I blinked. “Toastmasters?”

A ghost of a smile appeared on her face.

A laugh escaped before I could help it. “So … why did you stay?”

“I’m not sure. But it sure had nothing to do with Birthing Naturally.”

*   *   *

It was early evening. Lil and I had eaten pasta in front of a television game show that I’d pretended to follow with some interest. But my heart hurt. Not figuratively—it physically hurt. A high, twanging pain across my sternum and my left side. I was thinking about Bill again. It had been years since he was such a part of my psyche, and I hated that he still had the privilege of my brain space. More so, I hated myself for the mess I had created. I’d never regretted what I’d done. But now, with Neva’s situation so closely mirroring my own, my reasons for keeping the secret all these years seemed slightly less clear.

“You all right, Floss?” Lil asked. She’d cleared away the dinner dishes and now she stood in the corner of the sitting room, unfolding the wire rack to hang the laundry. She’d also cooked the dinner. I was letting down the team. “You’re holding your chest.”

“Am I?” I looked at the hand hovering over my heart. “Oh. So I am.”

“You’re worried about something.”

Lil wasn’t stupid. I hadn’t been myself since I’d got Neva’s news, and while she’d left me to my thoughts initially, I got the feeling I’d used up my grace period. In the past few days, she’d become increasingly short with me. “I’m just … thinking about Neva.” I tried to ignore the faded yellow envelope peeking out of the corner of my purse. “And Grace.”

Lil shook out a T-shirt and hung it over the rack. “They’ve been taking up a lot of your thoughts lately.” She picked a pair of underwear out of the basket, then paused. “Neva’s pregnancy is bringing up a lot of old hurts for you.” She draped the underpants over the wire and bent down to retrieve the next item. “I know virtually nothing about that part of your life. I wish you’d share with me.”

She continued hanging clothes, but her comment floated there, like dust in sunlight. I felt the presence of the envelope again—the letter from Evie that I’d dug out last night when I couldn’t sleep. All I’d have to do was give that letter to Lil, and she’d know everything. But something stopped me. I wanted to tell her. I knew what it was like having someone clam up when you were worried about them. Though, at least Lil saw me every day and knew I wasn’t in real, physical danger. When I was worried about Elizabeth, I didn’t have that luxury. After Evie’s engagement party, Elizabeth all but disappeared. Plans we made were always canceled. Bill had had a busy week; Bill needed her at home. It was frustrating, particularly since I couldn’t seem to get her—or Bill—out of my mind. What was it about him? I couldn’t put my finger on it.

I’d hoped that as her midwife, Evie would insist that Elizabeth attend prenatal clinics. If I could just see her, I was sure the funny feeling in my belly would dissipate. But Elizabeth took responsibility for her own prenatal care. She performed her own urine tests at home and she kept a weekly record of her stomach measurements, which showed the baby was growing properly. As a midwife herself, this was perfectly safe, and it made sense, since she lived a long way out and didn’t have a car. But that did nothing to reassure me.

I thought about voicing my concerns to Evie, several times, but then what were my concerns, really? That I had a bad feeling about Bill? That he tried to dance with me outside on his wedding day? They sounded pathetic at best, and at worst, like sour grapes. So I just waited for Elizabeth to get in touch with me.

A few months later, out of the blue, a dinner invitation arrived, along with a note saying that Elizabeth was sorry she hadn’t kept in touch better. I accepted the invitation. I’d have preferred that she come into town so I could take her to lunch and talk to her properly, but as that didn’t seem to be an option, dinner would have to do.

I made the journey to Kings Langley on my bike. Elizabeth said that their house bordered town and country, but the closer I pedaled, the more obvious it became that it was just plain country. A light rain misted down over me as I pedaled. I hadn’t seen a house for over fifteen minutes when I saw the lights of the little stone cottage. A car sat out front—a black town car. Strange. Bill didn’t have a car. When I reached the house, I leaned my bike against the low wall, smoothed down my pinafore, and took the path to Elizabeth’s front door, taking large steps to avoid the mud between the pavers.

Bill answered the door with a cigarette and a grin. “Floss. We were getting worried. We were about to send Michael out to look for you.”

Michael? I peered inside to where a young man stood. He was tall and thin, getting thinner at the top, like a sharpened pencil. His hair was brown, like his trousers, and neatly combed to the side. So this was the point of the dinner. My stomach, which already felt like it was being strangled with a belt, constricted further.