Pastures New

Saffron hadn’t been looking for love. Her heart had been so shattered by Gerry’s infidelity she had thought she could never trust anyone again. But one day, looking across at Pete planting his runner beans, it suddenly dawned on her that love had snuck up on her when she wasn’t looking. After that, everything was simple. They moved in together and within months Pete had proposed. And when Ellie was born, Saffron’s happiness was complete. And here they were. Simple.

Saffron sighed. Things didn’t feel simple now.

She could probably count on one hand the number of times that she and Pete had made love since Ellie’s arrival. Despite Gerry’s taunts, being with Pete had proved to her that she wasn’t frigid. But now, for the first time since they’d been together, Saffron felt they were struggling. She was struggling.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. It was just – well, she felt betrayed by her body. For a start, she had forgotten how much she hated breastfeeding. She resented the fact that her nipples, previously portals of pleasure, were now so engorged with milk, cracked and swollen that they resembled an ageing cow’s udders. Anything less sexy she couldn’t imagine.

And the rest of her body wasn’t much better. Her stomach flopped and flapped about, lined with purple veins that seemed to have arrived from nowhere. From experience she knew they would fade in time and leave faint silver lines to go with the ones she already had from Becky and Matt. But now, she felt like a beached whale.

‘It doesn’t matter what you look like,’ Pete had declared the first time she had tried and failed to seduce him after Ellie was born. ‘You’ll always be a sex goddess to me.’

But it wasn’t enough. Her libido was practically nonexistent. Somewhere between getting pregnant, giving birth and coping with those enormously painful stitches (sitting on shards of glass might have been marginally more comfortable), it had gone AWOL. And with the added complications of sleepless nights, an ex-husband who kept causing her childcare headaches, and a business partner who had scooted off halfway round the world, it was showing no sign of returning in the immediate future.

The snuffles in the Moses basket got louder, indicating that Ellie was getting ready for a full-scale roaring attack. Saffron got out of bed, determined to pre-empt events – at least one of them could have a good night’s sleep. She picked the baby up, sorted her pillows out, and plonked Ellie on her breast. She didn’t even attempt to try and read, as she used to when Becky and Matt were small. This time around she had perfected the art of breastfeeding in a semi-doze, and, despite a slight anxiety that she might drop the baby, so far it seemed to have worked.

As she sat in a state of numbed stupefaction, trying not to wince when Ellie suckled too hard, Saffron thought about how different this week was supposed to have been.

Gerry had whisked the kids off to Florida. She hadn’t been too happy about it, particularly as it meant Becky missing the first week at junior school, but at least it had given her and Pete some much-needed time together. Pete had taken a week off work, and the idea was that they would relax and enjoy their new baby without the demands of the older two. But somehow it hadn’t quite worked out like that.

For a start, thanks to Caroline’s decision to bugger off round the world earlier in the summer, the business was in a huge mess. Saffron had been relying on Caroline to cover her for at least some of the early weeks with Ellie. As it was, because of Caroline’s departure, Saffron had ended up doing some minor jobs up until a week before Ellie was born. Now, eight weeks later, she realised that clients were haemorrhaging away from them at a rate of three or four per week. Their fledgling gardening business, Green Fingers, couldn’t afford to lose customers at such a rate. And given that summer should have been a time for gaining new business, Saffron was going to have her work cut out this autumn to make up the lost ground.

Bugger Caroline! she thought grumpily, quickly followed by the thought that she should have known better. When they had first met on the gardening course they had taken together three years earlier, Saffron had been dazzled by Caroline’s enthusiasm and creativity. But then, it was easy to be taken in by Caroline. She talked the talk so well. The reality, which Saffron had only realised once they became business partners, was that although Caroline was a great saleswoman, and had a genius for planning people’s gardens, she was also incredibly lazy, and most of the work had fallen onto Saffron’s shoulders.

And then, just when Saffron needed her the most, Caroline had decided to do her moonlit flit. Something to do with a bloke, no doubt, knowing Caroline, but she hadn’t thought it necessary to furnish Saffron with the details.

So instead of lazy days in the sun with Pete and Ellie (not that there had been much sun, but still …), Saffron had spent the week poring over figures and ringing disgruntled clients, to reassure them that yes, gardens would be weeded, hedges would be trimmed and lawns would be mowed – eventually. Pete had been a great help, going out on a couple of occasions to tackle some particularly difficult jobs in between his work as a marketing manager for a computer firm, but at best his help was a sop to the real problem. There was simply too much work for Saffron alone. Added to which, Caroline might be flaky as hell, but she had a good eye for design and the clients liked her. Her loss to the business was incalculable. And even supposing Saffron was to find a new partner who matched up, she probably didn’t have the funds to pay for the help anyway.

A contented sigh indicated that Ellie had had enough. Saffron picked her up, burped her, checked her nappy and popped her back into her basket. Then she climbed back into bed and snuggled up to Pete, who cuddled reassuringly back. There would be other nights for sex. There was no point staying awake brooding on her problems – she was getting little enough sleep as it was. Maybe tomorrow everything would look different. And maybe pigs would grow wings.

