Thank you, Ruth said. But I will have finished quite soon.
And anyway, she should be putting her feet up, Patrick said. Shes been reading far too much, and spending half the day in the library.
And what about you, old boy? Frederick asked. Hows the new post?
Patrick smiled his charming smile. Cant complain, he said, and started to tell them about his secretary, and his office, his reserved car space and his management-training course. Ruth watched him. She felt as if she were a long way away from him. She watched him smiling and talking: a favourite child of applauding parents, and as she watched them their faces blurred and their voices seemed to come from far away. Even Patrick, beloved, attractive Patrick, seemed a little man with a little voice crowing over little triumphs.
Three
RUTH AND ELIZABETH were to go down to the cottage together, to measure for curtains and carpets, and discuss colour schemes. The builders had all but finished, the new kitchen had been built, the new bath plumbed in. Elizabeth had tirelessly supervised the workmen, ascertaining Ruths wishes and chivvying them to do the work right. Nothing would have been done without her, nothing could have been finished as quickly without her. Patrick, absorbed in setting up the documentary unit at work, had been no help to Ruth at all. Without her mother-in-law she would have been exhausted every day by a thousand trivial decisions.
Ruth had planned to walk down to the cottage in the morning, when she felt at her best. But Elizabeth had been busy all morning and the time had slipped away. It was not until after lunch that she said, Im so sorry to have kept you waiting. Shall we go down to the cottage now? Or do you want your nap?
Well go, Ruth decided. In her fifth month of pregnancy she felt absurdly heavy and tired, and the mid-afternoon was always the worst time.
Shall I drive us down? Elizabeth offered.
I can walk. Ruth heaved herself out of the low armchair and went out into the hall. She bent uncomfortably to tie the laces of her walking boots. Elizabeth, waiting beside her, seemed as lithe and quick as a young girl.
Tammy, the dog, ran ahead of them, through Elizabeths rose garden to the garden gate and then down across the fields. Ruth walked slowly, feeling the warmth of the April sunlight on her face. She felt better.
I should walk every day, she said. This is wonderful!
As long as you dont overdo it, Elizabeth warned. What did the doctor say yesterday?
He said everything was fine. Nothing to worry about.
Did he check your weight?
Yes its OK.
He didnt think you were overweight?
He said it didnt matter.
And did you tell him how tired youre feeling?
He said it was normal.
Elizabeth pursed her lips and said nothing.
Im fine, Ruth repeated.
Elizabeth smiled at her. I know you are, she said. And Im just fussing over you. But I hate to see you so pale and so heavy. In my day they used to give us iron tablets. You look so anaemic.
Ill eat cabbage, Ruth offered. She climbed awkwardly over the stile into the next field.
Careful, Elizabeth warned.
The two women walked for a little while in silence. In the hedge the catkins bobbed. Ruth remembered the springs of her American childhood, more dramatic, more necessary, after longer and sharper winters.
I forgot to tell you, Elizabeth said. Patrick rang this morning while you were in the bath. He said he has to go up to London this afternoon for a meeting and itll probably go on late. He said hed stay up there.
Ruth felt a pang of intense disappointment. Overnight? She hated being in Patricks parents house without him. She felt always as if she were some unwanted refugee billeted on kindly but unwilling hosts.
Possibly Tuesday as well, Elizabeth said. You can have a nice early night and a lie-in without him waking you in the morning.
Ill ring him when we get home, Ruth said.
Hes out of touch, she said. In his meeting, and then on the train to London.
I wish Id spoken to him, Ruth said wistfully.
Elizabeth opened the gate to the garden of the cottage and patted Ruth on the shoulder as she went through. Now then, she said briskly. You can live without him for one night.
Didnt he ask to speak to me?
I said you were in the bath.
I would have got out of the bath, if you had called me.
I wouldnt dream of disturbing you, Elizabeth declared. Not for a little message that I can take for you, darling. If you want a long chat with him you can save it all up until he comes home the day after tomorrow.
Ruth nodded.
Theres nothing wrong, is there? Nothing that you need him for?
No, Ruth said shortly.
