In optimistic moments over those next few days, I hoped Ruth would return from her holiday refreshed and positive. As it turned out, she came back pale and withdrawn, and spent the subsequent few days in bed feeling unwell. I had tried to forget Dominic’s baffled declaration the previous month that Alex was considering selling his cottage, but Michael informed me that Billy Bradshaw had toldhimthat Alex had been into the estate agent’s recently and had a private chat with the boss.
“But he can’t really be thinking of selling it!” I was aware of the distress in my tone but too shocked to hide it. “He only bought it in September. Maybe he went in to talk about something else.”
Michael’s eyes were bright. “Had a row with Mrs. Mayes, that’s what they’re saying. Won’t want to visit down here no more if he’s not welcome at Summerbourne.”
“But...” I pressed my nails into my palms. “They’ve fallen out before, haven’t they? Ruth and Alex. They’ll make up again?”
“We’ll see.” Michael grinned. “It’s them sprites, you know, stirring up trouble at Summerbourne as usual. Don’t you go upsetting them, young Laura, or they’ll make you pay too.”
I didn’t like it when Michael talked like this. It was the sort of nonsense that had started to creep into Edwin’s dreams. I’d had to ask Michael not to mention the cloaks again, after he’d told Edwin and Joel about finding them in the trees, and abouthow difficult it had been to dry them out before they’d burn on the bonfire. Green sparks came out when he burned them, he’d told the boys. Edwin had had a nightmare that night, about witches circling him in the folly tower, flying faster and faster on their broomsticks until their cloaks burst into green flames.
In the house, Alex’s name wasn’t mentioned at all. Dominic returned each weekend, and we were perfectly civil to each other, but all the previous warmth between us had disappeared.
I threw myself into decorating the day nursery for Edwin’s birthday party, preparing for half a dozen children from the village to come and play pin the tail on the donkey and pass the parcel.
“I don’t suppose you’d make him a cake, would you?” Ruth asked me. “I usually do it, but...”
“No problem. I’d love to.”
Edwin helped me cut and arrange slabs of chocolate sponge cake into the shape of a “4” and then cover it in chocolate buttercream. I supervised him hacking the crusts off sandwiches and arranging pink wafers on plates, while I speared chunks of cheese and pineapple onto half a grapefruit to make a hedgehog centerpiece. Edwin selected the glacé cherry for its nose.
Vera traveled from London to help at the party, and she squeezed my hand and told me I was a “true gem.” The young guests were well-behaved, although some of their parents took full advantage of the white wine that Ruth offered them, causing her to complain about them afterward.
“Did you see how much Helen knocked back?” she said. “I caught her in the hall, reading through the names in the address book—can you believe it?”
“She’s worried about her daughter,” Vera said. “Daisy’s going to have long-term problems. I’m sure it was good for Helen to take her mind off things for a couple of hours.”
“Well it’s a good job Kemi was happy to drive her home again. She was in no fit state.”
Vera sighed. “Be nice, Ruth.”
Dominic arrived home after the party had finished, scooping an armful of wrapped presents from his trunk, and booming, “Where’s my Summerbourne winterborn?” as he stepped into the house.
We had crisp, cold days in December when the cliff top sparkled with frost, and seagulls harassed us on the beach, demanding food. Edwin and I still spent several hours outside each day, wrapped up in coats and hats; I wore gloves lent to me by Ruth, and Edwin had mittens attached to a length of string that ran through his coat sleeves. I knew every inch of the Summerbourne grounds by then, and much of the surrounding countryside too. Michael was around less, but now and then we would catch sight of him, and if I knew he was out there, I would take him a mug of steaming tea.
I avoided the first couple of family Sunday lunches in December, pretending to want a break but secretly trying to minimize the amount of time I had to spend in Dominic’s presence. However, Ruth asked me if I would join them on the Sunday before I was due to go home to Mum’s for Christmas, and I reluctantly agreed. Vera was there for the weekend, and Ruth made a particular fuss setting the table, snapping at Edwin when he moved the napkins. We were still eating, murmuring over last mouthfuls, when Dominic clinked his fork against his glass.
“We have a little announcement to make,” he said, smiling around at us, his eyes sliding from Vera’s anticipatory smile, over my blank expression, to Edwin’s look of surprise. Ruth nodded at Vera, and I put down my cutlery.
“We’re going to have a baby,” Dominic said, beaming. “You’re going to have a little brother or sister, Edwin.”
I stared at Ruth, trying to keep my breathing calm. Hidden by the tablecloth, my nails pressed into my palms.
“Oh, that’s wonderful news,” Vera said, clapping her hands, and Edwin performed a comedy fall of amazement from his chair, making Ruth laugh.
I thought of the photo of the little twin boys in Ruth’s bedroom. Thiswasgood news. Of course this was good news.
“Congratulations,” I said.
A hubbub of excited baby talk broke out.
“How far along are you?” Vera asked.
“Oh, it’s early still,” Ruth said. “A few weeks.”
“A summerborn Summerbourne!” Vera exclaimed, and Dominic chuckled.
“Exactly,” he said. “About time we had a summerborn around here.”
