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‘Wow...’ The sound fell out of her mouth, barely a word, and she found she didn’t have any more to follow it.
She couldn’t look away from the cot. The changing table. The tiny wardrobe and the baskets stuffed with toys. This was where her baby would sleep. This was where they would change her or dress him. Rock her to sleep in the chair by the window. Would he learn to crawl on the plush rug in front of the fireplace?
It took her a few moments more to remember that she had the picture all wrong. Her baby might sleep here sometimes. Fraser might change him or her on that table. Might see first steps on that rug. But she wouldn’t be here. This was where her baby would live when she didn’t live with her.
A pain spiked at Elspeth as the knowledge that they were far from a perfectly nuclear family struck her afresh.
Her child would have two homes. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to a child. Not least because it meant that it would have two parents who were completely devoted to it. But not to each other. There would always be hard choices. Awkward Christmases and long holidays without one parent or the other.
Elspeth reminded herself again of all the ways her baby was lucky. All the incredible advantages he or she would have in life. But she couldn’t help feel a little sad that this unconventional but oh, so practical parenting arrangement meant that a lot of the time one parent or the other would be conspicuous by their absence.
‘What are you thinking?’ Fraser asked.
She didn’t know how to put into words everything that was racing through her mind. She realised that all her life she’d had an idea of how family life should be. Some dreamy half-formed image of breakfast in bed and acres of white bedding and a husband beside her. And now that she was expecting a baby, and part of that picture was coming true, the rest of it seemed further away than ever before.
‘Just that our baby will sleep here,’ she said eventually, filtering her thoughts down to their simplest component part. ‘It feels weird,’ she added, in case he hadn’t picked up on the vibe in the room.
‘Yeah,’ Fraser added.
She could hear the wonder in his voice. Maybe he wasn’t completely oblivious, after all.
‘Do you like the room the way it is? I can ask them to leave everything?’
‘I think it’s gorgeous. Perfect.’
‘You don’t want to put your own stamp on it?’
‘It’s your home, Fraser...’
Perhaps he hadn’t quite reached the same conclusions she had yet. Perhaps it hadn’t occurred to him that their family was going to be stretched across at least two homes. That this little picture of familial bliss that the show home had created wasn’t really going to apply for them.
‘I know, but it’s our baby. I want you to be happy with it too.’
‘Honestly, it’s lovely. Leave it just as it is.’
The atmosphere in the nursery was suddenly stifling, and Elspeth turned for the door. Fraser reached for her hand and she let him take hold of her fingers, but didn’t let it stop her leaving. She needed to be out of that room.
As they reached the living room she glanced down at their still clasped hands and Fraser followed her gaze, as if he hadn’t realised what he had done. He pulled his hand away, a little more quickly than was comfortable for her ego.
‘So, my dad...’ Fraser said. ‘You’re right. We should go. And soon. I’ll have to call him.’
Just like that? As if they hadn’t been estranged for fifteen years?
‘Well, just let me know when. Like I said, I’ll be there if you want me.’
* * *
Fraser looked again at the number in his phone. Would it even still work? No one he knew answered their landline any more. But it was the only number he had for his dad. He didn’t even know why he’d bothered to programme it into his phone. The number was ingrained in his memory, in his childhood—in that part of his life before he’d had a mobile phone, before his family had been torn apart.
He could ask his mum if she had a mobile number for him. He knew that they had been in touch over the years. He’d seen the evidence in his mum’s red eyes whenever letters from the family solicitor had arrived on the mat at home. Worst of all had been the time they had found out that his father’s second marriage had ended. Every time his father had made his mum cry, Fraser had sworn again that he wouldn’t go back. He would never speak to him again.
What would his mum say if she knew that he was thinking of getting in touch with him?
The betrayal would undoubtedly hurt her. She’d been delighted when he’d told her about the baby, and had hardly batted an eyelid at the fact that he wasn’t in a relationship with Elspeth. Had she guessed that he would want to go back to Ballanross? She hadn’t said a word about it if she had. She’d never told him that she didn’t want him to speak to his father. Hadn’t had to when he had been able to see the pain that even the mention of his name caused her.
If ever he’d needed a reminder of what following lust and impulsive attraction did to a family it was now. This was why he wasn’t going to give in to the feelings he had for Elspeth. This was why he was going to resist the fact that he wanted her with every bone in his body. Because he wouldn’t subject his child to the pain that he and his mother had gone through.
But he couldn’t deny his child Ballanross either. As formative as his parents’ separation had been, Ballanross had been more so. That feeling of being connected to the land. Of belonging somewhere. Of standing on the ground where his grandfather, and his grandfather’s father had stood. That was what had made him who he was today. He couldn’t take that away from his child, however much pain it might cause in the short term.