Elizabeth had the front-door key; she opened the door and stepped back to let Ruth go in. Dont cling, dear, she said gently. Men hate women who cling. Especially now.
Ruth turned abruptly from her mother-in-law and went into the sitting room. Elizabeth was undoubtedly right, which made her advice the more galling. There was still a large patch of damp beside the French windows, which not even the previous summer had dried out.
Now, Elizabeth said, throwing off her light jacket with energy. You sit down on that little stool and Ill rush round and take all the measurements you want.
From the pocket of the jacket she pulled a notebook and pen and a measuring tape. Ruth sulkily took the notebook while Elizabeth strode around the room calling out the measurements of the walls and the window frames.
Fitted carpets, I think, dont you? she threw over her shoulder. So much warmer. And good thick curtains for the winter, and some lighter ones for summer. Perhaps a pale yellow weave for summer, to match the primrose walls.
I thought wed paper it. I want the paper we had in the hall at the flat, Ruth said.
Oh, darling! Elizabeth exclaimed. Not William Morris willow again, surely!
Didnt you like it?
I loved it, Elizabeth said. But dont you remember what Patrick said? He said he kept seeing faces in it. You dont want it in your sitting room, with Patrick seeing faces peeping through the leaves at him every evening.
Ruth reluctantly chuckled. Ill have it in the hall then, she said.
And this room primrose yellow, Elizabeth said firmly. I have some curtain material that will just do these windows, and the French windows too. Old gold they are. Quite lovely.
Ruth nodded. She knew they would be lovely. Elizabeths taste was infallible, and she had trunks of beautiful materials saved from her travels around the world. But we shouldnt be taking your things, we should be buying new.
Elizabeth, on her knees before the French windows, scratching critically at the damp plaster, looked up, and smiled radiantly. Of course you should have my old things! she said. I cant wait to see my curtains up at your windows and the two of you no, the three of you happy and settled here. She looked back at the damp plaster. I shall get someone out to see to this at once, she said. Mr Willis warned me it might be a specialist job.
They moved to the kitchen, the dining room, and then to the three upstairs bedrooms. Elizabeth carried around the little stool from the sitting room, and insisted on Ruths sitting in the middle of each room, while she bustled with the tape measure, calling out numbers.
Empty of furniture, but with new kitchen units in pale pine and with a remodelled bathroom upstairs the cottage did look pretty. Ruth felt her spirits rising. If they hurry up with the decorating we should get in before the babys born.
Elizabeth, stretching across the bedroom window, nodded. Im determined to see that you are, she said. Cream cotton at all the upstairs windows, I think, and then it matches whatever colour walls you choose. But that nice Berber-weave carpet I told you about all through the top floor.
In the flat we had varnished boards, Ruth said. I liked them.
Werent they wonderful? Elizabeth reminisced. Georgian pine. And you did have them beautifully done. She recalled herself to the present. So well have the biscuit-colour Berber carpet all around the upstairs floor, and pastel walls. We can choose the colours at home. Ive got the charts.
All right, Ruth said, surrendering her vision of clean waxed floorboards without an argument. She felt suddenly very weary. The sooner we choose it and order it the sooner the house is ready, I suppose.
You leave it to me! Elizabeth said with determination. Ill have it ready by August, dont fret. In fact Ill leave you to have your rest when we get home, and Ill zip into Bath and come back with some fabric samples. You can choose them this evening and we can order them tomorrow. Ill order the carpets at the same time.
And tiles or vinyl for the kitchen, Ruth said wearily. But I havent chosen them yet. Patrick was going to take me into town tonight.
Would you trust me to choose it for you? Elizabeth offered. I can look when Im ordering the carpets. Theyve got a wonderful selection there.
Ruth got up from the stool. Her back ached and there was a new nagging twinge in the very bones of her pelvis. The walk home over two hilly fields seemed a long, long way.
Elizabeth broke off, instantly attentive. Shall I fetch the car, darling? she asked gently. Have you overdone it a bit?
I can walk, Ruth said grimly.
Or I could run home and fetch the car for you, Elizabeth repeated. I could be back in a moment. You perch on your little stool and Ill have you home in a flash.
