Natasha Oakley - A Family To Belong To

‘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.’