‘That’s the lot then.’ The removal man poked his head round the door, where Mary and Amy were sipping a final cup of tea, sitting on the last few boxes, which Amy was planning to shove in the back of the car. Josh was running round in circles, impersonating an aeroplane, and Amy was doing her best not to let it get under her skin. She could tell Mary was thinking the same thing.

‘Right.’ Amy took a deep breath and gave a bright smile. ‘Well. See you in Suffolk then.’

The removal man nodded and left the room.

‘Come on, Josh,’ said Amy, ‘we’d best get going.’

She staggered out to the car with the remaining boxes, while Mary washed the teacups up. She’d brought her own kettle and cups, as Amy had already packed hers. Amy hadn’t wanted Mary to come over, but Mary had insisted. As Mary in full flow had the unstoppable force of an erupting volcano, Amy knew better than to try to dissuade her.

The trouble was, now it was finally time to go, last-minute doubts were beginning to creep in, and Amy didn’t want Mary witnessing her weakness. Only this morning, Amy had folded up the sheets on her bed, packed away the photo of Jamie that always sat by her bedside, and burst into tears at the thought of leaving the flat. She remembered the first night they had moved in: Jamie mucking about, insisting he carry her over the threshold.

‘But we’re not married yet,’ Amy had laughed.

‘Doesn’t matter, we’re as good as,’ was Jamie’s response, before picking her up and swinging her through into the lounge, mock-complaining all the while that she’d put on weight.

He wouldn’t be saying that now. Amy was aware of how painfully thin she had become since Jamie had died. Stick insect, he’d be calling her, if he were still here. He had welcomed the extra curves that came with Josh, but they’d all fallen away in the months since he’d gone.

And what would he make of her face? He’d always teased her about her long corkscrew curls and called her his pre-Raphaelite beauty. It was true her long fair curls could still be classed as such, but she knew there was a slightly haunted look in her face now – actually, haggard would probably be a better word for it. Would he find her beautiful any more? Amy didn’t think so. She felt pale and wan; a shadow of her former self.

Amy made her way back into the flat. The empty flat. Shorn of all its homeliness. Every last vestige of her life with Jamie had been removed. She felt as though she had ripped out its soul. And, with it, hers. Oh God, what was she doing?

Amy shut the door with a decisive bang. This was no good. Mary had spent the morning making polite conversation with barely suppressed fury. If Amy lost it now, it would give her mother-in-law the perfect opportunity to say ‘I told you so’.

Josh ran towards her. ‘Is it time to go yet?’ he said. ‘I’m bored.’

‘Yup, sweetheart, it is,’ Amy replied. ‘Have you been to the loo?’

Josh pulled a face. ‘Granny made me,’ he grumbled.

‘Well, it’s a long journey,’ said Amy. ‘Granny was right.’

Mary was ostentatiously clattering around in the kitchen. Her heels echoed on the bare floor. Amy was aware once again of the emptiness of the flat. Of the emptiness of Mary’s life now she was taking Josh out of it.

‘So, this is it.’ Mary finished what she was doing and came and stood, stiffly and formally, holding out her hand. As if they meant no more to each other than polite strangers. As if they hadn’t shared all that grief, all that heartache.

‘Yes.’ Amy swallowed. She wanted to give Mary a long hug, but the negative vibes that were bristling off Jamie’s mother gave her little choice.

‘Josh, come and say goodbye to the flat.’

Josh ran in and out of the bedrooms, the small lounge and the tiny kitchen diner.

‘Goodbye-goodbye-goodbye,’ he called, not appreciating the enormity of what he was saying before descending once more into aeroplane territory.

‘Josh, do be quiet!’ Mary snapped.

Unused to Mary telling him off, Josh stopped short and his little face puckered up with tears.

‘Was that strictly necessary?’ Amy couldn’t help but rise to her son’s defence.

‘He needed to be told,’ said Mary. ‘You’re too soft on him.’

‘And you’re being too hard.’ Amy regretted the comment as soon as it was out. Mary was a doting granny, and without her Amy wouldn’t have coped over the last two years.

‘I see,’ said Mary. ‘I was too hard all the times I cuddled him while he cried when you went out to work. I was too hard the times I took him to the doctor when you couldn’t. I’m not the one taking him away from everything he knows and loves. I wouldn’t say I was the hard one, would you?’

Amy looked at Mary aghast. ‘That’s not what I meant,’ she said shakily.

Mary shrugged her shoulders and turned to give Josh a cuddle. Josh had stopped crying now and started being an aeroplane again. Oh to have the resilience of a child, thought Amy in silent dismay. She couldn’t leave Mary like this. For Jamie’s sake, she couldn’t. A sudden memory of Jamie laughing at her one day when she had been fuming about his mother’s interference took her breath away.

‘Come on, Ames,’ he had said. ‘She means well. And we’re all she’s got. Give her a break.’

Jamie would never have wanted this.

‘Mary, I’m sorry,’ said Amy. ‘Please don’t let’s fall out.’

Mary said nothing and looked away. If Amy hadn’t known better she could have sworn that a tear trickled down Mary’s face. But Amy had never seen Mary cry. Not even at Jamie’s funeral. She was the strong silent type – whatever crying she may have done over her son, she had done it alone.

‘Please, Mary,’ said Amy. ‘For Jamie’s sake. And Josh’s. We’ve been through so much together. Don’t let’s spoil it.’