Ruth resisted for no more than a moment. Thank you, she said gratefully. Id like that.
Elizabeth threw her a swift smile and slipped down the stairs. Ruth heard the front door bang and her quick footsteps on the path. She sat on her own in the quiet cottage and felt the friendly silence gather around her. Itll be all right when were in here, she said to herself, hearing her voice in the emptiness of the house. As long as we get in here in time for the baby. The last thing in the world that matters is who chooses the wallpaper.
Elizabeth, half running across the fields, fuelled with energy and a sense of purpose, reached the house and picked up the ringing telephone. It was the builder, calling about Manor Farm cottage and the damp around the French windows.
Yes, Elizabeth said. My cottage. You must get that damp problem cured at once, Mr Willis. My cottage must be ready by August. I have promised my son and daughter-in-law that Ill have it ready for them by then.
It was not ready by August. The damp under the French windows was caused by a faulty drain. The flagstones of the path outside had to be cut back and a little gravel-filled trench inserted. None of it seemed very complicated to Ruth, and she wished they would hurry the work; but in the final month of her pregnancy she found a calmness and a serenity she had not known before.
The work will be finished this week, Elizabeth said worriedly. But then that room will have to dry out and be decorated. Ive got the curtains ready to hang, and the carpet fitters will come in at a moments notice, but if Junior is born on time hell just have to come home to Patricks old nursery here.
It doesnt matter, Ruth said calmly.
Bit of a treat really, Patrick said. He was eating a late supper. Frederick had already gone up to bed. Elizabeth and Ruth had waited up for Patrick, who had been delayed at work by someones farewell party. Elizabeth had made him an omelette and he ate it, watched by the two women. I like to think of him in my nursery.
But I wanted to make the cottage ready for you, Elizabeth pursued. I am disappointed.
It doesnt matter, Ruth repeated. She had a curious floating feeling, as if everything was bound to be all right. She smiled at Elizabeth. Ill be five days in hospital anyway; maybe it will be finished in time.
Elizabeth shook her head disapprovingly. In my day they kept you in for a fortnight, she said. Especially a new mother who was completely inexperienced.
We have to start somewhere, Patrick said cheerfully. And weve done the classes, or at least Ruth has. Ill have on-the-job training.
If you so much as touch a nappy Ill be amazed, Elizabeth said.
He certainly will, Ruth replied. Hes promised.
Patrick grinned at the two of them. I am a new man, he pronounced, slightly tipsy from the drinks at work and the wine with his supper. Ill do it all. Anyway, even if I miss the nappy stage Ive already bought him a fishing rod. Ill teach him fishing.
And what if its a girl? Elizabeth challenged.
Then Ill teach her too, Patrick said. There will be no sexism in my household.
Ruth got to her feet; the distant floaty feeling had become stronger. I have to go to bed, she said. Im half asleep here already.
Patrick pushed his plate to one side and was about to leave the table to go upstairs with Ruth.
I was just making coffee, Elizabeth remarked. I thought Id have a coffee and a cognac before bed.
Oh, all right, Patrick said agreeably. Ill stay down and have one with you. All right, Ruth?
She nodded and bent carefully to kiss his cheek.
I wont disturb you when I come up, he promised. Ill creep in beside you. And Ill be up early in the morning too. Ill slip out without waking you.
I wont see you till tomorrow night then, Ruth said. Despite herself her voice was slightly forlorn.
Unless tomorrow is the big day and he has to come dashing home, Elizabeth said cheerfully. Patrick, you must leave a number where we can reach you all day, remember.
I will, he said. Ill write it down now.
On the pad beside the telephone in the sitting room, Elizabeth instructed.
Night, darling, Patrick said cheerfully and went to write down his telephone number as his mother had told him to do.
Ruth lay in her bed. The floating feeling grew stronger as she closed her eyes. The sounds of the countryside in summer breathed in through the half-open windows. They still sounded strange and ominous to Ruth, who was used to the comforting buzz of a city at night. She flinched when she heard the sudden whoop of an owl, and the occasional bark from a fox, trotting along the dark paths under the large white moon.